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animebw · 3 months

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Short Reflection: Spring 2024 Anime

I feel like 2024 is shaping up to be an unusual year for anime. Most mainstream shonen and isekai are staggering into audience fatigue of some kind or another, two-cours series are making a massive comeback, and big waves are being made from eclectic shows like Apothecary Diaries and Girls Band Cry that would likely be relegated to cult classic status in years prior. There haven't been many clear standouts yet, but there's a lot of fascinating second-tier stuff bubbling just under the surface. It feels like the general anime audience has grown so big at this point that the way we consume shows and the kinds of shows that break through are evolving before our eyes. Never mind movies like Look Back and The Colors Within waiting in the wings to redefine our notions of what animated cinema can be. All this is to say, I don't know what we'll make of 2024 when all is said and done, but it's gonna be a very interesting story. For now, though, let's take stock of spring's roster of shows to pick out the best, the worst, and the worth checking out. Not counting the shows I've already talked about (Hibike Euphonium's final season 9.5/10 and Demon Slayer's training arc 4/10) or MHA's latest foray, which I'm still waiting to see exactly how it shakes out.

Dead Dead Demons' Dededede Destruction: Please Watch/10

I'm putting this one right up front because while it's still very early into airing, there's a good chance a lot of you don't even know it exists. Released initially as a pair of movies earlier this year, this adaptation of Oyasumi Punpun author Inio Asano's bizarre bildungsroman alien invasion manga has been retooled into an 18-episode TV series with (apparently) lots of additional footage to fill out everything the movies had to cut for time. Those production circumstances alone would be interesting enough to merit checking it out (fingers crossed Haikyuu can get the same treatment?), but more importantly, this show is just really damn good, and it deserves better than being dropped on Crunchyroll with almost no fanfare and incomplete English subs that don't translate most of the written text. As someone who kind of loved and hated Punpun in equal measure, Dededede feels like all of Asano's best instincts on full display, a riveting exploration of how modern humanity is forced to struggle through "normal" life in the shadow of the apocalypse, asking how we can still set our sights on our futures when there's a very good chance that future might never come. It's messy and difficult, and yet it brims with love for people and our ability to seek kindness and compassion even in the darkest times. Just do yourself a favor and skip the awful "episode 0" prologue; not only is it leagues worse than the rest of the show, it spoils so many details about the story's endgame that it might just ruin the experience outright if you're not careful. You've been warned.

Mushoku Tensei Season 2 Part 2: 1.5/10

Is the second part of Mushoku Tensei season 2 as apocalyptically awful as the first part? Not quite, no. But that's only because Rudeus doesn't do anything quite as jaw-dropping as buying a child slave or kidnapping and molesting a pair of catgirls with no consequences. I know, the bar is in fucking hell and this garbage fire still barely managed to stumble over it. Otherwise, it remains every bit as vile as always. Here's a fun drinking game you can play: take a shot every time someone this season 1) makes excuses to justify why Rudeus shouldn't feel bad about doing something awful, 2) praises Rudeus to high heaven and calls him the most specialest boy ever, 3) falls head over heels for Rudeus in a matter of seconds. You'll likely pass out before you're halfway through the season, but on the plus side that means you won't have to watch any fucking more. I simply remain baffled that so many people have been fooled into thinking this show is something meaningful and smart, how many people ignore its glaringly obvious awfulness to pretend it's saying things it's not actually saying and exploring ideas it's not actually exploring. All I can do is wait impatiently for Re:Zero's return later this year so it can smack everyone senseless with a reminder of what challenging, subversive isekai storytelling actually looks like. Maybe then we'll finally be able to recognize this steaming pile of misogyny and rape culture for what it is and cast it out without a second thought. We can only hope.

Urusei Yatsura Season 2 (2nd Half): 4.5/10

I think I've given Urusei Yatsura a fair shake. I've done my best to enjoy it through its weaker moments and painfully obvious crows' feet. But now that it's finally over, all I can think is maybe it was better off left in the past. There are infinitely better screwball comedies that have come since, comedies that have been building off the tropes Urusei Yatsura established and finding much more interesting, meaningful things to do with them. This may be a foundational rom-com text, but fifty goddamn years later all its best qualities have been improved upon to the point of obsolescence, and all that's really left is the gross, dated stuff and the fact that every time it tries to be sincere and sentimental it runs into the unavoidable problem that all the romantic relationships its built on really kind of suck. Sorry, but Ataru and Lum are an awful couple and all the worst parts of this show are when it unironically tries to make you root for them despite them being pretty blatantly terrible for each other. I'll stick with Inuyasha, thank you very much.

Wind Breaker: 5/10

Man, why does every promising modern delinquent anime end up driving itself into a ditch before long? First Tokyo Revengers, then Bucchigiri, and now Wind Breaker has completed the trifecta. And this one had so much potential! Casting a shoujo-style blushy tsundere bad boy as the protagonist of an otherwise straightforward tough-guy action brawler is one of the most inspired strokes of genius I've seen in a long time (let alone getting the Kyo Sohma's VA to voice him). What better way to explore the emotional human side of delinquent storytelling than with a main character who's arc is all about accepting other people and learning to love himself despite the world's rejection of him? That plus a slick production full of badass fistfights should've been an easy recipe for success. Unfortunately, it falls victim to the most common of shonen death knells: getting stuck in an overlong, dragged-out arc that consists of nothing but uninteresting fights against half-baked antagonists that loses sight of what made this series unique until its final moments. And double minus points for entirely taking place in a single visually dull location that you're forced to stare at for like 5 episodes straight with occasional flashbacks as your only escape. Seriously, you could cut the Shishitoren arc to half its current length and lose very little of value. I can only hope the upcoming second season won't get similarly bogged down, cause a good version of this show is something I desperately want to believe is possible.

Konosuba Season 3: 5.5/10

So here's the good news first: Despite a seven year gap since the second season and a change in studio, Konosuba's third season is still every bit the same show it was. As for the bad news... well, the bad news is that Konosuba's third season is still every bit the same show it was. Yeah, in the years since I first watched it, I've had to really reckon with all the ways this show fucking sucks, and all of those reasons remain on full display undimmed by the passage of time. It's sexist, it's objectifying, it's violently queerphobic, it thinks sexual assault is the funniest thing ever when Kazuma's the one doing it, it's every bit as misogynistic and masturbatory as the isekai genre it's supposedly satirizing. And it's also still one of the funniest goddamn anime ever made when it wants to be. Seriously, if you just strip away all the godawful incel-pandering that's seemingly endemic to modern isekai, Konosuba's god-tier expression work and pitch-black sarcasm are a blast of laughing gas like nothing else in its vicinity. If it could just focus on telling actual jokes instead of passing off alt-right sexual politics as "comedy" half the time, it would more than deserve its status as a modern classic. But it won't, because it genuinely believes all that garbage is the funniest shit ever. Which is why it'll forever be stuck as a show that you can never admit to enjoying in public without being justifiably judged by everyone around you.

Train to the End of the World: 5.5/10

It's kind of impossible to describe what Train to the End of the World is about without sounding like you're flipping through ten different plot summaries and choosing words at random. But here's as best I can: a freak accident causes the world to morph into a surreal patchwork of bizarre locales, while also seemingly reducing the scope of the world to a single train line in Japan stretching between rural town Agano and Tokyo's metropolitan Ikebukuro district. When Agano high-schooler Shizuru finds evidence that her long-lost friend Yoka might be trapped in Ikebukuro- and also maybe related to the reason everything went insane- she hops on an abandoned train car with a few friends and a dog and starts the long, long journey to reach Ikebukuro through the madness and chaos that defines the new world. The best I can explain it is Gullliver's Travels by way of Alice in Wonderland and Salvador Dali, each episode taking us to another stop on the train line that's morphed into its own flavor of batshit crazy, from mushroom people to horny zombies to a post-canon bad end magical girl world. Unfortunately, any semblance of a point feels buried under a thousand tons of calcified absurdism too thick for anything resembling sincerity to peek through. There are attempts at exploring deeper themes or character moments, but the show's pace is so blisteringly fast and so deeply uninterested with anything beyond what wild ideas it can pull out of its hat that nothing really sticks by the time the train's rolling on to its next destination. If there's anything here beyond a series of wacky Moments(tm) delivered with the rushed breathlessness of a Youtube video on 2X speed, I can't say it made an impression.

Tonari no Youkai-san: 5.5/10

I'm of two minds about Tonari no Yokuai-san. On the one hand, it's a deeply heartfelt iyashikei that uses its fantasy elements to explore grief, loss, love, community, and the reasons we celebrate life even knowing it must one day end. This town of humans and spirits living side-by-side feels so real and warm you wish you could live there yourself, and the characters populating it, from earnest nekomata to old gay cars to prickly fox spirits and everyone in between, burst with inner life so naturally it almost makes you jealous. On the other hand, for some baffling reason, this show keeps trying to shoehorn in action plots and sci-fi elements that gel with the quiet, contemplative tone as well as oil and water. I genuinely don't understand why the author thought they needed time-space bureaus and giant rampaging snakes to liven things up when just the main character going through an existential crisis about how they're going to outlive everyone they love is ten thousand times more gripping than any of that other nonsense. On the bright side, the good stuff is still really good, and considering how few of you likely watched this show already, let this be your reminder this your reminder not to let it slip through the cracks.

Go Go Loser Ranger: 6/10

Is the idea of a dark, edgy twist on tokusatsu where the protagonist is a nameless minion trying to overthrow a fascist cabal of sentai rangers that unique? Not really, no. But god damn if Go Go Loser Ranger doesn't make it work regardless. There's something just inherently fun about watching one of those nameless background mooks that normally exist just to get punted en masse decide "You know what? I'm done being the world's punching bag. I'm gonna become the protagonist of my own story and take these fuckers down." We've all rooted for the underdog at some point, after all. It's only fair the most disposable fodder get a chance in the spotlight. And Go Go Loser Ranger delights in twisting that setup as far as it can get away with, constantly making you second-guess your allegiances to any one side as it quickly becomes clear there are no true heroes to root for in this world, just lots of different people flawed in very different ways, all fighting for their own personal gain. You're never quite sure when someone you're rooting for is going to break your trust with some horrific act, or someone you loathe is going to prove themselves more courageous than they first let on, and it keeps you on the edge of your seat waiting to see when the next shoe's going to fall. Sadly, it also suffers from Wind Breaker's mistake of spending too much time on an overlong arc that's mostly just dull characters fighting in a duller location, but by the end it's shaken off those doldrums and returned to form in a big way. As long as the second season can keep those gears turning, we're in for a good time.

Spice and Wolf Reboot (1st Cours): 6/10

Let's be blunt: there is no point to remaking Spice and Wolf. The original series is still just as good fifteen years later, and despite the source material continuing past the point it ended, it reached such a beautiful conclusion on its own terms that it more than cemented its status as a true eternal anime classic. Sure, it's nice to experience this story again, to re-aquaint myself with Holo and Lawrence's wonderful chemistry and the fascinating ins and outs of Medieval economics that drive their story. There's a reason I fell in love with this show so many years ago, and Reboot Wolf still has plenty of that charm to go around. But this isn't a re-imagining or a Brotherhood/Froobs 2019 style "proper" adaptation. This is just the same show again but a little bit worse in every way. All I can think of, watching this story I know play out again, is how much stiffer and generic the modern art direction and animation is, how it plays things so much safer with its source material while the original wasn't afraid to make strong changes, how Holo's prickly personality has been neutered into a much more docile, Lawrence-dependent character while the original stood so strong on her own two feet. Maybe it works well enough if this is your first taste of Spice and Wolf, but then, the original show is right there! You could just watch that instead and get a much better experience all around!

Yuru Camp Season 3: 6.5/10

Speaking of shows that are probably pointless, was there really any need for Yuru Camp to continue after the one-two satisfying punch of season 2 and the epilogue movie? Those endings put such a beautiful bow on the series that anything else would feel superfluous. Especially with such a massive downgrade in the art direction department, Jesus Christ. I don't know who's running studio 8bit's compositing department these days, but between this and the latest Yama no Susume season, it's so painful to see a studio that once excelled at background art reduced to putting filters over photographs and awkwardly slapping ill-fitting moeblob characters on top. The clash between the characters and the backgrounds this season is legitimately painful at times, and for a vibes-based iyashikei like Yuru Camp, that could so easily be a death knell. Thank the gods, then, that most of this series' charm still comes through in spite of itself, the wonderful characters and delightfully daffy comedy still as strong as ever as it extols the virtues of finding your peace in the great outdoors. But if we're going to get any more, then please figure out how to make this new aesthetic not so physically repellent to look at.

Kaiju No. 8: 7/10

I've said many times that the art of making a Good Enough show is more complicated than most people appreciate. It takes so much skill and talent, so much mastery of the basic building blocks of storytelling, to create something that's just fun to watch plain and simple. And Kaiju No. 8 is yet another example of how impressive it is when one of these shows gets it right. It's a simple, straightforward action show about an over-the-hill sanitation worker getting one last chance to live his dream as a member of the elite kaiju-slaying force that keeps the world safe from the towering monsters that menace it... by accidentally becoming part kaiju himself. The characters are simple but lovable, the emotional stakes are earnest without being overbearing, the action is consistently exciting and well-animated, and the story keeps you on your toes with well-worn tropes executed in novel and exciting ways. I honestly don't think I've seen a shonen action romp so perfectly nail its fundamentals like this since the early days of My Hero Academia. Whether or not this show will also rise to MHA's eventual level of complexity and thematic weight remains to be seen, but for now, it's just plain fun, and an easy recommendation to anyone looking for a good time.

