#also I feel the need to emphasize the fact that in the bottom left image he is choking him and there are SEVERAL pictures

[sunnibits]

they’re so edizzy. honestly.

#edizzy #blackhands #listen. the girlies who get it get it and the girlies who don’t dont!!!! #but I’m sooooo correct with this one actually #I’ve already drawn edizzy as the bottom right one but I DESPERATELY need to draw them as the top right image #it’s soooo good #also I feel the need to emphasize the fact that in the bottom left image he is choking him and there are SEVERAL pictures #of frank choking riff with the whip #he also just whips him in the movie #ok somebody pls fucking tell me you understand how right I am bc I’m dying to talk ab this now actually #ed teach #izzy hands #ofmd

[caustic-light]

Hello! Im curious what about narutos design lends itself to him being chubby.

Ok, so lemme first give some examples of characters where being skinny is done in a way I find well designed, so you get where I’m coming from. Forgive me for having limited example images, it’s surprisingly hard to find good examples, at least with my research skills. And I didn’t feel like wading through multiple different mangas rn.

Let’s start with Gon from HxH, because Naruto has some interesting parallels to him.

Gon is small first of all. In the bottom picture he’s drowning in his clothes, in the top his clothes show off how much of a twig he is.

Gon as a character is incredibly animalistic and his character arc (I will try to make this mostly spoiler less, even if it means I can’t use some very telling moments as examples) is about basically constantly hitting walls and brute forcing his way through. He has a goal and to accomplish that he needs to be strong. To grow strong he needs challenge and he throws himself head first at it. But he’s also very small and frail and the way he goes about things makes him even more frail and vulnerable. He’s animalistic in a way that shifts around between being a lurking predator targeting a prey that vastly outmatches him in every possible regard and being a cornered prey animal turning to fight out of desperation.

Look at how this comes across. Look at what this does. That guy could break him in half and you need to know nothing about either of them to know that. This feels a lot like early Dragonball where Toriyama used similar size imagery, but with the clear distinction of Goku being much more round, much more balanced, much more secure, and in turn inspiring much more confidence. Gon here is at his limit before the fight even began. This is enforced by the fact that frequently Gon can not brute force his way forward. He is constantly hopelessly outmatched and sometimes gets away with his life just barely.

If he was an animal, he would be constantly fighting starvation. His entire character arc happens at his limits. And he looks the part. No matter how powerful he gets, no matter how many incredible things he may end up doing, he never stops being a hopelessly outmatched underdog who has to fight tooth and nail to just get out of whatever situation alive. And he always looks like he could easily be broken apart, or just fall apart on his own from sheer exhaustion.

Another example: Digimon Tamers:

I’m using a screenshot form the opening here because this is an early 2000s low budged Toei production and as such the actual show is incredibly inconsistent with sticking to the characters bodies details.

But look at how despite all being skinny, everyone here has their own shape. Takato (boy in the front) has really wide hips and soft lines, his clothes emphasize that and even give a slight roundness to his chest.

To his left, Jian is much more blocky and rectangular, but not in a way that comes across as sharp. Their bodies are proportioned pretty much identically, but the fine details set them immediately apart. The clothes emphasize these differences even more.

To his right, Ruki has much more defined curves, which are also accentuated by her clothes being tight fitting, but out of the main three she also comes across as the most edgy and sharp. Note how despite her being already distinctly more feminine in her shapes (for context they’re all around the edge of puberty age wise) Takato still has wider hips than her simply because that’s how he is built.

But in his case it doesn’t come across as feminine simply because the context is different. (Also can I just say how much I love it when male characters are given wide hips. It’s such a common body type, especially for kids, but you see it so rarely represented.)

You could tell these characters apart with just a headless, naked silhouette.

Okay, Naruto.

Having gone through all that, lemme ask: What does his body do for his design?

He borrows Gon’s animal motif, he even leans into it much, much more and he has similarly lose clothing, but it doesn’t really come across the same way, does it?

Because Naruto isn’t small. He is an underdog, but his arc is about growing out of that status. I couldn’t find a nice image of this without having to go through the manga/anime, but his moments of triumph pose him in a way that is powerful and imposing. Think about when he enters sage mode against Pain. He is big and looming. He takes up visual real estate. 

Where gon has to become strong enough to punch up at a bigger opponent and get away with it, Naruto grows strong enough for people to look up at him. When he wins against a powerful foe, it’s with a big pose, big action, big demonstration of his power. So being skinny doesn’t really do anything for the way he is shown.

I found this panel interesting because in this outfit he is basically 90% silhouette. And it doesn’t really do anything does it? The way he is shaped doesn’t draw attention to itself, it doesn’t say anything, it doesn’t direct your view in any way. All the interest, all the visual communication happens through his clothes and through details. His hair, his eyes, the marks on his face, the symbols on him.

Compare him to nsfw Sasuke over there, if you took their clothes off, could you tell they were different characters? Does the way they’re drawn make you think their bodies are shaped differently in any way?

Maybe Naruto’s shoulders are a little broader? It’s hard to say. The clothes obscure it. Which isn’t bad. But if your outfit obscures every detail of a characters shape, there is no body left below it. And that’s imo poor design. The outfit should accentuate the shape of the character or play with it, rather than take over as it’s own shape.

So why make him chubby?

There is a couple reasons.

For one, it lends itself both to the underdog status and the imposing, powerful and revered status he oscillates between. It would be very easy for his peers to see him as the fat kid who does nothing but eat ramen all day, but is also really scary for fox demon reasons.

But it also makes it so when he is big and powerful, he takes up so much more room. It makes it so when he raises his arm to throw a rasen shuriken, or dives in for the final hit you feel that all the more. If there is more mass on him, there is more mass in his movements.

Another duality that would be emphasized is one of lack of control vs mastery.

When he loses himself to the fox spirit, he becomes animalistic. He crouches and he moves with a low center of gravity. He protects his belly, because for all mammals the belly is the big weak point. That’s where we’re soft and squishy. It’s where all the organs are. That’s why when we put on weight it usually starts there. It’s the part that needs the most cushioning. And it’s part of why mammals largely evolved a quadrupedal stance. It protects the soft stuff. It’s also why a lot of mammals show both submission and trust by exposing their bellies.

Naruto’s source of power (visually) lies in his stomach. Making it softer emphasizes the vulnerability. And it emphasized how defensive and covered every movement of him is when he loses control. 

But when he reaches mastery, when he dominates, when he is shown as powerful and presented the way the people of the village ended up seeing him, he is fully upright. He doesn’t lurch from a crouched stance, he stands tall and proud and he moves with calmness and grace. Again, the most striking visual of this is how he raises his arm up high to throw a rasen shuriken. 

So you have this contrast of the intensely defensive state when he loses himself, where being chubby would emphasize his vulnerability and the powerful state of control where being chubby would emphasize that power and stand in direct contrast to the protectiveness of his animalistic side.

His outfit could also much more easily do what it does. If he had a larger frame, the outfit from the above image instead of devouring him would accentuate him. He would be a massive silhouette, made bigger and more comfortably powerful by the big cuff on his neck and the way the jacket defines his shoulders and there would be more room to add cool little marks and details without being as cluttered as it would be on a smaller canvas.

There is also a lot more potential for the time skip. As it stands, he didn’t change all that much visually. He got taller and broader.

But imagine if he went (purely visually) from the fat kid getting bullied to the fat teenager who nobody messes with because while he didn’t lose any fat, he got much taller, much broader and much stronger and everyone realized at some point he could easily knock their lights out. Being fat and adding that muscle beneath, the broader shoulders, the height, the visible strength would just make the redesign and time skip a whole lot more interesting and worthwhile.

The story also draws a lot of attention to his stomach directly. The seal is there. The chakra comes from there. It’s exposed and shown relatively often. A friend of mine noted seeing the seal on his skinny stomach feels like if you made Steven Universe skinny and YMMV but I personally just can not unsee that now.

[currently-kraken]

Theon Greyjoy’s Costumes by Michele Clapton

I saw a post that asked about a piece of Theon’s clothing and I wanted to see if I could help with this. I have Michele Clapton’s Game of Thrones: The Costumes book so I thought I’d share the info and pics (some from the internet, others from the pics of the book my low res phone can provide lol) for Theon (+ Yara) for whoever needs it :)

1. Theon (Alfie Allen) wears an ornate doublet intended to indicate that he is rather conceited.

At the beginning of the story, Theon (Alfie Allen) is full of himself—a weak, unpleasant boy who bears a grudge against Ned Stark for making him his ward and taking him away from the Iron Islands. That sense of having been wronged by the Starks compels him to make terrible choices. He leads an assault on Winterfell in the name of the Greyjoys but later loses control of the Stark homestead to the sadistic Ramsay Bolton (Iwan Rheon). Theon pays an unimaginable price for his failings.

Initially, Theon's costume has elements of the classic Stark look but in the Greyjoys’ colors—his loyalties divided from the start. In early episodes, he wears an overly ornate doublet that hints at his pretentiousness and sense of entitlement, but his cloak is thin and his collar is a simple one made from rabbit fur. He wears a Stark shirt underneath his doublet.

2. Theon’s (Allen) cloak is thin and made from lesser materials, indicating that, as a ward, he isn’t as well cared for as the members of the family who are related by blood.

3. Theon (Allen) may look like a Stark, but his loyalties are divided—his cloak features the Greyjoy kraken sigil.

Theon is taken prisoner by Ramsay later in the storyline and subjected to horrific tortures that fundamentally change his character. To humiliate Theon, Ramsay renames him Reek and dresses him in the same manner as the rest of the servants in Winterfell. He wears a long, apron-shaped tunic made from layers of ragged linen. His finery—and his nobility—are stripped away entirely. But during Ramsay’s wedding to Sansa, Theon is dressed in an outfit that gives a slight nod to his former status. Theon wears somber tones of gray and black with a silhouette that’s very traditionally Stark. He’s also wearing brocade, which is a callback to Catelyn’s Stark’s influence, but Theon’s fabric doublet is shorter than in should be. The fact that it’s slightly ill-fitting makes him appear more servile, the poor tailoring indicating his low status.

4. Theon’s “Reek” costume is made from ragged layers of black linen.

5. As “Reek”, actor Alfie Allen wears a simple collar around his neck to emphasize his subservient status.

6. For Sansa’s wedding to Ramsay, Theon (Alfie Allen) wears a finely tailored brown doublet; his shirt sleeves and his cloak are both made from brocade, an homage to Catelyn Stark. 

7. The costume includes a brocade cloak with cross-body straps and an embossed brown leather belt.

After Theon escapes from Ramsay, he begins to reclaim his identity as a son of the Iron Islands. Most notably, he adopts a much more traditional Greyjoy costume that includes a doublet prominently featuring the house sigil, the kraken, a suitably intimidating sea monster. As with all the Greyjoys, we slashed a very graphic kraken image directly into Theon’s armor—I wanted it to look like something they might do themselves using a blade. Still, the Stark influence can be found in the straps near the neck of his armor. The colors, too, denote his allegiance: Instead of rocky gray, he’s in Northern brown and black. Theon is willing to atone for his past mistakes and sacrifice everything to regain his honor—which he does in the end, giving his life to defend Bran from the Night King.

8. TOP Theon (Alfie Allen) embraces his Iron Islands heritage with a costume that includes all the hallmarks of the Greyjoy look.

9. BOTTOM The Greyjoy kraken sigil adorns his belt.

10. LEFT This costume features Theon’s traditional Greyjoy cloak, which is essentially made from a rectangle of waxed cloth.

11. TOP RIGHT The kraken sigil is prominently featured on Theon’s doublet, the symbol appearing as though it has been slashed into the leather.

12. BOTTOM RIGHT The kraken appears once more on Theon’s scabbard.

BONUS: YARA

13. Gemma Whelan as Yara Greyjoy.

Theon’s sister, Yara (Gemma Whelan), is a natural-born warrior who embraces every aspect of the Greyjoy way of life—she is determined to follow in her father’s footsteps and rule over the Iron Islands from the Salt Throne on Pyke. She grew up entirely apart from Theon—they are essentially strangers when they meet as adults—but nevertheless the love she feels for him is profound. Even when Theon seems completely lost to her, Yara goes to great lengths to save him, acting out of honor, duty and compassion.

Whenever she appears on-screen, Yara is dressed in some version of the primary costume that I designed for her. As a true Greyjoy, her wardrobe would have changed little, so her clothing always remained consistent. The waxed fabric of her doublet is the color of stone and features the standard Iron Islands lacing. She wears lived-in leather trousers that were broken down and aged to give the impression that she rarely takes them off. She has very high boots that stop above her knee. I wanted her to have swagger, and giving her these high leather boots changed her gait in a way that says a great deal about the character. She walks with an attitude and is cool and confident. The boots were also suitably practical for an experienced captain who often finds herself at the center of armed conflict.

Yara’s costumes are quite androgynous. She dresses in a similar fashion to the men of Pyke, which felt like a logical choice for someone who commands a fleet of men. Ironborn sailors wouldn’t follow a woman who appeared overtly feminine, even one as intelligent and fierce as Yara. She would always have to project strength because weakness is anathema to her people. Her strength is really unassailable—you can see it in her actions and in her costumes as well.   

14. Yara’s long-sleeved doublet and trousers are made from waxed linen to appear waterproof.

15. OPPOSITE TOP LEFT Yara’s doublet is intended to be the same color as the Iron Islands themselves and is closed with waxed laces that appear waterproof.

16. OPPOSITE CENTER LEFT Shoulder detail of Yara’s doublet.

17. OPPOSITE BOTTOM LEFT Close-up of the laces used to tie the doublet, which was studded with metal for protection.

18. OPPOSITE RIGHT Yara’s (Whelan) signature look includes striking boots that go over her knees.

Tagging the people on the original post @sing-for-theongreyjoy​ @selkiewife​ @attaining-fic​ @robbeonsa​  

Hope this helps, guys!! 😁🦑

#Game of Thrones #Costume Design #Michele Clapton #Theon Greyjoy #Yara Greyjoy #Greyjoys #Ironborn #Alfie Allen #Gemma Whelan #Squid Squad

[wendimydarling]

The Thirst is Real

Summary: Little Freya might not be who she says she is...

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Little Freya 

Word Count: 1965

Warnings: uhhh.... slow burn; dirty thoughts; erotic thoughts; mentions of arousal, daddy kink, spanking, oral, masturbation, and thigh riding; size kink; slight manhandling; dom/sub kink if you squint.

A/N: So it’s been buzzing around The Cavillry that @littlefreya​ is either a mole in the community or Henry himself... @agniavateira​ (my beautiful goddess of a beta who also beta’d this fic for me) and I had a sensational conversation about what Freya and Henry’s weekly meet-ups would entail, and this beautiful birthday present was born! It’s also a little different that what I’ve done before, as I might have used some real life thirst examples in the fic. 

