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I've put off posting this one because I felt something was missing but I did some edits today and am pretty happy with the final. I'd love to turn this into a print! This is my FAVORITE arc from ORV T v T
Ack, I keep forgetting to post this one. I made this as a kind of celebration for the ao3 fanfic 29 Going On 30's completion. (note this is def a 18+ fanfic so...do with that what you will) 29 Going On 30 is written by kavehcado
"The Protagonist is the Protagonist for a reason"
The best trio
I... uh.. yep. I lost my soul to ORV fanfics on AO3
I'll be nice and share the anatomy sketches I did of our lovely sunfish regressor.
Ive been slacking on the posts, so here is some ORV sketches <3
Wasn't sure if I wanted to post these or not. They feel kinda stiff (no.) but I cant quite place it. Just means I need to draw them more.
Read the webcomic again and decided to do some redraws for warmups (plus some originals).
Some Joongdok sketches for the occasion
i did the cover for @jdlogbook ! POs opened today so please check it out…! ^^
happy birthday kim dokja
original from Wolf in the house by Park Ji Yeon
He's dying again. Keep an eye on him while I'm gone. Just be careful, even in this state he is dangerous.
Seduction tactics
Happy birthday to my favourite reader, Kim Dokja
i uploaded! another fic! im not tagging the fics fandom main tags bcs that is embarrassing! to me! im just gonna link it! here!
edit: i added the main tags idgaf anymore
During Kim Dokja's birthday I dedicated myself to making some fanarts.
Even with my terrible beginner skills, I was somewhat satisfied with the result. I want to improve!
(Anatomy and proportions probably took a year off :) )
(they were doomed from the start)
The moment he stumbles into the apartment, you can tell he’s completely, utterly wasted. His shirt is wrinkled, one side untucked, and his hair is an absolute mess, strands sticking to his forehead. and there's a lazy, lascivious grin on his face as he sways toward you.
“Baaaaby,” he drags out the word as if it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever said, arms already reaching for you before he even makes it across the room. “You’re so pretty. So, so pretty.”
You barely have time to respond before he crashes into you, arms wrapping tight around your waist, his weight forcing you a step back. He noses at your neck, warm breath fanning over your skin before he presses a messy, lingering kiss just under your jaw.
“I missed you,” he mumbles, voice thick with intoxication. His lips trail sloppily along your jaw, missing his mark more than once. “I was thinking about you the whole time. Didn’t wanna drink, didn’t wanna talk—just wanted you.”
You exhale, half amused, half overwhelmed by how affectionate he gets when he’s like this. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m in love,” he corrects, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His eyes are dark, half-lidded, pupils blown out as he drinks you in. “So, so in love with you.”
“I thought about you the whole time. Even when they were talking about boring stuff, I was just thinking about you, and your pretty face, and your hair, and—and—” He hiccups, giggles, then kisses your cheek sloppily, missing his target entirely.
And then he kisses your lips, like he’s trying to make up for all the time he spent away. His lips are warm, a little sloppy, a little desperate, and when his tongue swipes against yours, you can taste the faint burn of whiskey.
“Mm, I love kissing you,” he mumbles against your skin. His hands slip down to your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you. “Like, so much. I could do this forever.”
“You’ll regret it in the morning,” you tease, but he shakes his head wildly, pressing more kisses wherever he can reach.
“Nuh-uh,” he insists. “I’d regret not kissing you. That’s way worse.”
He groans into the kiss, fingers tangling into your hair as he backs you toward the bedroom. He’s trying so hard to be in control, to take the lead—pressing you up against the wall, hands gripping your waist as his mouth moves hungrily against yours. But he’s a mess. A beautiful, intoxicating mess. His lips miss their mark, his teeth graze too hard, and he keeps mumbling your name between kisses like he can’t bear to stop.
When you finally reach the bedroom, he tries to spin you around, guiding you onto the bed—but the second he pulls away to do so, he loses balance. His legs give out beneath him, and he stumbles backward onto the mattress with a dazed look on his face.
You can’t help but laugh. “Smooth.”
“Shh, c’mere,” he slurs, arms reaching for you like a needy child. And you do—crawling over him, straddling his hips as he lets out a breathy moan at the contact. His hands slide down your back, gripping your waistband, and with a drunken sort of determination, he tries to guide your hips against his. He rocks his hips up harshly once, making you fall onto him, kissing you.
“Feel that?” he murmurs against your lips, eyes dark and heavy. “S’all for you.”
You do feel it—the hard press of his arousal beneath you. He rocks your hips against him, slow and lazy, groaning softly at the friction. His fingers dig into your waist, gripping, guiding, needy. His kisses turn even sloppier, missing your lips entirely at times, trailing down your chin, your jaw, your neck.
But then, just as the heat between you starts to build, his movements slow. His grip loosens. His kisses falter. And before you even realize what’s happening, his head falls back against the pillows, breath steadying, lips slightly parted in sleep.
You blink down at him, still straddling his hips, your body burning from the half-finished tension he just left you with.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A soft snore is his only response.
For a moment, you just stare. Then you sigh, running a hand through your hair before shaking your head with a quiet laugh. You should be frustrated. You should be annoyed. But looking at him like this—his lips still pink and swollen from kissing you, his brows slightly furrowed even in sleep, his arms still loosely resting around your waist—you can’t bring yourself to be mad.
Instead, you press a soft kiss to his temple before carefully shifting off of him, pulling the blankets up over both of you.
“Idiot” you murmur, but the fondness in your voice betrays you.
And despite the ache he left you with, you fall asleep smiling, tangled up in the warmth of him.
I've never drawn these two before but since I've been reading the ORV manwhua recently (and my friend thought that these two fit this pose i sketched and I could only agree) I finally made fanart for them
I haven't even gotten to the depressing parts of orv but I still almost cry when I see art of kdj being happy