Delicious in Dungeon (2nd Cours): 7.5/10

Well, I asked for Dungeon Meshi to get darker, and by god, that's exactly what it did. Through shocking plot turns and deeply disquieting thematic touches, this silly little fantasy cooking comedy has developed into something much more sinister and unsettling... while still being primarily a silly fantasy comedy about cooking D&D monsters into mouthwatering meals. I'm still not sure if the tonal whiplash entirely works, but my god does it make this a fascinating show to watch. A single episode can take you from some of the most gut-busting deadpan snark this side of Gintama to a skin-crawling contemplation on mortality and consuming life to perpetuate your own without missing a beat. Turns out, Dungeon Meshi has thoughts on the nature of food as a biological, societal and cultural force, and how that force is not always as simple or benign as a meal shared with friends and family. And it explores those ideas with a quiet dread that makes even its silliest moments feel like a tentative breath before things come crashing down. I have no idea how things will shake out in the second season, but if manga fans are to be believed, it's only going to get more twisted and insane from here. I cannot fucking wait. Just, can Falin stay on screen for more than a single episode without being kidnapped again this time? Girl's such a damsel in distress even Princess Peach is giving her concerned looks.

Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night: 7.5/10

There is no feeling quite like being a young artist. You're excited to make your mark, painfully anxious about not measuring up while simultaneously being quite full of yourself, bursting with ideas and not quite sure how to execute them, but above all else, in love with the act of creation. And I don't think I've ever seen an anime that so perfectly embodies that messy, beautiful spirit as Jellyfish Can't Swim in the Night. Four girls from different artistic backgrounds- an artist, a singer, a musician, and a tech wiz- come together as one to give each other the strength they lack on their own, forming the musical group JELEE as they strive to love themselves and their work through the magic they make together. It's an explosion of passion and joy, often times outstripping its ability to measure up to its ambitions and stumbling over itself, but always shining, always dazzling, always wearing its heart firmly on its sleeve as it celebrates the joy of creation in the digital age and the importance of sincerity in a world too afraid of cringe to accept it. It's also a wonderfully capital-P Progressive series; there's a gay kiss, one character is eventually revealed to be nonbinary in a scene so spectacular I wish I could bump my score up another half-point for it alone. Sadly, it only reaches those heights every so often- but when it does, my god is it a sight to behold.

Girls Band Cry: 8/10

I remember back when I watched Love Live Sunshine, I wished there was a girls' music anime where the protagonists sung the kind of badass punk rock usually reserved for the antagonists of idol shows. Well, it looks like writer Jukki Hanada and director Kazuo Sakai heard me, because five years after bidding Sunshine farewell, they're returned with one of the most exhilarating, renegade expressions of punk spirit we've gotten in a long time. Girls Band Cry is a supernova, a soaring firecracker of a show that marries an instantly iconic headbanger soundtrack with Hanada's typically spectacular character writing in this tale of five outcasts forming a band and coming together to spit in the face of the world that tried to grind them into conformity. Nina Iseri's arrogant, self-righteous immaturity is a primal scream for the importance of doing what's right over what's easy, and you feel that scream in your fucking soul. Even the show's scrappy CG animation embodies that non-comformist spirit, charting stunning new avenues for 3D anime with some of the most expressive character models and soaring concert scenes you're likely to see all decade. And while the pacing is definitely rushed at points, the overwhelming emotions bleeding from each and every scene make even the weakest moments go down easy. It's downright criminal Toei fumbled the ball on an official English release, but unless you're completely against sailing the high seas, you owe it to yourself to track it down regardless. So raise your middle fingers to the sky, spill your heart from your chest, and let Togenashi Togeari force you to believe in the power of rock all over again.

Dropped:

-Bartender Drops of God (3 Episodes). Too boring to stick with in a pretty packed season.

-A Condition Called Love (3 Episodes). Creepy possessiveness excused for the sake of romance.

Blue Archive (1 Episode). Do you even need to ask.

-The Many Sides of Voice Actor Radio (2 Episodes). Awful adaptation that butchers what made the manga so great.

-Whisper Me a Love Song (9 Episodes). The production falls completely apart and it skips the main couple's first kiss. Just read the manga, it's really damn good and deserved so much better.

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humankarkat · 8 months

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Monster Of The Week bullshit please 👀

Oooooh MOTW is a really fun one with a whole lot of lore, buckle up.

It's a full AU my girlfriend and I are fleshing out, that's set like a 90's monster of the week style tv show, a la X-Files or Buffy The Vampire Slayer or something. But, see, the twist is that the entire ghost crew ARE the monsters.

Hera is a real ass space alien who has a cloaking device to disguise herself as human. I felt like the standard twilek alien design wasn't extreme enough for this AU, though, so she's like. A big ol' bug alien, six limbs, chitin, the works. When she has her glamour on, though, she's like, a 5'3" little ginger in pigtail braids. Chopper is her robot assistant, disguised as a corgi. Kanan and Ezra are mediums who can see and talk to ghosts. Sabine is an escaped government super soldier experiment who has super human strength. Zeb is Bigfoot. They all live in an RV called the Ghost and go on adventures across the continental united states in the mid-90's, all while trying to avoid the dedicated FBI agent on their tail, Agent Kallus.

There's a whole lot of fun swaps and modernization that we've been working on, like Attolon being an abandoned military test center in the middle of the New Mexico desert, or Maul being Mothman, or Grand Admiral Thrawn being a real-ass vampire. The Phantom is a Mini Cooper. Lyste is a small town cop from Ezra's hometown. Ahsoka's a park ranger in the middle of West Virginia, and also a different kind of space alien. There's a government conspiracy to use mediums for military experiments. It's a hoot.

Speaking of Attolon and Vampire Thrawn, every time I write a snippet of him, it ends up getting very horror-y, which I think is rather appropriate for him. At Attolon, I felt it would be very thematically relevant and a lot more high-stakes for Sato's self-sacrifice to go... a little differently.

“I can get you that opening,” Sato said quietly. Hera looked over at him. There was a look of resolve on his face that suddenly made her very nervous. “Sato, what are you doing?” He stood and peeked around the doorframe that was his cover. “Whatever you do,” he said, his eyes set firmly somewhere on the line of feds in front of them, “make sure Ezra gets out.” “Jun, wait,” Hera called, but he'd already stepped out from his cover and started towards his target, gun drawn. “Jun!” “What's he doing?” Called Zeb, firing a few shots off to try and cover him. As Sato approached the barricade, the gunfire paradoxically slowed, the officers hesitating at the bold-faced confidence and single-minded purpose of the man walking towards them. The setting sun glinted off the hilt of his gun as he raised it, and, with a single resounding shot, fired one bullet directly into Konstantine’s head. The General's body seemed to fall in slow motion as every soldier in front of them fell silent. Silent enough that the crunch of Sato’s windpipe was audible when the Admiral seemed to appear out of the darkness itself to latch his jaws around his throat. Silent enough for Mart’s strangled cry of despair to ring in the air, Zeb too slow to shield him from the scene. Sato’s gun slipped from his grip with a clatter. His eyes were wide and glassy as the color drained from his face and out through the gaping wound in his neck, painting Thrawn's uniform a gruesome crimson. The two tumbled to the ground, and through her haze of disbelief Hera realized that Thrawn’s attention was now solely focused on the twitching body beneath him, and the soldiers surrounding them were too stunned to fill the gap left by Konstantine. “Ezra, go now!” Hera hissed into the radio.

Anyways I have so many thoughts all the time about MOTW, there's so much more to it than this and it's nowhere near something postable but I'm always willing to talk about it lmao

#chel talkks #my writing #star wars rebels #there's a lot more vampire thrawn I have written and I also have a lot of thoughts about an expanded character arc for Kallus #but this post is already pretty long and I feel like it would get off topic very quickly

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nifflering · 4 months

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Part two Beware spoilers for life on mars series one and two

Hello, hello, hello (some brainrotted fellows will understand this reference) Welcome to another edition of

*me rambling at you about life on mars (the UK version)*

Most important thing: this is my interpretation/analysis.

So, these are my personal, quite uneducated opinions. Also: I bought the series on DVD. No one will be safe.

Today, we'll be talking about the usage of colours in lom in general. If I do start and finish a rewatch and find some interesting scenes – I will add my commentary on them.

Like I already said many times before – there aren’t really many scenes in 2006/2007.

The shooting script of the first episode (I found it while floundering around on the waybackmachine) originally includes a scene in Sam and Maya’s appartement. (Context my beloved: Sammy boy is being kind of an ass, too busy with his job to solve his issues with Maya. She attempts talking to him but fails. I don’t know why they deleted it, because it would have really provided more context to their relationship and – most importantly, for my cause, a sneak peek of their apartment – I imagine it as very clean and kind of impersonal, a few personal touches, Maya’s attempt to brighten up the place. I think they’re both really busy, they started decorating but then Sam became DCI and he got too busy to use the apartment for anything except for sleeping. #Overwhelmed king)

Anyway, let’s take a look at.... a shot that to me represents a big theme of the show and some ✨️colors✨️.

After Sam gets hit by the car , he wakes up in this construction site with a poster of the soon to come high way. An image of the Future.

There’s a really distinct difference between the colour palates. The “future” sky is a nice light-blue, not a cloud to be seen, with some touches of orange and green. Everything is all white, clean and perfect – and it’s all coming soon(er or later).

Of course, it’s a very idealized version of the future. Because it’s how Sam perceives it – at this point in time, he’s very desperate to return.

(Just look at the scene where he first gets contacted through the math programme through the TV. The way Sam crawls towards the TV….. SIR, YOUR ACTING CHOICES. PLEAAASEEE.)

But it’s still surprisingly accurate. However, the idealistic picture of the future is quickly shattered, if you consider that – let’s squint our eyes - to see little Sam’s limp body lying on the ground. Surprisingly, in the 1970s we don’t really see a person being hit by a car (as far as I can remember - except Sam ofc)- But – let’s be honest in 1973 the streets are just every ground that is remotely driveable on.

The past still contains traces of those colours, mostly orange as seen in the dirty underneath the bridge. The air is heavy and greyish, trash and building material is littered on the ground.

The only bits of white are the high-flats in the background, but they are far far away.

Those buildings and streets are still being built – everything’s in flux. Things can change. But, should they? Sam is generally really unsure in that whole department but that’s the thing about it:

We never actually find out, (side note: I haven’t yet seen ashes to ashes) if Sam’s choices actually make an impact in the present. It certainly gives you the impression – his father staying away, his mentor teaching him those lessons, Maya’s birth, etc. etc.. But does it really matter in the end?

Or is it just all in his head? Is he still Sam Tyler in a hospital bed in 2006 or is he an amnesiac Sam Williams in 1973 on an undercover operation?

In the past, there are several buildings – bound to Sam Tyler’s identity, and which I will be further explaining in another ramble.

Let’s get back to colours. Two examples where a similar concept applies: The interrogation room and the general office space of the police department.

The room is flooded with light – courtesy of the huge windows (side note: privacy??? What’s that?). The situation is very transparent as the interrogation is literally being recorded. The person being interrogated has their whole support team with them, including lawyer, social worker and psychiatrist. This scenario is as by the books as you can get it.

I also really like that little shot of Sam adjusting the pens, character go brr.

Same thing in the general offices – a 2010s fever dream with all those clunky computers – which school computer lab have you magically transported me to?

Imagine the absolute horror that Sam feels when he sees the past police department.

Look at it

Without considering the lighting and furniture, the room looks sort of modern – it has a lot of windows and could be causing the same effect as the interrogation room on a visitor.

The officers are working diligently and carefully through every case and issue – investigating every clue and they never rest until they catch the perpetrator.

But that’s wishful thinking - In reality (at least in the past)the room is tinged with brownish yellow lighting, there’s no order to the tables, paper strewn all over the desks and even spending a second in this room will lead you to smelling like smoke for the next 55 years. I would faint. And I’m not even talking about the consequences of not being a white straight guy….

This police department doesn’t even have an interrogation room, they also rarely record any interrogations (leaving a lot of room for interpretation or using some creativity to catch the suspect or get an important lead) and mishandle, don't notice or even collect crucial evidence.

In the lost and found

Even asking for a lawyer – leads to being laughed at and insulted by the literal governor of the department. It’s quite dark and very cramped – it’s quite private – so no one will notice you beating up an innocent person….

But I still feel the office feels very lived in.

There’s a giant dart board, random trophies, dirty dishes strewn about… Good luck getting your case solved. Where’s the evidence that could solve your murder? It’s probably buried under some spicy magazines and a bunch of cigarette buds.

For all the time the police spend at the office, they sure do know when to stop and start going to the pub.

One scene in the later seasons – in the episode about the false imprisonment of the teenager who murdered his younger girlfriend, Gene Hunt is determined to catch her killer for good. He’s made a promise to her father and he’s willing to do almost everything to make his city a safer place (any means necessary). He urges the police men to do anything they can, work day and night and not sleep a wink until they’ve put the right person in prison.