Did I call you out? I guess you’ll just have to read. 😈

You’ll get another gift on your actual birthday my love, but for now, please enjoy!!

~~~~~

Freya adjusted her curls in the mirror, adding one last dash of eyeliner. She was preparing for her weekly meeting with Henry, but this time her stomach was twisting itself in a spiral like a shirt ready to be dyed. 

When Henry first suggested the idea of her going on Tumblr to spy for him, she was hesitant at first. What if she couldn’t make friends? What if they didn’t trust her? But now, with a solid 6k followers under her belt, she knew she could say just about anything and people would flock to the thirst.

With a nervous look at her reflection, Freya gathered her things and headed out the door, sending a quick couple of texts to Henry.

I’m on my way. You should post on your IG stories… they’re wondering what you’re up to this morning. 

Perfect, thanks. I’ll send you what I’m about to upload.

A couple of seconds later Freya received his text, quickly setting up a post and waiting for Henry to update his Instagram. She smiled to herself; Tumblr would be buzzing in a matter of seconds once she posted, and what better way to show Henry what went on in the torrential world of social media than to show him live? Freya’s phone chimed again, indicating Henry had done as she’d suggested. 

She couldn’t help but grin like a demon as she hit the small blue button.

Pocketing her phone, Freya enjoyed the scenery on the short walk to Henry’s place. He was in London briefly as was she, so they were meeting at his home instead of Skyping like usual. Why she was so nervous, she didn’t know… Henry had been a friend for quite a few years now, even becoming one of her closest companions. He confided in her and she in him, and it was always a joy to see him. Every day she looked forward to their flirty banter. But that was easier when it was over the phone; doing so in person was an entirely different matter.

Freya reached Henry’s small home and knocked on the door. She’d only been there a couple of times, but the tiny house never ceased to give her a wonderful sense of charm and sensibility. A loud bark and clack of nails on the floor signaled that Kal was ready and waiting to greet her, which meant Henry wouldn’t be far behind. Freya fidgeted with her fingers and chewed on her lip in taut anticipation.

The door swung wide and there was Henry, sporting a puppy dog grin on his face and his large frame filling the entire entryway. His muscular chest was practically bursting from the snug grey shirt he wore, and his dark blue jeans couldn’t have looked more sinful. He had Kal by the collar as if the dog weighed nothing, and Freya couldn’t help but feel incredibly small. Henry reached out his hand, softly tugged her bottom lip from her teeth, then swooped her up for a one-armed squeeze.

“It’s so good to see you,” he murmured against her ear, sending chills down Freya’s spine. Her feet dangled helplessly as she wrapped her own arms around his neck, inhaling the sharp scent that had long since faded from the hoodie he’d let her “steal”. The fact that he was holding her petite stature in one arm and still controlling Kal with the other wasn’t lost to Freya, and the images it provoked in her mind of what exactly he could do to her with that kind of strength made her tingle. 

Oh, the positions he could put her in...

All too soon Henry set Freya down, shaking her from her sudden daydream. 

“Come on in,” he said, maneuvering Kal and ordering him to sit. Freya crossed the threshold, imagining what it would be like if she was in a long, white gown…

“I’m making a smoothie, would you like one?” Henry broke into her thoughts again and Freya flushed, hurriedly setting her bag on the table and pulling out her laptop. 

“Just some water please,” she replied, swallowing thickly as she realized how dry her throat was. She logged into Tumblr as Henry bustled about in the kitchen and quickly reblogged a few thirsty comments, scrolling through to find some good ones while she waited for Henry.

“Go ahead and start, tell me what ‘The Cavillry’ has been up to this week,” he stated, not quite a command but it thrilled Freya nonetheless. Stupid filthy gutter brain. She pulled out her notes and dove straight in.

“Well, a few of them like Lisa and Berry have a theory that there’s a mole in the community,” she laughed. “Some of them even like to surmise that I’m you!”

“Do they really?” Henry’s deep chuckle resonated throughout the living space and Freya closed her eyes momentarily, picturing that chuckle after a rather exhilarating round of cardio between soft, silken sheets…

“What else are they saying?” Henry’s voice was in Freya’s ear and she jumped, startled yet again from her indecorous thoughts. Henry set her water down next to the laptop and placed his hands on the table, caging her in his warmth as he leaned over her shoulder to read. Freya felt the familiar flush of arousal start to creep its way up her thighs but she did her best to ignore it, continuing on with her notes. 

“Marta made some really funny memes,” she stammered, “And Demi excels at clipping audios, where it sounds like…”

“How does it sound?” Henry’s hot breath ghosted over her ear, and his exhale came out nearly a growl. Freya felt lucky she was sitting down, positive her knees would have given out on her if she hadn’t been. 

“Like you just had a--an orgasm,” she faltered, grabbing her glass of water for a big gulp. Henry hummed, and Freya nearly choked on the clear liquid. 

“What else do they say? I want you to read it… out loud.”

Freya was shocked for a moment. What was he playing at? Wait a minute... this is a game; Henry is playing a game. Emboldened by her sudden epiphany, Freya switched personalities from timid bird to devilish vixen, determined to win whatever it was that Henry had set in motion. She arched her back and leaned her head against Henry’s shoulder, pointing at the screen.

“Well look, see what your post this morning has done? We descend into a thirsting frenzy every time.” 

She scrolled through a couple of posts, landing upon one that would give her what she needed.  

“For example, Miya writes: 

‘I guess good to know he’s on a morning run instead of fapping off… 

But good sir, you will have to shower after that no? And unless he’s a never nude, he’s going to be naked very very soon ladies. KEEP THAT IN MIND! IN A SHORT FEW MINUTES, HENRY WILL BE NAKED AND RUBBING HIMSELF IN THE SHOWER.’ ”

 Freya emphasized the last sentence and was rewarded with a small hitching of Henry’s breath. He recovered quickly.

“However did they know,” he quipped in a low rumble, reaching over Freya’s hand to do some scrolling of his own. Her hand was trapped in his but her thoughts were elsewhere, immediately flooded with the image of Henry getting off in the shower, water cascading over his hairy torso down the line of his abs and through the rabbit trail on his groin to the surely insurmountable…

“This one next,” he stated, drawing her back to the present. His thumb brushed softly over her skin before landing just out of reach of her touch. Freya focused her attention on the screen and a small groan escaped her lips. He’d chosen one of Wendi’s Smutbombs.

“...My eyes were instantly drawn back to his fierce gaze.

“You wanted to use that mouth,” he snarled, staring at me with lewd concentration.

“So use it.”

Freya’s palms grew clammy at the thought of using her mouth around Henry, in exactly the way the raucous words depicted. The way he would stretch her tiny lips until they burned, the way he’d fuck her throat without a care, the way he’d…

Henry grabbed Freya’s hand and abruptly slapped his phone on her palm, severing the thought. 

“Read this one,” Henry commanded her again, his voice now clear and authoritative. This time his tone left no room for argument; he was doing it on purpose. His arms still pinned her to the table with no way to escape, and she could feel the dominance that was dripping off of him tingling down her spine. 

Freya looked at the small screen, recognition of the words dawning on her face. She faltered, and cleared her throat.

“Yes, my bottom is always bare, Sherlock. Bare and ready for you to spank me and take me any which way you want.”

“Who wrote that?” he questioned sternly. Freya took a deep breath.

“I did.”

“Read the next one.”

Freya whimpered, clenching her thighs together tightly. 

“Fuck this shit I want to die on this man’s thighs.”

“Who wrote that?”

“I did.”

“Keep going.”

Freya’s chest was heaving. Her head was swimming with lust and need. Her arousal had long since wet her panties to the point of extreme discomfort. She was certain Henry could smell it too, as she certainly could and his head was still right next to hers. She watched his fists tighten on the table, the veins in his arms becoming more prominent with every passing second. Freya imagined what his hands would look like with one wrapped around her throat and the other buried knuckle deep inside her…

“I said keep going; you’ve got one more.”

It wasn’t just Henry’s voice this time that dragged Freya back to reality; he wrapped his hand firmly around her nape and pointed her toward his phone. 

She blinked rapidly and scrolled to the last quote. 

“...They share a mutual smile and she forces herself to look away.

They have always liked each other, he has always been kind to her.

Sometimes he would touch her as they sat with friends, a feverish stroke, innocent or by mistake, but that would be enough to make her heart flutter like a huge butterfly in the cage of her chest. 

To see him physically hurts sometimes. Especially on a night like this when she is supposed to be happy, yet her heart feels sorrowful.”

The moment her lips finished moving Freya was pulled off the bench and thrust against the wall. Henry pressed his thigh between her legs, his own arousal evident as it strained against the ridged fabric of his jeans. His face was gentle and sincere but his eyes were as dark with lust as she was certain hers were, and the tremor of his voice left no room to imagine anything but desire.

“Who wrote that?” he whispered softly.

“I did,” Freya whispered back.

“Did you mean it?” Henry searched her face, looking for any scrap of evidence that would present him with permission. Freya brought a hand up to his curls, brushing the one out of his eyes that always seemed to disobey.

“Every word.”

Henry slammed his mouth against Freya’s, probing her deep and hard. She kissed him back with just as much fervor, tugging on his curls and wrapping her legs around his waist as he hoisted her in the air. Never in her life had she ever thought this moment would happen, that he would want her this way. But now, here in his arms with his lips on hers and on their way to his bedroom, she couldn’t picture anything else. 

The man had ruined her for anyone else over a decade ago, and she’d been thirsty for far, far too long.

~~~~~

@wolvesandhoundshowltogether​ @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ @achaoticaugust​ @demivampirew​ @raspberrydreamclouds​ I hope you don’t mind that I used your thirst! I though it might be fun, but if you don’t like it just let me know, I’ll remove it. 😊

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fic #author story #birthday present #i love you boo

[wynniewright]

In Harm’s Way (M)

→ This story is a part of the @bangtanshadowfamily “The Creatures of Moonlight Manor” Halloween collab!

→ Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

→ Word Count: 4.8k

→ Genre: grim reaper au, halloween au, smut, lots of fluff, bit angsty

→ Summary: After fighting with her grim reaper boyfriend, Y/N decides to throw herself into a dangerous situations to get him to stop ignoring her.

→ Trigger Warnings: Mentions of attempted suicide (it’s not dark, think of when bella tried to get edward to save her so she kept doing stupid shit - it’s that), one time mention of a past near-death experience (not detailed, it’s just vaguely mentioned in the fluffy part), reader attempts suicide via toaster bath (with the intention of being saved by her supernatural, soul-reaping boyfriend). Please don’t read if these make you uncomfortable! 

→ Warnings: dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral (female), bit of impregnation kink, tae just wants to be a dad, reader makes stupid decisions, cum play, possible impregnation?, sex with pants on, fingering, lots of fluff and all that good stuff

→ A/N: Hello hello! Finally found the time to squeeze in this story in the middle of my full-time school and part-time work schedule. Sorry it took so long for another fic to post but here I am! I want to thank my amazing bangtan hq sprinting crew who helped motivate me to finish this @purpletigertaetae @nightowls388 @shadowsremedy @wwilloww. This story was supposed to be a lot darker and a whole lot more filthy than it turned out. Wasn’t supposed to be fluffy at all and somehow it turned real quick so I hope you enjoy. I’d also like to state that I’m not promoting suicide or slightly toxic relationships, this is a fictional story and the reader hasn’t died, isn’t dead, and won’t die, so the suicidal scene in this is not meant to be disturbing. If you’re not comfortable reading, please don’t. Alright, I love you all.~ Hope you enjoy.

The biggest struggle of dating Taehyung was that no guide, tutorial, or advice blog post could’ve prepared you for what it was going to be like to be in a relationship with him. I almost wished there were some sort of ‘how to’ on dating a grim reaper because no matter how much dating experience I had, being with him was like being in my first relationship again.

It was a little unconventional, sure. Date nights were always iffy since, apparently, reapers don’t need sleep and therefore are technically scheduled around the clock. Boy, there was nothing like us setting up a nice, stay-at-home dinner date when he’d suddenly kiss my cheek and disappear into thin air, only to come back a few minutes later and announce he’d taken another soul. I’ll be honest, it was a slight mood killer. 

But aside from his job description, Tae was a kind person. He didn’t seem to know exactly how to deal with human emotions, as his kind were strictly prohibited from having human-reaper relations and never had the opportunity to learn from us. But just because he didn’t know what emotions were, doesn’t mean he didn’t feel them. He was a sensitive guy, too.

I remembered the first time he cried. We were watching Marley & Me and I cried at the end like any other sane human being. Tae didn’t cry at all, in fact, knowing I was sad made him sad enough to tear up, even more so when he couldn’t get me to stop. That memory was one of my favorites purely because it was too wholesome to forget: a grim reaper crying because a girl was sad that a dog died in a movie. 

But like every other person in the world, not ever emotion was positive. 

Being much older than I, Taehyung didn’t really have moments where he got angry to the point of exploding in a fit. There wasn’t a situation where he ever passed that threshold, at least, not in front of me. The feelings Tae couldn’t quite grasp were hurt and jealousy. 

From his own words, he never loved anyone before me, and something I knew better than anyone was that jealousy and love were very closely intertwined. 

The first year we dated, I tried explaining to him what jealousy was, that even I felt it too in an attempt to teach him that he didn’t need to act on it. It was safe to say that it didn’t really work.

Over four and a half into our relationship together and Taehyung still chose to disappear whenever we got into a small petty argument that involved him taking something out of context and then not wanting to talk about it like the century old being that he was. 

In our most recent example, my best friend, Sam, called and told me that she was expecting her first baby. We cried a little and then spent the rest of the conversation talking about whose eyes they would have or which parent they would most resemble. Tae and I never talked about kids nor a future together, we just lived in every moment the two of us were given, so indulging on a new topic with Sam gave me the image of tiny Tae-Taes waddling across the wooden floor, matching their father’s bright, boxy grin as they giggled. 

I made one comment - one! I told her how I’d love to have mini-Taehyungs running about the place and that I was so excited to meet her little Sam. Somehow, he took that and ran with it.

He didn’t bother letting me speak, pulling the usual disappearing act he always resorted to when he was upset and didn’t want to properly face his feelings in the moment. I thought it would pass like all the rest, but something changed. 

Hours passed and he never came to check in on me. Days flew by and I hadn’t heard from him. I wanted for him to come by, swallowing my pride and shouting at the empty air in hopes he was listening, to no avail. Nothing worked. 

After two weeks of being ignored and left without so much as a trace, I decided to do what any normal girl would do to seek out her boyfriend’s attention.

I needed to kill myself. 

I didn’t want to die, by any means. Tae knew how close I’d come to death a few too many times, but if I was going to get his attention back on me, I needed to attempt something stupid. Not only did it have to be stupid, it also had to be believable. I needed to convince him that I was going to die and hope he’d rescue me just in time.

I knew it wasn’t a good plan to start off with but it was the only thing I could come up with to get him to focus on me. The only reason I even thought of such a stupid idea was because I knew he’d never let me actually die. He saved me once and I was willing to bet he’d save me again and this time my life was actually on the line.

All that being said, I’ll regurgitate that it wasn’t the brightest idea I’d ever had. 

What if he’d decided to have someone else cover me? What if the one time he decided he didn’t want to see me again, he passed the job on to someone else and they just let it go?

I shivered with that thought fresh in my mind. To say I was scared was a gross understatement, the thought of all the ways this could go bad were enough to paralyze me with fear. There was only one reason I stood there in our master bathroom with a bath full of water and a toaster in my hands, already plugged in and ready for me to drop it in.

If I wanted him to talk to me, I had to force him to keep me out of harm’s way.

Nervousness nagged at the back of my mind, heart beating a million miles a minute against my ribcage, forcing me to take a deep inhale of fresh air, even if it was only to calm my nerves for a few seconds. A few seconds was enough to release my grip and pray that Tae would be there to rescue me.

With a last shake of my head, I thought up a quick “I love you” to the universe as if the universe would deliver my message to my friends and family if things didn’t go as planned. And with that, I dropped the small appliance.

The moment it slipped from my fingers, I clenched my eyes tight and waited for the shock to ripple through my body in powerful waves, but nothing came. In fact, time itself seemed to slow down as a large clanging against the wall forced my eyes open, right as a tall, dark figure wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me out of the tub to press me against the wall adjacent. 

Taehyung stood there, fuming in anger as his gaze bored into mine, hands gripping tightly to me and keeping me pressed against the wall, though I’m not sure if he was holding onto me to keep me steady or if he was preparing to murder me where I stood. To be fair, if it wasn’t for his hold on me, I would’ve slipped against the tile floor that puddled with the water leaking from the bottom half of my jeans. I added a mental note to myself that next time I do something like that again, I should prepare for it to actually work and actually wear a pair of shorts or something. But another problem for another time.

The sheer force in which Taehyung’s eyes glared into mine would normally have made me cower. But knowing I had to do something that stupid just to get him to talk to me again filled me with a burning anger that I didn’t know I had within me. With that newfound anger, I pushed back against his chest, my hands rebounding off his chest without moving him in the slightest. He dropped his hold on me and I stepped forward, my foot catching a slippery tile and making me bang my back against the wall roughly. A sharp pain shot through my back and Tae softened for a  moment, reaching out again to steady me before I finally exploded.

“No. Don’t touch me! I don’t even know where to begin right now!” I defiantly shoved his hands away from my body and crossed my arms over my chest once I balanced out a bit. 

“You? You?! The fuck did I do?” He argued, waving his hands in the air as if his gestures were defence enough for his stupid inhuman reactions.

“Oh, so you’re going to play stupid now, is that it? Really?” I barked, taking a step forward and poking a finger right against his tight chest. “I don’t know. How about the fact that you just walked out on me and never came back? What happened to having a normal fucking conversation like an adult?” He received a poke to his clothed peck with every word to emphasize what he’d done wrong.

Annoyed with me prodding at him in frustration, he grabbed my wrist at my last poke, holding my arm away from him and resumed the glaring. “You’re making this about me now? Are you going to completely ignore the fact that you almost just fried yourself? What the fuck were you thinking?!” He raised his voice, something he didn’t do often, and I naturally shied away from the loudness of his voice to keep my ears from ringing.

“Well I wouldn't have needed to do that had you come back to talk! Of course I tried to get your attention. I love you, you fucking moron,” I grunted, voice cracking at the end as tears instantly sprang to my eyes. Willing them away, I stood my ground and met Tae’s heated gaze with an unwavering one of my own. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. 

“We did talk. Yeah I left, but I did that after I said things weren’t going to work out between us.”

He wasn’t wrong. He did technically say that but it was spoken like a passive statement made in anger, a second before he disappeared to wherever the fuck he went to whenever he was upset with me. So I was just supposed to accept that was it after four and a half years and no idea what broke the two of us. Fuck that, he meant too much to me.

“I don’t understand why you keep saying that. I made one comment - one! - about kids to Sam and now you’re dead-set on not being with me? Why are you so angry about that?” My words came out in a pained whisper as I pleaded with him. I just wanted a response back, to know what was hurting him so I could try and fix it. 

His eyes shifted from mine repetitively, searching my face for something before he mumbled out, “Because I can’t give that to you.”

I froze, all but my heart coming to a halt as I processed his words. He couldn’t give that to me… Kids?

I couldn’t help the frown that framed my lips as his face morphed into one of discomfort, grimacing at himself. A pang of guilt smacked me right in the chest as his face fell. All of it began to make sense and I wasn’t sure if I made things better or worse by doing what I did.

“Tae…” I started, mouth agape as I tried to form some sort of response but I couldn’t think of one at that moment.

He straightened himself out and all visible evidence of his emotional expression was wiped clean off his features. “I can’t give you kids,” he repeated clearly, seemingly more for himself than for me.

Pride swelled up in me and I reached out to wrap my arms around his midsection to hug him close.

“Baby,” I cooed, a fresh wave of tears threatening to soak into his soft cotton shirt as I smothered my face against him, taking in his scent and his warmth. He returned the embrace, tightly hugging me back with his nose buried atop my head.

“You’re not mad at me,” he mumbled thoughtfully.

I shook my head against him, squeezing him that much tighter to reassure him. “I figured it wasn’t biologically possible, but there are plenty of ways for couples to have kids when they otherwise can’t themselves.”

I imagined his brows furrowing as he turned his head, resting the side of his plump cheek on top of my hair. “I don’t understand.”

Pulling back, I tilted my head to look him in the eyes and smiled supportively. Our kids don’t have to look like either of us to be ‘little Taehyungs’ or little ‘Y/Ns’.” I leaned back further and pressed my chin against the center of his chest, humming as he readjusted his embrace around me. “I’ll see you in the way they smile or laugh, all those little idiosyncrasies they pick up from you that make them you kids.”

Tae blinked with a blank expression on his face, staring me down without so much as a response to follow up. The longer he went without responding, the stronger my heart pounded in my chest. 

We never had any serious talks like that before because everything about our relationship was too complicated. Marriage and families weren’t even on our mind, at least not on mine until Sam was getting her own, and suddenly I realized how I’d love to have a family with Taehyung, no matter how unconventional. But there’s a chance that could’ve just been me. Maybe it was too early to be talking about that so Tae didn’t really have an opinion since he couldn’t have kids. Maybe he was trying not to hurt my feelings? God, I broke him.

I cleared my throat and opening my mouth to talk when he cut me off. “So you’re not mad that I…. you’re okay with it?”

“Of course I’m okay with it. Sure, I’m a teenie but sad they probably won’t have your boxy grin or your cute little nose freckle, but our kids would be cute regardless.” The anxiety I had towards his response was no longer a thought in my mind as I suddenly grinned, punctuating my statement with a kiss on his chin, which he playfully returned. But he didn’t stop there. Strong hands gripped the back of my thighs and urged me to jump, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist as he pushed us up against the wall once more, chaste kisses littered across the length of my face. Each peck tickled, giggles pouring past my lips as I scrunched my nose up and took all the comfort he gave. Lips trailed down my neck before he buried his face in the crook of my collarbone, happily sighing against ym skin with a happy hum.

The smile on my lips pinched at my cheeks, making my face ache with the strength of my happiness alone. I never knew he’d have such a human response to something like kids. It made my heart flutter to know that’s where his heart and mind were, that he wasn’t actually mad at me.

With determination, he pushed us off of the bathroom wall and opened the door to our shared bedroom, carrying me to the bed where he motioned to put me down.

“Babe, my pants are still wet,” I reminded him, to which he nodded and set me down a foot or so away to stand in front of him.

“Well, we’re going to solve that,” he quipped, reaching down between us to fumble with the button and zipper on my jeans while I grinned up at him. It wasn’t what I had in mind when planning this out but I sure as hell wasn’t going to complain.

He had a few issues with the clasping mechanics of my pants, a regular issue he was faced with, and grunted in irritation. I giggled, brushing back the long strands of hair behind his ear before a loud ripping sound pulled my attention.

“Baby! These are my favorite jeans!” I screeched at Taehyung, lips pouting as I admired the fresh rip down the center of the jeans that paralleled the zipper. You know, the zipper he could’ve just undone.

Lips pressed to my forehead as a chuckle rippled through his chest. “Not anymore, they’re not.” He meant it to tease but I still glared at him, not finding it in me to laugh at the expense of my favorite pair of jeans. “Sorry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he offered in a light-hearted tone, making me roll my eyes and return the kiss to his chin.

