#Always struggle with proportions and angles so I wanted to do something about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cj-the-random-artist · 1 year

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sorry if you've answered this before, but how do you draw/proportion bodies? The way you draw poses is so nice and fluid and I'd love to see how you do it! Your art is always such an inspiration to me, thank you for posting it

Hello! So first of all, that's a huge compliment and I really really appreciate it! I don't have the words, just. Dang. I really appreciate that so so much.

As for how I draw / proportion bodies, I don't really have a fully set process or anything, because almost all of what I do has been a result of me messing around and finding out for several years. That said, I'll try to go over some of my general process here and if clarification is needed for any part of this my askbox is always open and I'm happy to try and answer.

So I generally try to start with a rough gesture-ish shape for the torso that kind of establishes where I want the torso to sit and at what angle I want the hips / shoulders to be at. It helps for a pose to look a little more natural if there's a little bit of asymmetry and if the hips and shoulders aren't exactly at the same angle. Once I have that initial shape set up, I like to add the legs on, so I can get a feel for the weight distribution.

Also notably, I have a little marker for the head on there so I know roughly where that will be placed.

Generally after this stage I'll go in and add arms, and when I do that I'll usually make clear note of the hands, then the shoulders, then connect them at the elbow. I'll also draw on the head at this point, and for that I like to mark where the collar bone would be. There's a muscle on both sides of the neck that starts at the collar bone and ends right below the ears so that's generally a good reference point. After that I'll draw on the jawline and start marking down the head shape and where the face will go.

After this point I'll start adding on stuff like face, clothes, etc. (This ended up being a Bdubs)

A few things to try and keep in mind for anatomy is rough skeletal and muscle structure. I find it helpful if I'm struggling with a pose to think about where the ribcage, pelvis, and joints would reasonably be, and usually that will help me deal with most issues I might have. Additionally, thinking about muscle structure and body fat helps better establish the external shapes of the character, so I try to think of those too while I'm drawing.

This isn't super detailed, but I also marked here where rough skeletal points are and what the angles of the hips and shoulders are.

That said, that's not the only way I think about posing when I do start on a drawing. When I'm drawing something at a more intense angle, I prefer to start with whatever part of the body is closest to the camera and work my way back. When doing a more action- oriented pose, I tend to focus more on the line of action first so that I can do more with the gesture.

If it's not completely evident from this page, though, not every pose I draw will work out. It's fairly common for me to end up with stiff poses or ones with weird, warped proportions, especially when I'm doing more action oriented or foreshortened poses. (But of course, I don't post all the stuff I make.)

I guess to give a few closing notes, I've found that taking in information about anatomy and posing from a lot of different sources has helped me improve at it. I took a life drawing class recently that taught a very traditional manner of drawing the human figure that had a lot of emphasis on accuracy, and I took an anatomy and physiology class a couple years ago, which helped me gain an understanding of the human figure on a more scientific level, which I found very helpful. That said, I've found that YouTubers like LavenderTowne have a lot of useful information on drawing stylized anatomy and fluid poses, and her Do This, Not That videos are very informative, so I recommend looking into those a little bit for more stuff.

And a few more closing notes, that I've found work well for me personally, I highly suggest sketching loosely and lightly, and being okay with not drawing perfect poses every time. I've found, for myself, that not committing to lines right away allows me more space to find that sweet spot, so to speak, where things just work. I've found myself erasing the same lines over and over again so many times. Heck I'll draw the same post multiple times to get it to look right. It might not always look right on the first try and that's absolutely fine. Quite honestly it doesn't have to look right on the first try. For every pose I draw that turns out nice I have probably an average of 15 that have been erased or scratched out. So, like... don't get too hung up on stuff being perfect. And another small bit! Exaggerate stuff! It's fun! But it also helps capture the feeling and energy in the pose more than anatomical accuracy does, and I'd argue that especially when it comes to stylized work, it's important to push stuff to be a little bit "more" than it "realistically" would be, because I've found that can also help with fluidity. Besides, if it's been pushed too much, it's a little easier to pull it back.

I hope that long winded spiel was at least a little bit helpful, and again if any of this needs clarification, lmk! And have a fantastic day :D

#cj the random artist says words #this was a long winded post but hopefully this is helpful?? i spent hours this morning contemplating how to answer this ngl #cuz honestly so much of my process is just “eff around find out” so I hope this was. coherent? helpful? all that stuff lol

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jenuinedog · 2 years

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Hi! Anon from before who asked about fluidity and such, I have another question: How do you learn to angle heads / do different perspectives?

Did you take classes, use 3D models, or something else?

So sorry for all the questions, I really want to get better at angles and posing and such - facial expressions are a breeze for me, but I just can't keep proportions, anatomy, or poses right in my head.

TL,dr, how did you learn about all this stuff?

Don't be sorry! Asking questions is how u learn! Lil disclaimer that i'm sorry in advance if this answer seems kinda vapid and lackadaisical :")

I've never taken art classes of any kind in my life. A lot of what I know is from observing how other artists draw and tweaking their processes to something that'll suit my workflow and style better. I admittedly don't use 3D models as often as I should, but they speed up the process IMMENSELY. Sometimes i'll load up a model posing program and use it for just the hands/fingers LOL. It's actually helped me be more aware of how to segment parts of the body so I can "memorize" them a bit better. I actually cannot picture most things in my head properly, so I struggle with keeping tabs on proportions and angles of shapes and poses mentally too 😭

A fun lil trick I do to help with head angles tho that might help is i'll draw a "sheet" of paper over my main head form:

For some reason, i've found that this helps me visualize where the face goes and where it fits within a 3D space. As long as i know the general direction the oc is facing, I can bend and stretch stuff to fit as need be. IDK it's a simple way for me to keep track while drawing, and pretty effective too! 👇🏽

ok these are sloppy n off model a bit, but hopefully you can see what i'm getting at ghjsdfg. I've found making the "sheet" bigger/smaller to suit whatever you're drawing can help narrow down the angle better if you're struggling. Thinking of the construction of shapes and how they sit in a 3D space is helpful too. Most art programs have perspective rulers that you can use to keep a kind of guide of where your drawing is sitting on a perspective plane/grid. I use them when trying to do more dynamic postures!

Other than that, I literally just google/youtube whatever it is i'm trying to work on and click through as many resources as I can. Make notes of what works for me, what doesnt, what I can pick apart and reconstruct. I got my start in art by tracing other people's art onto printer paper when i was younger (never shared 'em, obvs) before learning people posted step-by-step processes of how they draw on dA (it's how I learned what "guidelines" where and how to use them in sketching) and using those. I spent a lot of my more formative years just mimicking other people's drawing habits and quirks until I found a set that worked for me, and expanded on that with just messing around in my spare time. Sometimes the only thing that helps is working through it until I get a result I like.

If you are looking for a more technical approach and wouldn't mind some critique on your stuff, I recommend a site called Drawabox.com ! I've never personally used it, but I have artist friends who have, and while it does cost a fee to access some of the video lessons, there are still a bit of free resources you can take a peek on that might help!!

SORRY FOR THIS LAME ANSWER HFGSHDF I have a very flippant approach to my art. Work smart, not hard as I always say 👌🏽👏🏽

Good luck!!

#asks #tutorials #i literally just fuck around n find out im sorry 😭

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wannastayugly · 2 years

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hi! i have a question/advice request about making fanart, i’ve been following you for quite some time, and i REALLY love your digital art, from the style to the way you work your colors, really everything about it is so wonderful and amazing.

I’ve been doing fanart for 3 years now, and i have a somewhat similar style to yours, the thing is, i spend a lot of time finishing a small part of the painting, like, A LOT of time, to the point where it becomes boring and discouraging and i end up abandoning the piece altogether.

My question is, is this normal? i know the more practice you get the better you become, but sometimes it feels like i’m stuck just painting a nose for a week, and i feel like i can’t get the result that i want unless i spend an astronomical amount of time on it. i’m asking you specifically because you were my main inspiration to start and make my own fanart, whenever i see one of your fanart pieces i get inspired to start a painting, and then it takes a long time and i stop, and the cycle repeats. So i would really appreciate any advice or tips <3

Firstly I thank you very, very much for your appreciation for my art. I've said this already, but hearing I'm inspiring someone else to be creative is one of the best things I can get as an artist! So thank you, this is super lovely and it's an honor to read messages like yours!

Before I talk more, I'd like to remind you there's no "normal" when it comes to art. Some will take hours to paint something, others days, or weeks. That depends a lot on your style, your skills, if you know or don't know what exactly you want for that painting, and even on the quality of the references you're using sometimes. We'd need to see what exactly you're struggling with, it's hard to give an advice when I don't know you nor your work. So everything I'll say here will come from my personal experience with my own style, and what I learned when I felt something like you're describing to me, ok? I hope it helps! And you can come back and ask me to talk more about about specific themes if you'd like!

1. You can make little studies before starting the actual painting! Thumbnail studies. Sometimes we spend a lot of time fixing mistakes we made in the beginning; sometimes the direction of the light isn't great, sometimes the angle you chose isn't the best. You can prevent that by studying that composition as a first step.

2. You need image references. You don't need to follow them exactly as they are, but you should have references to remind you what the volumes of a face look like depending on where your light source is, or how skin texture and colors look like under sunlight. Using referentes is extremely important when working with realism, because most of the sensation of realism comes from the way you build volumes/light and shadows and not from the details nor the blending.

3. You need to find out what painting process fits you. My process right now is totally based on classical oil painting techniques: getting the proportions right when I'm sketching, getting the general volumes right with light and shadows, with a neutral color, and only then adding more colors and working on textures and smaller volumes and details. A step-by-step process can help you to focus on what you want from each one of those steps, one by one, and correct mistakes earlier.

4. Don't try finishing one part before going to another! Always zoom out at the beginning and work on your painting as a whole, and when detailing try going from one part to another. That'll prevent you to get bored early and it helps giving your painting a more homogenic feeling.

5. Painting in a style that demands you to blend everything and add skin texture, body hair, fabric texture... That can be exhausting. Remember you should take breaks from painting, but also from that painting specifically. You can have more than one WIP at the same time and switch between then. That helps a lot, because you'll be solving different problems on each painting and you'll always come back with fresh eyes and new ideais to incorporate into your works.