And then, he peeks at his watch and drops everything because they need to get drunk in the pub.

and that's it, hope you enjoyed :)

BONUS: have some cinematic shots

For u @roxannepolice <3

featuring: desperation, isolation and crippling loneliness

lom 1

lom 2

#well if youve made it this far #thank you #hopefully that makes sense #heavy on the ramble - i recommend copy pasting it somewhere and reading it there #still yeah #i have thoughts - and many of them #the last one wasn't really about colours #life on mars #Lom

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hoonieyun · 2 months

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i know what you did

pairing: enhypen lee heeseung x reader “y/n”

genre: horror, suspense, angst

warnings: kidnapping, violence, hostage, death, murder, profanity, 18+

summary: when spending time with your new boyfriend heeseung, you catch him scrolling on his phone for rings. although you’ve only been together for a little over half a year; you assume the ring could be a promise ring. when you bring this up to him teasingly, things take a drastic turn when heeseung shows his true colors.

word count: 7668

author’s note: hi lol uhhhhhh had to write this after seeing a “two sentence horror” thingy and combined it with one of the many nightmares i’ve gotten. this isn’t a part of the other enhypen fic im writing, this is just a one shot while “ritual” will be a series that should come out sometime next month hehe anyways pls enjoy and sorry but this and a lot of my work, is not proofread lol

the fall air blows through the window and grazes your face. the crisp air wakes you up from your sleep and you see the sun slightly peeking through the clouds into the window of your boyfriend’s bedroom. you stretch your body and reach around the bed, realizing that heeseung has already started his day. you reach for your phone and see that it’s the afternoon. you hadn’t realized you slept in but are grateful that your boyfriend didn’t wake you as he probably noticed how tired you had been from university.

you decided to get out of bed, slipping on one of heeseung’s hoodies and closing the bedroom window to avoid any more cold air coming into the room. you quickly made heeseung’s bed and a few other maintenance things around his room like tidying up his nightstand and putting away his dirty clothes he’s scattered on the floor into the hamper. before heading downstairs, you made your way into his bathroom to freshen up.

when looking into the mirror, you notice that the bags under your eyes have gotten a bit darker and you could only blame the restless nights studying for university. you quickly wash your face and do your skincare, smiling at the little pink box heeseung bought you that you’ve filled with your skincare stuff so that you could have it while you stayed over at heeseung’s place. it causes you to think about how you’ve created closet space for heeseung in your apartment as well, emptying out one of your drawers in your dresser so that heeseung could leave clothes at your apartment since you lived closer to his work some days he would stay with you so he could save time on commute.

after finishing in the bathroom you make your way downstairs, assuming heeseung was there playing video games or just hanging out in the living room. your perspective from descending down the stairs shows heeseung’s back, facing away from you and towards the TV. unaware of your presence, heeseung continues to scroll on his phone. you slowly walk behind him, just hovering right above him to see what he was looking at. you see that he’s on some website and after focusing your eyes on the name you realize it’s a local jeweler in your city. you had no idea what he was shopping for until you see him click on a few things and the webpage turns into a display of diamond rings. you’re shocked at what you see and your mind starts running wild.

was heeseung planning to propose to you?

are you ready to get married?

is HE ready to get married?

what would you even say if he asked you to marry him?

with these questions running through your mind, you realize that every answer would be a yes. you’ve only been with heeseung for 8 months, your anniversary coming up the following weekend, but you could imagine a life with him. a forever life. one where you’d be together until the end. a smile slowly appears on your face and before heeseung catches you spying on him potentially buying you a promise or engagement ring, you tiptoe to the kitchen to make it seem like you weren’t just watching him.

once you get to the kitchen, you start to take things out to make it seem like you’re preparing something. “morning babe!” you say, trying to act casual. “morning? it’s almost 1PM” heeseung says jokingly. you turn to him with a deadpan stare that extends into a smile. he gets up from the couch and you watch him slip his phone into his pocket. you were going to be thinking about this for a while.

heeseung joins you in the kitchen, opening the microwave and grabbing something. he hands you a plate of french toast and eggs. “made you breakfast but you looked to cute while you were sleeping so i didn’t wanna wake you.” heeseung says as he sets the plate on the counter and gives you a kiss on the crown of your head. “aww heeseung, thanks babe.” you say while grabbing the plate and placing it back into the microwave to heat it up.

you spend the rest of the day lounging around with heeseung in his apartment, but the only thing on your mind was what you saw earlier. you felt like a child who just got told a secret and is just dying to tell someone, but in the chances that you’re just overthinking it you decide to keep it to yourself to avoid jinxing it.

you went home later that night as you had to go to university the next morning. you wished you could say that you got home and went straight to bed but you spent a good chunk of the night thinking about it. you couldn’t believe heeseung wanted to propose to you… or could it just be a promise ring? regardless, if heeseung popped the question you would only say yes.

it’s been a few days since that day. the thought of it eating at you constantly and you were just in dire need of talking about it. you were going to spend the weekend with heeseung as you just finished a long and hard week of finals. you were excited to see him as you hadn’t seen each other all week since you were busy with finals and heeseung was occupied with work.

after your last final of the semester, you drove to heeseung’s favorite restaurant. he asked you to pick up some dinner on your way. you didn’t mind because heeseung often cooked for you so picking up takeout once in a while wasn’t a bother. you exit the restaurant after picking up your order and as you enter the streets you notice a lampost near your car. a missing person’s sign of a girl, she was smiling in her photo; wearing a pink sweater and a bow in her hair. she looked familiar and you assumed she went to your university as the two of you were the same age. she’s been missing for weeks and you could only hope they find her soon.

you turned into heeseung’s driveway and noticed his car wasn’t in it’s usual parking spot. you approached heeseung’s apartment and unlocked the door with the baby blue house key heeseung got you. giving your partner a key to your home is a pretty big deal and it felt like an even bigger deal for you because it happened only 3 months into your relationship. it came as a shock because not only had neither of you ever spent the night at one another’s home but he was so casual about it. he even offered it one time prior and you declined at first but the next time it came up he took it upon himself to get you the copy and he even got it customized with your favorite color: baby blue.

“babe, i’m home!” you announced your presence when you entered. when you didn’t hear anything back you just make your way to the dining room to set down the food. “baby?” you called for heeseung again, prolonging the last syllable of the word. you could’ve sworn you heard the floor creak upstairs so you head over there. as you’re about to walk up the stairs, heeseung abruptly enters from the front door. you both catch either by surprise and let out a simultaneous yelp.

“honey? i didn’t know you were here already!” heeseung exclaims, surprised by your presence as if he wasn’t expecting you to be here already. you catch your breath before you answer, “yeah i just got here.” you explain. “my gosh… sorry you startled me.” you say further while clutching your chest.

“why were you heading upstairs?” heeseung asks while throwing his shoes off. he seems a bit off but you chuck it up to him being startled by your presence, similar to you. “i thought you were up there so i was gonna come get you.” you say while making your way back to the dinner table. “come on, lets eat.” you say as you begin to unpack the takeout.

“uhhh, you give me a sec.” heeseung says in a rush while darting up the stairs. you make a face of confusion and when you try to look up the stairs to see heeseung it seems he has just disappeared. you walk the stairs, confused by his unfamiliar behavior and when you get to the top of the stairs and peek into his room, he isn’t there.

confused, you step further into and take a gander but he isn’t anywhere to be seen. you could’ve sworn he would be in here, but as you make your way out of his room he suddenly appears in front you; your bodies slightly colliding as you make contact with one another.

“woah-” heeseung says as he catches your body while you release a small shriek. the second time today that each other’s presence has scared the both of you. an unlikely occurrence as you’ve never been afraid of heeseung nor has he ever given you a reason to be afraid of him. “what are you doing up here?” he asks and without answering the question you ask something back to him. “where were you?” you asks while gesturing back into his room. heeseung seems flustered by your question, “i was… in the restroom.” heeseung says with a slight stumble on his words. “oh… okay.” you say reluctantly, a tinge of doubt in your response. you free yourself from his grasp and make your way down the stairs back to the dining room. “food’s getting cold. come on.” you say nonchalantly, choosing to ignore the awkwardness in the air.

dinner was fairly quiet. the previous moment making the two of you avoid conversation so you wouldn’t have to talk about why the both of you have been extra jumpy. “are you done?” heeseung says while getting up to put his dish away. you look up at him and see his bright doughy eyes. “uhm, yeah…” you say softly with a small smile. he gently grabs your dish from your hands and makes his way into the kitchen to start washing the dishes. you're sitting silently at the table just watching heeseung when a car alarm outside suddenly startles you. “no. don’t think so.” heeseung says. the car seems to still be going and no one has tried to turn off the security alarm yet.

you quickly get up to grab heeseung’s keys to press the button just in case it was his car. he sees your sudden movement and falls behind you, unsure of what you’re about to do. as you press the lock button that would disarm the car’s security system heeseung suddenly grabs your hand and snatches the keys from your hands. the soap suds falling onto your clothes. you’re shocked by his actions and stumble a few steps back. “oh my god, what’s wrong?” you ask, staring at him with a puzzle expression. heeseung pulls his keys away from you and suddenly the car stops beeping. he opens his arms with a slight surrender, “i didn’t click it. see it wasn’t my car.” he explains and throws his keys in his pocket and goes back to washing the dishes. unbeknownst to you, he did press the button to stop his car and hopes you wouldn’t notice.

still confused, you make your way over to kitchen and just stand and stare, leaning to your right with a hand on your hip. “what was that..?” you asks softly and heeseung ignores you. putting all of his focus in washing the glass you were drinking out of. “hee? hello?” you ask him while taking a step forward and as you do, the glass in heeseung’s hand shatters. “oh my god!” you exclaim, running towards him. you grab his hand and pull it under the sink to let the water clean off the blood. “stay here, i’m going to grab the first aid from the bathroom.” you explain and heeseung obliges until something clicks in his head.

he runs after you up the stairs to the bathroom, “i told you to stay down there.” you say as you open the medicine cabinet to grab the ointment and bandages. “sorry, it just hurts and i need you…” he says shyly, trying to distract from the fact that he was hoping you wouldn’t find his actions questionable. almost like he was afraid you were going to find something.

after you finish bandaging his hand, you toss the bloody paper towels and gauze into the trash. heeseung is watching you intently, as if he was analyzing your behavior so he could predict what you would do next so he can prepare himself. “i’ll finish the dishes, just go lay down and we can watch a movie or something, ok?” you tell him with a small kiss on his cheek. as you walk out of the bathroom heeseung breathes a sigh of relief. thankful that you hadn’t seen the blood rags and bandages already sitting in the bathroom trash bin. he closes the door and throws water on his face, trying to clear his mind. he stares intensely at himself in the mirror while his grip on the bathroom sink gets harder. his intense stare suddenly shifts into a smile, like he was practicing his facial expression for when he sees you again. he quickly grabs a few tissues to throw on top of all of the bandages and heads out the bathroom and into his bedroom.

he lies there waiting for you. thoughts running wild and trying his best to act normal. he can tell you’ve caught onto his strange behavior and he needs to get it together before you get suspicious.

it’s a bit late when you both get into bed. tired from all the unnecessary commotion throughout the day. your thoughts having been replaced with heeseung’s strange behavior instead of thinking about how heeseung was potentially planning to propose to you.

you’re snuggling up to heeseung in his bed, sliding under the blanket and scooching closer to him so he can be the big spoon. you shortly talk about your day, how you’re excited to be done with the semester and to finally be on break. heeseung was about to tell you about his day until you turn your head slightly to look at him; “actually, where were you? i didn’t see your car when i pulled up then i realized i got here before you.” you ask him and heeseung just lays there in silence. his arms wrapped around your frame. “uh, i just had to run a quick errand. that’s why i couldn’t cook dinner.” he responds hoping you would drop the topic. you turn back around and get cozy in heeseung’s arms again, a sign of acceptance for his answer and that it really wasn’t anything to worry about. soon after, the two of you drift off to sleep.

when you wake up the next morning, you feel the absence of heeseung’s arms and when you stretch and reach over to his side of the bed; he’s gone. you get of bed, not bothering to tidy it as you plan to drag heeseung back to bed to sleep in. as you make your way to the door you notice heeseung outside of the window. he’s coming out of a garage unit in the parking lot of his apartment complex. he’s never mentioned a garage before but you assumed he got one recently for some extra storage. now that you think about it, he’s probably hiding the ring he got in the garage so you wouldn’t find it in his apartment.

you decide to lay back in bed and wait for heeseung to get back home. heeseung gets back in a few minutes and he instantly makes his way back up stairs. “morning baby.” heeseung says making his way to you and bending over to give you a kiss. he turns around but you grab his wrist with both your hands, “come back to bed please” you say, drawing out the please for added effect. “how could i say no to such a pretty girl.” heeseung says with a bright smile, one you’ve grown to love.

heeseung slides into bed next to you while you scoot over to the side. you nuzzle up to one another and just lay in silence, waiting for the sleep to comeback and lull over the both of you. you couldn’t wipe the thought of heeseung going out of his way to make sure you don’t find the ring he bought you. you found it cute and you were just dying to tease him about it.

you switch to laying on your side so you can see heeseung, he’s got his eyes clothes, breathing steadily. “i know what you did…” you say teasingly in a sing-song tone of voice. heeseung’s eyes fly open and he instantly turns towards you. he looks down at you with a serious gaze, analyzing your face. you were looking up at him with an adoring look, but he couldn’t completely read you. like you knew something that you shouldn’t… and it was making him worry. “what are you talking about..?” he says and you just look up at him in silence. you don’t say anything back because his reaction slightly confuses you, expecting him to have responded a certain way but you were faced with a serious and stoic heeseung.

you switch back to laying on your back and pull the blanket higher. heeseung does the same and soon the feeling of sleep washes over you, but not heeseung. he was waiting for you to fall asleep and once he was sure you were asleep; he got up and began to do what he needed to do.

you woke up a while later in complete darkness. you don’t realize that you had slept through the whole day. you try to rub your eyes to adjust to the darkness and that’s when you notice the rope tied around your arms. you were no longer in heeseung’s bed but was now tied to a chair and the darkness that surrounded you wasn’t from the night, but from a blindfold that was fastened around your head. the rest of your senses were starting to return. you could feel much of anything since you were tied to a chair but you could tell the air was eerily still. you couldn’t hear much but a few cars driving by and the sounds of birds chirping outside. your breathing begins to pick up, chest moving up and down a lot faster you fear starts to settle in your stomach. unaware of how you got here and who did this to you.

aside from fear, you were also worried. worried that heeseung maybe in danger or worse. you were worried that the person who did this could’ve done something to heeseung and you wouldn’t even know. you wanted to call out for help and scream but afraid of who’s attention you might attract. you take a breath as you decide you were going to scream for help and just as you’re about to yell, a familiar voice breaks the silence in the room. “i wouldn’t do that if i were you…” the man says. you breathing halts, afraid that the next thing you do could take a drastic turn.

you hear the man’s footsteps approach you and you’re too afraid to breathe. having held your breath, the man reaches over and pulls your blindfold off. causing you to release a gasp and shut your eyes immediately after seeing the bright light that hung above you. you blink a few times before opening them completely and aren’t faced with anyone. besides the light that shines only in a radius above you, you couldn’t see much of what was in front of you. or around you for that matter. you scan the room to try and see anything but to no avail you find nothing. not even aware of the man who was only a few feet in front of you. staring at you through the darkness. like a predator waiting to pounce on its prey.

your breathing has become steady but not for long. “you shouldn’t have snooped around y/n” a voice calls out from the darkness. you recognize that voice, one that you’ve heard every day for the last 8 months. heeseung slightly steps into the light, squatting down in front of you, with his hands behind his back. your breathing instantly becomes shaky, afraid of what is to happen next. afraid of heeseung and why he was doing all of this.