Lean fingers dipped into the waistband of my jeans, tugging them down my hips until they passed the curve of my ass. But the material from the thigh down was still sopping wet and made it even more entertaining to watch him struggle to slide the denim down my legs, coaxing another giggle from me.

“Fuck, why is this so difficult?” Tae let out a soft groan, giving up on his quest of removing the wet article and instead closing the distance between us, lips meeting mine in a gentle kiss.

“What about my pants? Not going to rip them all the way?” I wriggled my eyebrows and laughed when he rolled his eyes back.

“Pants or no pants, I’m still fucking you into the mattress.” His voice dripped with heat, his tone comparing to sex itself, sensual and deep, which made the words shoot straight down to my core.

As promised, he stalked towards me until the back of my knees pressed up against the edge of the bed. He didn’t miss a beat, cupping my face with his large palms and pulling me into a deep kiss that took away what little breath I had after his sexy statement. His tongue skimmed over the seam of my mouth, canines digging into the flesh of my bottom lip as he gave me that final push back onto the bed, lowering me down with a steady hold on my back until I was flush against the mattress with him hovering above me. Mouths lavished over one another, pulling the other into each other as far as our bodies would let us until the lack of oxygen forced me to pull away for a moment.

I wasted no time in pulling the white shirt from his black dress slacks, untucking his usual orderly work clothes so I could dip my hand under the smooth material to feel his bare warmth against my fingers. Each little divot and bulge across his stomach only added to the arousal gathering between my legs, allowing my fingers to explore the clothed spaced with the image of him naked on my mind.

The thought of that alone drove me mad, thighs instinctively rubbing together to relieve some of the pent up pressure. But doing so only reminded me of the pants I still had clinging to the lower part of my legs, the tight and uncomfortable sticky feeling causing a slight bubble of irritation to well up within me.

“Bab-” I started, cut off by Tae’s lips roughly soothing over mine with a kiss deeper than the one before it. It was his mission to explore my mouth, delving deep inside to slide his tongue along mine in a dance for passion, not power. There was no struggle in the kiss, which was different - a good different that made my heart beat just a little bit harder for him.

“Sh, ignore the pants,” Taehyung whispered against my lips and I had to force down the eyeroll that almost surfaced at such a dismissive response.

As I was about to protest further, Tae parted from the kiss and pushed himself from the bed, kneeling down on the floor and pushing my legs up until they tucked up to my chest to expose my clothed core for his eyes to feast on. The tip of his tongue swiped across his lips before he dove down, pushing my panties out of the way to dip a finger shallowly into my sopping heat. I moaned softly, holding onto my ruined jeans with one hand and sneaking the other around to his head, intertwining my fingers in his soft, chestnut locks.

Without warning, Tae pushed his finger in to the knuckle and lowered his head to hungrily lap at my clip over my already soaked underwear, ripping a moan forcefully from my throat. He moaned in return, any noise that left my mouth only adding to his determination to work me up and get me as wet as inhumanly possible. He sped up his pace, curling the tip of his finger to stroke the pad of his fingertip along the rough patch at the top, the spot that made my mind go blank and left me a mumbling mess for him to please. He always knew how to hit the right place, each and every time together was spent as a new learning experience for him to map out and worship my body as I did his.

A few pumps later, Tae placed a sloppy, wet kiss along the inside of my thigh before adding a finger to the one already thrusting into my cunt at a moderate pace. The stretch burned despite how slender his fingers were, always filling me up nicely. Brushing against a particular spot deep within me, I was left gasping for air, tugging the strands at the top of his head as I attempted to buck my hips against his hand to meet each of his thrusts, my sopping pussy tembling around his fingers.

“Fuck, baby. You always take me so fucking well,” he praised, leaving a few stray kisses along my thigh to accompany the faster pace he’d set, working his fingers into me as if he could do it all fucking night long.

“Mmh, Tae,” I groaned, abandoning the grip on my legs to ground myself against the duvet underneath.

“What, baby? What do you want?” Rougher kisses were pressed into the length of my thigh and along my wet mound, tongue practically dancing everywhere but my clit to tease me.

“Tae-Tae, I want you in me. Please.”

Despite the urgency in my request, Tae peeked around my legs with a softened look, eyes kind as his body smile outshines the gloss of arousal painting his lips and chin.

“Yeah? Where do you want me, baby? Here?” He asked with a slide of his fingers across my g-spot, causing my thighs to quake as I fought off the softest hint of an orgasm. I nodded and begged him for his cock while he rubbed the remainder of my slick from his face and onto his sleeve, towering over me once again as he climbed up the bed once again, having stripped himself of his clothes. The heat returned to his gaze as he devoured my body with his eyes, not needed for me to be naked in order to let his imagination run wild. 

Leaving a soft kiss against my lips, he pushed back to sit on his knees and lifted my legs up until my feet rested against the top of his shoulder. The position we were in gave him the perfect view of my ruined panties, his eyes lit up with a heat unlike anything I’d ever seen from him before as he traced the material with his fingertip. 

“You want me to fuck a baby into you?” He asked, fighting the blush that creeped up his neck and into his ears as he stayed locked onto my clothed pussy. 

His words made me giddy, the thought of him fucking me and getting me pregnant with his child adding fuel to our very passionate fire. “Please, I want your baby, Tae,” I whined. He dragged his cockhead against my clothed core, earning a grunt from us both. With a push of my panties to the side and a gentle rock of his hips against my own, the entirety of his cock slid into me, walls protested the stretch his thick girth gave despite the prep, drawing a synchronized moan from us. 

“Oh fuck, babe,” I groaned, fisting the sheets beneath me as his grip aropund my legs tightened. He stilled when the last inch of his cock sank into me, the tremble in his breath telling me he felt the tightness in this position too. Without warning, he dragged his hips back, exposing everything but the tip of his cock before he quickly thrusted back in. 

He continued his languid pace while pressing open kisses to my foot just beneath the hem of the jeans, nails raking against the flesh of my thigh before his eyes flickered down to me. 

I gasped when he adjusted the angle of his hips and targeted my g-spot without miss, setting a punishing pace with his hips as he suddenly drove his cock into me roughly. I moaned out, teeth capturing my bottom lip to contain the sounds his actions were tearing from my throat. 

With a grunt, Tae switched our positions, lowering himself down until his shoulders nestled in the hollow of my knees, face ducking down to pull my lips into a kiss as he resumed his powerful thrusts into my aching pussy.

The new position had every part of my body humming in happiness, the surface of my flesh tingling with each thrust he gave until my eyes shut. Our lips danced together, tongues stealing tastes of one another as the little sounds we made were muted by the other. I fisted a hand in his sweaty hair, using the brunette strands to ground me against his assault against my hips. I tried to meet his thrusts, but the awkward position left me lying there, unable to move, as I took his cock as he gave it. 

I tightened around him, loving the way I felt every ridge of his thick length as it disappeared from my cunt and pushed back inside to hit me in all the right places. After so many thrusts against that spot deep within me, a pressure built up in my lower stomach that burned, growing in size with each pump of his cock until I whined, needing pressure on my clit to push me over that final edge.

Knowing exactly what I wanted, he snuck a hand between us and used the slick on my thighs to wet his thumb before swiping rigorously against my sensitive clit. I mewled in pleasure at the contact, throwing my head back and parting our lips as loud whines and moans leaked from my mouth. It was almost too much, the combination of his hand and his cock throwing me over the edge faster than I could ever get myself off, pushing me over that ledge and into my orgasm. 

I mumbled incoherently as my spasming cunt only drove Taehyung to ride out into his own orgasm, continuing his brutal pace until his cock twitched and stilled inside me, filling me to the brim with his seed.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, taking the time to catch our breaths and return to reality. My body protested him pulling his limp cock from my oversensitive hole, making me grimace. When he pulled back and released my legs from his grip, I groaned at the stiffness in my legs from being in that position for a while, but completely forgot about that as goosebumps fluttered over my skin and brought my attention back down to the soaked jeans I still had on my body. 

Taehyung noticed my shivering and gave a small laugh, deciding to help me out and finally rip each of the legs until the material wasn’t too tight to remove. Sticking to the stripping, I took off my top and unclasped my bra, flinging both across the room to deal with later as Tae stood at the edge of our bed, between my legs. His eyes locked onto the cum dripping from my pussy and he couldn’t contain a grin as he reached forward and swiped a drop up onto his finger to push it back inside of me. 

“Well, at least we’ll know for sure,” Tae murmured to himself. 

“Hm?” I hummed, reaching out with grabby hands for him to come join me on the bed, which he did with a soft smile and a peck to the nose.

“I’ve always assumed we can’t have kids. I guess now we’ll figure out whether I was right or wrong.”

#creaturesofmm #btsbookclub #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #bangtanarmynet #bangtanuniversity #bts smut #taehyung smut #grim reaper au #halloween au #collab

[nctzendreamz]

Little Things — Mark Lee

Mark loves so many things about you, but he’ll never let the words slip out of his mouth.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

“Mark Lee!” The voice was clear, and echoed repeatedly throughout his newly purchased apartment. It was also expected, as he knew your creative nature couldn’t withstand the way he decorated his new home.

He probably should have been focused on how he could please your complaints, or more so take in your deep lecture about how his plain white walls had to be the justification on why he couldn’t sleep at night, or how his simple bed set up was definitely the reason that he couldn’t stop catching midnight leg cramps, but he was in a daze.

His eyes started on the small of your back. Even though you currently wore what you taught him to be “high waisted jeans”, the bright orange crop top you spotted still exposed your gentle skin, and Mark wanted touch it. He just knew it was softer than any pillow you would buy him today. It would relax him more than the most expensive bed sheets.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Your voice broke through like waves, but he felt the farthest from sea sick. He actually had never felt better, a feeling that he believed would always be foreign to him. Mark hadn’t had much experience with humans in general, other than his members, but he would always think about it. He would wonder just how nervous he would get when he finally fell in love for the first time. Would he be able to create puddles of sweat with his shaky nature? Would he feel his heart practically beating out of his chest when his love made eye contact with him? How deep would he love? Would it be the kind of passion where they did no wrong in his eyes, and he was constantly looking like a immature child whenever someone tried to call him out on his blindness?

The truth of his feelings for you, was that he didn’t get nervous. He was never scared to slip in light touches to your safe places, and when you looked into his eyes, he gained confidence. All of a sudden, the Mark Lee that everyone else thought they knew would dissolve, and he would feel like a man. A man who wanted to give you the whole world. He wanted to be the one putting a smile on your face.

His friends were constantly betting their bottom dollars on when he was going to finally break down, falling to his knees and confessing his undying love for you. 

The answer to that question was never.

Maybe it was because he was enjoying himself too much right now. The privilege of being your friend came with so many benefits; solid, irreplaceable benefits, that he had no problems staying in the friend zone. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to slip in the fact that the reason his bed was so lonely and uncomfortable was because you weren’t ever going to be in it. That his walls were purposely plain and dry, as he needed an excuse for you to come and drag him out.

But couldn’t he just keep it too himself? They were just little things.

He observed you deeply as he watched you stroll around his room, blabbering about different color schemes the two of you could scrounge up. You emphasize the word “pop” with a smack of your soft lips, and your hand began to gently graze his colorless wall as you finally turned around to face him.

“I’m sorry—what did you say?” He immediately questioned, scratching the back of his head which was in dear need of a haircut, all so he wouldn’t have to look you in your eyes just yet.

“I said did you have any colors in mind? And why are you looking at the floor, hm? Do I make you nervous?” You taunted, and without even looking at you he knew you wore your familiar face. The one where you bit your lip playfully, and your cheeks widened just enough to get him weak.

“No.” He responded quickly, staring right into your orbs. “You’re just scary.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh, but I do.” Now it was him stepping closer to you, and as he realized much earlier, he wasn’t nervous. His chest tingled, and his stomach was tossing and quenching, but that was simply because you were too beautiful. The fact that you were standing here so casually, as if you weren’t the most perfect human being inside and out was mind boggling to him, and it would make any human being nervous. “You make me feel so stupid.” He joked, but he saw the way your eyes quickly softened from their playfully flirtatious state, and now your hand was holding his own.

“No—I don’t want you to feel like that? What did I say? I’m so sor—

“Y/N, I’m kidding.” He chuckled lightly, almost in synch with the ticking of his newly installed air conditioner. “You know you’re too good for this world.”

Mark could sense you still didn’t believe his honest words, so he did the only thing he could do, which was to rub the back of your hand in a caring manner. Even still, it wasn’t enough.

“I don’t want you to think I’m trying to take over your life. White is just too plain, and I wanted to spend time with you today.”

Your words were short and sweet, but he couldn’t help himself. He brought your hand right to his lips, kissing it just as quick before placing it back where it was usually stationed and letting go.

“Mark—

“You ready?” He questioned, wanting you to ignore his mistake. He was so helpless when it came to you. Why the hell did he just do that? Maybe he had watched too many movies.

“Okay.” Was all you whispered in a quiet tone.

You always enjoyed large stores like this. “Superstores” to be exact. And Mark always loved adventuring in then with you, because of the image he always got to see. It was always the exact same.

You’d be pushing your buggy, or what you called a “basket”. This was a frequent argument between you two, but that doesn’t matter for now. Your eyes were always up high before the looked down to the lower aisles, as “the good things are always on top.”

Right now, you two were in the paint aisle, and he knew any minute now you would notice that he wasn’t paying attention to any of the so-called dazzling colors; holding the key to his house becoming a home.

“Mark, you keep doing that.”

“I keep doing what?”

“Ignoring me. If you want to take a drive or something take my keys.”

He could sense your frustration with him growing, and he felt so guilty. He didn’t know what was wrong with him today. Usually, the two of you would talk for hours without end, and truthfully he would be able to push his feelings aside, or at the least—focus on his favorite thing in the whole wide world. He was so focused on details today. He didn’t know what was happening.

“No no. Starting now, attention on.” He snapped three times against his forehead, before coming up behind you with a hand on your lower back. Your response was nothing as you continued to stroll against the newly polished floors, looking from row to row.

“Blue, Mark. Are you feeling blue?” You looked up at him now, and he looked right back at you.

“Are you painting my room, or your room?”

You crossed your arms infront of your chest, although you were laughing too. “First of all, my room is black.”

“Which I think you regret.”

“No. Your room color should match your soul. You know this.”

“Well in that case, I think you should take my room.”

And now your eyes were slowly disappearing, because that’s exactly what they did when you were just too amused. When you were around someone; or something that made you incredibly happy. While he didn’t take his eyes off you, he subtly snuck the blue paint into the cart.

“Are you saying I’m an angel, Mark Lee?”

“Sha-la-la-la.” He sung, referencing his own song. So corny, but you loved him anyway. That’s what you always said to him when he made horrible jokes like this.

“Cute.” You mumbled, and he couldn’t help but silently peep the smirk that rested on your features as you saw the paint for yourself. “My favorite shade.”

“Well, I figured you might as well like the color too considering you’re going to turn my room into yours.”

“I am not.” You scoffed, even though the evil simper on your features told a completely different story.

“Yeah?” As you continued to walk, Mark skipped some so was just ahead of the cart “Then explain why half of your wardrobe was in my dorm room. Hm?”

Your silence informed him that you knew this a battle you couldn’t win. He also couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes couldn’t match with his for long, quickly drooping back onto the bucket. Your left hand also moved to the back of your waist, resting on the curve. “I’m hungry.” You whispered.

Deflective. That’s what Johnny taught him. When he would spend his nights cooeing about you, and force his estranged members to analyze your every reaction and touch, this is what Johnny said was your coping mechanism for your feelings for him.

“How come you can never look at me for long?”

“What are you talking about, Mark.”

“I’m talking about the fact that I want to see your pretty face. It’s been a long week.” His hand reached for your chin, forcing you to stare him down.

“I’m not pretty.” You shooed his hand away.

This was the one thing he couldn’t stand to see, but quite often had to handle. Your hatred for yourself. He always wondered how it would feel to love someone so much, even though they hated themselves. Hate was also such a strong word, but it was the word you used.

“And I’m not fishing for compliments.” You interrupted before he could even speak. “I just don’t see it.”

“Well, you know how I feel.”

It was a simple combination of words, but it was also an obvious trigger to memories from two weekends ago. Your drunken confession that he had to pretend he didn’t hear over the loud music that raved throughout the abandoned building. Oddly enough, he could still smell the dusty couch you two sat on, trying to escape from the noise.

You had obviously drunk too much, as you begged for him to find a secluded area for the two of you. For what felt like hours did you two just sit in silence, you continuously nuzzling into his chest.

His focus was on the moonlight that he could see out the high-placed window.

“I love you, Mark.”

Nothing unusual. Although, the words did make him freeze for a mere second, only to unfreeze before you could notice.

“I love you too.”

“I don’t think you get me.”

“Sleep.” He chuckled lightly, truthfully thinking you were just babbling as you always did. You needed to relax, and not upset your stomach even more from constantly using your diaphragm to yell over the tunes.

“No.” You whined, a familiar noise that indicated something was truly bothering you. Something that hadn’t even been uttered to him. Your head made a sad attempt to lift from his now built chest, thanks to the age of twenty. “I love you.”

“And I love you too.”

“No, Mark. Damnit.” You sighed, slapping your cheek. It truly wasn’t a pleasant sight to see you so irate, and he hated to admit that he truly didn’t understand what you were trying to convey. Maybe because he didn’t believe it to be true. That was only a mere fantasy. Or maybe he just didn’t want it; his friend zone preaching getting the best of him.

“I want you, Mark.” You began to press drunk, sloppy kisses on his thick neck.

For the first time, he couldn’t breathe. His heart had stopped beating completely, and all he could do was relish in the feelings of your lips finally on his body. He always craved this. He always wanted this.

But no. Not like this. “Y/N, stop.” He grabbed both of your arms in a stern voice. You might have thought he had a disorder from the way he quickly switched zones, but it was simply because he had come back to reality. It was you, and you weren’t you right now. You were intoxicated, and he could never let anything happen between you two because it’s wrong.

“Take me home, please.” Your eyes were filled to the brim with liquid tears, and as much as Mark wanted to fight this, how could he? It’s what you needed anyway.

And then the next day came. And you were hungover, but in your right state of mind. So badly did he want to address the previous night, but he couldn’t find the words as you walked out of the bathroom from a clearly refreshing shower, avoiding his eyes now. Something that he, at the time, was unfamiliar with.

“You okay?” Was all he could fathom, falling in love with you all over again as you lotioned yourself down with the scent he gifted you just a few months back.

A slapping sound filled the room. “Mhm.”

You were far from okay, and your purposeful negligence of your previous action let Mark know that it wasn’t a joke, or just your drunk concience talking. It was real.

“I—

“No.” You whispered.

“I was just gonna—

Your phone blasting through your speakers, which you seemed to forget were connected based on the way you jumped in utter fear interrupted such a picture perfect scene.

And neither of you had mentioned it since.

Your face practically went pale, if your skin color could even allow it. It was more like a sick feeling he could obviously see hitting your features, and he felt horrible.

“Let’s check out.”