6. Remember there are many different art styles we can call "realistic", and also that we can work in many of different ways to build that visual sensation. There's no need to blend everything! A good tip is finding a nice brush that leaves a beautiful texture behind, something you won't feel the need to erase later. You can also work with larger canvas sizes and save your work in smaller scales, in a way those brush textures won't really show up that much.

7. You can play with different art styles! I do that a lot and it helps me to keep interest in the styles I work with the most. It's nice to think differently sometimes; to find a different kind of challenge. It's refreshing! There are also moments it's important for us to ask ourselves what exactly we love about and want from what we're creating. If you feel you're questioning everything too much, or that you just can't get satisfaction from your process anymore, allow yourself to venture finding new references, experimenting with completely new styles and techniques. Finding out what you want with your art is almost a journey of self-discovery. I myself am questioning the importance of over detailing and blending right now, something I held onto for years, and I'm definitely making a style transition. If that's your case, it's completely normal and healthy! Embrace it, allow yourself to do what you really feel like doing, or to just go crazy and make the most random art ever until you find yourself in your art again.

8. You're doing great. ❤

#art

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spaceman-spaetzle · 2 years

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sorry 4 this but now you got me interested: how did u develop ur style? :D its distinct n vibrant n i love it

there's absolutely no need to apologize! this will probably become an incoherent ramble so i'll see what i can do! thanks again for letting me learn about your style too :) <3

i've drawn since i was a tot tbh. i've been told that i was always a bit self critical (do not recommend 0/10), and 3 year old me once complained about how what i drew looked like a potato. but with that came determination and a genuine free feeling that came with drawing.

i think i started actually keeping sketchbooks since i was maybe 9-10? mentioning this because keeping sketchbooks is intrinsic to my work. and like a lot of artists this generation, i was very inspired by anime. i definitely drew anime girls awkwardly standing stiffly with hands behind their backs, LOL. i couldn't decide on a distinct style for a long time though, but throughout my childhood i grew inspired by pop artists like roy lichtenstein.

i hung out with a lot of animators during my uni days, and i found myself studying a lot of artists and animators who had these crazy, dynamic poses and vivid characters. i was in the fandom for a long time, but in the middle of college, i took a break and really began to experiment! my love for inks, which was introduced to me when i was about 14, stuck with me and from there i was able to develop my style.

like you, i've taken all sorts of art styles ive appreciated and sort of made it into my own thing, but from what i learned from my animator friends' art and my brief time taking animation classes, i really wanted to make my art feel bold and full of movement. i still struggle to capture movement the first time when i draw things, so i still have a long way to go! but i guess what really helped me develop my style was establishing my values in my art practice. what do i want to see? how do i wish to draw for myself? those kinds of questions! and that meant crossing out things such as same face syndrome. i also find it really important that character designs say something about the character's personality. so for roderich, i like drawing him in a mix of sharp and soft angles. his pointy nose, chin, and sharp shoulders to me resemble a judgmental aristocrat and the softness resembles the contrast between people's assumptions of him and aspects of him you would have to get to know him in order to learn. i also just generally think he's a bit on the thicc side and a bit soft to touch, haha. i also like trying to vary the body types i draw.

sorry that this was so long! as for artists i like, i tend to follow a lot of twitter artists that have very fleshed out, distinct voices in their styles and i like to learn from them. one of my fave artists is victoria vincent/vewn! and growing up, artists i enjoy include erte, alphonse mucha, and Plenty more. and lately i've been feeling inspired by egon schiele. he makes me want to play with exaggeration and proportions a lot more!

thanks for asking and please know your art just feels very vivid and tangible, if that makes sense? like they're clearly stylized but it feels like there's so much thought put behind the characters! they almost feel real in a sense.

#ask 4 me #:D #this was. really long and i wish i listed more artists but my brain is tiny #also to improve my style i'm gonna try to use color palettes online and improve my sense of color theory #we'll see where things go haha #but Yes you're still welcome to message my dude!

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

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hey, sweetie! I came across your account and found your stories are utterly amazing! I can't get enough re-reading all over again; it's very very great! I was hoping if I could make a req? If only you don't mind!

Can you do the marauders (yes, prongs moony and padfoot) smut where they accidentally use degrading kink but the reader is hurt and she ended up crying because it makes her very insecure because she's nothing but just a fuck toy? I don't hate the idea of such kink but I'm not fond of being degraded even though it doesn't mean any harm. maybe they will praise her and cuddle until she's completely calm down. i really like fluff ending❤ thanks!

pairing(s): james potter x remus lupin x sirius black x reader (foursome)

warning(s): 18+, foursome, double penetration, oral (male receiving), anal, degradation, praise, lots of cum, cute cuddles

word count: 1.9k

a/n: oh my god. when i got this request i literally had to pause and reread it so many times because it sent me spiraling. too good. thank you for this because i know exactly what i’ll be daydreaming about for the next week! i’m the same way about degradation (i don’t want it unless i’m really in the mood) so i can totally relate. i just hope i did it justice. enjoy!

“C’mon, puppy, sit right here like a good girl,” Sirius instructed, giving a pointed nod to his erect cock. He was lounging back on his bed, one hand propped behind his head, his raven hair wrapped up in a messy bun. He looked like a Greek God and he didn’t even have to try.

You made your way up the bed, straddling his waist and hovering your core above him. You were already dripping wet with the anticipation of what these boys were about to do to you. You weren’t sure how it escalated to this point, but here you were.

You were hovered above Sirius’ cock, Remus making his way up the bed behind you, and James was off to the side, stroking his cock and content with waiting until you were ready to take it. The night you four had planned was triple penetration to the ultimate proportions.

You sunk down onto Sirius’ cock, feeling him stretch you and fill you so beautifully as he always did. All of their cocks were amazing, but Sirius’ was the perfect amount of thickness that you needed.

“Fuck, you never stop being tight no matter how much we stretch you. Just the perfect little hole for us,” Sirius said roughly, his large hands coming to grip your hips and grind you down onto him, getting you settled on his cock.

Remus was the next one with his hands on you, pushing you forward onto Sirius’ chest until you were completely exposed to him. He could see the spot where Sirius was entering your body, stretching you out completely, and he could see exactly where his own cock would be going - right into your tightest hole, already being stretched with a plug.

He worked it out gently, all three of them listening to you whimper into Sirius’ neck as he pushed and pulled, teasing you, until he finally removed it.

“That’s a good girl. Stay just like that and quiet to be our little toy,” James commented, reaching over to brush some hair out of your face. You keened at the attention, but his choice of words made you flush red with embarrassment. You knew logically you were more than just a hole or a toy for them, but hearing it made you question what their intentions were nonetheless.

Next thing you knew, you could feel Remus’ cock at your entrance, slowly pushing in. It wasn’t as bad as you had expected, the boys had prepped you well, but the additional stretch and sting made you wince lightly despite your moan.

Remus roughly grabbed your arms and pulled you back so your back hit his chest harshly as he bottomed out inside of you. You were now successfully taking both of their cocks which made your head spin with arousal, but his words sent you spiralling.

“Oh don’t act like you’re in pain. That won’t work with us. We know you're just a filthy slut so you’ll take it like one,” Remus said, beginning to slowly roll his hips against your ass, forcing you to grind on Sirius’ cock in return.

Regardless of how his words made you feel, you couldn’t stop the moan from falling out of your mouth, effectively proving him right. When you looked down at Sirius, you knew he could see the tears beginning to form in your eyes, but he disregarded it to begin thrusting up into you, your head falling back onto Remus’ shoulders.

“Fuck she feels so good,” Sirius moaned. “Prongs, she’s ready for you,” he said, looking over to his messy haired friend.

Once that was said, Remus released your arms and you had to flail to stay upright, clutching Sirius’s shoulder. You weren’t there for long before James grabbed a chuck of your hair from the root and pulled you down sideways, your mouth lining up with his cock.

“Open,” was all he said, treating you indifferently. Something you were not used to and not a fan of. You did what he asked regardless though, hoping if you proved that you were good their attitudes would change.

Once your mouth engulfed James, all three of them let out a moan in sync, getting off on the fact that all of them were inside of you at the same time.

“Look at her,” Remus rumbled out, “just a filthy fucking whore taking all of us.”

You whined around James’ cock in protest, but the vibration only made him moan and pull your head in further, your nose now flush up against his skin. A tear slipped down your face, both because of the urge to gag around James’ cock and because of their unexpected treatment of you. Sure they had degraded you before, but never this much, never all of them at once, and always mixed with praise. This was different and you didn’t like it.

“Look at her,” James started with a breathless laugh, continuing to fuck your throat raw, “she’s even crying for it like the pathetic slut she is.”

That’s what did it. That’s what had you pulling off of James with a sob, struggling for breath with tears pouring down your face. “Stop, please stop,” you begged quietly, praying that one of them believed you.

Thinking back, you were all stupid to never have a safeword for these situations but nothing like this had ever come up before. They were always so good with reading you, knowing exactly what you needed. You weren’t sure what went wrong this time.

Thankfully, James didn’t go to reach for you again and Sirius and Remus immediately stopped giving you the delicious friction they had been providing inside of you to turn towards your face.

You collapsed against Sirius’ chest in a fit of sobs and he was quick to wrap his arms around you and pull you close. You could practically feel the panicked looks being passed between them, but they were all quick to jump into action. Remus was running his hand along your back, but he never pulled out, they knew how much you hated them pulling out before you were ready. You felt the bed dip and James sat down at Sirius’ side, a hand coming up to brush through your tangled hair.

“What happened, love? What’s wrong?” Sirius asked softly, his lips brushing against your neck.

“Too mean,” you whimpered out, not looking up at any of them.

“We were being too mean to our sweet girl? You want us to be nice while you’re our good girl?” Remus asking, lips brushing your shoulder blade before he pressed a gentle kiss on your skin.

“Please,” you said with a final shaky breath, looking up at the boys while your tears dried.

“You sure you want to keep going?” James asked gently, his thumb coming up to brush the tears off of your face.