“why? huh… why did you have to snoop around?!” he says, his voicing raising at the end, startling you. you slightly flinch away but your current situation doesn’t allow for you to move away. your bottom lip quivers and you struggle to throw out a response. “what… what are you talking about?” you ask him, eyes shifting back and forth to try and read heeseung’s facial expression but all you could get from him was a sense of darkness. one that you have never experienced with heeseung. “why are you doing thi-” before you could finish asking your question, heeseung lunges forward and grabs the sides of your head and brings it close to his. his face only a few inches away from yours. a shriek leaves your lips and you shut your eyes.

“look at me.” heeseung says and when you refuse and keep them shut, he raises his voice and shakes you. “LOOK AT ME!” heeseung yells and you slowly open them. you find heeseung staring at you and when you look into his eyes you don’t see anything. like he was empty.

your lips are quivering and heeseung’s grip on your face feels like he’s burning your skin. “you’re hurting me” you softly say and something in him clicks. like he suddenly is back to reality. he lets go of your face but instantly wraps you in a hug. “i’m sorry baby.” he says while letting go. “why are you doing this…” you ask and he gets up and stands in front of you. pacing back and forth, thinking about what he should do next. “what do you know?” heeseung asks menacingly and you weren’t sure what he was talking about.

when he sees the expression on your face reads of complete confusion and cluelessness, he starts realizing that he may have messed up. “when we fell asleep, you said that you knew what i did… what did you know?” heeseung asks and it starts to come back to you. “i…” you had no idea what to say. there was no way heeseung reacted this way to you finding out he was going to propose.

“i’m sorry. if i knew that ruining the surprise was this bad i wouldn’t have brought it up.” you respond, with empathy in your voice heeseung truly feels confused at your response. “what surprise are you talking about?” heeseung says, moving closer to you. he’s now inches away from your face again with his hands gripping both armrests on the chair. “th- the ring.” you say, slightly stumbling over your words. ‘what are you talking about? what ring?” he probes.

“the ring! the one i saw you shopping for. i saw you scrolling on your phone shopping for wedding rings and i assumed you were getting ready to propose. i’m sorry i didn’t know i-” heeseung cuts you off in the middle of your ramble. his hands have moved back to holding the sides of your face. “so you don’t know about the body?” heeseung slowly asks and panic begins to creep into your body.

“bo- body…?” you ask and heeseung suddenly retracts from you. running his hand through his disheveled hair and yelling obscenities. his actions continue to strike fear into you. you’ve never seen him like this and it seems he’s going off the rails. “fuck! fuck! fuck! FUCK!” heeseung exclaims and each word he yells makes you jump. “heeseung what is going on?” you ask with a shiver. afraid that you would send him off the rails if you said the wrong thing. “honey i was going to propose to you.” heeseung says, his expression softening instantly. “i just… i thought you knew about-” this time you’re the one to cut him off. “what body..?” you ask and heeseung drops his head in defeat.

he stands up and you hear a lightswitch click and the lights in the room turn on. you flinch at the sudden brightness and when your eyes adjust once more, you see that you’re sitting in a garage. this must be the garage you saw heeseung exiting prior to this moment. you take a look around and everything seems to be normal, whatever you would see in a garage. that is until your gaze lands on a specific corner of the garage. a tarp laying on the ground with rope, a pink sweater, and a bow stained with blood laid on top. the photo of the missing girl instantly appears in your head and when you realize that the bloodied clothes in the corner belong to that missing girl, fear has taken over and you lose control.

tears rapidly fall down your face and you start to ramble, begging for heeseung to let you go and not to kill you. he rushes over and holds you. “no honey, no.” heeseung says. “i would never hurt you, okay?’ he says, the tears falling from your eyes make it hard to hold eye contact.

“why are you doing this? what did you do to that girl?” you question him, not prepared to hear my sinister things heeseung could’ve done to that missing girl. one who you knew from very far but was suffering so close to you. heeseung wipes his face with his hand and breathes a deep sigh. “did you know her?” he asks, almost as if he was gauging the importance of the girl’s life to you. you slowly shook your head and heeseung takes a seat on the ground in front of you.

“she was getting in the way… she was going to tear us apart!” heeseung exclaimed, none of which makes sense to you since you barely knew that girl. all you knew about her was that she went to your university and studied psychology. “what are you talking about? i didn’t even know her, how and why would she try to break us apart?” you asked, confused on the situation and how this girl played a role in any of this.

“she-” heeseung begins and takes a second to gather his thoughts. “every week when i go to therapy, i see her and she’s always staring at me. it’s like she knows something she shouldn’t.” heeseung begins and your face contorts into confusion. your facial expression has switched back and forth from confusion to fear. you didn’t even know that heeseung was going to therapy, not that it was wrong but just something you weren’t aware of.

“when i was in high school i was diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. it’s never been easy but as of lately it’s gotten a lot harder.” heeseung elaborates and a part of you softens at his confession. you never knew heeseung was battling something like BPD and he had never shown any signs of it but as of late, it makes sense. his somewhat different behavior proving that his illness has become more present, however, it wasn’t enough to become a red flag or warning.

“i swear she was trying to break us apart. whenever i’d visit my therapist, she would always be the previous session and the way she looked at me was like she knew something. like she was going to try and find a way to create a rift in our relationship.” heeseung’s explanation made no sense to you. it seemed like this girl was just someone he saw often but something in his head was convincing him that she had ulterior motives. you couldn’t help but feel intense sorrow for the girl, she met her end and she was just a complete stranger to heeseung. but to him, she was out to get him.

“one day, when i went to therapy and i didn’t see her. i just knew she was going to do something. she was going to get you and try to take you away from me. so i had to find her and stop her.” heeseung continued. your blank stare was an indication to heeseung that you were slowly processing all of this information.

“when i picked you up from campus later that day, i saw her and she was with you.” heeseung recalls that day. “she said something to you, i don’t know what but i know it wasn’t good. i had to get rid of her and did what i had to do so that she wouldn’t take you away from me.” you tried to wrap your head around what heeseung was saying. trying to recall that day that he suggests you met the girl. you hadn’t even known her name, barely remembering what the missing person’s sign had said.

heeseung was supposed to pick you up that day because he was spending the weekend at your place so you didn’t bother to drive to campus. you were leaving the west hall of the science building while she was entering the building. you were carrying quite a few things so she held the door open for you out of kindness and you had exchanged very few words with one another. who knew that that one short interaction with her would cost her her life…

you explained this to heeseung, that she didn’t say anything to you. the only words you had said to each other was a short thank you and you’re welcome and you were both on your way to your respective destinations, but heeseung disagreed. he was so convinced that she had an ulterior motive, that she may have not said anything to you in that moment but she would later on and that it was in that moment that she began her plan to ruin your relationship and rip you away from him.

heeseung went on to explain how he managed to kidnap her and hold her hostage for a few weeks. it wasn’t until you started to get suspicious of his behavior that a voice in his head began to start making him spiral. spewing thoughts and whispers into his mind that you were going to find the girl and that once you found her the truth would be revealed. so he explained what he did to her, in gruesome detail that made your skin crawl and body go limp. every word he said of how he tortured her to try and get her to explain her “evil plan” to break the two of you apart made you feel like you were the one he was doing these things to. you felt such a pain in your heart for her, how she didn’t even know either of you but it resulted in her life being taken. you wished you would’ve saved her, and at the very least… you wished you could’ve apologized to her.

in the middle of heeseung’s long and drawn out speech, you begin to cry again. at first you had thought that all the crying from earlier dried up and you no longer had any more tears left to cry, but the way he spoke of how he treated the girl struck something into you. if he could do something like that to her because of one inkling in his mind, who’s to say he won’t do the same to you. you tears interrupt heeseung mid-sentence and he looks towards you. your head is down and tears are falling from your face. he hears sniffles and small hiccups that escape from your body, as if you’re trying your best to make it seem like you’re not crying. his gaze instantly switches from intense to soft after seeing your current state. he immediately rushes to your side and cups your face in his hands, causing you to flinch in fear.

“no! please! don’t kill me please!” you begin to beg at the sudden contact of his hands to your cheeks. “no, baby. look at me!” heeseung says while brushing your hair out of your face, trying to hold you still while you thrashed around. shaking your head back and forth to break away from him as you begged him to stop, afraid that he would do the same to you as the previous victim.

“please!” you begged, your voice soon becoming hoarse. heeseung held your face still to look at him. “please don’t kill me” you whispered and heeseung’s face changes to concern and worry. slightly hurt that you would ever think he would hurt you. “i would never hurt. i love you!” he says. the garage is silent, your staggered breath taking turns being the forefront of the only sound in the small room.

the two of you stare at each other intensely, trying to read the other but all heeseung saw in your eyes was fear and all you say in his was darkness. “i love you okay?” heeseung says trying to reassure you but it doesn’t do what he intended. it only instills fear in you, that someone who claimed to love you so much is currently holding you hostage, similar to how he had his previous victim. you went from being the love of his life to his next victim.

“if you love me, you’d let me go…” you whispered, thinking of the only way to get out of this and it was to use heeseung’s so-called “love” for you against him. heeseung doesn’t respond for a moment. continuing to stare at you and trying to figure you what to do next. a part of him agreed, he does love you and he should let you go, especially because if what you were saying is true, that you had no idea about the girl, then he should let you go. another part of him was battling that, he should keep you here. not let you go because where would you even go? all you needed was him and if he kept you here then he was 100% sure you would never leave…

heeseung abruptly stands and wipes his face with aggression, releasing a sigh like this was the toughest decision he’s ever had to make. he walks behind you and you crane your neck around to watch him, discomfort settling into your body as you tried your best to see what he was doing. heeseung digs around in a toolbox before he pulls something out, you’re unsure of what it is. as heeseung gets closer you hear a small click and realize he’s pulled out a switchblade. your breath starts to pick up once again and you begin to beg for your life. apologizing and begging your boyfriend to spare you and to have mercy. explaining that if he lets you go you wouldn’t dare tell a soul.

when heeseung gets closer you shut your eyes and accept your fate, but the pain of a sharp blade never comes. instead, you feel relief in your wrists and ankles, the weight and pressure of the ropes tightened around you have ceased and you are no longer bound to the chair. the soft sounds of the ropes falling to the cold concrete floor are followed by the sound of the switchblade falling next to them. heeseung steps away from you and he sniffles while wiping his eyes. he was fighting back tears, a part of you feels for him. he was the love of your life as some point but you had to prioritize yourself.

you slowly stood up, your eyes not leaving heeseung’s figure once. making sure to keep your eyes on him just in case he reacts or moves erratically. you softly rub your wrists, they’ve turned red and would certainly bruise. the rope was the furthest thing from comfortable. as you took small steps towards the small door that led outside of the garage, you hear heeseung shuffle behind you, snapping your head backwards to look at him he’s now on his knees.

heeseung begins hysterically crying, words fall from his mouth that go from apologies to cries of help. you run towards him and kneel to his side. you hug him and rub his back, consoling him and telling him everything will be alright. a part of you was smacking you on the head, how could you comfort him at a time like this? just a few minutes ago he had you tied to a chair, interrogating you with so much venom on his tongue you were crying and fearing for your life, and here you were now, consoling him like he was a child who had accidentally broke something.

“it’s going to be okay” you said, it was now your turn. you had cupped his face in your hands and you couldn’t help but take in his beauty. heeseung was handsome even when he cried. his big doughy eyes seemed to have stars in them as the tears pooled and slowly fell down his face. it was in that moment that you remembered you’re the victim and that this is probably what heeseung wanted. for you to feel bad for him enough for you to stay and whether or not that's true, you needed to get out of there.

you slowly stood back up, announcing your actions. “i’m going to go to the apartment and come back, ok? i’m just going to-” heeseung cuts you off by grabbing onto your hand. he looks up at you with pleading eyes, “please don’t leave me… i need you” heeseung says and you feel a pang of pain in your heart. you truly did love heeseung but after what went down in this garage and everything he has told you, you don’t know if you could continue to love him the same. all you did was smile and nod, and as your hand slid out of heeseung’s, something in his head told him that you couldn’t let you walk out of the garage.

heeseung tussles his hair into an even bigger mess and he quickly gets on his two feet. “NO!” heeseung suddenly yells, causing you to jump and take a few steps back. heeseung’s strides towards you were wide and fast, causing you to be once again trapped by him. his two arms on either side of you as your back met the wall of the garage. “heeseung, please.” was all you said and he began to further it lose.

“you’re gonna leave!” heeseung yells in your face as you flinch away, retracting back as far as you could with the wall behind you with your eyes shut and hands barely protecting you from heeseung. “you can’t leave! how many times have i said that! huh? you’re not allowed to leave me, you can’t!” and as heeseung finishes his last word you dart under his arms and make your way to the exit, not before heeseung hooks his arm around your waist, the resistance of his arms causes you to stumble and fall to the floor. heeseung follows you to the ground and you both shortly fight with each other. you tried kicking him off of you as he struggled to get a good grip of your legs to pull you towards him.

you manage to kick him in the nose and as you scrambled to get on your feet, heeseung quickly finds his composure and looks up at you right before you’ve managed to get a stable footing and run for the exit. with a lunge forward, heeseung gets ahold of your ankle, causing you to fall back to the ground. what happened next wasn’t what heeseung was expecting.

as your body collided with the concrete floor of the garage, he could hear a thud followed by a cracking sound that was so loud it felt like it rang throughout the entirety of the garage and echoed. when your body didn’t respond to the impact of the fall and you seemed to no longer be fighting him off, heeseung pulled you closer. when he flipped you over and your body became limp, panic crept it’s way into heeseung’s mind.

he softly shook your body to try and get your attention. however, the stillness in your eyes proved his worries. “baby? baby, please!” heeseung says in a hushed tone as he softly caressed your cheek. squeezing them to get you to react but nothing. he pulls you into a tight hug, not wanting to believe what his eyes are seeing, while an uncontrollable amount of tears begin to cascade down his face. he exclaims profanities and remorse. blaming himself for what he’s done. refusing to believe that you’re gone, he cups your face and brings it close to his, touching your foreheads.