“Y/N.” He sighed, reaching out for you. His heart basically shattered when you moved to jump away, now upset. And it was all his fault.

The ride home was silent. And not in a good way like it usually was. It was mind-eating, and so badly did he want to say it. That he loves you too. And that he wants to give you the world, and then some. And most importantly, that you were the most important, and beautiful, and priceless being on the earth, and he was sure, although he had never traveled else where, the whole galaxy. You were his world, as awful as he showed it.

You pulled up to his house, but he noticed you didn’t move a muscle to get out of the car.

“Don’t make me paint by myself, Y/N. That’s too cruel.”

Even though he saw your hand moving to wipe what seemed to be a tear from your eyes, he was still able to make your smile break through. His superpower; you called it.

“The answer is nothing right?” You questioned barely audible.

“What do you mean?”

“When you told me that I know how you feel, it’s nothing, right?”

The way the golden hour was hitting all of your perfections right now caused him to freeze. Even your tears were glowing, and his lips couldn’t move. He thought he couldn’t get nervous around you. He thought he was done with that. Why couldn’t he open his damn mouth.

“I thought so.” You chuckled. “I thought so.”

And so you stopped the car, taking the paint out of your trunk, explaining this method as you didn’t want it to burst open and ruin your seat. “Let’s go paint.” You mumbled, sniffling once again before moving past him and walking up the stairs to his apartment.

#nct #nct 127 #nct mark #mark lee #mark #nct imagine #nct imagines #mark lee imagine #nct scenario #nct scenarios #nct angst #mark lee angst #omg #i suck #kpop #kpop mark

[trashogram]

Ryuk/Reader 3: Confident

A/N: I don’t know if I like this one. Reader is more evidently female as these progress. Should I post these on AO3? They’re not linear so I’m hesitant to do it.

He was lying on his side on the couch, head propped up by one hand. The furniture you could afford was small and if he stretched out to his full size, Ryuk would’ve hung off both ends by a generous amount. It was far better than constantly laying on the ground, and that stupid rug, though.

The god reached out with one lanky arm, poking at the coffee table in front until he got a good grasp of the remote and began channel-surfing. The door to your bedroom creaking open made his ears perk.  

“You’re gonna come out?” He twitched, but otherwise remained at rest. Your footfalls sounded against the dingy floor as you moved behind him.

“I would never keep a mirror in my bedroom.” You puffed away a few strands of errant hair as you marched over to the bathroom and turned on the light. You squinted, half to brace against the harsh light and half to keep from actually looking at your reflection.

“You think the first thing I wanna see in the morning is myself?” You asked incredulously.

It had the intended effect of making your shinigami laugh, and you took a second to smile at your accomplishment.

“Better’n seein’ me hangin’ over you, I’ll bet.” He called from the other side of the room.

You saw yourself in the mirror.

“I hate this. I hate clothes.” Not a fact at all. You’d garnered a renewed interest in fashion back in school. You’d also been thinking about clothing a lot more since your new companion had “appeared” and never left your side. His image was a constant in your mind, regardless of the rules of possession.

No one quite looked like Ryuk, nothing ordinary anyway. But then when you looked at horror-themed art and monsters from folklore, it stuck out to you that nothing dressed like him, either.

Which was a damn shame, to be honest. You’d have never expected the grim reaper to be dressed like a goth punk from the 1980s, with leather and chains and shiny jewelry. That didn’t mean it wasn’t a fascinating idea.

Fascinating enough to push you into spending the weekend looking for new things to wear, a particular theme in mind. It made you nervous, but it was easy to engage Ryuk when you reminded him that the mall had a Gamestop as well as boring clothes.

Now, you sighed. “This was such a waste of time. Why did I even do this?”

Lifting himself up by the back of the couch, Ryuk peered over the edge of the side. Nothing on TV, never was anything on TV.

Still, he was already regretting getting up from his previous position, as the light from your bathroom was too much in the otherwise dim apartment.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell you to quit whining, to put this off until tomorrow in broad daylight. But he stopped short.

You were in front of the mirror, leaning on the countertop and over the sink with a worried expression on your face. With your back turned to the shinigami, however, he was quick to divert his gaze from your face to your backside.

It wasn’t as if Ryuk had never seen you in a dress before, but nothing you ever wore was quite so… short. Not like this. The length of the skirt was just shy of your mid-thigh; if you were to lean over any further, he’d be able to see your panties no problem.

Regardless of your attempts at modesty - often changing behind your bedroom door or in the bathroom after demanding he wait outside - Ryuk had seen your undergarments. You could get careless; messy. Laundry was sometimes strewn on the floor, and when you got up in the morning, he almost always caught a glimpse of your underwear before you pulled on your pajama bottoms.

“The blankets are warm enough by themselves, don’t need pants.” You’d said once, so easily embarrassed.

This was different, though. You were too distracted to be on the defensive. Instead, you leaned forward even further, adjusting the front of your all-black outfit and revealing more of your soft skin. No trousers or leggings covered your legs, leaving you bare and showing how shapely you were.

There were white and green stripes briefly visible, hugging your bottom beneath the skirt before you straightened up.

You’d finally noticed him gawking, and your face went flush.

You turned around, still gripping the counter with one hand to keep steady. “It’s not the worst thing you’ve ever seen, is it?”

He’d had enough time to shift his pointed gaze from your rear up to your face. But the pout on your lips at his continued silence made Ryuk draw in a ragged breath. He rose from his seat and stretched a leg over the sofa like it was nothing, before looming over to get a closer look at you.

With your head craned back, looking up from your lashes at him expectantly and giving him a look at the extra little things you’d done. Your lips were glossy and your eyelids were the color of ash, and there was blood rising beneath your cheeks to emphasize it all. A little chain hung around your neck, basic and silver but complimenting how shiny you’d become.

He reached for you. His claws touched the hem of your dress, dipping beneath ever so slightly so that he could feel the warmth radiating from you. He hadn’t eaten for hours, but Ryuk swallowed back a mouthful of saliva as if he was holding back.

“Ngh.” Was his eloquent reply.

You blinked up at him, head cocking to the side in confusion. It looked so genuine, but it couldn’t possibly be. You were acting, joking - you had to be fucking with him.

His personal shyness wasn’t a secret by any means. By all the punishments known to his kind, he’d had such a hard time getting used to just being touched by you. Now you were here, looking sweet enough to eat.

The rumbling in Ryuk’s chest took time to build up into a laugh, like the starting of an engine or revving of a motor. It startled you into jumping back, away from his frame as it began to shake.

“You’re a real riot, kid.” His cackling was hollow.

But any falseness or dry sarcasm escaped you as you scoffed at him, fully offended. “Oh, I’m glad this is hilarious to you, too.”

Ryuk stopped eventually, and mimicked your prior head tilting. “Aww, come on. Don’t do that.”

The familiar grin on his face was stretched tight, but you barely noticed. 

“Do what?” You grumbled, looking away.  

As with his reaching for you from before, the spindly fingers that came to tip your face toward him again did not startle you so much as confuse you. You could feel his nails resting under your jaw carefully, even as you were focused on his eyes, far redder than you’d ever seen them before.

They were glowing as he stared at you.

“Don’t pretend to be shy, lookin’ like that.” Ryuk’s natural hunch seemed to accentuate, so close as he leaned down toward you that you could feel his words more than hear them.

He was so close, more to reiterate the irritation he felt at your attempts to remain like a deer in headlights. Ryuk couldn’t pinpoint his annoyance exactly - was it your joking that crossed the line or how pathetic you were, still pretending innocence. Or was it the frustration of seeing you now and knowing that you very well were so insecure that you couldn’t fathom being desired at all, by anyone? Or any thing, in his case.

Your lashes fluttered. “Ok… I’ll go change, then.”

You pulled away, awkwardly side-stepping the god of death. You headed back to your room, but not without noticing that Ryuk wasn’t following you.

He stood in the same spot, watching as you shut the door behind you.

#ryuk #death note #ryuk x reader #saucy lmao #more ooc stuff ofc #again pls don't comment about how weird i am #i know

[tiannarosetarot]

Wonho Current Energy Reading - June 29th

Very long reading ahead, but I hope you’ll check it out! 

There is a lot going on, yet at the same time things feel very balanced. Wonho has just announced his new fandom name and has made his first vlive. This already feels like he has passed over the first major hurdle. He’s been slowly climbing back up from basically rock bottom. Ever since that terrible day in October, he is rebuilding his image, his self esteem and his career. He’s been holding back quite a bit, reasonably so, but I’ve thought since the beginning that when he makes a vlive, that’s when we’ll know. His vlives are extremely special to Monbebe and he has always used the platform to share his life with us and bring us along on his journey. I know that now that he is comfortable enough to go live with us again, he has passed that difficult checkpoint, and will hopefully be able to do it a lot now. It’s kinda like when a couple first confesses that they love each other. At first it is scary and awkward, and they’re not sure whether they should say it. But once they do, now they’re able to say it all the time to each other. I think vlive is Wonho’s way of saying ‘I love you’. And if he’s afraid we might not say it back, that will be extremely harmful to him. I think he needed to wait until he felt comfortable enough that we would reciprocate his feelings. Throughout this process there has been a lot of negativity and people attacked him for something he didn’t even do. So the fact that he feels strong enough to show himself to us again in the way he used to is incredibly special. 

 Wonho also used this vlive as a way to announce his fandom name with us, which is Wenee. I’m a little worried, because I see a lot of people who aren’t super happy with the name. I’ll admit that it seemed a little strange at first, but after knowing the backstory behind it, I know that it will become super special to us, as he pushed for this name himself. In order to make sure that Wonho feels ready and comfortable to fully come back, we need to make sure that we’re sending positive energy and messages towards him. He is a pretty sensitive person (which is a good thing), but I know that in the past he has sometimes taken negative comments to heart. It is important that we project into the universe what we want to happen. Whether you believe in this stuff or not, there is some truth that if you try really hard for something to happen, it definitely can. So let’s make sure Wonho doesn’t think we don’t like his choices, or he may stop trusting in his abilities. Let’s trust that he knows what he’s doing and can make his own decisions. We are his fans, and it is our job to support him in what he does. To reiterate this once again, the fact that he released a fandom name is much more important than what the name actually is. It means he is moving in the right direction to coming back into the industry. Even if you wish he were back in Monsta X, let’s trust in his new achievements now and worry about that later. Just because he’s becoming a solo artist doesn’t mean the chance of him coming back is completely off the table. And again, hopefully we realize that it is better to have him back in the music industry even without being part of Monsta X, than not have him back at all. 

Now onto the cards ~

There is a new start for Wonho coming. He needs to work on his insecurities in order to achieve his dreams, because these things may be holding him back from doing so. There is also this feeling that he doesn’t really want to move on. He’s a little stuck in the past, wishing things were back the way they were. He is missing the group activities and the family he has been a part of for so long. But I think he’s finally realizing that the rest of the members are going to be okay without him. Wonho left because he wanted them to still be successful, and I know that he’s been hyping them up with all of their projects. He can trust now that they are doing fine, and take that as a positive sign that he can move forward. He needs to not let his past hold him back from achieving his dreams. He can remember that part of himself, all of the beautiful memories they shared together, without needing to stay in the shadows forever. We can think of this like any other idol who takes on a solo project or album. They work on promoting that for a while, and still can do group projects as well. Although Wonho may not be in the group right now, there is still a chance that could happen in the future. I know a lot of people have given up, which is totally fine, but I do still believe that he could come back somewhere in the future, and to not give up on those dreams just yet. He needs to not allow the hope of that return stop him from moving forward in his life. He needs to take care of his needs and keep fighting for his dreams. 

There is a lot of fire energy in this reading, including a lot of Aries energy. I’m definitely feeling a lot of movement and power coming from this; he is taking back control. Things are happening quite quickly but no longer in a negative way, because he is taking the reins. Things are happening at the right speed for him now. It’s as if he has been using all of this time to sort everything out and now that those things have happened (New Moon in Cancer: he trusts Monsta X is okay, and South Node: he is not letting his past stop him from moving forward) he is able to finally take action. I have a strong feeling that things will all start falling into place now that he has made his vlive and announced the fandom name. Everything has been building up to this moment, and now rather quickly, things will start working out the way they are supposed to. It’s kinda a roller coaster. After leaving Monsta X, he dropped down to the ground. He’s been slowly inching his way back up to the peak, but with a lot of anticipation and maybe some anxious energy. But once he reaches the top he sees where he needs to go. He’s on top of the world again. And he can now soar down the steep track and enjoy the ride; as all of that pent up energy is being released. (I know Wonho hates heights so maybe this isn't the best analogy, but roller coasters are meant to be fun and exciting. I really want to emphasize that this isn’t like he’s reached the top and it’s only downhill now. This is a super exciting drop that will allow him to really set everything in motion. 

The New Moon in Aries card is a big sign for him to be able to achieve anything he puts his mind to. He may still have a long way to go on this journey (Aries is the first sign of the zodiac), but he’s definitely getting there. He is making sure he does things correctly this time, and he is taking all the time he needs to really make sure he’s ready. He wants to figure out the logistics so that he can be able to have it easier later on. The only problem with this is that he might get so tied up into making everything perfect that he never actually takes action. But seeing that he released his fandom name shows that is not the case, and I hope this strategy works well for him. I think he has a really good foundation which will allow him to grow into an amazing artist again, so we need to be patient in his efforts. He knows what he is doing. 

I’m really glad that the Justice card came up in this reading. This whole situation has been based around a legal matter, an accusation that Wonho did something unethical. However he has been proven innocent and has been given a second chance. Through this card, we are reminded that justice does prevail. Love does win, and people who do the right thing will come out on top. Maybe not always, and maybe not often either, but Wonho worked way too hard to have this all taken away from him so quickly. So the fact that he’s coming back just proves that things are working the way they are supposed to, and that hopefully there is a change happening in the kpop industry. I want to point out a quote from this card which says “Even though events in our life may seem unjust, there is a divine order to the universe.” This reminds me a lot of Wonho’s situation. This whole time we’ve been thinking that what happened to him was unfair, but maybe there is some reason why this happened. There is a hope that can be found in this card, that this event will only make him, Monsta X, and Monbebe stronger. This card can also symbolize weighing all sides before making an important decision, which I do think is what he is doing. It is important he thinks this all through before taking any big risks he might regret later. 

The Three of Cups reversed represents overindulgence or an attempt to escape from the unpleasant aspects of life. It could also represent alone time and independence. The upright version of this card represents the opposite; celebration, friendship, community. Wonho is starting out on his own after being part of a group for so long. He has the opportunity to make many more decisions now and get a lot closer to the fans. He has a newfound independence that could have negative and positive aspects to it. He could be enjoying all of this freedom, but he may be overwhelmed in the amount of things he has to do. It’s no longer all being split between 7 members and in the kpop world, solo artists normally have to work harder to become and stay popular. I also sense a loneliness, and a possible emptiness that he’s feeling going through the steps again of things like announcing a fandom name, and eventually a debut, comeback stages and maybe someday his own concerts. In the past he experienced all of these major moments with his members, but he’s venturing out on his own now. He needs to remember that he still has his fans by his side, and therefore he isn’t truly alone. 

This situation really is like he’s starting all over again though. He’s relearning how to do all of these things that he may not have done in a while. I could tell he was slightly out of practice trying to do aegyo today. I think he’s trying extremely hard to learn everything he can. He’s been learning English and Japanese, maybe other languages too. He’s been taking his time to make sure he makes careful decisions. He’s really being like the apprentice in the Eight of Pentacles, working hard through repetitive tasks and using keen attention to detail in order to master his craft. The second time around, he has the opportunity to do things with more ease and enjoy the moments that he may have been too nervous during the first time around. I’m really proud of how hard he is trying lately to better himself, and feel even more inspired by him than normal. He doesn’t want to disappoint, and I know that anything Wonho releases will only be after extreme thought and with thorough execution so I really hope that we can see that. 

I’m so happy to be a Wenee now, and I want to say happy birthday to my fellow new fandom! Although I’ve been with many of you before, we need to get used to the fact that there will be new Wonho fans who have not known him as a member of Monsta X. I hope we can accept them into this family because the people I’ve grown to know through Monsta X are some of the most amazing people ever. I’m so proud to be part of these two beautifully intertwined fandoms and I can't wait to see what happens in the future. Don’t give up on hoping and be patient for what Wonho as well as the universe has prepared. I believe it will to be even better than anything we could’ve imagined. 

#wonho #wenee #tarotreading #tarot reading #kpop tarot

[clubcreative]

Writing in Comic+Illustration

“A picture is worth a thousand words.” I have to admit that’s a pretty cliche starter, but it does help define what writing means in the art community. 

One way to define “writing” is to call it a genre. 

Genre 101

Before I continue, I want to make sure that you understand what I mean by genre. When I talk about genre I am simply referring to various forms something comes in. For music its different sounds like the genre of jazz or pop. In writing, a genre is a book or a shopping list. Hopefully that clears things up!

When I first began researching various writing genres in the art community I was confused because I thought I was looking for actual written texts like a research paper. Yes, there are the conventional forms of written genre within the art community like a blog, but turns out a genre in the art community simply refers to the art we create!

“I thought art didn’t have writing?”

Comics, manga, anime, ads, posters- those are all forms of genre in the art world. If you are still confused then just think about the different forms that you often see art as. 

In our community, the purpose of these different genres vary between the mediums. 

Some are for insiders (people who are artists themselves) some genres cater towards outsiders (people who are not artists, but consume and enjoy art).

As an artist, our main focus is to entertain others with the works of art we create. Because the nature of our job focuses on pleasing others, most genres of art are created to be consumed by outsiders.

To illustrate that let’s compare two different kinds of art projects. 

Genre 1: Comic Book

SnotGirl by Bryan Lee O’Mallley/Leslie Hung

Who is it for?

Comic books come in various styles and not just what people typically think like the Marvel comics.

 A comic book is written in order to entertain an outsider of the art community. That is not to say that artists do not enjoy comics as well, in fact I’ve included one of my favorites as the example!

Sometimes comics are a single page with multiple panels, and they can span multiple pages and volumes. Snot girl, for example, is currently on its 14th issue! 

A comic is a very commonly produced genre. Typically, someone who writes a comic has multiple reasons to do so. Most of the artists have their own story to tell. They have created their own characters, their own world, and have a vision or lesson they want others to see as well. 

What’s so special about it?

What’s great about a comic is that there is no right way to do it. Comic artists are tasked with balancing multiple parts of their project. They have to consider: 

- the organization of the dialogue 

-how they are going to lay out the images/ what geometric shapes the panels will be

-inclusion of sound effects

Don’t forget the art itself! The creator has to make sure they are:

- cohesive

 -complete and dynamic illustrations

 - they do not clash with the already established panel placement

-establish the tone and mood through colors and lighting

When Less = More

Comic books have the daunting task of developing their writing through narration and dialogue. Write too much and the reading becomes heavy and write too little and the author risks confusion. 

Imagine condensing an entire essay into dialogue between characters with limited narration. Writing in comics is an art in-and-of itself.  

While the writer of a comic and also be the artist, this isn’t a set rule. Sometimes the author and the illustrator are two separate people or teams!