“Please. Please, it felt so good,” you begging shamelessly, grinding down on Sirius and Remus’ cock for good measure, just to prove how much you wanted to keep going.

“Fuck, okay okay,” Remus said, choking on a laugh when he felt how tight you were against him all over again.

“Ride us just like that pretty girl. You’ve been so good for us all night. Letting us fuck you and strecth you like this. So good,” Sirius mused, really laying it on thick in his attempt to rectify his mistakes as he grabbed your hips harshly, overwhelmed with how tight you were.

“You wanna use your mouth again, love? Or just your hand?” James asked, gently turning your face to his using a knuckle.

You didn’t even reply, just bent over sideways once more and opened your mouth, tongue out.

“You’re fucking perfect,” James said with a chuckle, gently working your mouth back onto his cock until he was lodged down your throat.

They never stopped the rough treatment, but the words they were saying were affecting you so much differently now. Rather than making you question yourself and your place with them, they were making you feel so good and loved and safe.

The way they were ravishing your body made you feel heavenly. The way Remus and and Sirius’ cocks were dragging in and out of you made your head spin and your core tighten, dangling on the edge just waiting to be tossed over. James’ cock down your throat gave you a fraction of power over at least one of them, knowing all of his pleasure was coming from your body. Truly, all of their pleasure was, but you were working hard for James.

“Fuck you feel like a vice,” Remus groaned, his fingers digging into your hips as he rolled his hips against you in a steady pace. You could feel the way him and Sirius’ cocks were dragging past each other through the thin walls inside your body, making you tremble with the thought of being so full of them. They were practically splitting you open, but oh what a way to go. “Let go for us, Y/N. Fuck, I can feel how close you are.”

It didn’t take long after that. One, two, three more pumps from each of them and you were spiralling over the edge and into your release. You pulled away from James to let out your loud cry of relief and he readily took over to work his own cock, aiming it directly at your open mouth. In the rush of your release, you could feel yourself being filled with cum in all your holes. Warm rope after rope of cum gushed into your core and your mouth, completely filling you up from all angles.

Being that full of their cum made you tremble, but you finally worked your way down from the clouds and collapsed against Sirius’ chest once more.

It took all of you a minute to even feel coherent, but finally Remus was pulling out of you slowly. You could feel a rush of cum leave your body and trail down your thighs and onto the bed. You weren’t even sure whose bed you were on anymore. You whimpered at the feeling, both the unsatisfactory feeling of misplaced cum and the feeling of being empty after so long.

Sirius went to pull out next, but you shook your head aggressively, needing to feel close to one of them after all of that. “Please don’t,” you begged softly, unable to give him a reason at the moment. You were a mixture of overwhelmed and still in a comedown, you just needed to be close.

“Alright, don’t worry. You can stay here as long as you’d like puppy,” Sirius told you, shifting so the both of you were laying on your sides, getting you comfortable on the bed beside him. James crawled into the bed behind you, and Remus moved to relax against the headboard, pulling your feet into his lap to lightly massage them, relaxing you further.

“You did so good for us tonight, love,” James said, moving his body so his chest was against you back, boxing you in. “We didn’t mean to upset you at all. You’re always good for us. You know that, right?”

“I know. It was just too much in the moment,” you tried your best to explain.

“We’ll talk about it later, yeah? We should have a word for if that happens again,” Remus suggested, quick to bring up what you had already been thinking about. You gave a small nod into Sirius’ neck, which he relayed to the boys.

“Get some rest, pup. We’ll be right here when you wake up,” Sirius told you, placing a kiss on your forehead before moving to pull a blanket over the both of you, never pulling out once just as you wanted.

Because you always got what you wanted from your boys.

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

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TFA Bulkhead/Bumblebee

Bulkhead, hoping to paint Bumblebee, finds a number of unexpected hurdles in the form of a willing but very fidgety model.

Got a lovely commission that the commissioner was okay with me sharing, so here it is! I had so much fun writing this, and remember, I'm always open if you'd like a fic for yourself.

Working up courage wasn't something one had to do often when they were as big and strong as Bulkhead, but he'd needed every bit he could spare to approach Bumblebee with what he'd feared was a ridiculous request. The fact he could expect his friend to say yes had brought him little comfort, because being rejected just scared him too much. He didn't want to admit how long it had taken him to prepare…

But finally, the day had come, and he approached the little bot as one might an armed explosive.

"Uh… Bumblebee?" he spoke softly, tapping his big servos together to try and call himself down. Bumblebee was relaxing and watching something on TV, and Bulkhead was so nervous he couldn't even tell what. Primus, he was just grateful they were alone, or else this would have been impossible! Bumblebee thankfully noticed him right away, lifting his helm to look at his friend with a smile.

"What's up, Bulk?" he said in greeting, half turning back to the television before doing an actual double take back to the big bot. Concern crossed his features, and he raised a curious brow ridge before he spoke again. "You feeling okay?"

Bulkhead realized just then that his nervousness was probably showing through like a beacon, and he gulped in embarrassment, wanting nothing more than to disappear on the spot. Just his luck that things would already be going poorly… Steeling himself, he took a deep vent and put on the biggest smile he could manage. "Yeah, f-fine!" he gasped out, trying not to tremble. Wishing he'd written down what he wanted to say, he just managed to put some words together and speak, hoping he didn't look as ridiculous as he felt. "I just wanted… wanted to ask you something."

"Yeah?" Bumblebee asked, expression not changing once. Near to collapsing, Bulkhead soldiered on, wondering with every word if he'd made a huge mistake.

"Well you… you know I've been painting a lot lately, and I was wondering…" he gulped again, closing in on the final thing he'd come to ask and hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake in the process. If this worked, it might just be the happiest day of his life…

"I'm kind of tired of painting trees and flowers… could I paint… you?" he asked, not even waiting for a reply before he clarified extensively. "Paint a picture of you, I mean! Like… would you want to model for a painting? That's… what I meant…"

"Oh, model?" Bumblebee repeated, optics lighting up like a supernova as he repeated the word. Bulkhead felt relief like nothing he'd ever experienced wash over him as the question got exactly the answer he hadn't dared to hope for, enough so that he struggled to stay standing as he sighed. Bumblebee hopped upright and stretched, lean little frame already eager to get moving as he stepped beside his much larger friend. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

"Yeah, sure!" Bulkhead said with enthusiasm, trying his hardest not to cry a few happy tears at the turn of events. Moving as fast as he could, he followed Bee to his room, where all of his supplies were waiting for them in the unlikely event this worked out. The big bot had done everything in his power to get all the paint and brushes he would need if Bee said yes, so hopefully he did indeed have enough, or at least what he'd require to get started. He'd gotten so many shades of yellow…

When they arrived to his room, he briefly scolded himself for not fixing it up better, not that Bumblebee ever bothered to clean his own room, but he wanted to be a good host.

Pointing to the smushed couch he sometimes liked to relax on, which was also in a good spot for lighting, he tried to ensure he was calm despite his still fluttering nerves. "You can, uh, pose however you like. How about there?"

"Sure, sounds fun!" Bumblebee replied, quite enthusiastic as he hopped on over. Not minding that the furniture was beyond lumpy, he began finding a comfortable way for his frame to lay, moving his tiny self about as Bulkhead got everything ready. Trying not to blush at how happy he was, the big bot grabbed a spare canvas and his favorite cans of paint, along with a few brushes in his size. Someday he'd have to properly thank Sari for introducing him to art, and being kind enough to provide tools in his size as well. When his easel was in place, he looked up to see Numb laying himself over the couch and grinning in his usual goofy way. "Paint me like one of your French bots, Bulkhead…"

Even if he hadn't been so distracted by what he was feeling, the big bot would have had no ability to make sense of what he'd just heard. All he could manage was a one word reply of total bafflement. "...What?"

"It's a… a human quote. I don't get it either." Bumblebee mumbled in reply, likely referencing some movie he and Sari had watched together at some point. Not wanting his friend to feel awkward, Bulkhead happily helped the conversation continue, smiling as he grabbed a brush.

"Oh, well um… how about we start small? Just sketches and stuff, you know?" he offered, trying to think of the best way to proceed. It was hard to plan much of anything when he was this happy, especially because he didn't want Bee to know how he felt, in more ways than one. He had to keep going as if this was just a casual thing, and not something that really meant the world to him.

"Works for me, just don't forget to get my good side… which is all of me." Bee said proudly, striking a pose and grinning as he did so. It was a perfectly in character position, so Bulkhead got to work right away, carefully articulating his large digits to control the brush. While small mistakes were just part of the process for painting, he didn't want to make one here. This piece was going to be perfect, so every stroke had to be the same, and thus his digits had an almost vice-like grip. It didn't escape his attention how few bots got to pursue their greatest wish like he was doing now. Keeping his smile to himself, he cast his optics to Bumblebee and back to the canvas, wanting to have the perfect grasp of scale before he began. Having a friend with such particular proportions wasn't going to make this any easier.

Sticking with the core of his muse, he made a few careful strokes to get the basic gist of his friend's pose, hoping to capture both his sense of excitability and his current relaxed mood. It would be hard, but he was more than up for the challenge. This would be worth every last second of work...

"Actually, hang on, my arm looks better like this."

Bumblebee surprised him with the words and the sudden movement he made to match, his arm swinging about to rest almost opposite to its original pose. As he hadn't yet started drawing that particular spot, Bulkhead let it go, having expected a little bit of restlessness. It was also only fair that Bee liked the final result and was comfortable with the process. Getting back to work, the big bot wondered if his friend's face might be a good place to start. His horns certainly added an additional detail for him to take into consideration… Perhaps he'd ask if Bee wanted his face to be more in profile or at an angle. All he wanted was to capture the essence of the bot he was so close to.

Bumblebee coughed, optics looking about bashfully as he blushed and shifted on the couch to move his other arm. It wasn't a big move, but the small bit clearly realized it was inconvenient, and looked guilty for the move. "Need to change this too, it's not working. This look better?"