“why did you have to do it? i told you you couldn’t leave! why did you try to leave..!” he says while placing a kiss on your forehead. heeseung adjusts his position on the floor, he was now cradling you and continuing to cry. rocking back and forth, trying to process everything that has happened in the last few hours. a series of “why’s?” and “i’m sorry” fall from heeseung’s lips as he holds you tighter. he reaches for his pocket and pulls out the small velvet box that he’s had for the last week. he promptly opens the box and grabs the fragile but shining diamond ring, slowly sliding it onto your ring finger and giving your hand a kiss.

“you would’ve made such a beautiful wife.”

the sound of the garage door is loud as there seems to not be a soul outside. heeseung drops his arm as he lets go of the garage door once it’s open. the single light in the middle of the garage illuminating the entire space. heeseung looks back & forth in the room, inspecting everything to erase the events that previously commenced. with a heavy sigh he enters and the garage is spotless. no sign of you or the other girl in sight. heeseung makes his way to the toolbox that was still open atop of the work bench. he closes it but not before staring at the switchblade that sat in the middle of all the tools.

heeseung closes the toolbox and sets it in the space below the workbench. slipping something into his pocket, he makes his way back to the garage door and pulls the string to shut the light as he exits. he rolls down the garage door and dusts his hands off. he shuts his eyes before taking a deep inhale. he holds his breath for a moment and when he exhales, he begins his walk back to his apartment.

before heeseung enters the door, he stops. taking a moment before entering, he adjusts his clothes. a black suit and tie. he adjusts his tie to make sure it’s centered and straightens out his blazer. he puts on a smile and enters his apartment.

heeseung, still smiling, makes his way into the kitchen. he grabs two wine glasses and a bottle of wine and brings it to the table. he sets the glasses on the table and begins to pop the cork off the bottle of wine. he gracefully pours the wine into the two glasses, all the while his smile has not faltered one bit. when he finishes pouring the wine, he grabs one and slides the other closer to the other direction.

“happy anniversary my love.” he says sweetly, so sweet it could give you a cavity. he takes a sip of the wine and smiles at you.

heeseung continued his conversation with you but he never received a response. there you sat across from him in a beautiful dress that he chose. your unresponsive demeanor and empty stare was something heeseung chose to ignore. “i love you so much” heeseung said through his smile with a soft chuckle.

heeseung was so happy you chose not to leave him. you smiled at you adoringly as you sat in front of him, your stare never moving from his figure. after everything that happened you still stayed. you never left him and whether that was your choice or not; you were still there. your lifeless body stayed by heeseung’s. today was your anniversary and the day heeseung planned to propose. you turned out to be right in the end and heeseung was the happiest fiance in the world. wherever heeseung went, you went to. if it was dinner time, he would carry your limp body to the dining room and position you to sit at the table. he always cooks for two, even though you never finish your meal heeseung makes sure to cook for you.

if it was time for bed, he would carry you to the bathroom. cleaning your body and dressing you into your pajamas before setting you in bed. he made sure to tuck you in and hold you all night to make sure you’d be there when he woke up the next morning.

heeseung takes another sip from his glass, a smile still slapped onto his face but his eyes spoke something different. he may be smiling but his eyes have turned red. as if he was constantly battling something inside and holding something in. straining to keep it all in. so as he continues to live the rest of his life like this, he will continue to smile because you would always be by his side.

all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned.

#kpop #kpop au #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #enhypen #enhypen au #enhypen fic #enhypen fan fiction #enhypen fanfic #enhypen heeseung #lee heseung #heeseung #enhypen lee heeseung

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themousefromfantasyland · 1 year

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Journey Across the Disneyverse: Final Day

In honor of the 100th anniversary of the Walt Disney Animation Studios, I'm rewatching some of my favorite films from the studio.

Today, I'm cheating. These aren't WDAS, but use so many tropes and cliches from classics of the studio, that they are a perfect way to celebrate the anniversary of the studio and of the whole company.

1 - Enchanted (2007)

I love, love this film.

I love how the animated sequences emulate perfectly the Disney movies from the 30's/40's, and 50's. I could watch a entire movie sorely in this style.

Andalasia is the perfect Disney kingdom. It's so charming, vibrant and colorful. I would give everything to jump right there and marry a prince. Let's say, I always envied Idina Menzel's character in this.

Giselle is the perfect protagonist and perfect Disney princess. She combines the best characteristics of princesses of every age. She is optimistic, cheerful, kind, spunky, curious. I love how even when she sees the worst parts of the real world, she is still amazed and full of wonderlust.

The shot of Queen Narissa as a dragon, on top of the skyscraper during the stormy night, stayed with me for years. It's the coolest shot of any fairy tale movie.

2 - Disenchanted (2022)

Not as great as the first one, and feels more like a made for tv movie, but it's still a great sequel and very enjoyable movie.

I love how in the first movie, it was the fairy tale characters going into the real world, but this one is all about the real world slowly transforming into a fairy tale world.

The setting of Monrolasia is so perfectly Disney that you get sad when the wish is undone and the world goes back to normal.

The sequence of the kitchen appliances dancing and singing is exactly how I imagine the world of Disney cartoons would look like in the present day.

Amy Addams playing a villainous Giselle is the best part, and already enough justification for this movie to be made. Maya Rudolph as Malvina Monroe also steals the show. If you're still in doubt if this movie is this worthy watching, their interaction during Badder is absolutely that you need.

youtube

@ariel-seagull-wings @thealmightyemprex @tamisdava2 @thelittlehansy @natache @the-blue-fairie @princesssarisa @mask131 @the-gentile-folklorist

#disney #journey through the disneyverse #disney 100 #Youtube

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rubykgrant · 10 months

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As a black woman,It is not okay that you draw characters of color with natural hair given that you are a white woman claiming to be an ally but openly drawing racist drawings of sailor moon and the day of the dead when you do not celebrate neither Asian nor latin culture.

Hello anon. I'm not sure what prompted this, but I tried to give it some thought before replying.

I don't think it is somehow "not okay" to draw characters of color with natural hair; natural hair is beautiful. Curly, wavy, and textured hair of all types is beautiful. Hairstyles from different cultures are a variety of creative and cute. I think it is important to learn how to draw characters like this better, to celebrate this. While it can be a problem when people outside of certain cultures- and in particular, white people- don't know how to draw different features and hairstyles properly, the answer isn't "Only draw people who look like you". That is... kind of a big issue with white-washing characters, and entire casts of characters looking too cookie-cutter. Words like "progressive" and "inclusive" have been over-used, but it's still important to remember; we need to keep moving forward with how we think and what we create. We need to acknowledge differences in positive ways, and learn from other people when they share important things about negative portrayals.

I would agree that certain things that are very special and specific to different cultures would be best depicted by somebody truly connected to it. That still doesn't mean "white people should only draw more white people". Since you brought up Sailor Moon and Day of the Dead, I can only assume this was in reference to some of my Sailor Moon re-designs and fan-art from the Book of Life? In regards to myself, I can only say that I very much DO care about NOT spreading racism with my art, so I'll have to look at what I've done, try to improve on myself, and apologize.

While it may not be your intent, this has actually reminded me of something I've been thinking of on my own; occasionally, I do re-draws of various scenes from movies or TV shows. If I have a DVD, I'll pause on the scene I want to draw so I can look at it. Occasionally, I find a screen-shot to look at. I've done this with many different movies and shows... and I have genuinely wondered if it is just unfair imitation; the source is already something beautiful, and I'm just copying it. In terms of me being a white person, is it wrong for me to "get attention" when I copy something that is based on characters of color? I don't want to somehow steal recognition from artists who are part of these backgrounds, or be praised for something mediocre when others deserve to be seen.

This is not a confessional, you aren't a priest, and I'm not Catholic. So I won't get into every thing I hate about myself or regret doing in my life; but just regarding THIS, misrepresenting myself as an "ally" while not putting in the effort to AVOID doing something negative, or worse, doing something wrong and just "not caring enough"... that is something I would want to change. I think it is also an over-used phrase when a white person gets accused of something racist, and then stumbles through and apology while saying "I'm still learning". I won't give out any excuses or empty promises. I have wasted enough years of my life being unaware and uncaring. I have made enough bad decisions when I was old enough to know better. I don't want pity, or coddling for doing the bare minimum. I want to be able to look at myself someday, and be happy with who I am. I want to change what isn't good about me. Even though I don't agree with the beginning of this ask- the idea that it isn't alright to draw characters of color with natural hair, when you are white- I am still going to think about what it means to be a white artist, and try to be more respectful in the future

#anon #ask #answer

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andswarwrites · 1 year

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Day 19

When I was little I used to watch The Disney Hour on Sundays. Whenever the movie wasn't animated, I would experience some disappointment, except if it was The Swiss Family Robinson. That one time they played Old Yeller I rebelled and I think I shut the TV off just before Old Yeller gets shot. Animation, to me, unlocked a whole world of color, animation and artwork that no other mode of storytelling could equal. And now my daughter shares my love for the craft, not only as a spectator, but already at her young age, a contributor.

As soon as N- was old enough to hold a pencil, I decided that I was going to give her a giant supply of colorful construction paper, paint, crayons, markers (I got her metallic ones. She really loved those.) And shortly after she learned her alphabet and her numbers, I taught her color theory. Well I can't take all the credit, there was a song on Youtube by Scratch Garden that taught her, of the colors of the rainbow, which three were primary and which three secondary, which ones were warm and which ones were cool. It's called The Color Song.

When I was young I loved to draw. I especially liked to draw people. Facial expressions, poses; I once made a "photo album" of my made up family with twelve kids. And I drew all twelve. I also drew a whole story involving a quest to find out whether some gems were genuine. It start off with two people shouting "They could be real!". I've continued to draw off and on over the course of my life, and when N- was old enough I showed her a few basic things, and she just took off.

From a very young age she included amazing detail in her artwork. I enjoyed coloring her art for her, because adding color drew the eye to those tiny little details she had created. N- loves animals, and she invents her very own creatures. At a young age she started to "vent" with her artwork, and at first she didn't want me to see those pictures. I explained that showing them to me helps me to understand what she is feeling, and I won't be shocked or appalled. But if she doesn't want me to see a page in her sketchbook, I respect that.

When she got her first tablet, S- and I installed an app to teach N- how to animate. We thought it might be fun for her. She didn't use it very often, so we thought maybe it wasn't her thing. When N- was old enough to go on the computer, she found a website called Flipanim, and with it she can layer artwork, doodle, and animate. She has been using that site for over five years now. She goes through phases where she only wants to draw, and then other phases where she creates complex music videos.

She follows artists on Youtube such as Neytirix and RANDOMstuff Animation who inspire her. She also likes learning about other art forms from Youtubers like Moriah Elizabeth and North of the Border. We don't have an official Art class per se, because N- spends so much free time painting, drawing, animating and more. And I do plan to teach her a course in art history as part of our curriculum next year. The important thing is that N- draws just about every single day. Because practicing her craft is essential.

I've always admired animation. I know 3D animation has been popularized, but I think artsy films like Song of The Sea have their place as well. N- agrees with me. We watched it together, and she kept commenting on the artwork and the music and how the two went hand in hand with the storytelling. When I say "artsy films", I mean stylized and with artistic merit. I'm not knocking it in any way. It's one of my favorite animated movies.

I grew up thinking Disney was the end-all and be-all of animation. I do love so many Disney movies. Not as many as I did as a kid. Growing up my tastes have changed. When I was in my teens, some friends of mine introduced me to different styles of animation. We watched Millennium Actress, and since I loved the book Watership Down, we watched the 1978 animated movie. I had to watch Millennium Actress twice, because the first time I was hoping for a happy ending, and that's not the point of the movie. Watership Down was well done, but the book is just so much better.

S-'s favorite animated TV series was Tiny Toons, so as an anniversary gift I got him the DVDs. We actually bought a lot of animated series, from Samurai Jack to Freakazoid. S- appreciates animation too. In fact, we're a family of animation geeks. That's why, when we went to see the Super Mario Movie, S- and I were enjoying it just as much as if not more than N-. We introduced her to Powerpuff Girls as a kid, we took her to see Inside Out when it came out in theaters. We're kids at heart, and we hope she will always remain one too.

I think N- has so much potential. She could earn a living as an artist, either traditional, digital, animator, musician: she has options. And if she wants to keep those gifts of hers for herself and decides to go in a completely opposite direction, she will have my full support. As long as she earns enough to pay her bills, rent and groceries, with enough to put aside for rainy days and treating herself, I'll be happy. I don't want my child to get rich and famous. I want her to use her talents in a way that brings her contentment. I want to watch what she does in life, and give her as much support as I can.

#animation #artwork #parenting

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not-active-blacksapphhicmaddonna · 1 year

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⋆✮⋆all the info you need⋆✮⋆

call me ace, 24, queer/sapphic, they/them

hey y'all! very excited to be starting a blog dedicated to writing fics etc.. this blog will be *mainly* fics and reblogs of gay shit i like!

info about this blog:

here's the serious ones -

this blog is/rules & boundaries:

100% anti-racist. there will be no tolerance for anti-blackness, derogatory comments towards black women/people in any form, respectability politics, colorism!!!!!!!!!, featurism/texturism, or any other general fuckery surrounding blackness or other people of color point black period. come correct.