SnotGirl as a comic book case study:

Volume 1, SnotGirl 

Analyzing structure

The left page is split into three rectangles and the right page is broken down into multiple squares beside a near full body illustration of the main character, Lottie. 

Lottie lives her life as an Instagram model and fashion influencer. The left page introduces us to the real Lottie, a side of her that is disgusting and unkept, snot drizzling out of her nose constantly. The right page shows her in public maintaining an idealized and aesthetic persona. 

if you break a page into three sections that means more art needs to go into a single panel. In the middle rectangle her whole body is shown and the bottom panel is largely zoomed into her face. It’s nearly claustrophobic, showing Lottie’s overwhelming insecurities and having the reader up-close to a side of Lottie she wishes to ignore.

On the left page, the dialogue reads as frantic, narcissistic, Lottie is trying to convince herself that she doesn’t feel ugly and that she’s more superior than others. 

On the right the multiple squares include more dialogue, space around Lottie, and more zoomed-out compositions (For example, you can see Lottie all the way down to her chest at least four times).

The squares reflect Lottie’s insecurities but they are the problems of her perfect persona: boy troubles, getting coffee, and Instagram profiles. There’s more writing on this page to reflect her more superficial ravings. 

Analyzing illustration

Art wise, on the left the colors are grey, dark green or blue, and more cool-toned. In color theory cool tones portray sadder, more serious moods. 

The right page which is vibrant and warm-toned, which is supposed to be energetic. If I were to ask you, you might be more attracted to the right side and its happier atmosphere. 

These two pages illustrate how color, composition, and organization differ widely to emphasize how the artist wants the reader to feel and understand about the story. 

Sounds complicated doesn’t it? The genre of comic books may be common, but it takes a lot of working, planning, and dedication.

Genre #2: Video Game Illustration

Illustration in game

illustration in full

Art by ZAVIR

Aren’t games 3D though?

I know that when most people think about video games the models and backgrounds are in 3-D. Think of Red Dead Redemption 2. While most mainstream games are produced that way, there are still many games who use illustrations like PC click-and-point games, mobile games, and other games use illustration for character sprites. The example I’ve included is from my favorite mobile rhythm game, Cytus II. 

For those who don’t play Cytus II, the game revolves around different in-universe musicians who have different songs which the player taps the beat to. For each playable song there is an illustration. (Here’s a link to the hardest song in the game! “Floor is Lava”)

What’s the point of the art?

Most video game illustrators work in backgrounds or character sprites. The illustrations can be single items as well, clarifying items that a character may have picked up in game. 

However, to stay relevant to my example I will mainly focus on the aspects of this particular video game illustration.

Cytus II as a case study:

The illustrations in Cytus 2 are meant to: 

create further diversity between the different songs

provide the song with a visual outside of the beatmap

By providing the song Extinguisher by Lixound with artwork, it’s not only visually pleasing but adds memorability to the song. People who are fans of the game can now draw fanart of the song. 

Differences from comics

there is very little text. 

The story or context has to be told by the artist in composition, character pose, and other artistic choices like lighting or colors. 

Particularly in Cytus 2, the story the artist tries to tell is set by the sound and “vibe” of the song. 

“Extinguisher”, an EDM song, has fast beats and dubstep like qualities as well as a robotic vocal track. It’s chaotic and fast, which could explain why the artist interpreted explosions and a figure that looks like an anarchist. 

Why Different Genres Exist: Comics vs Video Game Art

Imagine if a comic was told through dialogue-less illustrations and imagine if video games had backgrounds and illustrations that were formatted like comics. 

Visual chaos would ensue. Clashing dialogue, images, colors, and a lack of clarity for what the viewer should be focusing on. 

Thank goodness for the different genres of illustration, huh?

[jjkpls]

untitled (m)

> genre : smut

> pairing : jeon jungkook x reader

> words : 3.6k

> warning : none

> Jeon Jungkook, the cute irresistible dongsaeng, proposes to help you out of a dry spell or something like that. (blowjob; noona kink maybe)

A/N : sorry I’m bad at summaries please read lol; also I’m sad because I couldn’t find a gif of the very moment that inspired this. also i hope the smut doesn’t suck too much (pun intended). and kookie I’m sorry TT

> Read the bonus: Jungkook’s POV after reader’s confession here !

« Wait! »

My hands jump to grab his own but I stop mid-track, almost falling off the bed. He freezes his movement, he is a second away from taking off the very last pieces of clothing covering his frame, he then raises his eyes at me. Round and large with confusion. His bottom lip, the cutely plump one, falls downward.

« What are you doing? Are you insane?! »

I may have screamed a little too hysterically because he starts pouting like an upset kid, ready to whine and maybe even cry. I almost find him adorable, almost feel bad but after a quick blink, I'm reminded that right now he is the farthest from a kid he has ever been.

His fingers are twitching nervously, centimetres away from the fly of his jeans. I am trying, concentrating all the willing power I can gather, to not look at him. But he is standing right here. So close. The enchanting smell, a mix between a sweet sugary note and a more natural one, subtle touch of sweat that makes my mouth dry and my head slightly dizzy.

I am so weak I need to close my eyes shut to stop staring at his fair skin. Even from the corner of my eyes, I can not help but notice the studded trail of hairs under his belly button, the trace his boxers' waistband has left on his skin. My heart misses a few beats and I'm terrified, for a seemingly eternal instant, that it won't start anew.

It was too sudden. It feels like a second happened between the moment he knocked on my door, and the one when he just occurs to stand right in front of me, clearly on the path of stripping himself entirely naked. His clothes must have been removed at some point but I did not even get to see it coming. Red is starting to colour his cheeks and his fingers tremble more in the air.

"Noona, you said you wanted me..." He transpires sheepishness. His words, stuttered out through pouty lips, are inarticulate, lisped even more than usual. I don't think I've heard him sounding so unconfident in the past two years. He used to be like this all the time back when we'd just met and he had a hard time hanging around me without awkwardness bubbling in his belly. I really thought that period was way behind us, buried to never see the light of day ever again as we've learned to grow so comfortable around each other. But here he is, uneasy breath stumbling out of his agape mouth, his whole being decomposing under timidness and confusion. My heart squeezes painfully in my bosom.

He doesn't get the fact that I'm turning away so far, stiff neck starting to hurt from the position, just to avoid looking at his body. He might be even a little hurt by it. My inner instinct to take care of him in any circumstances, makes me want to catch his hands in mines and squeeze them lovingly until the confusion fades away. But I know I just can not do this. Not when my fingers, even with the most careful effort, might accidentally brush against the warm skin of his chest. Not when he is mentioning this old episode. That old episode I thought had, somehow, auto-destructed itself into thin air to be forgotten by all, and especially by him -because it was over for my own case, no matter what I've tried to do: auto-hypnosis, self pep talk consisting of denying, busying my mind to make sure I don't accidentally think about it and revive the memory to my conscience, the nightmarish memory is still damnly engraved in my brain. That damned episode of that damned time when I did say that I wanted him and even more.

A little bit of soju. Literally just a little bit. I know I can not handle much alcohol. Therefore I am smart enough to avoid it for reasons similar to the one you'll learn soon enough. But I am not wise enough to ignore dumbasses provoking me restlessly.

« Laaaame! »

I glared at Kim Taehyung, head tilted to the side, eyes squinted in quiet threat. He thought he was cool but he looked ridiculous with his glassy eyes and a stupid grin he could not get rid off, swaying on his seat as if stuck on a wild boat. He had a brownish stain going from his neck to down his chest: beer he had spilt on himself after having one fucking drink. Impossible to take him seriously or even consider taking his attacks seriously. But then Park Jimin, the over sexual drunkard, was done acting like a nympho in the hallway he had decided to turn into a dancefloor and came back to the table to harass me as well, as a backup to his soulmate.

So, obviously, to shut their stupid loudmouths I downed a shot glass of soju and well, it was enough for me to lose my goddamn self-preservation and any sense of decency apparently.

It started with what I imagined to be a charming, seducing, definitely tendentious pose. Cheek set on my hand, leaning towards him with my elbow holding me up riskily on the table. I was probably swaying a little bit back and forth like the idiotic Kim Taehyung, but I didn't care. I smiled kindly at him, eyes soft and shiny with mischief.

He, as always, was sporting that dull-witted expression on his face. This kind of blank, simply still expression that doesn't say much. He looks like he is paying great attention but also like his mind is stuck somewhere else and he doesn't understand anything you're saying. Calm and relaxed, big round eyes looking confused even if he's not which, well, could be confusing.

Not that I am blaming him. But if he had a more expressive face, one that would obviously say « Noona, you're drunk and I don't feel like listening to your crap. Please shut up. » well, I would have as I should have shut up for good.

On the moment, I was mistaking the situation. Not feeling particularly weird even though I knew I was spilling some truths I had felt I shouldn't confess to him ever -at least, before this very moment of distraction. Unfortunately enough, I have a perfectly clear image of him left in my mind now. That same image that keeps making me so mortified every time it flashes, unannounced, behind my eyelids.

He was sitting still, next to me, wide eyes emphasized by his stupid Harry Potter glasses, staring at me blankly or dancing amongst the table, as if looking for any plate with anything left for him to eat. His lips slightly parted as in deep reflexion. He had a sign of... disturbance? though. Something pretty obvious. Pretty fucking obvious for someone who wouldn't be intoxicated the way I was. In fact, his leg was shaking non-stop under the table, sometimes up and down, sometimes from left to right. But mindless me, who sort of noticed, could only focus on how tight his light blue denim was stretching on his thick thigh; and the tempting skin, winking at me through the inappropriately large holes.

I leaned even closer so he could hear, him only, all that I had to tell him. About his thighs I wanted to grab, scratch, bite before riding them to cloud 9. His neck I was slightly obsessed with since I saw him once leaving a stage, pearls of sweat rolling down the expanse of his milky skin. His cute lips I imagined red, swollen from my ministration or from the effort they would put on my body; big round eyes shiny with tears from the overwhelming pleasure I wanted to torture him with; soft, dark hair stuck to his forehead, falling low on his eyes; thin waist perfectly shaped for my legs to wrap around. And his stupid ridiculous overgrown-bunny muscles that I couldn't help but imagine him using to lift me up and pin me up against the wall.

And he just left me talk. He remained there, listening carefully as he always does. Not blinking much more of usual. His doe eyes would sometimes look at me carefully, most of the times lose themselves into space, not giving up on much of what could be going on in his head. His face and neck and ears were blushing a vibrant red but I'd just assumed that the alcohol was the cause behind it. Absolutely not that I was appalling him then and there.

I had started to talk about his cock in way too obscene and creepy ways when, luckily, Park Jimin put me in a headlock, begging in a whiny honey-like voice to go dance with him. After fighting him for way too long about the fact that we were in a fucking restaurant and there was no dance floor waiting for any of us, the night I sexually harassed that poor Jungkook kid was over.

« You said that, didn't you? »

« Still, you can't- I thought- Why are you mentioning this now? »

Because it's been like five months. Since then, he's never showed any sign of interest. Literally. He's kept treating me like his noona. The unattractive noona he would not perceive like an actual potentially sexual being. As a matter of fact, he hasn't shown any sign of remembering the incident. I prayed, long and hard, for him to not have any recollection of it and it seemed to have worked. Still acting like a clown to make me laugh, invading my home to play games with me, whining cutely to have me treat him all kinds of food. There was not the least wavering in his behaviour.

I may have thought catching a bizarre hesitation in the looks he gave me at the beginning but I've come to the conclusion that the guilt and the embarrassment made me see things that were not there since, soon enough, he was back to normal.

But he did remember, didn't he?

"Noona, you need a man and I'm here." He says, firmly, straight eyebrows frowned in determination, bombing his chest. He probably thinks he looks tough but he appears quite cute like that.

"What do you mean I need a man?"

"Hyung said so." There is a curse that I can't prevent from slipping out of my mouth. I'm not sure which one of his hyungs he is talking about but I'm pissed. Why, did I think, for a second, that confiding my love -and sexual- life fiasco to them was a good idea? "I remember what you said you wanted from me the other night so here I am. I'll give it to you."

The tone of his voice, sweet and soft as always, not stranded by the tension from earlier, fills up the room and diffuses the nervosity I was suffering from. Biting back a smile, I lean to pick up the tee-shirt he discarded and give it back to him.

"Kook, I don't- Put your clothes back on."

"Wh-why? I- I will do it with you! You don't want me anymore? Why?" It takes all the power in me to not laugh at his cute desperation. I swallow it back though because I'm terrified his sheeny eyes, staring straight back into my gaze, will start spilling tears. With cautious words and a benevolent smile, I explain, calmly, that this situation is just wrong. I explain that he can't just give himself away, throwing himself at me as an offering, just because he's been told that I'm sad and lonely and horny. As kind as his gesture is -in theory- it's simply wrong. You pursue people that you want, that turn you on, not that you want to be kind to.

"I do want you, noona! I really want to do it!"

Do it. It makes me cringe. Not that he is not cute, he's quite adorable as he always is. But him not even being able because of shyness to put the right words makes me feel worse than ever. I feel like a damned sinful creature trying to corrupt a sweet innocent angel.

"You don't, Kook."

"I do!"

"You can't even name 'the thing'! You don't want it, you're just bein-"

"Stop putting words in my mouth." His hands squeeze the tee-shirt he is holding in a frustrated ball. "I do. I wanna make love with you." My heart stops once again. And my centre throbs. The whole tension from earlier trying to seep in the tip of his nose back in the conversation. He is sulking, I can tell by the lowness of his tone. Nevertheless, there is a sincerity strand impossible to ignore.

Those words I've wanted to hear for so long never sounded so good, even in the most sophisticated fantasy my mind could have come up with. My head is dizzy. My cheeks are burning. I just hope he can't see it because it'll be even harder to not give in.

"___." As if the use of my name instead of the usual honorific term doesn't translate enough his newfound confidence, Jungkook throws harshly his shirt back to the ground. Tips of cold fingers grazing the reddish apple of my cheeks, I'm exposed.

"I won't sleep with you, Jungkook." His shoulders slump down, miserably. "I'm- It's too confusing."

He is handsome. He is deadly. From the line of his body to those traits, the most captivating ones I've ever seen on any human's face. And of course, appearances and beauty are subjective. And of course, I don't think, in-depth, that they influence the least one's feeling towards someone else. Quite frankly, it's his heart the biggest and warmest one I've ever encountered that moves me. He is soft and he is so kind and so generous. Before those obscene thoughts have started invading and plugging up my mind, I only wanted to shower him with love and the most platonic kisses. I'm not even sure what happened. Probably that fucking comeback stage coming straight from hell he and his friends performed a little over a year ago.

Anyways, all I was trying to get at is that, besides his soul being so precious, he is hot as fuck and I can hardly consider that he would really, sincerely want me.

"I'm sincere! I really-"

"Jeon Jungkook, stop !" He glares at me, puffs his cheeks, sighing deeply. "You're too weird. You've never shown any interest and out of no-" In a swift motion, Jungkook grabs my hand to place it on his crotch. His bulging, obviously worked up crotch.

"Can I suck you off ?" Yes, I've just lost all willing.

"C-can you- what ?"

"Suck you off ?"

"Ye- I mean no !" He bites hard on his lower lip, the cutely plush one. "No, no, no. It's me- I'm- I'll take care of you."

"Kook, you want to do something for me ?" He nods eagerly, hair flying around, feet scooting unconsciously on the carpet to get closer. "Then let me do this. Pleasing you is what I want."

"Only if you let me take care of you afterwards." He is all frowned eyebrows and tight jaws, looking like a serious negotiator. Therefore, I simply nod, crossing under my thigh my fingers because it's a lie.

Trembling fingertips reach to touch the soft skin of his hips, he flinches under the touch and I almost decide to retract them once and for good. It's a quick glance up to his face that makes me change my mind and grab with more assurance the hem of his jeans. He is looking down at me with this telling glint shining in his pretty eyes. He really wants it. I have no doubt anymore. He is just as nervous as I am.

Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss against his bustling heart, trying to get him to relax as my hands work on getting him out of his pants. He breathes out, his nose releasing a tiny whistle that makes me grin against his skin. I'm so done for this boy. "Kook, I'm a bit eager so I won't take my time. I hope it's okay for you." I ask, peering at him from under. His jeans are unfastened and balled up around the middle of his meaty thighs -the prospect of losing probably 5 good minutes in getting those tight as hell jeans off of him just convinced me to keep them here. Meaty thighs I can't keep my fingers from digging in. God, how greedy I've been for these thighs.

"It's okay, noona, anything is okay." He reassures quickly, words tumbling out messily from the tautness he is under. When I grab a full hand of his still clothed shaft, he twitches not only under my fingers but his whole body does, a loud whimper erupting from him.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" I ask, a hint of a sneer in the edges of my tone. I'm not mean, I swear. But the cute uncontrolled noises and the vibrant red of his cheeks are just lavishing.

"Yeah, I- fu-" He bites back the curse that almost slipped when I've started massaging him, slowly but firmly, through his underwear. This cutie still cares about not cursing around me. He'll be the death of me.

He is already so hard and he feels so burning hot, my mind starts falling in a haze. It's insane the effect Jungkook has on me. He hasn't touched me in the least bit but I feel like a few words whispered by him might make me come undone.

The darker stain appearing on the tissue resolves me to get to it already. Exhaling hard as to chase away the anxiety, I slip one of my hand inside, dragging the waistband down with the other one. My eyes are observing his face carefully as to delay the moment I'll have to face his cock. Jungkook is so quiet, eyes wide and apprehensive. I smile gently at him, caring to defuse his possible uneasiness despite having to deal with my own. I don't know why I'm so nervous. Maybe because I can't really believe this is happening. Maybe because in the back of my head, anxious little versions of me are running around like headless chickens, bumping into each other, yelling something about what's going to happen after with him, our friendship and everything and everybody else. Maybe because it's been a while since the first and last time I've given head -a debacle, let's not mention it- and I'm terrified to mess up.

When I finally take my wild thoughts under control, I allow my gaze to fall down from his pretty eyes and linger on the object of all my fantasies. My heart is beating like crazy, and my breath seems too short, but I'm overwhelmed by greed and don't let another instant to pass before quite literally jumping on it.

With no sense of shame or embarrassment or doubt, I engulf the most I can of his member, swallowing around it like a starve woman, encouraged by the hissing and whining coming straight from his core.

I am way more selfish than he probably thinks me to be right now. As I'm leaning further on his shaft, between kisses and licks and sucks, slowing my pace so I can feel and enjoy the heat and the smoothness and the dizzying heaviness of his cock on my tongue, I know I wouldn't want to be anywhere else doing anything else. I'm not even sure I would trade this to have him take direct care of my needs. And I know, I am, right now, creating excellent material to recycle for the years of lonely nights I might have to spend in the future.

"Fuck, ___." He groans, looking straight into my eyes. He looks absolutely breathtaking like that. Hair sticky to his forehead, few droplets of sweat rolling down his neck, eyes glassy, and mouth agape. His bottom lip, the cute, slightly crooked plump one I too often tend to be mesmerized by when he talks, is dark as hell and I think I even catch a glimpse of bloody red.