"Oh uh… yeah!" Bulkhead replied quickly, uncertain how he should respond beyond acceptance as the last thing he wanted was for this to be uncomfortable for either of them. Some small changes would need to be made to what was already on the canvas, but that was hardly a bother. Getting more paint on his brush, he tried to work a little faster as he got the bottom layer established. Not that he didn't trust Bee to keep his word, but the little bot often fidgeted without even meaning to. Sticking out his glossa in concentration, Bulkhead worked fast, using up a fair amount of paint as he got what he presumed to be the core of the piece. Next would come the much tricker details…

Or at least they would have, if he hadn't glanced up to see Bumblebee in a completely different pose and half asleep...

"Bumblebee?" he said on reflex, coughing to try and gain his friend's attention. Startling awake, the little bot looked around in surprise, seeming to have forgotten exactly where he was and what was going on. When recognition dawned on his features, embarrassment wasn't far behind. A light blush lit up his cheeks as he shrunk down on the couch.

"Scrap, sorry, wasn't thinking." he apologized, trying to remember how he had originally been posed and failing to do so. Bulkhead felt a bit of frustration stirring, but he kept it well under wraps. Just because this wasn't going according to plan, didn't mean he was going to give up.

"That's okay! Just… need a new canvas." he said, keeping his smile even if he was a little more flustered. With a little bit of white paint he could salvage the canvas and use it later for something else, plus it wasn't like Sari didn't provide him with plenty of supplies. Getting set up all over again, he looked back to Bumblebee, who was once again settled in what appeared to be his position of choice. Hoping to begin in earnest, he was careful as could be when he broached the question on his mind. "Is that the pose you want?"

"Definitely!" Bumblebee said enthusiastically, giving him hope that he'd be able to paint for real this time. Not wasting even a moment, he painted as fast as he could, glancing back and forth between the painting and his subject to make the process as smooth as possible. It was an effective strategy, as it allowed him to get the outline twice as fast. This time he wanted to fully capture his friend in the picture as he'd been trying from the start. Some part of him just knew it would be worth it, and that they'd both be thankful he put in all this effort.

Or, at least, he thought he knew...

"Actually, sorry about this, but…" Bumblebee was bashful but not especially hesitant as he moved to lay on his side, stretching as he moved into an entirely different position. The poor artist felt his spark drop at the loss of progress all over again, even as his friend tried to cheer them both up by looking as chipper as possible. "That was so much more uncomfortable than I was expecting. Go on!"

Bulkhead didn't say a word as he grabbed another canvas, and did his very best not to look as discouraged as he felt. It didn't seem like this was going to stop any time soon, as much as he wished it would, and that didn't bode well for his wish to get this done. Perhaps he'd been far too hopeful…

Still, he did everything in his power to stay positive and make the painting he'd dreamed of become a reality.

Painting faster than he ever had in his entire life, the big bot ignored the imperfections that came from moving so rapidly, setting his jaw tight as little flecks of paint spattered across the canvas. At this point, such little things hardly seemed to mind. What really mattered was getting this done. A familiar form began to take recognizable shape on the canvas, and the artist started to plan ahead for his next move from then on. Shading would come after these little details, which he'd be able to put together thanks to having a lot of his friend's appearance memorized. Hope blossomed in his spark as he finally saw Bumblebee in the picture he was painting.

Getting so close to what he wanted made seeing a repeat of what had happened before hurt more than it should have.

Catching himself, Bumblebee blushed and shrunk down on the spot, smiling bashfully in apology for his unintentional movement. It really wasn't something he was doing on purpose; he wanted to see his friend happy! Sitting still just didn't work for him. Seeing Bulkhead look hurt, however, made him feel especially bad for the mistake.

"I don't think this is a good idea." Bulkhead said with a sigh, putting yet another canvas to the side and looking quite deflated as he did so. There wasn't anything he could think to do that might change this, and he was ready to just throw in the towel. Perhaps this was just the one thing he wasn't meant to paint.

"Aw come on, why not?" Bumblebee pressed, aware of the answer but hoping there was something he could do to fix it. Staying still just wasn't in his programming, but perhaps… he could get some tape? That wasn't realistic, but he wanted to try something to make up for this. Bulkhead only sighed again.

"You won't stay still?" he said simply, frustrated but not antagonistic in his summation. It was something neither of them could change, and that left both more than a little helpless.

"I…" Bumblebee stuttered off, tapping his digits together as he saw his friend get even more sad. Unable to help getting a little defensive, he got up from the couch, throwing up his arms as the big bot cleaned up some of the mess. "Come on, Bulk! You know me! Staying still isn't my thing, and I can't force that!"

"Well yeah, but… couldn't you just stay mostly still?" Bulkhead asked, still not ready to just give up all at once. Even if he had no idea how to fix things or make it work, he wanted this painting too much to just give up, no matter how many canvases it took. All he needed was a little bit more time than he had been getting. His determination must have shown, because Bumblebee furrowed his brow ridges in consideration.

"I… I can try! I…" he faded off as the pressure weighed on him, and thankfully his friend caught that quickly. To be clear; he wanted this a lot, but he could never want anything badly enough to make Bumblebee uncomfortable. Perhaps it was best they rested a bit, to restore their patience and approach this with clearer heads. He certainly needed a minute to relax from all this frustration...

"How about a break? We've been trying for a while, maybe a bit of down time will help." he proposed, already feeling a little better at the prospect of cooling down. Bumblebee shared the sentiment straight away, visibly relaxing on the spot and letting out a tiny sigh of his own.

"Great idea Bulk! Let me just grab something…" he said happily, darting off and leaving the big bot alone with his supplies. Deciding to clean a bit to ease his mind, Bulkhead sorted the discarded canvases, hoping that he could paint over the unusable pictures with some white and reuse them. Seeing how much and how little progress he'd made at the same time made him wonder how he might improve on their next attempt. Nothing was coming to mind just yet, but that didn't mean he had lost hope. There had to be something on this planet that would motivate Bee to stay still, and by Primus he would find it!

As he was wiping up some paint that had managed to drip onto the floor, Bumblebee quite literally skidded back into the room, coming to a dead stop after running at full tilt.

"I'm back! Just wanted to grab my game!" the little bot declared happily, waving the device about as he went to sit back on the smushed couch. The game had been a gift from Sari as well; some kind of earth console that had been sized up a few times over to better fit the servos of a Cybertronian. Smiling in acknowledgement, the big bot nodded as he went back to cleaning. Digital music met his audials as his friend started up the system and began to play, reclining on the couch as he settled in for a much needed break. Bulkhead had only had middling success with the games popular on earth, owed in large part to his size, but he was at least happy his friend could have some much needed fun with them.

When the floor was finally cleaned up, he took stock of his slightly diminished inventory. There was still plenty of paint, and more than a few canvases, but if they continued at their current pace… He'd have to figure out a strategy before they tried this again, because otherwise this just wasn't going to work. Looking up at Bumblebee, he briefly considered proposing that they try this another day before his thoughts were systematically interrupted.

Laying on his back over the pile of stuffing that had once been a couch, the small mech was entirely engrossed in his digital world, optics focused only on the screen as his digits rapidly tapped away on the controls. Other than the occasional shift of his expression, he was entirely motionless. It took Bulkhead a moment to process what he was seeing. Bumblebee was so rarely still, and never for this length of time… He didn't need to think much before he was reacting the only way he could.

Moving as silently as a mech of his size was able to, he grabbed what he needed, gathering his paints around himself as he got a fresh canvas and sat down before his easel. He couldn't have asked for a better setup; the pose, the lighting, it was all perfect. It was almost too much to hope this was real. Considering how many false starts he'd had, most could probably understand why he felt that way.

Daring to take his time, the big bot made every brush stroke count, trying to think of all the reasons he liked Bee so much as he made each one. His friend was confident, energetic, brave… All those thoughts motivated him every second he worked, and the results were soon apparent. The form of Bumblebee began to take shape rather quickly, coming together far more smoothly thanks to how relaxed he was. A base layer was ready to go in what felt like only a few minutes.

Oblivious to everything, Bumblebee kept right on playing, occasionally sticking his glossa out as he did so. Bulkhead contemplated including that detail in the piece, but ultimately decided against it. This was going to be a somewhat more dignified painting than that.

When the time came to add lighting, he was almost over the moon, but he kept all the excitement to himself. Colors mixed together beautifully on his palette, forming the light and dark shades to the vibrant yellows and deep blacks that made up his friend's paint job. It was far more satisfying than painting even the most beautiful landscape he'd ever seen. Perhaps he was just a little biased on that front, but he did believe that painting things you truly cared about just brought them to life. One only had to glance at this piece to understand how much this bot meant to him.

It almost seemed like he was dreaming when each and every glance revealed Bumblebee to be sitting perfectly still, without a hint of movement beyond the minor. If this did turn out to be a dream, he'd at least be happy it was going so well. Fate had truly designed the perfect setup for them to finally get this done without any stress for either individual.

Everything came together with what felt like only a few of the most well done strokes he'd ever painted. At long last, the bot he'd wanted to paint so badly had been captured on canvas! It was so exciting he couldn't hold back an exclamation as he set his brush down theatrically.

"Done!"

"Huh?!" Bumblebee gasped, half jumping on the spot as his game nearly flew from his servos. Looking about in a daze, he put the pieces together when he saw his friend, at which point guilt crossed his features. Time had slipped away from him even more so than it had for the very busy Bulkhead. "What? I… oh, Bulk! I didn't mean to get distracted! You could have stopped me earlier, I wouldn't have minded."

Waving off the appreciated but unnecessary apology, the big bot only smiled and wiped some paint from his servos, rising from his chair to puff his chest out with pride. "That's okay, I'm already finished."

"How?" the little bot gasped in awe, checking his internal chronometer to see just how long he'd been wrapped up in his game. It had only felt like a few minutes, but this wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten lost in a video game.

"Well, you were pretty content playing your game, so…" Bulkhead allowed his friend to put the rest of the pieces together, and in no time understanding dawned on the little mech.

"Oh, I gotcha!" Bumblebee replied happily, quite relieved to have not held them up. If playing video games was what it had taken to make his friend happy, then he was quite fine with that. All he wanted was to get a look at the results, which he was certain would be incredible. "Here, let me see!"