100% trans/nonbinary friendly and safe. there will be no tolerance for transphobia in any regard. period.

we 100% acknowledge and disarm privilege in this space.

i'm always down for conversation, but please remember that google is free and not to be an ass. respect goes both ways. 🫶🏼

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. i will not respond to messages from people who's age i cannot see in their bio/pinned post or otherwise publicly posted on their account. i will not write requests for anybody under the age of 18.

this blog will contain sexual content (smut, references to sex, gifs/images if applicable at any point, may be included in replies/answers to questions, etc.).

i probably don’t know you in real life but even if i do, i work full time and have a life to attend to. if i don’t respond right away/complete a request, don’t be rude or assume i’m ignoring you!! and i’ll treat you the same. 🫶🏽

BLACK WOMEN/TRANS PEOPLE/PEOPLE PERIOD ARE NOT A FETISH. if you’re non-black and here because you have a kink/fetish for black women/folks, don’t.

here's what I won't do -

i will not write: race play, anything romantic/sexual between a minor and an adult, anything involving r@pe, sexual assault, incest, or cnc kinks, anything that romanticizes self su**ide/self harm, ea*ing dis**ders, or anything else that feels like it will be harmful/pointlessly triggering/create a negative effect/perpetuate stigma etc.! also no trauma porn surrounding racism/homo-transphobia, etc etc etc.

however -

i will: provide trigger warnings and content warnings on every fic/writing, credit for anything i've been inspired by/use etc., use active consent with any collaborations/outside parties, be open to accountability or critique and make any necessary adjustments if i cause any harm, and provide a word count on each writing piece. 🖤

any of my boundaries are subject to change at my own discretion and i reserve the right to rescind my consent at any point for any reason in any situation.

here's the fun stuff!

some of my current ships/headcanons/emotional support characters or celebrities/actors or just interests etc. -

wenclay! (bianca barclay x wednesday addams) - wednesday, tv show

aneka x ayo - wakanda forever/black panther, movie(s)

pretty much ANY AND ALL characters played by lashana lynch or just her by herself (I would do anything for this woman🧎🏽)

shuri x riri williams - wakanda forever/black panther, movie(s)

gracie from skins uk!

character/person x reader! has been a style i'm just recently getting into!

anything that has to do with black vampires (i will make so many of these characters, sorry in advance fr LMFAOOO)

some original characters butttt nottt toooo muchhhh for rn

so many more!

story types/formats:

one shots

short/long chaptered series

drabbles

non-canon/head canon/alternate universe

canon compliant

fluff

smut

angst

whatever i feel like fr

ALL MY MAIN CHARACTERS ARE BLACK. PERIOD.

this is a queer space, specifically a sapphic one. i will never write anything cishet based/oriented. I probably won't even write background characters as cishet but maybe I guess lol.

i'm suuuuper down for requests! just send them to me through an ask. i also have my submissions on. please don’t submit anything that goes against what has already been stated!

✩ i will give a very slight priority to non-anonymous asks, but i will answer/do all of them as long as they're within my boundaries!✩

pretty much i'm just yearning all the time. lets commiserate together.

i'm very excited to start writing again, and i hope y'all enjoy! please ask any questions and i'll get back to you asap! also please drop any feedback y'all have on any story/fic, i'm desperate LMFAOOO

thank you for reading!

love a black woman from ∞ to ∞ fr 🤝🏽

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skaikruswan · 2 years

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I walk beside you - Chapter 3

Summary: “I have not heard these words in ages,” a deep, male voice says, and before you can answer, you wake up.Your dreams start changing once you realize that you’re not alone as you think. Who is this man and why does he know you? How do you know him?

Pairing: Dream / Morpheus x reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 My other fics / prompts

AO3: May everyone who leaves a kudo (or even a comment) awake well-rested.

Chapter 3

You wish you could say that you were ready to fall asleep, but you weren’t. You arrived at your home, your head full of questions, with your heart demanding answers.

Morpheus. The name has rung a bell, and one quick research later has revealed that in Greek mythology, he’s the god of dreams. You sat in stupor for a while, blankly staring at the screen. You managed to meet the god of dreams, and somehow share a profound history with him. A history you want to unravel.

You let out a long sigh as you pace around in your bedroom. You’re not stupid. From what he has told you, you have concluded that he has met several versions of you, each one unique, each one meeting him without any past knowledge. Incarnations. If you’re not completely wrong, this means that you’re the most recent reincarnation. This sounds like something out a supernatural tv show or book, and for your state of mind, you try not to think too much about it.

You grab a pillow and throw it up like a ball, eager to occupy your hands. You still have so many questions, but there is one only you can answer.

Do you want to get involved with him? You’ve always liked fantasy and know many stories of mortals giving their hearts to immortals. It often ended in tragedy, for the mortal and the immortal. Does he miss and mourn each incarnation? Wouldn’t it be a kindness to spare him the pain of losing you? Then again, you feel as if he remembers your past incarnations fondly. He had been nothing but kind and understanding as he answered your questions, a soft look on his eternal face as he seems to sink into his memories.

He may be fond of them, but will he be fond of you? That is another question that plagues you. Then again, if you don’t try, you will never know.

You squeeze the pillow, your mind made up. You’ve accepted this challenge, and you will see it through. Maybe the next dream can be something like a first date? You smush your face in the pillow, your cheek already growing hot.

Lying down on your bed, pulling your soft blanket over you, you are ready.

The beach is still beautiful, but you couldn’t care less as your toes sink into the white sand. Twirling around, you race towards the forest. This is a dream, your dream. You assume that it is Morpheus who intervenes, conjuring up the storm, but how certain are you? Maybe it is a part of being an incarnation?

After running down the path, you take a deep breath. Part of you wonders what will happen if you continue without saying the phrase, but you have a hunch that it won’t work. Moreover, it would be boring and anti-climactic.

“The path before me doesn’t frighten me, I want to forever walk beside you.” You don’t wait for the storm to start, you just walk. You walk until every step feels like you’ve run a marathon, your lungs heaving for air as you walk inside the eye of a storm.

Enough of that. Time to take control and make some progress. Will it work? Hopefully. But right now, it’s your best shot.

You close your eyes, comfortable in the darkness that seems to drown out everything else. You picture a meadow, the grass soft and swaying in the faint breeze. Red, blue, white, yellow, purple, pink, every color you like fills your vision as flowers, from simple daisies to fancy orchids, bloom. You see it so vividly that you can almost smell the floral fragrance.

You open your eyes, and the storm is gone as you’re standing inside that meadow.

“Wohoo!” you cheer, savoring your victory. For a moment, you think that you hear a deep chuckle. The meadow really is lovely, and you’re almost tempted to stay for a while, but you have places to go. The palace and Morpheus are waiting.

To your surprise, you see one path leading you away from the meadow. You don’t know if you have been walking for a minute or for hours; time is weird anyhow in dreams. You walk through a desert, scrambling up and down the dunes. You walk over a snowy mountain, the snowflakes melting on your cheeks. You walk through a big city, feeling almost back in reality, if it weren’t for the fact that there is not a soul around you.

How big is the dream world? It feels endless, and you can’t even see the palace. But you know that if you stop, even just for a little break, that it will be hell to get back. So you suck it up and march on.

You arrive at a massive gate, stretching as far as you can see. Fantastic beings, animals, and figures are carved in awe-inspiring detail, gleaming like finest ivory. If this is another challenge, you’re going to force yourself to wake up and come back the next night, you decide as you carefully knock three times.

“You have made it. Impressive.” You hoped that he would appear, but seeing Morpheus appear at your side still startles you. You lean over, your hands resting on your knees as you take a deep breath. As you stand up straight, you see something almost like pride gleaming inside these fathomless eyes. He still looks like a dark vision, messy inky hair matching his black clothes. His face is hard to put into words, and you suddenly understand why ancient artists spend centuries trying to capture the splendor of the gods.

“I could have done it in my sleep,” you say with a nonchalant shrug. After that journey, you deserve to brag a little. You wonder how long the other incarnations have taken to reach the castle, before stopping that train of thought. You’re not comparing yourself.

“You did well.” It’s easy to miss, but there was a small smile on his lips, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

“Allow me to bring us into the palace,” Morpheus asks, extending his hand. You give him high credit for asking, for letting you choose. You figure that a god isn’t used to considering other people. You nod, laying your hand on his, feeling his long fingers hold onto you.

The next moment, you’re standing inside the palace, a long staircase winding upside to a platform where a dark throne stands. You’ve been in churches and cathedrals, but their windows can’t hold a candle to these three massive glass artworks. Each time you blink they seem to change: a sky of twinkling stars, a garden full of roses, the northern lights, your favorite picture of you and your best friend. It is almost fascinating enough to rip you away from the man next to you.

“This is a palace worthy of a god,” you whisper, before covering your hand with your mouth. You meant what you said, but you don’t know why you said it out loud. You don’t want to reduce Morpheus to his palace or his godhood.

“I am not a god,” Morpheus states, and yet you feel his power, the core of his limitless force vibrating in this place. You have no doubt that he’s the ruler of this palace, of this realm.

“Aren’t you Morpheus, the Greek god of dreams?” you ask, your curiosity boundless and you self-preservation non-existent. In this moment, you choose to ignore all the terrible fates you’ve read about mortals who offended or defied gods.

“No. I am older than your gods. Morpheus is only one of the many names humanity has given me: Kaikul, Oneiros, Tutu, to name a few. I am Dream of the Endless.”

You open your mouth, and close it again. He’s more than a god. What kind of being stands over gods? You swallow thickly, wishing for a moment that you had never brought up the subject. You like to believe that this is normal, that your mortal mind just needs time to come to terms with that. You think that you will stick to calling him Morpheus, since that name suits him.

He’s standing still, his arms crossed, seemingly waiting for you to react. How often did he have that conversation? Did the other incarnations react better or worse than you? Questions upon questions, and you want to scream into the abyss.

“Great boss, I think you broke her,” a voice snarks, and you latch onto that comment, eager for some diversion. A familiar raven soars above the throne before flying down and landing one the bottom stair.

“Birdie?” you ask, taking one step forward to give the raven an inquiring look. You’re no expert on ravens, but this one really looks like the one from the previous days.

“It’s Matthew, thank you very much. Oh, and thanks for the treat,” the raven answers. Even while dreaming, talking animals remain amazing, and you let out a stupefied laugh.

“Do we know each other?” you ask Matthew and Morpheus, only for both to shake their heads. You deflate a little; having somebody other than Morpheus to talk to would have been nice.

“Sorry, I am very new at the job, and this is just as exciting to me than it is to you. I didn’t know that the boss had…” His answer was cut short by a withering glare from Morpheus, and you grin. You need to have a solo conversation with Matthew.

“Matthew’s predecessor, Jessamy, used to know some of your incarnations. Most of them considered her a friend. I think she would have liked you,” Morpheus explains, his voice filled with sorrow, the grief almost palpable on his face. Matthew lets out a doleful caw.

“I am sorry,” you say, hesitantly reaching out to hold his hand. He lets you, and you circle your thumb over the smooth back of his hand. You hope that you didn’t overstep, but as you steal a glance at him, his expression a little less pained, you think that you didn’t.

“So am I.” He squeezes your hand before letting go. The moment has passed, but you know that there will be others.

“There is a place I would like you to see,” Morpheus says, and once again your reach for his extended hand.

This time, you find yourself in the center of a great library, bookshelves upon bookshelves stretching far and high, the scent of paper and leather filling your nose.

“Wow.”

#the sandman #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream x reader #sandman x reader #mcrmarvelloki #buttersnitzle #my writing #my sandman fics

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whenyourshipfinallysetssail · 2 years

Text

Just some random

STRANGER THOUGHTS 2

***SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4***

*****My smoldering hot-takes on the season’s hottest DILF. 🥵******

Jeezus, is it a million and one degrees in here, or am I trapped in a Russian Prison with Enzo?

See, that’s funny because you’d think a Russian prison would be cold, but then there’s a hot DILF in there.

Question number one: ok yeah enemies to lovers but has anyone ever tried “helpful prison guard to sexy cell mate?” Is that a trope? Can we make it one?

Now you’re probably asking yourself, does this crazy bitch ship Hopper and Enzo?

And the answer is yes, of course I do, but not in an “I’m gonna be mad if this show doesn’t make this cannon” sort of way. I know nobody is queer-baiting me here. If anyone is queer-baiting me it’s me. I’m very good at it, thank you very much. I can imagine incredibly straight men are in love when they’re on screen together in my eyeline for too long. That said, Ronance, Steddie, Byler, and Jargyle: make it canon or we riot. [How fucking dumb was it when they just threw a random chick at Argyle to show the audience he’s got a big case of the not-gays? Who cares. This show loves smashing straights against each other. Show me some bi 80’s teens or shut the fuck up. Also, watch out, everybody, cause the Mileven Mafia is about to come gunning for me: I don’t give one single fuck about Mike and El’s relationship and I never have. El’s busy, guys. She’s got a whole “facing down an inter-dimensional existential threat/I’ve got two dads but one is abusive and one’s in a gulag” thing going on. Fuckin’ don’t make her date a boy right now.]

Now, back to that gulag. Ah, Enzo. Dimitri “Enzo” Antonov. My imaginary boyfriend that someone else imagined for me, who is never going to date my other imaginary boyfriend from Season 1 [on TV, at least. In head canon it’s already happening and you can’t stop it] for two reasons: A) because obviously Jopper is a thing and the writers aren’t going to suddenly drop that just because we got season 2 of the gay pirates. (But wouldn’t that be WILD? What if they had shot two versions of the ending and they held back Vol. 2 so they could use the gay ending if Our Flag Means Death got renewed? Would the internet survive the aftermath?) And B) my two boyfriends can never date because canonically Season 1 Hopper died in Season 3 when the Duffer Brothers got amnesia and started telling David Harbor to just scream at everyone in every scene. RIP, baby. I still love you.