His heavy hooded eyes are clinging to my own in an inescapable hold as my hand jerks him off fast.

"Are you close?" I breathe out, voice hoarse, mostly strained by arousal. His head falls back with another groan. He's too immersed in his own pleasure to answer but the angry red his tip is tainted with tells on him. Closing my mouth gently around the tasty-looking head, I suck hard, jerking hard while his hips follow with an erratic thrusting.

He curses and groans and whines, loud and clear, unbothered by how he might sound to me or even to my neighbours, as I help him out through his orgasm. My name erupts again and again from his sweet lips and I moan from down here, clutching my thighs one against the other wondering if I could actually come just by hearing this sinful calling of my name.

Once I swallowed everything he gave me, I peck his cock gently and release him from my hold. He falls on the bed, spent and eyelids struggling to stay open.

"Do you wanna sleep here ?"

"No, I- I'm not sleeping, I have to give it back to you."

I chuckle at his form, slumped on the mattress clearly not ready to give anything at the moment, and proceed to tuck him under the covers after I've freed him from his jeans and arranged his briefs back on. He complains for good measure but I can hear, as I'm leaving for the bathroom, that he's started snoring.

And shit, I'm not even mad about it.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook scenario #bts scenario #jungkook fluff #bts drabble #jungkook drabble #my writing

[momos-writing-blog]

[Walkie Talkie]

[Author’s Note: I was supposed to be writing out the family relationships in this so anyone who reads this gets a clear picture but...that stopped being fun. Anyway I’ll finish that later and add it to this tag! So it’s fine! You’ll totally get a clear picture later..!! I will say that in my AU, Kenren is the sha family patriach and a police officer. Also Nataku is his youngest son (yes he was adopted.)]

                                                     ◙ * ◙

 The officer was worried. Gojyo had been moody lately; when he thought no one was looking there’d be a frown on his lips. It even looked as if he had to remind himself to laugh and crack jokes, something that had usually come naturally to him. Even more concerning, he teased people less,which---given how their family operated---was enough to have Kenren, Jien and Nataku consider taking Gojyo to the hospital. But despite how they tried to hint that they would be willing to listen, (or even outright ask in the case of Nataku) Gojyo wouldn’t tell them what was wrong.    

  Gojyo was more successful with keeping it hidden now that he was older, but he was often a bundle of anxiety on the inside. Kenren being the attentive father that he is, he is still able to spy when worries are brewing deep in the heart of his second son. Still he didn’t ever speak on it these days, not unless Gojyo approached him first about something. As much as Kenren would love to rush to his child’s aid immediately, he knew his son’s personality enough to know he’d play it off as nothing, even tease the old man about being a worrywart.

 Honestly, this little game the two had to play in order for Gojyo to admit anything was wrong could be tiring, but Kenren knew he couldn’t complain. He was certain this was a trait Gojyo had gotten from himself. In fact, both Jien and Nataku---Kenren’s two other sons---exhibited the same traits. Kenren sighed, brushing a hand against his forehead, he sure hoped that, if his own kids had any of their own in the future, that they would raise them to speak on their feelings more clearly. Or at all.

  Kenren found his eyes slowly shifting to the walkie talkie on his desk. It was clearly old but Kenren always made sure it was working properly. He remembered when he had gotten a pair for him and Gojyo when Gojyo was really young. About 7 or so? He remembered the teasing he got from the people in the precinct, it was embarrassing but he didn’t mind. In spite of how Kenren behaved, to him being a good father was something he prided himself on. Something he was always striving to be, if that led to some good natured teasing then so be it. Kenren’s eye softened.

 Gojyo’s anxiety was something Kenren had noticed when he was a child, but even then the little guy was slow to give up any information regarding his worries. At his current age, Kenren assumed part of why he kept his mouth shut was due to wanting to keep a ‘cool image’, and also him deciding it was something he could handle on his own, but back then Kenren was sure the reason was because Gojyo looked up to Jien and wanted to emulate him.

 Unlike Gojyo, Jien seemed like a rock who could withstand any obstacle, a guy with a strong heart and fire to match (this, of course, was how Gojyo saw his brother.) Gojyo had always looked at his brother with starry eyes, eyes that continue to follow his dear big brother to this day. It was due to thinking this way that Gojyo tried to keep his sadness and worries in check, he’d rather run off then allow anyone to see the tears beginning to well up in his young eyes. Knowing this, and knowing it was best to tread lightly, both Jien and Kenren had taken a different approach to lightening the younger boy’s mood. For Jien it’d involve making him laugh until he forgot, but Kenren decided to buy the boy a walkie talkie. He made sure it looked similar to his own (as similar as a toy could get anyway,) because he knew that’d be something Gojyo would’ve looked for.

“Why do you have your walkie talkie, dad...?” Gojyo had asked. Gojyo blinked his tears back hoping that his dad would take this as him emphasizing his confusion.

“It’s not mine,” Kenren started, a grin on his face. “It’s yours.”

Gojyo’s brows furrowed, “why...?”

“So we can chat any time! Why else?” Another laugh left his lips when he saw the instant joy that flickered across his son’s eyes.

However this was soon replaced with a pout once more, “...why,” he emphasized strongly. There was a pause as he fought the urge to puff his cheeks up, “I don’t think Jien has one, right...?” Gojyo’s round hands pulled at the bottom of his shorts. Inside Gojyo was happy, but there was also sadness mixed with that happiness. Did his dad think he needed him more? If that was the case...how was he supposed to catch up to his big brother? It made him feel like he took three steps back. Gojyo’s shoulders hunched.

“Heeey, now, kiddo.” Kenren reached over and ruffled the boy’s hair, “what’cha getting so sad for? Didn’t you say you wanted to be a cop before?”

Gojyo blinked, when had he said that? He then remembered when he mentioned he was playing the cop in a game of Cop and Robbers. “That was a game!”

“Yeah but you said ‘I’m like you, dad!’ And this old man’s heart was so moved I had to get us matching walkie talkies,” he feigned a sob before pulling out a second one. Once again joy flickered in Gojyo’s eyes, but he didn’t get a chance to reply before Kenren continued. “Or what, you don’t want to be able to be able to share reports with me?”

Gojyo’s ears perked up. Report...? This reminded him of school work, and the thought made him want to twist his face. His dad looked hopeful, so maybe that wasn’t the case. “Do adults do reports too?” He asked, hesitant, he really hoped not.

“Yeah--”

Gojyo’s heart dropped. He had to look forward to that?

“But don’t worry, reports are cooler when police are doing it.”

Gojyo raised his brows, “howcome?”

Kenren straightened up, he brimmed with confidence. “Because! Reports are how police know when something bad happened! That’s how they know to fix the problem.”

Gojyo could practically hear the exclamation points in his head, Oh! That made sense to him.

Seeing his son was now interested, Kenren gently shook the walkie talkie in front of his face. “Sooo...want to share reports with dad? You tell me when something is wrong, I’ll tell you when something is wrong, and together we can fix any trouble that shows up!”

An odd feeling filled Gojyo’s tiny chest, he felt happy but it hurt too. He wanted to put a hand to his chest but he kept his hands where it was, “really...?” He softly asked. There was a pause. Kenren had to keep himself from scooping his son up, and was secretly relieved when Gojyo spoke up once more. “Okay.”

There was a tiny smile on his face and Kenren found himself mirroring it.

“You good?”

“I’m good!”

“You’re ready?”

Gojyo laughed, “I’m ready”

“Good,” Kenren then handed Gojyo the walkie talkie. “Remember to report anything bad!”

“Anything bad...?” Gojyo was a bit unsure what he meant, that was a vague statement after all. He then wondered if he should start wandering outside to see if anything suspicious was happening but it was evening and there was no way dad would let him out now.

“Anything! Did you know that...we police can even take care of problems when it’s inside? Like, when someone is reaaaally sad. We try our best to help those problems too.”

Gojyo tilted his head to look his dad in the eyes, “really...?” He paused. “I thought that was the teacher’s job.”

“It’s everyone’s! We all have a job to try and help each other when we’re sad,so, that means you need to report that too,okay?”

Gojyo nodded, “okay.” His brows furrowed firmly, “you too, okay?”

Kenren looked taken aback, he hadn’t expected this to be turned around on him. Kenren could feel his emotions getting the better of him and so he nodded, “okay.”

Gojyo grinned, “good!”

Kenren chuckled, “all right, go to bed.” Tucking Gojyo into bed, Kenren gave him a quick kiss on the forehead, grinning when he noticed how tightly Gojyo held the walkie talkie in his tiny hands. “Keep that safe.”

Gojyo nodded.

Kenren’s eyes were closed, wistful smile on his face as he remembered that day. That was one of the many treasured memories he had of his children, just thinking abut how much they’ve grown made him want to cry. “Ah shit...!” He laughed, “I’m really getting old.” He groaned.

The crackling of a walkie talkie alerted him, he immediately turned to find his police talkie when he heard Gojyo’s voice.

“...Dad?”

Kenren was startled, it had been a long time since he heard Gojyo through the walkie talkie, there was a part of him who wondered if it was his head playing tricks on him due to his nostalgia.

“Dad...are you there...?”

Kenren snatched the walkie talkie up, to think Gojyo really reached out to him on it again. “Y-yeah?” Kenren laughed, masking his surprise. “What’s up?”

There was a pause before Gojyo continued, “yeah...I got a report.”

Kenren was worried, but that worry was washed away by relief. “Tell me all about it.”

                                                      ◙ * ◙

[Author’s Note]: Dun dun duuun, the first thing I’ve written in a long time~! This was something I was playing in my head for a while. Gojyo still uses the walkie talkie everyone once and a while, it’s just been a loooooong time since then, and it’s never as frequently as it was when he was younger.

Also I like to think that when Jien has a problem, he’ll talk to Kenren but he’d tag “man to man” at the end. Like “dad, can we have a talk? Man to man.”

As for Nataku...Nataku just be like, “dad, can I ask you something?” HE’S THE CLOSET TO BEING ABLE TO SAY IT WITHOUT GIVING A RUN AROUND. Though I imagine it’s slowly getting harder for him as he gets older so Ken is already thinking about how he’ll get his youngest to spill his heart out to him.

#saiyuki #family au #sha gojyo #general kenren #my writing #fanfic #long post #tbh you're gonna have to assume most of my fics are gonna have this tag #i'm only tagging this as such because...like...what if by some miracle I end up writing something short!? #ficlet

[twdmusicboxmystery]

Open Credits Clues. Again.

First of all, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get this together. It's just a time crunch thing. These Asks have been in my inbox forever 

and @wdway contributed most of the stuff on this topic weeks ago. I also need to credit other people as well because it's something we had long discussions on our group. And it's definitely worth making sure everybody knows this. (So, creds to @wdway, @frangipanilove, @lilly.loup (IG), @bluesandbeth, and @thegloriouscollectorlady)

So here we go. I wanted to start by repeating something @frangipanilove said, which was that everything in these opening credits is abstract. We won’t see these images literally in the show moving forward. Many of them are reminiscent of things we’ve seen in the past, but we probably won’t see Daryl’s motorcycle with ivy growing over it at any point in the show. It’s not meant to be that literal.

This sequence is more about impressions and the emotional reaction the images are meant to evoke in the audience. Just keep that in mind.

Many people noticed that in the B part of S9, the opening credits changed subtly. Not surprising in and of itself, as Angela Kang told us there would be some changes as we went along. The first changes came with episode 9x12, The Guardian.

At the end of the opening credits sequence, the camera zeros in on a particular walker. We start with a close-up shot of his eye, which looks like it has 6 in it. There’s also a green insect crawling on it. (Actually, if you look closely, there’s a double line on the 6, but I’ll discuss that in another post.) When the camera swings around, we are suddenly behind him and moving away. 

Starting with episode 12, some things were added to this part of the sequence. There are now three walkers, rather than just one. The other two are behind him. On his right, if you look closely, it's obvious this walker is a Whisperer. You can see the stitches in the back of his mask. The other walker is a female that has no left arm, so we have to assume she's a real walker because a Whisperer probably wouldn't be missing their arm.

So why do we think these are important? Well, some interesting things here. Obviously, the mask, which names the one walk a Whisperer is there to symbolize the advent of the Whisperers and the Whisperer war. But why include the missing arm on the female walker? Feels like an important theme or symbol to me. Remember Beth had her arm in a cast in S5, and Rick had a similar bandage on his arm all through S4. So we’ve definitely seen this theme before.

In addition to that, there’s been a recurrent theme about losing one's arm. Rick lost his arm in the CBs, but the show decided not to do that. But we’ve seen this symbolism often, and we did see Aaron lose his arm in S9. So again, a recurring theme.

@thegloriouscollectorlady also pointed out that, when the opening credits first changed to these, Tara/Alanna’s name card was shown when we saw the skull with the pitchfork. Now, pretty much everywhere, the skull is a representation of death. It’s hard to use that as foreshadowing in TWD because the entire show is about death, so we didn’t read too much into it. I also think the pitchfork is a representation of Hilltop because they are the main farming community. So, this was actually an Easter egg that the leader of Hilltop (Alana/Tara) would be killed in this arc.

A bunch of us also talked about the white flowers looking like Cherokee roses. The odd thing is that they aren't used with Melissa McBride’s title card, so we weren't sure if they were meant to be Cherokee Roses. But consider this. Carol lost another child this season and Henry had ridiculously massive parallels to Sophia. So, I think these are supposed to be Cherokee Roses, to show that Carol would lose another child, and they were placed with Alanna/Taras title card because he died in conjunction with her. In other words, they both died on the Whisperer pikes. See how the opening credits foreshadow things?

And while we're at it. I just want to give you guys a screenshot of something @thegloriouscollectorlady said back on March 7, which was between 9x12 and 9x13 a month before the finale). She's a great forecaster and a great reader of symbolism and every single thing she said here came true by the end of the season.

A couple of other things of note that @wdway found. There's this walker who looks like he's wearing a mask. 

Of course there's the Whisperer theme this season that could be part of it, but more specifically it looks a lot like the mask that Morgan was wearing in 5x01. 

Since we still think Morgan is entwined with Beth somehow, and I still think they might use Morgan’s S5 template to reintroduce her, this is significant. I won’t say a ton more about this right now except that I'm going to be mentioning it in different theories as I go along. So just keep it in mind.

Finally, and perhaps the most exciting thing are the birds flying across the screen. Again, this was something @wdway noticed. Many birds fly across the screen, especially near the end of these credits. Some are white and some are black. Some of them looked distinctly yellow. So, first remember that black and white are a theme around Beth and Daryl (X).

We've also seen Beth seen Beth being symbolized by the yellow finch, a small yellow bird that we saw in the on the wallpaper at the funeral home. And of course she wore that yellow polo in flash in the old credits.

Let me emphasize that this is hard to see. The shot I’m going to show you is blurry because the yellowish bird flies across the screen so quickly. Very much like the Beth flash from S5-S8.

Now we have a distinctly yellowish looking bird flying across the screen. It's not the same thing as the flash in the earlier opening credits, but we think that this might be representative of that flash. 

So when the credits changed, lots of people asked me if I was bothered by the fact that the Beth flash had disappeared. I truly wasn’t and still am not. I think that flash was in all the seasons of her disappearance arc (S5-S8). Now we’ve entered the multi-season arc where she’ll appear, so the flash has gone. But we’re thinking that this yellow bird flash represents her. In other words, the yellow polo flash was changed out for the yellow bird flash.

The top bird has what looks like a hook on its beak. We’re not sure, but it may be a worm that it’s holding in its beak, which would connect it to the worm theory.

I may go into this later, but it’s important that it’s been changed to a bird. I’m especially remembering something from Fear where the two people in a very Bethyl-ish love story (John and June) were separated, birds were a big symbol, and the they reunited. (Below = bird wings in opening credits.)

So, I think there are clues here that represent the Beth will be in this arc. Armless walker + Whisperer could represent Beth in the Whisperer arc. Masked walker like Morgan could represent Beth/Morgan entanglement. And of course the yellow flash.

I have a lot more to say about opening credits stuff, and I’ll be tying what I’ve said here into other things moving forward. Bottom line, the opening credits definitely work in our favor. ;D Thoughts?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[hudsonhudson9-blog]

The Pick-up By Nadine Gordimer--. Reviews, Conversation, Bookclubs, Lists

Radicals: The fatality of the author and also sporting activities guru came two days after a court refuted Sara Jane Olson's demand to videotape his testimony for her trial. The interpersonal effects of stars' objectives built up in time, indirectly predicting change in companions' relationship quality and goals over 3 weeks (see bottom of Figure 5 ). http://fitpassion.fr/praltrix/ forecasted raised responsiveness as well as actors' persistent self-image objectives anticipated reduced responsiveness to partners from pretest to posttest. And also as constantly with Tara Oakes, Boss was well written, addicting, and also involving, a lot so - my body was limited with tension because of the taut story-line. Consider suggestions or comments as information - take it or leave it. But don't hit the various other person over the head with it. No significant relationship was located in between isolation as well as sociability; clinical depression and also sociability. 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The analysis revealed having an eye-catching partner or boyfriend was no barrier to a connection prospering. After a handful of city walks I recognized that exactly what a number of them were missing was any experience besides an aesthetic experience. These reactions have actually been split into 2 classifications: Column 2 of the table details reactions with therapy with Advil tablets where the likelihood of a causal connection exists: for the reactions in Column 3, a causal partnership with Advil tablets has actually not been established. On November 24th there may be some commitments associating with others that you need to look after. On November 25th you may decide to end a connection or this could cause another stage or phase in a partnership. I thought it was outrageous, yet it made my manager pleased and also maintained him off my back. Eager has thousands of love advice write-ups for partnership circumstances just like your own. There was likewise a great deal of class conversation-- guide is set in an unique private school where most of the pupils are rich as fuck, like all Abby's pals, including her friend. Barnstaple-born full-back Close friend hails from proud farming stock as well as claimed: There's quite a few friends and family coming up to support me and the group - farmers taking the trip out of Devon to find to Wembley! Moving to the negative side of the review, while the major style was solid, much of the small-scale execution left me damaging my head. If he planned to marry her, the pair are claimed to have called time on their partnership after a make-or-break top fulfilling a month back in which she supposedly required to know. A healthy love connection generally develops in time such that it not includes the near determined strength and also fervor of infatuation. To puts it simply, as your partnership fulfillment rises, so does your inspiration to effectively self-regulate your activities and development towards achieving your goals. One survey found that 70 percent of ladies stated cellphones were hindering their relationship. Originally, I suggested that Eat24/Yelp staff members volunteer at local soup kitchens and also food financial institutions to give back to our Bay Location neighborhood (I see on your twitter that you care deeply regarding the homeless epidemic in our city) while additionally assisting the various divisions socialize and also meet. Friends With Money was created and also directed by Nicole Holofcener, who previously made the acclaimed independent features Talking and also walking as well as Lovely & Amazing. Among the most effective predictors of relationship distance is when pairs take on something brand-new together: a brand-new hobby, a various type of holiday, a foreign language-- you understand. Abby understands that something is incorrect however she can't seem to obtain anybody to pay attention to her so as to get her friend the help that she needs. Gorgeous Employer was among my most anticipated launches of the year, due to the fact that I like anything as well as whatever that has to do with Will Sumner, and CLo did NOT dissatisfy. After school he remained in a band (called Marrakech - you can presume what we were smoking at the time") and also adhering to a void year in the Cook Islands, Friend signed up at Webber Douglas Academy, a dramatization college in London. Crow does not stop he remains to make buddies however something always makes them disappear. Cannot return phone calls or sms message for weeks, or cannot acknowledge a person in public, may be an indication a female is simply not interested in remaining to pursue or develop the connection. In the future, providing money to a friend or a family member opens up a lot of new possibilities that you could not favor. It leaves you feeling confused whether you ought to provide them the cash or not.