Feeling a bit of shyness amongst his pride, Bulkhead handed over the canvas, careful to avoid the still drying paint.

"This is amazing!" Bumblebee proclaimed without hesitation, trying to be delicate even as he felt a surge of excitement upon beholding the painting. Of course he knew his friend had talent, but this was incredible! "Look at me, I look even better than usual!"

Bulkhead looked down to the floor and shuffled his pedes, doing his best to hide the blush creeping along his cheeks. "Well, I had a pretty great model."

"That's gonna sell fast, Bulkhead. No doubt about it." Bumblebee praised as he gave the painting back, confident in what he was saying. It didn't hurt that he was a good looking bot, but his friend had really done an especially good job on this one, and he was sure it would be bought up in no time. Taking the piece, the big bot smiled softly as he beheld it again. It had taken a lot of courage for him to get this, and he was quite proud of himself for that. As such, he held the painting very near and dear to his spark.

"Maybe, but… I think I'm gonna keep it, actually." he said softly, wanting to see it every day. There was a perfect place for it where he could do just that, not that he would say where that was. Bumblebee didn't mind the decision in the slightest.

However, when the little bot ducked in his friend's room later to pick up a borrowed item, he learned the true value of the painting to Bulkhead. On a wall reserved for only his most precious of works, the portrait sat high in a position of honor. Usually unable to say everything that came to mind due to overwhelming volume, Bee had been rendered speechless by the sight. Only a soft smile revealed how touched he was by the gesture.

#transformers animated #tfa #bumblebee #bulkhead #commission #my writing #my commissions #fluff

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kiivg · 3 years

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I could be misremembering, since your style has changed a lot, but I seem to recall you doing a fair amount of L4D art in the past too. Still super cool, I love your poses and your line-work, and the way you’ve gone about designing atmosphere is amazing. I love your art, glad to have found your stuff again king!

.I gotta stop drawing all the same shit I drew years ago lmaoooo. But I did draw a whole bunch which was maybe 2015/2016-ish but that's on my old laptop so I don't have a lot to drag myself with, sadly, but I can do a comparison because I like those and I have four L4D pictures on my external hard drive from 2017 haha.

.One major thing is the size of my pictures, like I knew that bigger canvases made for better pictures, apparently, and the stuff on the left is at 50% size, compared to what I draw now which is always 2000px x 1000px lately. But that might have been because I was going for a painterly style as opposed to what I’m doing now, because you can hide a lot in a painterly style imo.

.So the left is like, actual finished things, or at least what I would have considered to be good enough back then, and the right is a sketch from a week or so ago. And the sketch is a billion times better, easily. And I don’t mean this in the way of composition or the fact that I made a background because I didn’t do that in 2017…. Or… up until recently haha… but rather in the way of the lines being more accurate, it’s still sketchy on the right because it’s a sketch, but it’s so much cleaner and more confident because I actually studied anatomy in between these times. I think maybe I’d studied the human head because of the way I’m sketching ears on the left, but nothing heavy into body proportions and things.

.But there’s also more depth in facial analysis, all these guys have a square chin, protruding cheekbones, the same kind of necks too on the left. (I mean Bill’s old, where’s the neck sag?) Though lately I know more about singular features, and ways in which to define them. Like, Nick (or Taymour Ghazi, y’know) has a wide face with little cheekbone definition (unless fancy camera angles and general skinny-ness), and he’s got quite a fat uhh double chin (?) like the bit under your jaw that connects chin to neck despite not being actually chunky in the rest of his body. He’s got a cleft/dimple at the tip of his nose, very thin eyes, rounded ears that slightly stick out, and eyebrows that thin at either end that are kind of triangle-y, and I fancy him hahaha :)c. Point being, I wouldn’t have paid attention to any of this back then. The only singular definition I have in the left in Ellis’ bum-chin, which is nothing compared to how attentive to character features I try to be now.

.Then there’s attention to detail in clothing nowadays. I draw seams, like if you want to add defining shape to your pictures just draw the seams. And the folds, I actually understand how clothing folds now, on top of squidgy body rolls and things. Do I need to mention hands? I mean I still struggle because I have tiny baby hands and proportions are hard when you want to draw Big Man Hands and… don’t actually have them irl :(c. Regardless, I’m a lot better at drawing now.

.Also, on another note, I remember drawing a lot of Francis and Nick in prison suits and stuff, and like Nick with full body tattoos or something? I don’t know if I like that anymore, I do like Nick with body scars, atm I’ve drawn him with stabbing scars and on this right sketch there’s a gut shot surgery scar that I want to throw on him. (Premise of the right picture was Nick being stingy about wanting to sort himself out so nobody saw his big old surgery scars and Ellis is just like ‘y’know Keith got a hell’u’va lotta scars, Nick, ain’t nothing that’ll scare me off’ kind of thing.) But that’s another thing! My pictures, specifically the last L4D stuff, all have something of a story to them. Whether people can see the story is another thing, but I’m trying!

.I do still like the idea of Nick and Francis being in prison together because why not, but I got a few more HCs that I wouldn’t have had however many years ago. Like, Ellis cannot grow a beard to save his life, hillbilly bumfluff is the only thing he’s growing from that fabulous jawline of his. And the mullet, oh god why am I so sweaty over Ellis with a mullet, it’s embarrassing, but I’m not to blame, I didn’t introduce myself to backwater-curly-haired-mullet-men, no, someone else showed me that.

.HOWEVER! Thank you so much for liking my stuff back then, and recognising my Nellis-trash-ass and liking my stuff now :)c. It’s still super funky that people find me again and remember me, like, that’s crazy and I love it :)c.

#answer #anon #art analysis #old art

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everything-withered · 4 years

Text

So, I remember reading about a headcanon of Tony having asthma after the arc reactor and uh. Hi, hello, this is how that went.

This is post-CW because it's going into "Who's Been Lovin' You Good?" once it's done. And also. Like. I'm winteriron trash.

Barnes doesn't like being touched.

It's hardly a surprising revelation given his history, but Rogers isn't as bright as he likes to think he is.

And while Tony's aware that Rogers would know his best friend better, who Barnes is now isn't the guy Rogers remembers if the reports that proceeded their arrival from the palace are any indication.

Not that Rogers cares.

The captain doesn't seem all that interested in anything that doesn't suit his agenda nowadays, and Barnes is definitely not playing ball with his less than "good old boy" routine.

Barnes' decision to exclusively speak Russian definitely does not help.

And while Tony's waiting with baited breath for Barnes to rip Rogers' arm off and take it for his own, Tony loathes the thought of the paperwork he'd have to do.

For the sake of his sanity, he doesn't get involved. Can't. Not when Tony's horse in the race involves Barnes winning.

Which should say something about the state of his life that Tony wants Barnes -- Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, the Fist of Hydra, the murderer of his parents -- to win against the symbol of American patriotism and one of Howard Stark's greatest inventions. But life after Afghanistan and a Siberian bunker changes one's perspective if you let it, and Tony really hadn't had the option not to.

Nonetheless, catching the minute little twitches in Barnes' expression: the tick at his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the subtle flex of the arm that Rogers is grabbing is giving Tony heart palpitations.

Because.

He just got the walls painted in here. The carpet is. It's new.

And their wing of the Compound isn't exactly homey, but it's state of the art, and has people situated a floor below them right now -- civilian and official personnel both -- minding their business, completely unaware that someone could be thrown through the floor at any second.

Tony designed the building himself, but it might not hold against a battle royale of Super Soldier proportions. At least not from the inside. He's only really tested the Compound's durability on the outside anyway with the confidence that enemies wouldn't be able to infiltrate it without triggering other security measures which is clearly a blind spot he should've accounted for but didn't because he hoped.

He hoped.

For any other circumstance, the Compound has panic protocols, safe zones, sectional lockdowns with overrides and manual switches for all of it in case -- in case. There are sections of the Compound that can take Brucie with a big green sized tantrum, but it would've been a waste of resources to Hulk-proof the entire property when Bruce and his alter ego were pretty simpatico these days which was fine. It was. Because Super Soldiers were a different kettle of fish altogether and. Tony hadn't thought he'd ever have to worry about the Rogues being back.

He'd hoped he never had to deal with them again.

But well.

Hope's never not taken something from him every time he had it. It's only fair he'd have to sacrifice his peace of mind and personal sense of safety for the greater good. It's the least Tony can do for all the sins he's committed.

So what if he can't breathe easy anymore? It's not like struggling to breathe has ever been new to him.

If it wasn't his anxiety attacks in MIT, or the waterboarding in that cave, or the arc reactor digging into his chest cavity, or the shield coming down-down-down it was, it was.

His stuttering exhale comes out in a wheeze, the muscles around his ribs tightening in a squeeze because the human body is incredibly intelligent but also incredibly stupid. Not that Tony could blame an automatic biological response. How was his body supposed to know that his lungs are garbage at being lungs?

Fuck.

Why did he choose today to forget to carry his inhaler?

Tony gets the sense that the Rogues, at least, are getting out of his way as he stumbles out of the room in his panic.

He knows the first step to treating an asthma attack is to stay calm but. The step that would make him feel calm is to get away from the trigger: the reality of the Rogues' return, the bullshit of his own life. But Tony will settle for getting away right now.

Right now is good enough.

But Tony's always been a spoilt brat, and good enough isn't actually good enough because now he's stressed about the fact that he doesn't have his inhaler. And fuck, he hopes that if he passes out in the elevator that it isn't Pep or any of the kids that come across him.

And that thought makes him stress out more because, god, the kids --

A metal hand grabs his arm, and Tony's surprised inhale clashes against his teeth, makes his chest tighten like his lungs are being clenched in a fist.

Tony can't tell anymore if he's having a panic attack or an asthma attack.

Tugged down to sitting in the hallway lobby just in front of the elevator, Barnes' arms looped beneath his armpits so his palms are hooked over Tony's shoulders, Barnes gently eases Tony's body into a slight arch so the breadth of his chest is stretched out, so his lungs don't feel so claustrophobic.

Tony's body has never quite recovered from the first blast to the chest, and everything after hasn't helped. His lung capacity is pathetic. He's almost use to occasionally losing feeling in his toes.