[Side-Note: I’ve got so many good hashtags for this ship you guys: #jimitri #hopptonov #enzopper #hoppzo. They write themselves. These men fit like puzzle pieces. Sexy, sexy little puzzle pieces. Mmmm. Cold, boys? Why don’t you two papa bears snuggle up for warmth? Yeah . . . Yeah . . . That’s real cozy . . . . . . . ANYWAY]

And of course, C) #jimzo #twopigsinablanket [lol, they’re both cops] is never gonna happen because they’re absolutely setting up my glorious Russian cinnamon roll for a tragic heroic death.

Look, snow-muffin, I love you. You’re the steely-eyed, growly-voiced, salt and peachy mustached, true friend to the death, morally grey Russian with a not-so-secret heart of gold of my fuckin’ dreams. I’d watch a whole spin off that’s just you teaching your son to ice fish in silence. I want you and Mikhail to defect to America and move in with Jim and El and wind up in a super bi thrupple with Chief Hopper and my self insert OC. (Her name is Azelia Moondragon, she has three different color eyes, she can change genitalia at will, she has an IQ of 3.6 billion, and and she’s more powerful than the Mind Flayer, Vecna,El, and eight demogorgons put together . . . Nah, just fuckin’ with you. Her name’s Kate Kauffman and she’s a 38 year old therapist from New Jersey with a secret drinking problem.)

Listen, my ice duke, my proud Siberian wolf, my shot of Svayak with a spoonful of caviar, we both know you could have an AMAZING arc in Season 5. We both know you could wind up snatched by the US government and forced to remain at the lab in Hawkins while the feds scramble to cover up the existence of the Demogorgon you saw, that you could have a moving side mission to bring your son to the US illegally while you help your bestest pal Hop and his annoying girlfriend [no, she’s fine, it’s fine, I like her, they’re good together, not all the hot men want to kiss each other, and that’s ok] parent their sulky teens and save the damn world.

We both know you could fall madly, passionately in love with the mysterious new psychologist that the lab hires to provide you and the other Demogorgon survivors “trauma and readjustment therapy,” but who has secretly been tasked with wiping your memory so you can never go back to Russia and tell the world what you know. We’re both well aware that after she succumbs to your arctic-foxlike charm, Dr. Kate Kauffman could never bare to wipe your memories, that she would instead confess that she is not a psychiatrist, she is in fact a powerful psychic, a subject of the experiment that preceded Hawkins Lab, that in a fit of tears as she laid bare her secrets she would lift up her sleeve to reveal the mark on her wrist, faded, but perfectly legible: “000,” and then as you took her in your arms and told me no harm has been done, all is forgiven, you’re here to protect me now, the two of us would begin to float into the . . .

*Ahem* At any rate . . .

My beautiful near-winter ermine, we both know you have so much potential as a character. But it’s time for both of us to face the harsh, cold facts, so much colder and more harsh than the winters of your beloved homeland.

Dimitri, my darling, here are the reasons we both know you’re definitely not making it out of Season 4 alive:

1) You’ve got a son to get back to. ROOKIE mistake, my love. I’m frankly astonished at you. And you revealed it RIGHT before the big monster battle? I mean, why don’t you just do a big monologue about how you two are going to open up an awesome rabbit farm when you get home? Do you WANT to die? Baby, I volunteer for a suicide hotline. Next time you feel compelled to confess touching details about yourself the night before you face a deadly threat right at the end of a season arc, call me. We can talk it through. You have so many reasons to live!

And of course, that is why you are going to die.

2) Where is Mikhail’s mom?

Now, this one’s interesting. Arguments COULD be made this could go either way.

The facts are these:

You’ve made zero mention of your wife in all this “reflecting upon our lives as we stare into the gaping maw of death” talk. MAYBE your wife divorced you, and that’s why you don’t like to talk about her. Seems unlikely, given Hop got you to punch him by implying she was disloyal. (Although we can’t rule out the possibility that that remark hit just a little too close to home. Perhaps your drive to be seen as a hero of the Motherland in the eyes of your son stems from a need to demonstrate you are the REAL daddy, a bigger, braver, cooler man than the stepfather his mother left you for? Interesting. We can discuss this again in your next session, Dimitri. That is, if we even do any talking next time . . . I mean, what? Huh? Oh! Right, the thingy. Yeah, sorry, I uh, got distracted by the . . . Nevermind.)

ANYWAY, the much more likely answer is, Mikhail’s mommy is deadzo. You are not only a DILF, you are a hot widower, and the show runners are saving this juicy detail for the inevitable “calm before the coming storm,” beat, the moment just before your heroic sacrifice during the final battle or the crazy escape sequence, when Hop says something cheesy like “You’ve got to rest up. Tomorrow you’re gonna need all your strength to hug that wife and kid of yours.”

And you’ll stare just left of camera with your gorgeous, steely gaze, and you’ll say in your low, haunted voice “I will need strength for only one hug. I am all the family my son has left.”

BOOM. You’re dead. The emotional stakes just got higher and all the Duffer Brothers have to do now is fry ‘em up in the bacon grease of tragic irony and serve them to the audience with a side of mashed dream-potatoes as we weep for you. Now your son is an orphan! And Season 5 has a ready-made cute Russian to bring in and fatten with all our collective emotional investment before the final slaughter. [Fun fact: the third ritual sacrifice of a beloved fictional Russian in a series opens an actual real portal to a hell-dimension in our world!!! The last one opened on January 15, 1968, when the finale of The Man From U.N.C.L.E was broadcast! It was only closed by “chance” when the counter spell was “unwittingly” triggered by casting Armie Hammer as Illya Kuryakin in the GUY RITCHIE directed remake. GUY RITCHIE. Did you know he made a King Arthur Movie?! The Lock, Stock, and Every Movie Jason Statham Has Ever Been in guy. Made a remake of a 60’s tv show and a King Arthur movie with WAY TOO MANY GOD DAMN WIZARDS. Anyway, like I said, luckily the portal was closed, but the things which came from its depths still roam our Earth, seeking raw flesh and fun 60’s fashion accessories. Remember, Ritchie has more dark power and arcane knowledge than he’s letting on, and always wear an ascot or a cute colorful beret when you go out or you will perish horribly!]

Then again, there is a hopeful reading of the no-wife-scenario. MAYBE, dead wife means no strings to hold down the season 5 Enzo romantic D plot. MAYBE they’re leaving you open for more hasty and gratuitous hetero coupling! Doctor Kauffman?! Paging Doctor Kauffman to the set of Stranger Things Season 5! They’re prepping for your close up! And after that, you’re making ST history, they’re setting up to shoot the show’s first sex scene with two adults!!!

[remember when we watched two teens awkwardly fuck while Barb was gruesomely murdered in Season 1? That scene has gotten even LESS comfortable somehow as the actors have aged. You look back and see how young they look compared to now and you’re like “yikes! I know the actors were actually twenty, but please! No more babies fucking, thanks!” Glad they stopped doing that shit. If I had to watch El and Mike fuck I’d hurl, for more reasons than one. LEAVE HER ALONE AND LET HER FIGURE OUT HER SHIT GOD DAMN IT I DON’T NEED TO SEE HER PUNCH MIKE’S V CARD I DON’T CARE THIS ISN’T EUPHORIA ITS A GOD DAMN SCI FI 80’s THROWBACK FUN TIME ABOUT PSYCHIC BABIES!]

So, yeah, no wife could mean free meat for the season five Hetero-pairing meat grinder! There’s hope!

. . . Hope? . . . Who am I kidding? I’m sorry, Dimitri, but this is no time, no world for hope! This is Stranger Things! Do you really think we’re gonna make it out of another season with two new cast members still alive like we did in Season 2? No. No, in the end they killed Billy for his hubris in daring to outlast Bob Newby. All good looking things must end, my dear. Let us kill hope now, before she hurts us again.

3) This Show Fucking Loves Killing Precious Russian Moonbeams [alternatively titled “Are The Duffer Brothers Attempting to Summon The Ravening One From Beyond the 9,000th Eye?!?! Stay Tuned For Season 4 to Find Out!”]

I don’t know if, like, everyone in Russia knows everyone in Russia, but, like, probably not? It looks like a pretty big country on the map. But, Enzy, baby, can I call you Enzy? No? Ok, well, Antonov, sweetheart, do you remember Alexi? He was this really cute, funny, enjoyable Russian sidekick they had last season. We had so much fun with him! At first, we thought he was this bad Russian scientist who was going to help screw over our beloved friends, but in the end, he actually teamed up with them! We all really came to love Alexi! He was kind of a fan favorite! People wrote long, rambling things with a lot of weird jokes in them about him on Tumblr. And then . . .

Sound familiar?

Call me a pessimist, but I just don’t think the Duffer Bros can pass up an opportunity to murder a beloved fictional Russian. Besides, it has been long since the gate was opened. The Ravening One cries out for more tender flesh from our own corporeal plane. Its inessence rumbles, its dark mindlessness bends upon our dimension with all the fell, unfeeling intent and obsession of otherworldly instincts. The Duffer Brothers are thinking of doing a 60’s throwback for their next show, and Guy Ritchie is slated to direct the first seance, I mean episode! . . . Plus they’re like so attentive to details, they’d never kill three Russians on accident! Or forget their birthdays.

Dimitri “Enzo” Nikolai Andronic Niklosky Antonov, we could play this little game of denial, dream this little dream of happiness, torture ourselves a little while longer with what can never be. But neither you nor I are fools. Let us say goodbye now. Let us bid farewell to visions of you doing a really cool group side mission for one or two episodes with Steeve and Eddie and Robin and Nancy and Dustin and Max and El. Let us not cling any longer to fantasies of an episode beat where the adults go out on the town and you and Hopper get in a big bar fight with some assholes who are teasing Joyce and Murray, and you do lots of cool punching to some banging 1987 hit like, I don’t know, RICK ASTLEY’S “NEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP?!?!?!” [Did I do it? Does it count as Rick Rolling if it’s in text?]

Let us let go once and for all of our wistful longing for all the dopamine-explosion moments as you interact and bond and integrate with the entire Stranger Things ensemble, the giddy spectacle of novel combination after novel recombination of beloved characters, that heady right of passage of exploring increasingly bizarre pairings and group dynamics all new ST characters who survive their first season are treated to, until the dread Season 5 finale ultimately tears them all assunder as the eldritch gods of the Upsidedown inevitably triumph and wipe all away with one mighty, slimy tendril of inter-dimensional horror.

All I can say, Enzipie, Dimipants, Antobutt, is that it’s been one hell of a ride. You may be just a corrupt guard of some remote, snowy prison in the middle of nowhere, betrayed by his crooked accomplice, imprisoned alongside his former captive, escaped with the aide of unlikely allies, and doomed by the conventions of narrative drama to die, but you melted my heart.

At least we get to keep Eddie! . . . Right? Duffers? DUFFERS?!

TOUCH HIM AND YOU DIE, GOD DAMN IT!!!

*begins sobbing and singing unintelligible Russian dirges while pounding the table rhythmically with fist*

#enzopper #jimitri #hoppzo #hopptonov #jimzo #two pigs in a blanket #stranger things speculation #stranger things season 4 #st4 spoilers #stranger things #dimitri enzo antonov #enzo stranger things #ronance #steddie #jargyle #Byler #humour #stranger things meme #hopper x enzo

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1kook · 3 years

Text

crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

#networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #Jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader smut #bts fic #bts smut #mine

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octo-cutie · 3 years

Text

Bokuto Koutarou is the Ace of MSBY and an influence to many if not all young volleyball players including the son of Y/N, a single mother who tries her hardest to make ends meet while providing the perfect life for her son. When Bokuto offers to help her out at the request of her son, how else is it supposed to play out?

Warnings: Single mother, fem reader, verbal abuse to reader by other adults, crying because of bills

Incoming Nautical Transmission: Hi everyone! I hope you all are ready to join Bokuto and Y/N on a journey of love, hurt, and humor at the antics of Y/N's son.

Chapter 1: His Own Jersey

The TV in the small living room of a tiny Miyagi apartment blares with the cheers of the hundreds of spectators watching Bokuto Koutaro send one of his immensely powerful cross court shots past the middle blockers of the opposing team.

The ace grinned with fascination at the power the camera was able to catch and broadcast to the world. Inside the apartment a small brunette boy gasped in awe as he watched his idol gain another point for the MSBY Black Jackals. Jumping up from the kotatsu where he had been writing a fan mail letter to said idol he started to whoop and holler in support of the team.

“Momma! Momma! Bokuto got another one! Look look look!” The young child ran around the room cheering in like fashion as the ace did so on the screen. A tired but smiling woman who was originally sitting at the counter looking over a pile of bills that all read PAST DUE in big red, angry, letters now followed the pull of her 6 year old son who wanted to show her the recap of the cross court shot.

“I’m coming Kaoru slow down, they'll replay it a few more times.” Y/N chuckled as she scooped up her son and sat them both on the hand-me-down couch from her parents. Ever since Kaoru had come home from school where his elementary teacher Sugawara Koushi had introduced the sport of volleyball to them in his gym class. Y/N found herself being prodded to watch, play, and support the sport that her son had grown so fond of. She smiled at her son dressed in a makeshift MSBY jersey that she had made for his last birthday, seeing as a real jersey was far out of the question due to the demand and popularity that Bokuto had garnered in his 2nd year with the MSBY team.

“Momma do you think Suga-san knows Bokuto??” Kaoru asked, clutching his mother’s blouse as he did when he was growing tired after a long day. Y/N brushed his hair out lightly with her fingers and kissed the top of his head with a smile.

“I’m sure Sugawara-san would be more than happy to answer that sweetheart. But I don’t know for sure.” Y/N said with a happy smile. Her son, seemingly content with the answer, broke out of her arms and crawled back to the kotatsu where his crayons and markers were waiting to be colored with.

Deciding that reading the bills could wait for when the game was over, she watched the game with her son unknowingly nibbling on her lower lip as she worried over which bills she could afford this month. There was little more than one bill that could be paid on time and thankfully the rent had already been covered. Kaoru managed to distract her enough that the weight of seven unpaid bills from both this month and the previous one managed to stave off the impending worry about losing heat this winter.