[anonthenullifier]

Because I Could Not Stop for Death

Warning: mention of and implication of character death. Based on the trailers for Infinity War. 

All of my other speculative Infinity War fics have been wrong, so if I write this, it means it will be wrong, right? Please?

AO3 Link

The jungle is alive with susurrations, leaves conversing in the breeze, a chatter of birds, a small tributary babbles less than a quarter mile away, all things that, in any other circumstance would be labeled peaceful, but that peace is eradicated by the distant cacophony of war. Vision lays his head back, ignoring the irritating placement of a stub from a broken branch that is stabbing his neck, and momentarily closes his eyes. Which is a mistake, the instant he removes all other visual stimuli he is overpowered by the nigh constant pulsing of the patched together wound in his side and the terrified, frenetic beat of the Mindstone as its brethren call out for it. His eyes snap open and air rushes soundlessly from his mouth as he attempts to steady his mind and push the pain away. “Vizh?”

Wanda is staring at him , the cut she sustained in Edinburgh bunching together as she allows concern to overtake her face. “I,” there are three potential answers here (at the very least) the socially polite reassurance of I am fine, the truth, and then redirection, “believe I may be able to keep moving in a few more minutes.” His words drag her mouth down, but Wanda is not the one to deny his suggestion.

“We can defend ourselves here, no need to keep looking.” The new shields became part of Steve’s overall persona far faster than anyone thought possible, so much so Vision is having difficulty remembering Captain Rogers and his star-spangled disc, the image replaced by the present intensity of the now bearded man. “Wanda,” her eyes only now leave Vision, reluctantly sliding to their leader’s face, and whatever it is they discuss, Vision’s attention is already gone, the pain escalating with each agonizing yell from the distant battlefield and each flare of prismatic power that bursts from the gauntlet on Thanos’ hand.

It is only now, in the tense quiet, in the waiting for fate that he finds himself finally accepting what is happening. He is afraid. Not merely the flimsy skittishness of unease he has experienced previously in battle (mainly when Wanda is injured or stumbles), but a deep, suffocating fear that wraps its long fingers around his chest and squeezes until there is no air left for him to gulp. The thing, Vision discovers only now, with fear is that it is insidious and persistent, an invasive species that forces him to relinquish the usually tight control he has over his thoughts. Now is not the time to meander through the lucid and daunting complexities of life, he should be focused on battle, on what he can do, and yet he cannot seem to quell the raging storm in his mind.

No one is willing to verbalize it, but the truth is plastered on everyone’s face and it is loud and resonant in his own mind: Vision is likely going to die.  It is a fact that had not seemed feasible even a week before when his fingers ran idly through Wanda’s dyed hair, the rain pattering against the hotel window, in fact, he had always taken comfort in the knowledge of the opposite. Of all his teammates, he was the least likely to perish, his very cells sewn with vibranium, the synthetic nature of his organs resistant to aging and disease, never once had he been harmed physically. Until he met the tip of a glaive. Now every reassurance, every surety of his life is tumbling from his grasp. Wanda’s eyes have taken on a sheen of defiance, refusing to accept losing one more person, and that itself terrifies him more. He adores…no, loves her resilience and strength, finds himself equally aggravated and intrigued by her ability to negate logic and stand steadfast based solely on an intuitive and emotionally charged belief that she will persevere. Yet this trait also carries with it a self-sacrificial quality, and if anyone dies today, he needs it to be him, not her.

Which only carries with it a larger, more philosophical quandary he had never found it necessary to consider. What, precisely, happens when you die? He has seen the effects of death on his teammates – has held Wanda in the middle of the night when the hole left by Pietro widens into unbearable pain. He has seen the anger and irrationality in Stark’s behavior and thoughts at the knowledge and continual rumination of what befell his parents. He has seen the hollowness in the eyes of his teammates when they share war stories, jocular tones of their late comrades’ deeds barely hiding the sorrow of speaking in remembrance instead of with that person at their side. But these are the ripples of death, the impact it leaves on others. What he finds himself honing in on is what would happen to him? The process of death is well documented, the slowing of the organs, the changing in coloration of skin (which he believes may not apply to his synthetic dermis), the rigidity of the muscles before they loosen, and then the decay. This, however, is not comforting to know, because now that he’s lived amongst people, cultivated a life of his own,he cannot imagine simply losing it, never knowing what wondrous feats Wanda completes, how she recovers, moves on, lives a long and fulfilling life.  And it hurts, more than the wound in his side and the raging headache from the Mindstone, to accept he will never know this, never see her again. Perhaps this is why humans rely so much on religion, cling to the notion of an afterlife teeming with the souls of their loved ones, because in this moment that is the only thing that instills in him an odd, illogical hope.

A high-pitched noise fills the sky above them, their eyes lifting to watch the streaks of slate smoke billowing out from another boulder-sized asteroid bearing down into the middle of the battlefield. Suddenly his thoughts flee, heart racing at the click and swish of Steve’s shields activating as his eyes narrow with the resolute nod of his head. “Be ready.”

The finality of the words finally puncture the bulbous pillows collecting in Wanda’s eyes, her features cracking as the tears trickle down, head shaking in time with the quiver of her bottom lip as her eyes find Vision’s. “Vision.”

Emotions were once so foreign to him, he felt them but was incapable of identifying and defining them. Sadness, until he knew what it was, was simply a weight that hung at the bottom of his lungs, one that caused his body to respond slower, mind tied up in distortional thinking. It was only upon knowing the term, linking the two together, that he could define and parse out each separate affective state. His name, when she says it, always carries emotion but never the same one: sometimes it is happy, exhausted, excited, amused, annoyed, awe-stricken, or filled with love (his favorite). Yet right now he can, from two syllables, gather her fear and her anger, her anxiety and anguish, doubtfulness and resolution. “Wanda.” He chokes in the middle of her name, realizing only now how despair can influence his physiological functioning, fattening his tongue and closing his throat. But she rushes to him, drops down onto a knee and brings her palm to his face.

“Vision, we’ll be fine.”

It is a blatant lie, one she does not believe and neither does he, but he accepts it, wraps his right hand around her wrist and brings his left to cover her gloved knuckles. They’ve been running for so long now, clandestine meetings across the world, long nights where the only thing that mattered was the words they whispered and the feel of their bodies and minds synchronizing and embracing, that it is tempting to keep going. Another crash and there is a flicker from behind Wanda, the damaged shield faltering and then falling from around the battlefield. “It is too late.”

“No.”

The crunch of a twig echoes around them as Steve crouches into a stance they’ve practiced hundreds of time in training, voice uncomfortably calm while he narrates what is happening, “Thanos is coming.”

Vision refuses to disengage from Wanda’s gaze, can feel the unfounded notion forming in his mind that if he doesn’t see Thanos then it means he is not there. But that is farcical and unhelpful. The truth is that time is no longer on their side and there is only one thing left for them, one last, final strategy that could save everyone - but him. “We are out of time.” Wanda denies it with a barely discernible shake of her head, and now his tears join her own, fingers tightening around her wrist. “We are out of time, Wanda.” The repetition hurts, the acceptance of their worst fears kickstarting his sympathetic system which screams at him to fight or at least try to fly away with Wanda in his arms, run just a bit longer, yet he has to stop that feeling, his body far too injured to carry on. “I love you.”

A shuddering breath makes her, “I love you,” difficult to decipher, but the desperate press of her lips emphasizes the muffled words, fills him with one last glorious rush of the possibilities of life, of being human. Wanda closes her eyes, sucks in the humid air, and then moves her hand to his forehead, scarlet swirling in his peripheral vision. Shuri confirmed the necessity of the stone for the continued functioning of his nervous system, but in doing so also discovered a way to amplify its power if removed. The prognosis for him was unclear, if not erring on the side of poor, but they left some hope of his return, which Wanda has clung to, and continues to do so as her powers begin to pry the stone from this head. Before she removes it, she kisses him again, leaving him with one last promise, “I’m going to get you back, okay?”

Vision can feel his body grow heavy, thoughts slowing and heart coming to a rest. As his eyelids slip down he can see Wanda stand, Mindstone glowing with a renewed fury in her hand and he can’t help but smile at the beauty of the image. Life did not quite go as planned, but for what it was worth, it has been a privilege to have lived it surrounded by his teammates, his family.

#scarlet vision #vision #wanda maximoff #steve rogers #thanos #infinity war #fanfic #mine #ao3 #i'm sorry for this #honestly #very very sorry #for all of the angst I've been writing lately #i really hope this doesn't happen this way #please #infinity war spoilers #spoilers #gifs courtesy of atendrilofscarlet #title from the Emily Dickinson poem of the same name #read it #it is beautiful #mcu

[laschatzi]

A Hard Day’s Night

After a bunch of super angsty stories I had a mighty need to write some smut. I’m not even sorry. And yes, of course I stole the title!

title: A Hard Day’s Night

summary: Emma sends Killian an indecent selfie, and like Regina once said: never thinking of the consequences...

rating: m, hell yeah.

word count: 4k

also on ff.net and ao3

With her hair tied into a loose ponytail and still damp from her evening shower, Emma leaves the bathroom, just clad in a white tank top and soft grey cotton panties. As she won't be leaving the house again today and Henry isn't home, she hasn't bothered to put on a bra. She's contemplating whether to put on yoga pants or sweatpants for the cozy evening with pizza and Netflix she's planned, when the bedroom door is thrown open. Not really startled, because she knew Killian would be home around that time, she still jumps a little.

“Hey!” she greets him with a smile and walks up to him immediately, raising on her tiptoes to press a lingering kiss to his lips. They taste salty, as he has been out with his ship all day, testing and fixing the new sail he has rigged her with. Playfully, she nips at his bottom lip before releasing him. “I just got back in from the station,” she tells him, “I'm glad you're already home!”

He growls a little in response to her kiss, pulling her against him with his hand splayed on her lower back, before he replies pointedly, “So am I. For various reasons.” Stepping back, he tilts his head and raises his eyebrows at her, adding dryly, “As you certainly can imagine, love.”

Emma bats her eyelashes innocently. “I have no idea what you're talking about, husband,” she claims, the smirk playing around her lips clearly belying her.

“Oh, really?” He points his ringed index finger at her. “You are a dirty little liar, Swan,” he declares, “and a bloody tease.”

She can barely keep the self-satisfaction from her voice. “You're talking about the... message I sent?”

“Message,” he snorts. “You mean the picture you took of yourself before you were decent.”

Emma laughs, a glorious, carefree sound he could listen to all day. “Oh, come on, I wasn't even naked,” she defends herself.

“Perhaps not, but the image of you clad only in your knickers and that feeble excuse for a bodice you call brassière,” he emphasizes the French word in a way that sends tingles down her spine, “doesn't allow a man to concentrate on his task. In fact, it renders it quite...” he pauses for a moment to tilt his head and run his tongue along the inside of his teeth, “...hard.”

She grins at his innuendo and bites her full bottom lip slowly, deliberately. “Sorry?” she offers in a voice that makes clear how blatantly not sorry she actually is.

“Cheeky, are we?” he comments and takes another step back, much to her dismay.

But she knows he's playing a game, and playing along is always fun. So, she smiles seductively and breathes in a husky voice, “I'll make it up to you...” She reaches out for him, but he holds up his hand.

“Not so fast, my love,” he scolds, “I had a very long and uncomfortable day, you can display a little patience now, can't you?” With his hand and the dull curve of his hook on her shoulders he pushes her gently down to sit on the small bench in front of her dressing table. “Why don't you take a seat?”

Emma looks up at him questioningly, trying to anticipate what he's up to, but even though his eyes are dangerously sparkling with mischief now, she has no clue. Her hands are reaching out for him again, but once more, he eludes her touch and steps back. She's slightly disappointed when he turns around and saunters away from her (on the bright side, it gives her the opportunity to admire his pirate swagger), but smirks to herself when he starts to unbutton his shirt.

“What now?” she inquires to his back and hums in appreciation when he lets his shirt slip down over his shoulders. She lets her eyes roam over his bare back, wishing she could trace the scars he bears there with her fingers, and as always, her gaze gets caught by the freshest and angriest of his battle marks, right below his right shoulder blade; the scar left from the exit wound inflicted by Excalibur. The eternal reminder of how lucky they are to be still here, together – and she thanks the fates every day for that. With a little shake of her head, she clears her mind from these distressing thoughts, because now's definitely not the time for that.

Killian slips his shirt skillfully over his brace and hook, tosses it on the bed and turns around. She can't completely suppress a contented sigh and drinks in the enticing sight of her half-naked husband, clad only in his tight black jeans and his boots now. Subconsciously, she curls her fingers around the edge of the bench, wishing she'd be raking them through his chest hair instead, caressing down the flat planes of his stomach and following his treasure trail down to the waist of his jeans. While the hair on his chest is more coarse and curled, the one trailing over his stomach and further down is a bit smoother to the touch. She loves both feelings equally on her skin.

He moves his hand and hook to his belt and starts to unbuckle it, and she huffs.

“Really?” she feigns annoyance, but then accidentally betrays herself when she automatically licks her lips without even noticing. “Are you putting on a show now?”

“No,” he replies in a husky voice and pops his button open, “just relieving a little pressure.” He lowers his jeans just enough for her to see the bulge straining in his boxer briefs and plops down on the bed with a low groan that sends a bolt of heat into the pit of her stomach. “Ah, that's much better.”

Carefully, she folds her right leg over her left. “Have you been like this all day?” she inquires in a teasing tone, obviously pretty satisfied with herself.

“Was that your intention, love?” he asks back and reaches into his boxers, letting his thighs fall apart to have better access. Then he shimmies his pants a little further down and wraps his fingers around his heated flesh, pulling himself out.

Emma swallows thickly at the sight. “I could help with that,” she suggests a little breathlessly and presses her legs a little closer together.

“Oh, so now you're gonna be helpful,” Killian growls and runs his thumb slowly up and down his length in a lazy caress, “after I had to go through the day with naught but my fantasies?”

She takes the bait eagerly. “Fantasies?” she echoes and shifts a little on her bench. “About me?”

“Aye.” He closes his fist around his shaft, not too tightly, and strokes himself from base to tip and back down very slowly. “You were on my mind all day, Swan.”

She bites her lip and feels wetness pool inside her. “Tell me about it,” she encourages, trying to keep her tone nonchalant and not so desperate, but it's useless, of course. She always found his voice very enticing, but when he talks dirty... oh, that has been her downfall on more than one occasion. The combination with the show he's regaling her with is almost too hot to handle. He's aware of that, of course.

“Hmmm, let's see...” he drawls and looks at the ceiling, as if he has to strain his memory to recall the details. “First, I was thinking of taking you down to the Captain's quarters and having you on my desk. The classic, you could say.” His hand keeps moving steadily while he talks, nice and slow, and he closes his eyes for a moment with an appreciative sigh.

“Oh yeah, classic for sure,” Emma agrees, her eyes glued to his hand, and her own fingers fidgeting restlessly in the urge to touch herself, but she knows Killian would notice, and she doesn't want him to stop talking. “Bent over?” she asks hopefully.

His eyes open and focus on her again. “No,” he replies firmly, and she sees his fingers tighten their grip a bit while never stopping their rhythm, “on your back.” He savors the word, his voice dropping a little nuance. A delightful little shiver runs down her spine when he continues, “You're looking at me while I make you fall apart.” His eyes glitter with a devilish spark, and he runs his tongue across his full bottom lip and adds, “Repeatedly.”

Oh yes, he certainly has a kink for this, she knows. He loves to see and to hear what he's doing to her.

“Is there more?” she urges.

“M-hmm,” he hums almost nonchalantly, “I imagined tying you to the mast, having my wicked way with you, using my fingers and tongue... until you beg me to give it to you.” He ceases his ministrations for a moment to swipe the pad of his thumb over his tip. “Which I, of course, do gladly.”

She can see his flesh glittering with moisture, and in her mind, she can almost physically feel him against her skin, thick and hot and hard. Emma presses her lips together and squirms, trying to apply some pressure on her core. He raises his eyebrows in reprimand.

“Ah ah, what's that, love?” With a wicked grin, he tilts his head. “No friction for you, I'm afraid.” She stops moving and glares at him, trying to ignore the ache between her thighs. Killian starts to busy his hand again. “Tell me, are you wet for me yet?”

Damn that pirate. “You know I am,” she presses through clenched teeth.

“Show me,” he demands. “Spread your legs.”

God, he isn't gonna let her even have the slightest pressure, the bastard. Even though she knows the pay off will be impossibly sweeter if the pleasure is delayed like this, his relentless teasing is killing her at the moment. Regardless, she follows his demand – and how could she ever deny him anything? – and reluctantly unfolds her legs, spreading her thighs for him to see. She doesn't need to look down to know there's a dark stain of wetness on her cotton panties; actually, they're fucking soaked.

His lips curl into a wicked smile. “Oh my, getting a dose of your own medicine now, are you?” he comments and gives his tip an extra swipe, his own eyelids fluttering for a moment at the sensation, for which she could kill him.

He's a devastatingly gorgeous sight as he sits there on the edge of their bed with his upper body bare, chest puffed out and shoulders broad, legs sinfully spread, and his glorious cock grasped firmly in his hand, working himself lazily while she's condemned to helplessly watch. She wants nothing more (and seriously contemplates it for a moment) than to get up and walk over to him, swat his hand away and push him on his back, straddle him and ride him for good measure, his little game of teasing be damned. But fuck this, she knows whatever he has in mind will be worth the torture she's going through right now, so she fights back her urge and continues to play along.

“I'd rather get a dose of yours,” she replies in a strained voice, to which he chuckles amusedly.

“Of course you do,” he comments almost nonchalantly. “But don't you want to hear about my favorite fantasy, love?”

“Tell me already,” she barely manages. Funny how opposite they are – the more the sexual tension rises between them, the wordier he gets and the more monosyllabic she becomes.

“As the lady wishes,” he replies with a tilt of his head and licks his lips in a purely lewd gesture. “I make you bend over,” he emphasizes, “and grasp the helm, hold on to it, while I pull down your jeans and ravish you from behind.”

Emma is breathing heavily now. “Hard and fast,” she assumes in an almost pleading voice, because yes, she has the image in her head, very vividly, and God, she needs that now. Anything.