With Barnes' chest flush against Tony's back, he can feel Barnes' exaggerated breathes, a silent prompting to take deeper inhales.

Tony doesn't struggle against him.

Even if he wanted to fight Barnes off, he couldn't do it emotionally comprised in the Iron Man suit, so Tony's got no chance in hell in a regular Tom Ford with his lungs being useless.

At the very least, deoxygenated or not, he can still do the basic math to this problem.

Besides, if Barnes wanted to end him right here, he could've. Even Friday wouldn't be able to do anything to stop Barnes from snapping his neck right now.

But Barnes. Isn't doing that.

Sitting behind Tony as he is, his kneecaps pressing into his lower back, Barnes' arms are sure and secure around his arms so that his shoulders and Tony's are pressed against each other; he is a warm, solid presence, angling and supporting his body posture to stay open to put less pressure on Tony's chest. The gentle, but forceful push of Barnes' breathing against Tony's back mimicking the action to empty and fill his lungs for Tony to repeat again and again and again.

Eventually, once his chest doesn't hurt as much, and his breath doesn't whistle as often, Barnes murmurs against his ear, "I've got you."

Tony startles, his breath hitching as his fists curl reflexively on either side of him. His voice is rough from the strain, and Tony means it, from the very bottom of his heart when he mutters, "What the fuck."

#winteriron #prompt #asthma

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whaticannotshowyou · 4 years

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Fucking. Jaskier gets shrunk to maybe four feet tall (same mind, he’s just shorter now) and Geralt knows his dick is as thick as one of Jaskier’s legs now, but he really wants to fuck his now small bard. Jaskier figures why the hell not.

So, I spent far to long sitting on this one, and still I’m not super happy with how it turned out... still not sure if I will be posting it to my AO3, but we will have to see! Hope you enjoy!

It’s a very... weird curse to put on someone, Jaskier thought. Geralt claimed it would be reversed in a few days, at most a week or two, and in the meantime there wasn’t much to do but live with it, deal with the fact that he is now almost half his former height. He does so pretty well, in his own opinion, but it’s still very annoying to be treated like a child by townsfolk that haven’t yet heard his voice or seen the stubble on his face. Nonetheless, life continued as normal, at least up until the moment the two were rinsing off in a river by their camp and Jaskier found himself tripping over a branch stuck to the muddy bottom. Geralt caught him just in time, hands around his waist as he hoisted him out of the water.

“Holy fuck in hell! Thank you Ger-... Geralt?” Jaskier followed the witcher’s gaze, gasping as he saw the grip he had on him. His waist was tiny, small enough for the witcher’s fingers to touch one another as he held him. Geralt seemed transfixed by the sight, the muscles in his jaw flexing just the tiniest bit as he stared.

Interesting indeed.

Jaskier was put down back into the water, now keeping an eye on his companion as they bathed. The witcher made quick work of his hygiene, practically bolting up from the water as soon as he had rinsed himself. The bard spent a little more time in the small river, humming to himself as he explored his body for real this time.

Sure enough, he had the same proportions as always, his own hands fitting the same way he was used to against his body, but just... smaller. Just shy of half of the size, in fact. Geralt was absolutely gigantic next to him, yet Jaskier hadn’t reflected over what that actually meant. Well, not until then. He imagined the man’s cock, already far larger than the standard human’s, and his knees got weak at the thought of Geralt’s hands wrapped around him. That he had managed to not get hard when he held him before was a miracle.

Returning back to camp, Jaskier found Geralt polishing his swords. When he sat down across from him on a log he saw the glances, the hungry, golden eyes studying him. As Jaksier pretended not to see. The incident hadn’t just awoken something in the bard, then.

“What’s on your mind, dear witcher?” The sun had set some time ago, the two huddled up by the campfire as the remainder of their meals were set aside. Geralt had been quiet for most of the time, instead spending it with his eyes wandering Jaskier’s body. There was no way he couldn’t smell the bard’s own desire, just too chivalrous to act on it.

“Hmm,” he grumbled, eyes flicking up to meet Jaskier’s. The two stayed in silence for a few seconds before the other moved in closer, wrapping himself up in his blanket as he stood himself in front of the witcher. Even at his full height he was barely taller than the man sat on the ground, his need spiking up as he only had to angle his head slightly downwards to maintain the eye contact.

Jaskier smiled as he saw Geralt’s nostrils flare, breathing in the scent as his eyebrows twitched. With a low “fuck,” he reached out to the other, grabbing at his hip to drag him closer. Jaskier practically stumbled onto him, the witcher not used to his new weight as he pulled, managing to land awkwardly with one leg on each side of the man’s thick thighs. They were spread obscenely, his smallclothes bunching up to give him the flexibility needed and making Jaskier draw in a sharp inhale as the fabric dragged along his half hard cock.

“Fuck,” repeated Geralt, palms sliding up and down the bard’s thighs. He let out a groan as Jaskier thrust himself against his hand, cock hardening rapidly at the sensation and could feel the man under him react as well to the whole thing.

Jaskier did his best to get up on his knees, struggling with gaining any height but managing to kick his scarce attire away. He dove in for a kiss, their lips pressed hard together as they both fumbled with the witcher’s trousers in order to free his straining length. Geralt’s chest rumbled as he felt the cold air hit him, the cock bobbing under it’s own weight before Jaskier got a hand on it.

They both froze up, Jaskier staring at the way his fingers barely reached around the cock. With his other hand he managed to get a good grip, but still struggled to fully envelope the length in his hands. The girth was... immense even if he had been his regular size, now about the same circumference as his leg. It drew a deep growl from Geralt, his pupils blown out as he stared at the small hands holding him.

The witcher’s hand slowly drew downwards, fingers prodding at Jaskier’s hole intently. The bard arched his back at the sensation, the man’s fingers almost as thick as his own cock. There was no way he would fit inside of him, but he wasn’t one to give up without a try. He gathered the ample amount of pre on the big cock and spread it over his fingers, moving back a little and then slowly fingered himself open. There wasn’t much issue getting the first three inside, the bard not too unfamiliar with being stretched open on a whim.

All the while Geralt sat impatiently staring at him, groaning at the sight and sucking dark bruises onto his skin. When he was comfortably taking four of his fingers, Jaskier guided Geralt’s hand back to his entrance once more, using two of his fingers to spear him open. The whole process was endless and maddening, Jaskier feeling so unbelievably full and panting heavily into the man’s shoulder as three of his digits worked themselves inside. The oil they had poured over the hole was reapplied over and over, both of them moaning at the slick squelch of his loose entrance with every movement.

Bucking his hips, Jaskier came hard. Geralt kept his fingers inside of him, trying his best to avoid the sensitive bundle of nerves despite how he was filling the man beyond capacity. The bard made a whimper as he started moving again, arms flung around his neck as he held on for dear life as Geralt finally let a fourth digit enter, the stretch so sinful yet almost unbearable it made Jaskier’s knees give out. He knew it was crucial though, that if he truly wanted to be speared open on the man’s cock he had to suffer through this.

“Please, fuck- Geralt I need you- inside, now!” Jaskier struggled to make full sentences, most of his mind being dedicated to keeping himself loose and open despite the pain. It had dulled somewhat, just on the perfect side of pleasurable that the bard preferred. Geralt wasted no time challenging his demand, fingers quickly retracting as he gripped his aching cock and guided it to the sloppy hole. Jaskier sunk down slowly, gasping as the head slipped inside without much issue and a long moan escaping him as he felt the rest follow along.

Speared about halfway down, Jaskier couldn’t take more, the tip reaching parts of him nothing had before touched. Still, Jaskier was determined to have more, bouncing himself on his cock with Geralt’s guiding hands for help as he slowly managed to take more inside. He saw the manic way the wolf was staring at him, his eyes almost shining as he tried to keep himself composed as to not hurt the other. His hips twitched, straining to not thrust into him the way he wanted to, hands gripping his tiny thighs to ground himself.

After several minutes, his composure snapped. Jaskier had managed about two thirds of him inside, sweat pearling in his brow and tears threatening to fall as he rode on his cock. Within an instant, Geralt pushed him down hard while his hips bucked to meet him, seating himself fully inside before taking back his control and staring in absolute terror at what he had done.

All he was met with was a silent scream from Jaskier, but his face not contorted in pain. His eyes were locked on his belly, Geralt’s cock filling him up so good a bulge was prominently displayed through his skin. The bard could see how it twitched inside of him, could feel every pulse of blood going through the length and it was beyond good. Crumbling in on himself, Jaskier once more spilled over their abdomens, come sticking to the coarse hair and the bard trembling like a leaf as he couldn’t even move, speared completely on the large cock.

Geralt was breathless, the tight clench on his cock making his sanity spill out of his mind as one of his hands immediately went to feel the bulge he was making in the other’s stomach. He was rearranging the bard’s insides, making him fully and truly his. He could feel his own cock twitch against his palm as he pressed down just a little harder, a low keen coming from Jaskier when he did so. Then his resolve was gone and he started moving, one hand on the protrusion and the other gripping the other’s waist as he pulled him up his length before dropping him back down.

In his lap, Jaskier was boneless, his orgasm making him pliant and good while the entire sensation of being throughout-fully claimed made his head spin. He couldn’t comprehend how far he was spread open, couldn’t even feel all the places the witcher’s cock was touching, only knew he was being rubbed raw from the inside and would certainly feel it morning come. Not that he cared, the whole ordeal making him rethink his beliefs, for he must have died and gone to heaven.

A grunt alerted him of the witcher’s own edge, Jaskier blindly fumbling around with his lips until they were kissing. He was vaguely aware of golden eyes locked into his, if only he had the mental capacity to see. All he could do was feel, how his fingers tangled themselves in white hair, his knees aching, Geralt’s beard grazing his chin. His cock fucking him beyond their plane of existence. And then the man was coming.

At least Jaskier could sense the warmth filling him, hot seed making room for itself as the witcher spilled himself inside. Jaskier whined at the sensation of being filled up even further, eyes rolling back into his skull as he unconsciously bit down on Geralt’s lower lip. It was so much, too much, and he was tethering on the edge of lucidity all until the witcher managed to pull out, holding the trembling bard close to his chest as they both panted.

