Commission

commission

but honestly I loved drawing him, Dain's so stunning

nerd humor

(my twitter)

Art Print Botanical Flowers Dreamscape by clairespaintings

“stop looking at me with those eyes.” scaramouche looked at you with faux disdain in his eyes, scrunching his nose towards your direction.

“with what eyes, my love?” you blinked up at him, adjusting your body to be signifciantally less sprawled out on top of him, a shit-eating grin scuplting your features, like the finest piece of artwork man has ever made. you dramatically sighed, leaning your cheek on his chest. “besides, you’re not even looking at me. you’re just making assumptions.”

he looked away from the book in his hand and looked at you, eyes travelling from your eyes to the pout that had formed on your lips. “you’re looking at me like i’m candy. and stop acting like i neglect you.”

“you are candy though,” you giggled as you took the book away from him and inched closer to him, kissing his jawline thoroughly, not leaving a space untouched. “you’re eye-candy, aha.”

he sighed and leaned closer into your touch, relishing in the attention he was receiving. he pulled away to kiss your forehead, traveling down to your lips gradually. his thumb swiped your bottom lip, leaning further and further into your touch and deepening the kiss. his hand became entangled in your hair, pulling it once or twice just to soak in your reactions.

he pulled away once more, drinking in the sight of your hair allmessy and leaning further for more of his touch. he kissed the corner of your mouth and chuckled. “you’re like a bug.”

“we just made out and you’re comparing me to a bug??”

“yeah.” he hummed and combing some of your hair down, laughing softly at your reaction. a gentle, domestic look highlighted his face, appreciating your gentle pout and your squinted eyes, leaning your head on his chest once more.

“...am i at least a cute bug?”

he outright laughed at you, the vibrations of his chest tickling your cheek. his laugh intoxicated you, biting your lip as you tried to deny the upcoming smile that had begun to unveil itself. “oh, trust me darl. you’re the cutest.”

To be loved is to be changed (!!!!!!!!)

The Mountain Goats // Wendy Cope // @8-bitfiction // Eden Robinson // Ada Limon // Bleachers // Amparo Dávila // Octavio Paz // Vladimir Nabokov // Henry James

SUNLIT WARMTH

late afternoon study date with your boyfriend that ends in passionate kisses.

kaedehara kazuha x gender neural reader.

wc: 971.

content: fluff and lots of kissing + modern au.

you should focus.

that’s the thought that crosses your mind when you find yourself lost in him for the thousandth time today.

who could blame you, though? kazuha is all too entrancing. in the comfort of his room, you are the royal who discovers a magical being in a forest clearing. hours would pass, and you wouldn’t notice, absolutely and utterly mesmerized by the boy sitting in front of you.

with a dreamy sigh, you try to concentrate on your textbook once again.

it’s futile.

even when your eyes look at the words your brain doesn’t process, kazuha’s warmth is all you can think of: his smile, all honey and roses wrapped in silken ribbons; his words that seem taken straight out of a poem or love song every time; the way the golden sunlight reflects in his hair of argent moon; his touch, akin to threads of love cushioning your heart, the heat of its quick beat like fire in your cheeks; and his eyes, doe-like, like droplets of sunset destined to illuminate you and you alone, in colors unseen before, sugary and soft, the comfort of a red scarf in a grey day.

you sigh again, a note caught in between the defeat of not caring anymore and the oneiric state of dreaming about someone you love.

a dopey smile tugs at the corners of your lips. this is a frequent occurrence when you’re with kazuha; he makes you too happy for you to avoid showing it.

however, the bubble of your rose-colored daydream would be popped by a melodic voice seconds after:

“dove, you seem distracted.” kazuha’s hand reaches for yours over the table. he is soft. and warm. and you want to never let go of his hand. “is something the matter?” he asks.

at the pleading and concerned look in his eyes, you feel almost guilty. here your kazuha is, worried about you, while you’ve been eyeing him all this time and wishing to kiss him right here and now.

“i… uh… i-i’m fine, kazu.” you give him what you hope is a reassuring smile, though that is difficult to judge with your heartbeat loud in your ears. “just tired, i guess.” you offer, fingers lacing with his.

but alas, sometimes your boyfriend is all too perceiving for your own good.

he reaches out a hand, placing it delicately against your forehead.

“you are quite warm, my petal.” kazuha’s hand moves to your cheek, the backs of his fingers caressing your warming skin.

well, of course you are warm. and now you are definitely burning up with him so close.

no matter how many times he does it, his affections always manage to leave you breathless.

reaching your own hand up, you wrap it around his, gently holding it.

“kazuha, i promise i’m okay.” your eyes lock with his crimson autumn ones. you can’t tell who looks more concerned now: him, afraid that you have gotten sick, or you, guilt heavy on your shoulders for making him worry. “it’s just… it’s really warm in here…” you laugh nervously, cheeks heating up even more.

averting your gaze, you chide yourself for your stupid choice in words and for the embarrassment eating at you.

gosh, kazuha really makes your heart flutter too much.

“oh? is that so?” your lover asks. you swear there’s a change in kazuha’s tone. and if it weren’t for the smirk you catch out of the corner of your eye, you would have thought you were imagining it.

“well, i… ugh okay!” burying your head in your hands, you give up. there is no running now that you’ve dug yourself into this hole. “i keep getting distracted… because…”

“yes, my hummingbird?” he rests his cheek in his palm, gaze of scarlet lit in fiery mischief.

“because… because of you.” you finally confess, voice smaller that you’d like, bashful.

kazuha chuckles, and you don’t think you could ever hear a more beautiful sound than his laughter of bird’s fly on a sunny spring morning.

he scoots closer to where you are sitting, one of his hands coming up to comb through your hair, the other next to your hip, on the floor, his weight leaning on it.

your gaze locks with his. the warmth of an autumn sun seems to wrap around you with every inch erased from the distance between you two.

you whisper his name.

he swallows your utterance when his lips envelop yours.

his hands rest on your waist, yours lose in the strands of his smooth hair.

he tastes so sweet, of tender passion and the addicting intoxication of ambrosia blooms.

you feel like you are floating, in a drunken-like state, over the clouds where the only thing that matters is kazuha.

he drinks you in, as if you alone were all the oxygen he needs.

a fire that could evaporate oceans lights up.

you burn.

he melts into the softness of your body against his.

you live inside a mirage where time is at a standstill, where he is all you need to breathe, where you are all he needs to live.

but oases are never eternal, are they?

eventually, the now coppery light of an impending sunset floods your vision again.

locks of his starlight brush against your cheeks, and you meet the cerise constellations shining in kazuha’s gaze.

like the curve of a kaleidoscopic ocean gently lapping at the moonstone sands, your lips paint a smile that could cast rainbows over stormy skies.

kazuha’s lashes flutter closed, silver stars tinted in the hues of twilight shining for you only.

your arms wrap around his form, as he lays his head gently on your chest, his warm breath steady against your skin, your heartbeat a symphony dedicated only to him.

a few beats pass.

neither of you let go.