“Gods, no,” he replies, “nice and slow and thorough, with deep strokes, just like this.” And he stills the movements of his hand and rolls his hips forward in a dirty grind instead, languidly thrusting into his hand. His lips are slightly parted, tongue restlessly moving behind his teeth, and he groans, a deep and feral sound that rocks her right to her throbbing core.

Emma squirms again, her hips moving in sync with his, she can't help it. The sight of Killian leisurely fucking his hand drives her to the brink of madness and desire. She can feel her panties getting soaked even more, and damn, she needs to do something about it now or she'll come on the spot just from listening to him and watching him.

“I could make you feel so good...” she all but begs.

He stops the rolling of his hips and shoots her a filthy look. “You really want to get your mouth on me, don't you, Swan?”

She huffs. “Don't tell me you don't want it just as badly, Jones.”

He tilts his head. “Fair point.” Letting go of his cock, he gets up from the bed in a fluent move and saunters over to her. “Who am I to deny my wife any of her wishes?”

When she makes a move to rise from her bench, too, he holds up his hand. “Just stay comfortable right where you are, love,” he tells her and she obeys with a knowing smile, opens her arms and beckons him nearer.

As soon as he's within her reach, she grabs him at the hips and pulls him close, leaning a little forward enthusiastically. He doesn't even have to guide his cock to her mouth, she finds him, meets him eagerly, and sucks him in deep without any preliminary such as kissing, licking or nibbling which she usually revels in before getting on with it in earnest. But tonight, she decides, they're both just way to worked up for that. Both groan simultaneously when his sensitive tip hits the soft back of her throat. She firmly cups his ass with her hands to hold him in place and gets down to business, and she has no chill.

Killian tangles his fingers into her hair, but lets his palm rest only lightly against the back of her head. He isn't guiding or pushing her; she has the lead in this, it's her show. He looks down at her blond head, bobbing back and forth as she blows more than just his mind, and despite the heat of this moment he's overwhelmed by tenderness. They are both so vulnerable in these moments, both at the same time in control of the other one and at their mercy.

“Bloody hell, you really love doing this, don't you?” he manages in a hoarse voice, and Emma hums in agreement, the vibrations around his heated flesh sending a shiver down his spine. “Show me how much,” he demands. She slows her movements a bit, maybe thrown off track for a second, because how on earth could she show him better than by pouring all her enthusiasm into her ministrations? She looks up at him questioningly, and he tells her breathlessly, “Touch yourself. Make yourself feel good.” His lips curve into a grin. “You've earned it.”

He doesn't have to tell her twice. Her right hand lets go of his ass and wanders right between her spread legs. Immediately, her fingers find the right spot where she aches for release, and she breathes a whimper of relief through her nose. Like before with him, she leaves out all the preliminaries, doesn't start by teasing herself with gentle fluttering. She knows what she needs and where she needs it. With firm and expert fingers, she starts to circle her swollen nub through the soaked fabric of her panties while her mouth never stops working Killian's cock.

“You're a bloody marvel,” he praises as he watches her, absolutely fascinated by the enraptured expression on her face. His eyes dart to and fro between her slender fingers caressing herself and her pink lips wrapped around his erection, gliding back and forth over his length. For a moment, he allows himself to close his eyes, to let his head fall back and just revel in the sensation of her mouth on him, always a marvel, bringing him infinite pleasure. The heat pools low in his belly, sparks buzzing at the base of his spine, and his fingers flex in Emma's hair. But he fights the urge to tighten his grip and roll his hips into her face, forcing himself to practice complicated sailor's knots in his head. He doesn't want to get his release like that, he has other things in store.  

But she doesn't bloody make it easy for him to stick to that resolve; the urgent little noises she makes while her fingers dance over her core faster and faster arouse him even more, and he says a silent prayer, hoping she'll reach her peak soon. He knows, it can't take much longer now, if the increasing frequency of her whimpers is any indication. Also, the moves of her mouth are getting sloppier, more erratic... Emma's about to lose control.  

“Aye, love, just like that,” Killian spurs her on, knowing that his voice and his praise never fail to motivate her. “Rub that magic bean. I want you to come with my cock in your mouth.”

She almost sobs, and he can feel her whole body tense while her mouth comes to a stuttering halt, even if she's still holding him between her lips. The fingers of her left hand dig into his hip, and he knows she's falling. When she starts to climax, he withdraws from her mouth and moves his hand from the back of her head to her elbow, pulling her to her feet. Her eyes are blinking rapidly in confusion, behind her fluttering eyelids he can see how dilated her pupils are.

Before she has a chance to say anything, he flips her around and, his hand placed firmly between her shoulder blades, bends her over the dressing table to which she obeys with a surprised sound that doesn't even resemble a word. Quickly he pulls down her panties, and when he sees and feels how soaked they are, it sends a fresh wave of arousal through him. All of that happens in the course of mere seconds, and he knows her orgasm is still holding her in its relentless, delirious grip. He doesn't give her the chance to ride it out, but pushes into her with one single, swift thrust, knowing if he doesn't allow her to come down from her high but keeps her right there, he can make her come again in no time. She's still twitching and quivering inside, and she cries out at the sudden feeling of being filled by him, and the feeling is incredible: he's still slick from the blow job she just gave him, and she is from her climax, but when he thrusts home, the drag is impossibly delicious, because she's all tight and swollen inside.

“I'm not done with you yet,” he growls and, with a flick of his wrist, wraps her ponytail around his hook, pulling her head back a little so that their eyes meet in the mirror. “Watch.”

And she does.

This – when he takes her from behind – has always been one of her favorite positions, the angle is exquisite, the pushes deep, and Killian's thrusts have even more drive. There's just one disadvantage: when he's behind her, she cannot see his face, cannot look into his eyes. But now she can, and it doubles her pleasure to see his fingers press into the flesh of her hip, the flex of his left bicep as he tugs at her hair, the feral, predatory expression on his face as he pumps his hips forward, and the lust in his eyes. And – not only can she see what he's doing, she can also see what it's doing to him. The cords of his neck look hard as steel ropes, and his upper lip pulls back to bare his teeth, giving him an even more animal expression. That is when the flames are licking at the base of her spine again, and her eyes flutter shut.

Emma presses the heels of her hands down on the wooden desk to hold up against the impact of his pushes and concentrates on the sensations. Goosebumps break out between her shoulder blades, and the soles of her feet prickle, always a undeniable sign of her impending orgasm. She feels her hair being released and drops her head a little as she pushes her hips back to meet Killian's. The dull curve of his hook pressing into her left hip and pulling her back against him is the last thing she's consciously aware of before her climax is crashing into her, rolling over her with might. Because she hasn't even had the chance to recover from her first one, to really come down, it feels almost like a continuation of it, and she's shaking all over. Killian fucks her through it, and as the rushing of the blood in her ears subsides, she vaguely feels him tense inside her.

When it's over and she feels the heavy calmness settle in her bones that always follows such a feverish high, she opens her eyes again and studies him in the mirror, but he doesn't look at her. His eyes are closed and his head thrown back, his beautiful face flushed yet relaxed in complete abandon, glistening with a fine sheen of sweat as he rides out his own high. His fingers and hook are still pressing into her hips, and the muscles of his abdomen flex when his hips stutter erratically as he thrusts his aftershocks into her. To Emma it's a gorgeous sight, seeing him so vigorous and vulnerable at the same time, and it's really cheesy, but in moments like this she can't help but think how much she loves him.

Finally, Killian stills completely and lets out a deep breath that comes out as a sigh. She smiles to herself and clenches her inner muscles around him. He opens his eyes.

“Are you trying to wreck me, wife?” His voice is still a little breathless.

She grins. “Serves you right.”

She straightens her back and pushes herself up into a standing position, causing him to slip out of her and making a complete mess of her panties; but when you have magic, any sticky mess, be it due to sex or kitchen mishaps, really isn't anything to worry about. She turns around to face him and smiles when he leaves his hand and hook resting against her bare hips. Content to finally be able to touch him, she lays her palms on his pecs, dragging her fingertips through his slightly dampened chest hair. Quickly, she leans into him and swipes her tongue across his left collarbone, humming at the taste of salt on his flushed skin.

“Did those fantasies of yours involve a shower at some point?” she murmurs against the crook of his neck where she continues her nibbling, causing him to draw in a sharp breath.

“Bit of advice,” he growls, “You're playing with fire.”

Emma chuckles and nudges the side of his throat with her nose. “Oh, I've been doing that since I let you put a magical cuff on my wrist and then climbed that beanstalk with you.”

When she feels his Adam's apple bob, she tips her head back to look at him. The suspicious glittering of his eyes and the twitching muscle in his jaw betray how much her words, her casual admission have touched him. He swallows again. “Have you, now?” he whispers huskily.

She smiles and brushes a kiss on his lips. “And never regretted a single moment.”

#cs ff #cs smut #cs #captain swan #captain swan ff #a hard day's night #my ff

[lady-of-endless]

“Defenseless” (Shinsou Hitoshi x Reader)

Author’s Note: NSFW-ish? I don’t really know. Thank you @hightress (check her blog out) for this idea and not only, love you! I am deeply sorry for any mistakes and my really bad English, I am not a native. 

Too slow. That’s what you always said to yourself when you were training in an old and no longer used training room, from the UA High School. You were from class 1-A and every day after your program was over, you could be found in that room, having the permission to train there alone, secretly. Today was one of those days in which you decided to give all that you got. 

 Meanwhile, your boyfriend Shinsou was heading home after the courses thinking that you were already there like usual. Passing by a small training room, he heard the sound of some clogged blows. From curiosity and because Shinsou had the odd pleasure to know about everything that moves, he lingered in front of the door of that small training room that was open but leaving only little space in which you could see what was going on inside. Shinsou’s eyes widened at the sight of the person who was training there. 

 Your gaze was the same as a predator animal ready to jump for the attack. With each hit against the punching bag, small moans made at the effort escaped through your lips. The tips of your hair were wet from your own sweat and some droplets of it slid along your neck. Shinsou was simply fascinated, it was as if he had entered a trance just because he had never seen you in such a situation. With every long breath of yours, his heart squeezed in his chest. You were so motivated yet so tired right in front of Shinsou’s curious eyes and that thought made him more and more turned on because of this side of yours that he had discovered.

 ……… 

 Ending that little workout, you headed to Shinsou’s house even if you were a little late. In the evening, after long talks about how the day went for both of you, you both put yourself in bed. Still, your boyfriend behaved strangely when you were talking to him, looking distracted by something in his mind and absent. You couldn’t think about what was bothering him or not because right at the moment your head made contact with the soft and familiar pillow, you drifted off. 

 When it came to Shinsou’s part, however, it was not the same. The images of you trying to force each blow made him tense, the sound of your heavy breathing was echoing in his mind making him twist and turn in bed desperately trying to find the right position. He was beginning to feel frustrated about it. Shinsou frowned as he watched you for a moment as you were asleep, so quiet and so peaceful that he could not believe what he saw earlier, in that training room. 

After a few minutes when all the euphoric energy exploded into his body, and his insomnia kicked in, he stood up not being able to bear it any longer. Breathing lightly, lost in sleep, a shock of adrenaline awakens your body suddenly and opens your eyes wide. The heart seemed to stop just to increase the rhythm after seeing the sight before your eyes. Shinsou was watching you intensely, hovering over your body, his breath was not calm, and your wrists were pinned to the mattress above your head by his large and cold hands. 

 “Shinsou what are you doing?” You asked seeing how awake he was compared to you. 

 “Is class 1-A this defenseless?” He asked you lightly squinting his eyes to emphasize his words. “Pathetic.” 

 You frowned confused, not knowing what has taken over him so suddenly. 

 “Let’s train.” He snapped. 

 “Right now?” You asked trying to protest against the idea. It was so late. 

Shinsou did not answer, getting up and walking out of the bedroom heading to the room he turned into a training one a long time ago. There was still no explanation so you had no choice but to follow him. After entering the room, both of you were standing still, one in front of the other, looking intensely in the eyes while waiting for the first signal. 

 Shinsou was ready to get what he wanted, being up guard. With the desire to finish this so-called training faster, you were the first to start, throwing yourself without a certain strategy in Shinsou’s direction. Being a stupid and easy-to-read attack, he managed to escape it. 

 “I know you can do more, that was not an attack in your style.” He said to lure you in the conversation. 

 You were cautious, not to answering him, biting your lip to stop the desire to speak. You wanted to keep this training strictly without the usage of quirks, but you did not tell him that. 

 “So you’re going to be silent? Tch, it’s not in your nature.” He concluded. 

 Now it was Shinsou’s turn to attack, and since he also started training from his battle with Deku he was getting better and better every day. He leaned toward ready to tackle you. You did not know at first, but it was meant to be a trap. And so it was, a trick. Shinsou had anticipated where your body would move to protect yourself, and when you got away, reaching the place he had anticipated, Shinsou caught you and pushed you in the direction of a wall behind you. 

Closing your eyes, you knew that right after your back touched the wall you had to attack back quickly. As soon as your body touched the solid wall, your arms reached toward the target. When you opened your eyes, you stunned seeing how both of you thought of the same attack. Shinsou had his left hand on your shoulder tugging on your blouse, on the other side your left hand pulling his shirt from the bottom of his neck. Seeing that you both had the same intention, you stopped in your tracks, but still not letting your guard down. 

Shinsou laughs lazily when he realizes he has achieved what he wants, looking at you. The picture of you being tired from fighting, concentrated but still not calm right in front of him. Glued to the wall, watching him closely. But seeing you like this only made him want more. 

 “Shinsou.” You whispered lost in the moment and in the way he looked at you. 

“Hush (Y/N), don’t talk, don’t answer me.” He warned you by putting his index finger over his lips as a sign of silence. 

 Shinsou looked at you with satisfaction, stepping closer to you and closer to your face. His left hand that was tugging onto your blouse, softly climbed to the side of your neck. Your lips were tingling after the touch of his lips with each centimeter closer, and that eyes of his were waking up shocks of pleasure and nervousness throughout your whole body. Shinsou looks at your face, tilting his head, but not offering you the pleasure of a kiss but the sweet agony of anticipation in your mind that he was playing with. 

 “Shinsou, please.” You whispered, closing your eyes and getting closer to his face. Almost instantly to the sound of your words, Shinsou stepped back, away from your body. 

 “Ah, such a big mistake.“He said, looking at your anxious face. “I warned you, (Y/N).” 

 “What are you talking about?” You asked confused, frowning at the boy who never failed to be mysterious. 

 “You spoke, you answered me and you let your guard down.” He explained smiling lazily. “Now I can only use my quirk and win. I warned you.“ 

 “Well then, congratulations, you won!” You responded, agreeing with his explanation and the fact that you fell for his trick. 

 You have never been able to cope with it, all that Shinsou did always affected you in a good way. When he was tired, when you bandage his wounds after his training with Aizawa, when he was awake every night next to you, all the small details he’s not aware of, you always admired him. 

 “Not yet, I can’t say I won. Just yet.” Shinsou replies quickly leaving the training room. 

 You followed him almost hypnotized, reaching his bedroom where you found Shinsou standing with his hands in his pockets, near the door. 

 “Close the door.” He said firmly and earnestly. You turned your back and carefully closed the door. 

In the next moment though, you could not turn your face around to Shinsou because he was already behind you, having his left hand on your shoulder and the right one on your hip. 

 “I’ll show you when I won.” He said in a low tone that was changed from the previous one to your ear. 

 His left hand slowly descended from your shoulder, on your arm until his palm has reached your hand. He caught your hand in his and lifted it up so it could reach the closed door in front of you. He stuck your palm against the door and his hand left yours. 

 “You will need this as support.” he explains in a soft whisper. “Trust me.” 

 The grip from your hip became stronger, but you could not even concentrate on that properly, because Shinsou’s face had sunk in the crook of your neck from behind. His free hand has come into your hair that he grabbed carefully, pulling it slowly and painlessly to get your head fall back. His lips now reached a larger area, kissing with in a pace that was more than slow. 

 “Did you really leave your guard down like that? Will you let me do what I want with you?” He asked with a satisfied smile against your skin sending shivers down your spine. 

When he found your sweet spot, you tried to suppress any reaction just to avoid giving him the satisfaction of finding that place and making you weaker, but you did not succeed, ending up moaning his name. 

 “Don’t you think you have already won?” You responded loudly because of how frustrated and desperate his touches made you. 

 “I told you that I would show you that I won when the time is right.” He responded gently biting your neck in different places leaving subtle marks. 

 With every kiss, bite, you agreed on the fact that you truly needed support as he said earlier feeling how your legs get weaker. The tip of his tongue slid agonizingly slow over the bites now, creating harmonious patterns. Soon after that, Shinsou’s touch left you with a burning desire. 

 “Turn around, (Y/N).” He said, sounding like an order. When you turned your face to the boy, you were hit by the sight of his dilated pupils to the maximum despite his cold and implacable expression on his face. Seeing how you froze, he raised an eyebrow. You took this action as a sign that was suggesting you to get closer. You got close to him earning a sly smile. 

 “Adorable, I’m not even using my quirk and it seems like I can control you.” 

“What are you going to do to me, Hitoshi?” You finally ask him, becoming more and more frustrated with all of his teasing that made your heart rate go crazy while your mind was blurred by pleasure. 

 “I will continue to use all of your weaknesses until I get what I want.” He spoke sincerely scanning your body from head to toe. 

 Both standing still, extremely close to each other, the unbreakable eye contact also became a struggle for control and dominance. Focusing on his hypnotic eyes, you have not noticed how a hand is moving toward your hip. Your facial expression has hardly stayed unchanged. Seeing this, Shinsou’s hand traveled in front of the band of your trousers, sliding two fingers behind of that band, pulling you closer, making your lower body stick to his. Feeling how his body was against your made you whimper making Shinsou look even more proud and bite his lower lip. 

With his left hand remaining in the same area that began to pulse with desire, just to be even more agonizing for you, his right hand grabbed your chin forcing you to look into his eyes. 

 “Tell me what are you thinking about right now, what are your desires and maybe you will win. Or lose. Come on, (Y/N) don’t you want to risk yourself a little?” He asked you like he was daring you. 

 It was crazy how he managed to control you only from his gaze and the right words to make you weak. 

 “Shinsou Hitoshi… I need you.” You whispered feeling like you were melting under his touch and consciously drowning in the way he had control over you. 

“And what else? Say it louder.” He asked, playing with your present state. 

 “I need you! Hell, you can do whatever you want to me!” You finally burst not being able to keep your composure anymore. 

 “Now I’ve won.” He responded with a smile and pushing you on the bed hovering over you in the exact position from before that training. “Calm your mind.” He said before crashing his lips onto yours in a deep lustful kiss.

 The kisses, touches and sweet groans of pleasure that belonged to you both that followed in that night concluded only one thing. Between you, indifferent of the power that you both have, it will always end up with both of you winning in a perfect balance that could never be broken.

#shinsou hitoshi #why am i like this #bnha shinsou #shinsou hitoshi imagine #shinsou hitoshi scenario #shinsou hitoshi x reader #bnha #bnha scenarios #bnha season 2 #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero season 2 #boku no hero scenarios