“You okay, Jaskier?” His voice was so gentle, hands petting down his back and matting his hair to his skull. The bard just focused on breathing, on the sensation of being hollowed out and his arse trying desperately to close back up. Come spilled down his thighs, surely staining the witcher’s clothes and the ground below them, yet Jaskier couldn’t find a reason to care. All he had to do was breathe.

“How long did you say the hex would last?”

#answer #fic #con #if #misc

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sedge-and-sanctuary · 3 years

Text

Sanctuary Pack Stories: The Loner

A story from year seven. After being scattered in the escape from human hunters, the pack is finally ready to go back home. Chicory is reunited with a figure from her past.

"And she still had the gun- I guess I was pretty worried about that- but Uno had the idea to--"

Chicory raises her muzzle, cutting Verand short. "You're limping again."

And Verand's head hunches into an expression so obviously and immediately guilty that Chicory has to bite back a laugh, fighting to keep her face stern. "I've been doing the stretches you told me, you can ask Kit--"

"Like he'd tell me the truth." Chicory snorts. "Slow down-- you don't need to go leaping ten strides ahead. The pack'll hardly leave without us."

"But--" Verand blows out a sigh. "They're just ahead, Chicory. And I swear it isn't sore at all!" She lifts the bad leg to demonstrate, stretching it out ahead in an exaggerated step.

"Hm," Chicory says.

This time, she has to hide a frown.

Verand's range of motion is pretty bad; no sign of stiffness or pain in her body language, but she can't get the leg very high off the ground. Probably she'll be limping on it the rest of her life.

"Fine. Go on then."

And Verand straightens at once, surprise and delight all over her face her face, open and obvious as tansy in bloom.

"It's this way!" She calls, already disappearing through the trees. Her tail wags behind her like a flag, waving them on.

She's a good kid. And she'll be struggling with that leg the rest of her life. Because Chicory hadn't kept her back when she should have. Because she hadn’t been nearly the doctor she should have been.

Probably get worse when she's older, too, she thinks, bitter, and pads on after Verand.

The Sanctuary Pack has been almost a year without a home, scattered wide across unfamiliar territory, fleeing for their lives through baking summer, muddy fall, bitter winter.

And now the spring unfurls before them, thin and cold, with snow still clinging stubborn in the shade.

So their territory is safe again. So they'll all be reunited. So she'll see Radun, again.

Chicory snorts. Looks up. The sky, a chilly dove's-wing gray, is threatening rain.

And wouldn't that be just her luck.

"Verand!"

A voice through the trees- high and clear, Chicory can't quite place it- and Verand, ahead of her, gives a joyful bark and bounds forward, oblivious to Chicory's censure.

She hurtles into a dark, slim wolf- Uno, it must be- and the two go rolling head-over-hocks through the muddy undergrowth, tails wagging fit to stir up a storm.

The wind, shifting, carries the mingled scents of many wolves towards them; the pack, at last.

Chicory lifts her nose, testing the air; no hint of sickness she can detect. No stink of infection, no rotting sweetness.

"Chicory." A low voice-- she turns, and Kit- a big, square young wolf- pads up to stand beside her.

"Yes?"

"Is everyone... alright? In your group?" Something hangs a little sad and serious hanging around his eyes, the way mist will cling to water.

"They'll take some feeding up." Chicory shrugs. "But well enough, I guess. Considering."

"That's good." His eyes keep sliding away from Chicory's, watching his friends play sidelong, so obviously hangdog it's nearly literal, his head drooping low.

Chicory softens- just a little, mind you- and gestures towards Verand and Uno. "Pull those two wolverines apart, would you? I'm sure I can find my own way."

He doesn't need much more convincing. As Chicory walks on, his voice joins theirs; a low and rumbling counterpoint, and warm as the thaw.

Chicory fluffs her fur against the wind, scowling. If the thaw ever comes.

She picks her way onwards, cold mud squelching unpleasantly between her toes.

Is thinking, they better have picked a drier spot to camp, when she comes through a break in the trees, and there is all of Sanctuary, gathered up and waiting.

Finch is fussing over the pups, Maize laid out in a sunbeam watching him, panting a little in that wheezy, painful way- can't Eight look after her patients when Chicory isn't around?- and a couple of scouts are straggling in: Dace and Rover, muddy but apparently satisfied.

Rover splits off immediately, to look for Seven, the two old wolves gray around their muzzles, speaking too low for Chicory to hear above the general babble of voices, and Chicory watches them-- watches all of them-- and feels some foolish, unwanted warmth bubbling up like water in a hot spring, something nearly scalding, too strong, too hot to hold in her, too much--

And there is Radun, too, looking up, the first wolf out of all of them to notice Chicory standing there.

And she is just-- standing there. Rooted to the spot by that wave of feeling, blindsided, just by seeing all of them, together and safe again. She’s going soft, probably. Can’t bring herself to care too much.

So she only stands and watches as Radun gets up, and walks across the clearing to greet her.

"Chicory. You look very well." Her voice musical and strangely deep, that odd formality. When she dips her head, low, in greeting, even their poor thin sun cannot help but catch the highlights of her rich, golden fur.

Chicory clears her throat, and clears it again. "You too," she says, stiff. "It's-- good to see you again. Been a while."

Radun straightens. "It has." A pause. "Is Verand--"

Of course-- that's why she'd come up to say hello. Chicory shakes herself, feeling foolish.

"Right behind me. Got caught up with Kit and Uno."

"I see." A pause. Radun shifts from paw to paw, evidently restless. "And is she--"

"She's alright. Favouring the leg a little, is all." I wish I had better news to give you.

"Good. That's good to hear." She clears her throat. Looks over Chicory's shoulder, something stiff in her face, her posture. "I-- thank you very much for indulging my worry. It means a great deal."

"Not a problem." Chicory fights back the horrible honeycomb-feeling bubbling up in her chest, airy and stinging and sweet at her words.

She's only being polite, she's always polite.

They hesitate for another moment, Radun still not quite meeting Chicory's eyes. Watching for her sister, probably, but too polite to go.

"I should go check in with Dace," Chicory should say. Give her an excuse.

Says, instead, "how've you been keeping, then?"

And Radun looks up, almost startled, right at Chicory, at last, something deep and warm in her tawny eyes, something almost…

"I've been well," she says, "very well, under the circumstances. Thank you. I--"

And Chicory looks away, unable to bear it, looks past Radun's shoulder just to-- settle her nerves, her damn idiot nerves, getting excited over nothing--

And all the heat goes out of the world, just like that. Like the sun's been swallowed up, like the seasons are turning backwards.

Eight is chatting with a patient, in the shadow of an oak; she hadn't seen them, when she'd first arrived, tucked away in the shade. And her patient-- a newcomer. Not of The Pack-- a gray wolf, huge out of all proportion, built broad and strong, and his eyes glitter with a sort of watchful, foxlike intelligence.

Chicory knows him, immediately.

Something must show on her face-- Radun ducks her head again. "My apologies. I've taken up too much of your time."

"No," Chicory starts to say, don't worry about it, no, you haven't, but she's turning already, and leaving Chicory with--

With him.

Jumps For Clouds watches Radun as she passes. Looks back along her path to spot Chicory, and the thoughts flicker, visibly, across his narrow face; surprise, at first, with understanding coming snapping at its heels.

He turns, and says something in Eight's ear. She looks up, surprised.

Together, they get up, and start towards her.

Chicory skirts the edge of the camp to meet them. Wants this conversation happening as far from the rest of the pack as possible. If her secrets must come out-- well. She supposes they'll all learn of it, eventually. Probably foolish, trying to draw it out.

She ducks her head away, as Eight and Jumper get near, some great weight pulling her down towards the earth.

"Chicory!" Eight says, "I'm glad to see you back. This is--"

"Jumps For Clouds," Jumper says, smoothly. "But you can call me Jumper. A pleasure."

Chicory looks up, slowly. "--Chicory," she says. "It's-- nice to meet you."

He nods, amiably, face open and friendly. "Now-- I understand you're this pack's other healer?"

"I am." No sense denying it. But telling him anything makes Chicory's fur itch. He remembers her-- he must remember her. He's just got some... angle, is what it is.

He'd always had some sort of angle.

"I thought so. You know, you just seem like a healer to me. Even kinda look like one I used to know."

"I guess there's sort of a-- common look," Eight offers, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice.

"Sure," Chicory says, stiff. "It's the hunchback."

Jumper laughs, over-loud. "Well, see, I knew someone in this pack had to have a sense of humour! Listen--" he turns to Eight, apologetic. "Listen, do you mind if I have her take a look? I really do feel--"

Eight stiffens, a little, but nods. "It can never hurt to get a second opinion."

"I thank you." Jumper dips his head. "Listen- Chicory, was it? Chicory, I swear I'm feeling under the weather, but the lovely miss Eight here says she can't find anything wrong. Would you mind..."

"Of course not." The words are stiff in her mouth, bitter. "Eight, I can take it from here."

Eight hesitates, frowning. "Are you sure? I have his history, I can--"

"I can ask him." Chicory looks over her shoulder-- back towards Dace, settling down to a meal. "I'm sure you've got other things to do."

Eight follows her eyes, visibly brightens. "Well," she says, with badly-feigned reluctance."If you're really sure--"

And at Chicory's nod, she sets off towards Dace at a barely-restrained trot, affection coming off her so palpable you could nearly see it.

Chicory watches her go, a bitter taste in her mouth.

"Well, who'd've thought you'd learn to manage people," Jumper says, voice light. "Wasn't the most subtle job I've ever seen, but--"

Chicory looks at him. "Jumper."

He tips his head in greeting. "Chews on Chicory," he says. "Fancy finding you here." Something thoughtful in his tone.

"What do you want?"

"Want?" He looks hurt. "Shelter, Chicory, a little help! You know, my own pack's fallen to war. Horrible tragedy."

"It has?" Chicory blinks. So the Pack At High Mountain was gone. "I had no idea--"

"Oh,” Jumper says, smooth as ice. “ I think you had some.”