Kaoru somehow managed to learn more than his mother knew. While scrounging around for a set of crayons to color the picture of him and Bokuto like he did for every game, he had stumbled on several unpaid bills in the kitchen. His six year old curiosity had caused him to learn about money far earlier than he should have. This must have been what his mom would cry about in the middle of the night when he would sometimes snuggle into her bed if it got too cold.

“Momma, can you help me write a- a- a letter to Bokuto? I wanna send him this picture!” Kaoru held up a drawing of Kaoru in his custom MSBY jersey made by his mom holding hands with Bokuto who seemed to have more black hair than he did on TV.

“Of course bubba. Let me get you some paper.”

Y/N stood up and walked into Kaoru’s play room to get a piece of paper from his arts and crafts area. It was no secret how much her son admired Bokuto and the entire MSBY Jackal team. There in his arts and crafts area were multiple self portraits of her son both with the team and without them, holding a volleyball, in an Olympic team jersey and with his mother wearing her own jersey as she held Kaoru in her arms. Kaoru was her entire world and even though the two of them had been on their own for a few years now, Y/N couldn’t imagine her life without him.

Y/N walked back into the living room and handed her son the piece of paper she had grabbed. Seeing that he was now distracted, Y/N decided to go and write an email to her boss asking for extra hours for the next few weeks. Kaoru on the other hand started to draft his letter. The tv continued to blare with the cheers of the crowd and the sounds of the announcer dictating the plays made by the team

Another 45 minutes passed leaving Kaoru to succumb to the sleep that had been threatening to overtake him since the second set. He was slumped over on the table with drool staining the letter then he had started to doodle on with his crayons. Y/N could feel the weight of her own eyelids drooping and decided that it was time to put her sleeping child to bed. On the television screen, Bokuto could be seen giving a post-game interview in which he answered questions that Y/N was sure Kaoru would want the answers to.

She couldn’t deny that the ace was immensely attractive. His golden eyes both matched and clashed with his silver and black spiked up hair. His boisterous attitude was always a treat to watch on the screen whenever she was home from work to watch her son match his energy.

As she quickly dressed him in his Marvel pajamas and tucked him under his Star Wars duvet cover, she listened to him coo slightly in her arms as she pulled the blankets over his sleeping body. Y/N hung his jersey up in the closet where he could find it for tomorrow when he went over to his friends house.

It was all she could do to keep him happy. If it meant making a cheaper jersey for him, taping the matches of his favorite team, and signing him up for volleyball practice (which he didn’t know about yet but it was going to be his christmas present this year) then she would work until she couldn’t work anymore to keep him happy.

The next morning was hectic with Kaoru having to misplace every object in his backpack around the house leading to Y/N having to run around the house to find his school folder, his pencil case, his lunch box, and his school shoes in the span of 20 minutes before it was time for drop off.

“Kaoru! Put your shoes on! You’ll have to eat breakfast on the train!” Y/N called as she pulled on her high heels. This was the fourth time this week that they had lost

By the time Y/N and Kaoru got to the metro station it was five past 7am and Kaoru needed to be at school in less than thirty minutes. The metro took at least twenty-five minutes that morning due to a technological problem and Kaoru had scraped his knee walking towards the school which delayed their trip by another 10 minutes. Y/N managed to get Kaoru into his classroom with all the other parents staring at her with disappointment like they did most days. Y/N could hear the other mothers whispering about her behind her back.

“Late again? Isn’t this the 5th time now?”

“How incompetent. My daughter is always on time.”

“Well maybe if she spent less time dressing like a slut then maybe her son would be on time for school.”

Malicious giggles filled the corridor as Y/N flushed with embarrassment. Sensing the issue, Sugawara came up to Y/N with a sympathetic smile and took Kaoru from her hands.

“Hey L/N-san don’t worry about them. They couldn’t do half of what you do for Kaoru.” Sugawara said, giving her arm a slight squeeze. Y/N tensed up slightly as he did so and shot a nervous glance to the other mothers who continued to gossip about her behind their hands. Y/N nodded slowly and kissed her son goodbye before running from the first grade classroom. Kaoru, watching his mom leave the room as she did most days, turned to Sugawara and pulled on his pant leg.

“Suga-san? Can you do me a favor?”

Masterlist Next Chapter

Taglist: Open!

#bokuto x f!reader #bokuto koutarou #sugawara koushi #single mother!reader #fem reader #haikyuu!!#msby black jackal #hq fluff #hq x reader #humor #angst #cute octopus writing

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burning-omen · 4 years

Text

Mutations and pleasure headcanons

Characters: Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Warren Worthington III, Peter Maximoff

Warning ⚠️: N*fw

Kurt Wagner:

It’s not part of his mutation but it’s worth mentioning, he’s flexible. To the point that it might be unreasonable.

He can fold himself into so many goddamn position and he’s strong enough to hold them for however long he needs to

Anyways, he has 100% just disappeared durning sex.

One moment your railing him into the mattress the next the entire room is covered in blue smoke and Kurt is nowhere to be seen.

About 10 seconds later he’s back with an extremely flustered look in his face.

Before you could question him about where he went he told you he was going to bed. He climbed in next to you and faced the wall for the rest of the night

The next morning he practically begged you to forget that it happened but to also say away from Logan for a few days.

And that’s how you figured out where he landed.

Your avoidance didn’t last long because at some point the next day you ran into Logan, who just let out a long sigh before patting you on the shoulder and walking away.

A few days later Kurt’s over it, just a freak accident, right?

Nope, happened again the next time you had sex with him.

After this kept happening he, begrudgingly, went and asked for help from no other than Logan!

The conversation was basically “hey Logan you fuck a lot right? Can you help me with my sex-teleporting problem?”

And he did, pretty much told him he just needed to be more in the moment mentally so his body wouldn’t take him out of it physically. (whatever that fuck that mean)

After he re-figured out how to stop teleporting spontaneously he decided to use this to his advantage.

I would like to introduce you all to a concept that I like to call “teleportation as a form a teasing”

Intentional teasing wasn’t one of Kurt’s strong suits so he figured that it might help

The first time it happened you were not prepared at all.

You were watching tv, as one does, your mind wandering off as some show played.

Then BOOM

There’s Kurt, looking determined but you could see he was nervous.

Carefully he climbed into your lap, staring down at you for a moment then leaning down, pressing a quick kiss on your lips, he kept going, kissing you over and over again.

He grinds himself against your thigh, groaning softly as sped up. The fabric of his underwear somehow hits every nerve just right.

You watched him as you gently kissing his neck and the bit of exposed chest just above the collar of his shirt.

“You’re bold today, sweetheart.”

“I-i know.”

And just like that, he was gone. A cloud of blue smoke left behind.

You knew this was different from the other times he’d disappeared, then he’d been so absorbed in pleasure that he just POOFED away. This was different, you barely even started, you hardly even touched him and he was gone. And even if it was an accident, he told you he had that under control now.

You just hoped that he hadn’t lied to you.

A few minutes later you wandered into Kurt's room, watching him from the doorway as he frantically arranged and rearranged the things on his desk. A nervous habit of his.

He tries his hardest not to look over at you, focusing incredibly hard on all the stuff on his desk.

He refused to look up even when he heard you close and lock the door, or when you walked up behind him, pressing your body against his as you wrapped your arms around him.

“Kurt..”

“...”

“I know you can hear me sweetheart, you wanna tell me what happened earlier?”

“Nothing..”

“Really? Nothing? Didn’t feel like nothing..”

Feel a little bad for him, he doesn’t know how to tease correctly.

You’re going to have to make him admit to attempting to tease you through the ultimate means of fucking him into the mattress until he’s seeing stars.

Scott Summers:

And now, a list of things you couldn’t do with Scott before he got some semi-permanent glasses:

Roughly fuck his face, because if you did and you knocked his glasses off you’d, at the very, very least, have your entire dick cut off.

Fucking him too hard. Period. It sounds fun but who’s going to pay for the holes in the ceiling or continuously replace your mattress when giant holes are inevitably burned into him?

So if he doesn’t have some semi-permanent glasses by the time you two start having sex everything’s going to be extremely soft and gentle

But the moment he shows you the new glasses it’s over for him.

He’s getting railed on/in/against everything you could think of, because you can do that now without bodily harm or thousands of dollars worth of property damage.

Have y’all been caught having sex in a place y’all shouldn’t be? Yes.

Do you give a flying fuck? No!

No Scott can’t do anything on his own the next day because moving hurts but hey, he had fun.

Warren Worthington III:

Hey Siri, define wing kink

For y’all’s that don’t know “Wing Kink is a related trope which often appears in wingfic (or in fanworks where a canonical character has wings), in which the character's wings are an erogenous zone and caressing them produces pleasurable feelings.” - the fanlore wiki

His wings, when you first started having sex with him, were completely off limits.

He made that undeniably clear to you.

Not because he didn’t like having them touched, but more because he didn’t think you’d like touching them.

All of that went straight out the window a few months later.

He was drunk, which had recently stopped being a normal occurrence for him. He tries to break out of his alcoholism, but it’s a slow and painful process. Instead of just outright stopping all at once he decided it would be better for him to just slow down. It works, he’s not drunk every minute of every day anymore so that’s better. He’ll drink on the weekends, and maybe take a shot before bed but other than that he won’t drink too much. But tonight he was drinking with Logan and in his attempts to keep up with him he’d ended up drunk out of his mind.

He cut himself off, he knew that if he drank more he’d blackout and he didn’t know what he’d do if he did.

So he stumbled all the way back to your room and tripped on literal air.

The sound of him hitting the floor woke you up.

Sitting up you saw Warren laying face down on the floor, giggling like a fool as he made multiple attempts to get up only to end up right back on the floor.

“Warren, it’s 3 in the morning, come lay down.”

You wanted to go over and pick him up. But you knew how he was about his wings and being touched in general.

After a few minutes of coaxing and encouraging him to get into bed he finally did.

Basically plopping down on top of you with a tired grin spread across his face

Burying his face in your chest, he closed his eyes.

After a few minutes you thought he was asleep, but you were proven wrong when he let out a long sigh and looked up at you.

“Fucking hold me..”

No, he doesn’t know how to ask for things nicely he’s a little bastard

You try and avoid his wings at first, gently draping your arms around his shoulders.

But that very quickly frustrated Warren, causing him to grab your arms and forces them around him and his wings.

Before you could try and say anything about it you could hear him snoring.

You sighed, deciding to deal with the breakage of limits could be talked about in the morning.

When you woke up Warren was already awake, still laying on your chest, just staring at you. His cheeks turned a light pinkish color when you looked down at him.

He wouldn’t say anything. He just stared at you for a solid 10 minutes before rolling over onto the other side of the bed.

He’s afraid that in his drunken state he’d made you uncomfortable, which led him to the never ending spiral of anxiety that made him say his wings were off limits in the first place.

Asking him what was wrong just led to him apologizing without actually saying what for.

Throughout the rest of the day he avoided the subject which made him ultimately avoid you.

You see? This is why you should talk to your partners, guys.

It took him awhile but he eventually said what he needed to say.

NOW ONTO THE SEXY BITS

Lightly running your finger through his lower feathers can be a way to get him in The Mood or to calm him down after a particularly rough sex (it helps with his sub drop)

This ones a bit more romantic but kiss his wings, especially the little part where they connect to his back.

He’ll melt, just straight up die on the spot because it’s just so nice and soft and feels so good.

Try not to be to rough with them, it hurts a fuck ton.

His wings are still off limits in certain aspects.

No using them to overstimulate him, he doesn’t like it. No pulling on his feathers, it hurts in the Not Good way.

But do kiss, massage, pet, and run your fingers through them.

He was very nervous when he first let you touch them, unintentionally flinching away when you reached for them.

Run your hands through his feathers while he rides you, he won’t last very long if you do.

praise him and call them beautiful, it took him a long time for him to learn to love himself and his mutation and he needs to be reassured sometimes

STILL BE CAREFUL

HIS WINGS ARE PRECIOUS AND MORE PRONE TO BAD PAIN THAN ANY OTHER PART OF HIS BODY

Just be careful with him stg I love him so much

Peter Maximoff:

Zoom zoom bitch

He fast

He has the nicest ass because of how much he runs

He can and will grab you and take you back to his room if he’s feeling especially needy.

And then he’ll act extremely bratty despite the fact that he brought you there.

He vibrates.

Most of the time unintentionally.

It’s his version of shaking, so he definitely does it when he cums

“Peter, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Just...give me a moment..”

He’s gotten too eager before and fallen off the bed while trying to change position.

When I say this man gives the best blowjobs in the history of blowjobs I mean it

His tongue vibrates too. That added with the fact that he has no gag reflex AND no shame? Rip

Quickies, anywhere anytime.

Cameras can be covered in less than a second and he can have both of you looking relatively decent before anyone comes in.

You have to guide him while he rides/fucks himself onto you because he might hurt you or himself by going too fast.

He’s not aloud to use his speed when given sexual orders

Usually after being punished he’s much more shy and nervous.

Making him do things slowly only adds to that.

Make him get on his knees in front of you? Gone, he’s so blushy and embarrassed at just being in that position.

Make him strip and prep himself while you watch? Ceases to exist

Will beg and cry for you to let him speed up, but he’s just putting on a show.

Grinding against pillows or folded blankets with some kind of plug up his ass is his preferred method of masturbation because he can go as fast as he wants without worry.

He’s ripped holes in a few blankets and pillows and has very unsuccessfully hidden.

“So are we not going to talk about the hole in my brand new blank?”

“No we are not.”

#kurt wagner #scott summers #warren worthington iii #peter maximoff #Kurt Wagner x male!reader #Scott summers x male!reader #Warren Worthington III x male!reader #Peter Maximoff x male!reader #x men x male!reader #x male reader #male reader #male!reader #cinnamon #X-men headcanons

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