Chicory looks at him. Feels a sort of frost creeping over her, inexorable, cold vertebrae-by-vertebrae along her spine.

"Of course," he goes on, "I might be mistaken. A common look, right? I might never have met you at all, before today."

Chicory doesn't respond. Doesn't know how to.

The pack had fallen-- how many wolves lost to the fighting, then? How many that she might have saved, if she were there?

"Listen, all I'm asking is a little-- a little healing. Your hunter, Rime, she wants me out with her team, but I'm sure I'm feeling under the weather. I should be getting my beauty rest, not getting myself all-- worn out and cut up hunting. Wouldn't you agree?"

Chicory meets his eyes, for a long moment. A more evidently strong, healthy young wolf she's never seen.

As if from an enormous distance, the warm, familiar sounds of the pack filter towards them-- the excited chatter of the puppies, the easy ribbing of a group of hunters setting out. How long has she been with this pack-- two years, three?

Good years-- good wolves.

"I just need the good opinion of a healer," Jumper says. "That's all."

Chicory ducks her head, guilt in her heavy as a stone.

"Of course," she says, at last. "Come with me."

#wolvden #the sanctuary pack #well. this one is a bit all over the place lmao #just kinda wanted to give an overview of what the pack was like around this point so it's a bit scattershot lol.#chicory #jumper #verand #radun #year seven #pack stories #jumper sucks so much and i love him #written for a loreclan prompt contest!

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trashscenariihxh · 4 years

Text

Phinks x fem!reader Smut/Almost Hate sex

It had started out as a bet made over drinks in your hotel room. A stupid bet really, born of alcohol and petty boasts. It devolved into a series of juvenile competitions: who could toss the most consecutive paper wads into the trash, who could finish their beer the fastest, who could go the longest without talking during a second-rate horror film. Fun, but not at all proportional to the stakes.

To your surprise, you won the majority of the little contests, so you set the terms. They were simple, really: Phinks had to let you ride him. Simple, except for the fact that the man had never let you ride him to completion before.

He’d agreed, which is why you were in your current position: straddling Phinks’ waist while pumping his cock with languid strokes. To ensure his compliance, you’d taken the extra step of tying him to the bedposts.

“Fuck, _____, hurry up,” Phinks gritted out as he strained against his bindings. “How long does it take for you to sit on a dick, god fucking damnit!”

“Be patient,” you coo at him, giving his cock a few more pumps before scooting back to kneel between his legs. “You agreed to this, after all.”

“Only because I didn’t think you’d be so fucking slow- ah!” Phinks cut himself off when you dipped down to take him into your mouth. You laughed around his cock as you began to bob your head up and down, tongue dragging along the shaft and licking at the tip.

Phinks grunted and cursed when your lips sealed around the head of his cock; you had to hold his hips down against the bed to keep him from thrusting up into your throat. You continued to tease him with your mouth, licking and sucking with varying degrees of intensity depending on his reaction. Phinks gave you a warning growl when you ran your tongue along the length of a vein on the underside of his cock. “____, if you don’t get on my dick right now, I swear I’ll--”

“Hm, what?” You pulled away from his now achingly-hard cock and smiled down at him. His jaw was tensed and his brow furrowed as he glared up at you with furious eyes. A strange feeling, a cocktail of excitement, anticipation and fear began to form in the pit of your stomach, and your eyes flitted over to the rope that bound Phinks to the bedpost. Seeing that the knots were still-secure bolstered your confidence, and you threw him a smirk before straddling him and pressing yourself against his cock, which had sprung back to rest against his stomach.

“You want me on your dick, Phinks?” You ask sweetly, lowering yourself to rub your slit against his cock. “Like this?”

“Fuck, _____.” Phinks clenched his hands into ineffectual fists. “You know what I mean.” He lifted his head up from the bed as far as he could to glare up at you. When you only smiled and rocked your hips against him he snorted in frustration and let his head fall back down. “Bitch.”

You tutted at him. “Watch your language,” you chided, lifting off of him slightly so you could line his cock up with your entrance. “Or else I might just leave you here.” You slowly sank down onto him.

“You wouldn’t -ah! Dare.” Phinks gasped when he bottomed out and felt you tighten around him. The muscles in his arms tensed and flexed as he strained against the rope.

“Wouldn’t I?” You began to move, making lazy figure eights with your hips. “Don’t test me, Phinks. I don’t need your cock to get off.” You clenched your inner muscles around him and felt a surge of triumph when he groaned in frustrated pleasure and squeezed his eyes shut. You gave a hum of satisfaction and reached down to run your fingers over his face, down his neck and over the muscular plane of his chest. He was starting to sweat.

You decided to show the poor man some mercy and began to pick up your pace. Phinks seemed to approve and relaxed a little, though his jaw remained just as clenched as before. “You like that?” you asked as you angled your hips so he could brush against your g-spot. There was a slight breathlessness in your voice despite your best efforts to sound noncommittal, a detail that Phinks picked up on immediately.

“I knew it, even like this you’re a slut for my cock.” He sneered up at you as he pushed his hips up to meet yours. “Just admit it, ____.”

You felt a small twinge of annoyance at his cockiness, so you decided to make things difficult for him. Your movements ceased and you glared down Phinks from your position astride his hips. “I told you to watch your language,” you admonished. Phinks only fixed you with a smoldering glare. “Move.”

You shook your head. “Ask me nicely.”

Phinks frowned. “I will not,” he replied in a husky, hoarse voice.

“Do it.”

“____...” There was an undertone of warning in his voice that, had you not been so heady with dominance, you would have noticed and heeded. “Move. Now.”

“No.” You threw him an imperious glance as he pulsed inside you. “Maybe I’ll just stay like this awhile, until you ask me-”

Snap.

In one fluid motion, Phinks jerked his fists forward, snapping his bindings as if they were nothing. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening Phinks grabbed you by the hips and flipped you over so that he was on top of you, his cock buried impossibly deep.

“You have a lot of nerve, talking to me like that,” he growled, dipping down to savage your neck with hungry kisses and bites. He slammed into you repeatedly, each time drawing back until only the head of his cock remained inside you before ramming back in, causing sparks to dance across your vision. He entered you again with one sharp thrust, hilting himself within you and stilling as you whined and struggled to get used to the feeling of having him so wondrously, painfully deep; you felt him nudging against your cervix.

With a whimper you reach forward to press against his shoulders in an effort get him to let up just a little so you could have some reprieve, but Phinks seized your wrists and pinned them above your head. While you fruitlessly struggled against his grip, he slipped his free arm underneath one of your legs and pushed forward to fold you back against yourself.

It was too much. He was so deep inside that you could feel every thrum, every pulse of his cock. A small rock of his hips caused you to squirm against him as he stared triumphantly down at you. Something about the way he was smirking whilst bestowing such delicious torture upon you made you snap.

“So are you going to fuck me, or just stay like this all night?” You emphasized your words by squeezing him with the muscles of your cunt, causing him to exhale sharply through his nose.

Your words earned a hand to be clapped over your mouth as Phinks settled down to brace himself against the bed with his elbow, his weight bearing down on you. “You want me to fuck you, huh?” he hissed. “I can do that...”

You will never know why you did what you did just then. In a moment of unfathomable stupidity, you bit his hand. Hard.

“Fuck!” Phinks drew back. “You stupid fucking slut!”

You’ve always been aware that Phinks can be a scary man, but the look he gave you then made your blood run cold. For a split second you thought he was actually going to hurt you, or worse, but instead he released his grip on your wrists and planted his palms on either side of your head, caging you in.

Without warning he began to fuck you relentlessly, his hips driving forward and jostling almost painfully against your thighs. He still had one of your legs hooked over his shoulder, and shifted to do the same to the other.

Folded back against yourself like this, you were utterly at his mercy as his cock drove into you repeatedly, forcing your tight muscles to loosen around it. The depth of the penetration teetered on the edge of pain, but you were losing yourself to pleasure all the same.

“Phinks... please... oh, fuck!” Words failed you as the first warnings of your impending release coursed through your core, causing your overused pussy to twitch around his cock. You reached up to clutch at his shoulders as each thrust made your entire body shake. The discomfort of having him so deep inside had given way to pure overwhelming ecstasy; your eyes rolled back in your head as incoherent babbling flowed from your lips.

“You gonna cum for me?” Phinks pressed forward, folding you even more until your knees rested against your shoulders. “You gonna cum on my cock?” When you could only whimper in response he chuckled before leaning forward to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

The sheer force of him thrusting into you would have been enough to get you off, but the unexpectedness of the kiss made the final thread of your self control snap and you gave way to roiling pleasure.

“Shit, ____,” Phinks gritted out, his rhythm not slowing in the slightest as you spasmed around him. “Were you really so desperate for my cock?” He drove in and out of you a few more times before pushing in as far as he could and groaning. He trembled on top of you for a few moments as he filled you with his release before pulling back to allow your now-sore legs to slip from his shoulders and rest on the bed. A few moments later he collapsed forward onto you, his face buried in your neck as his chest heaved with exertion.

“You okay?” He murmured into your skin, nuzzling your neck as he reached down to stroke your thigh.

“Y-yeah.” You swallowed thickly, still far too exhausted to form a coherent sentence. Your thighs and pussy were beyond sore, but it was a pleasant,satisfying soreness. You wondered if you’d have bruises later.

A deep rumble of laughter vibrated through Phinks’ chest as he rolled off of you. “Gods, ____, you’re totally fucked out.” A cocky smile spread across his face when you give him an exhausted look. “Good thing I went easy on you.”

“That was going easy on me?” You sit up onto your elbows, groaning with discomfort and grimacing when you feel his release start to leak out of you. “You were trying to split me in half. What happened to letting me ride you?”

Phinks shrugged. “I’m not a man of my word. Sorry.”

You snorted with disapproval and gingerly rose from the bed. “I’m gonna go shower.”

“Want company?”

“That’s definitely not a good idea,” you respond, wincing. You probably wouldn’t be able to be fucked again for at least a week. When another laugh erupts from Phinks as you limped towards the bathroom, you made a mental note to seek out stronger rope for next time.

#phinks #smuttastic

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