#the colors are all some type of blue with not too much contrast except for the text eyes and teardrop on the figure

[jaevy]

your room was square

i once noticed from there

in your bed, as you slept

and i held my breath

everything had its own place

and i wondered what space would i take

in the order you kept

[ididntknowwhattocallthis]

Ok I wanna talk about Ethari's clothing/design over all. His clothes and tattoos are different from every other Moonshadow elf we've seen, and he's one of the few that doesn't wear braids. Like:

The recurring elements are intricate patterning; over layers and under layers; multiple colors in the same garment (or at least same outfit); wraparound construction, color contrast between mediums, lights, and darks; and the dominant color is always the medium, never the lightest or darkest color (usually navy, true black is very rare outside of the assassins). Even arc 2 Rayla follows most of these rules and she's been away from her culture for two years!

But then we have Ethari:

He doesn't have an outer layer, he wears almost solid navy, none of those clothes are wraparound, he has no light color, there's not a lot of contrast, and his dark color is true black despite not being an assassin. He bends all the rules, though he only breaks one completely. He still has that patterning, but it's minimal compared to the others. He has plenty of accent colors, more than anyone else actually, but they show up on him far less. He does have light, medium, and dark colors, but his whole pallet is darker than everyone else's. The only rule he 100% breaks is the wraparound construction

A lot of this probably derives from the fact that he's a metalsmith:

For the most part his clothes quite are practical;

Black/navy hides coal dust/soot very well. It gets everywhere, on your pants and face especially, and is highly visible on just about every other color.

Forging is hot work & you do it next to a fire that needs to be at least 1000° celsius, I never wear more than one layer either.

those sleeves, while a bit looser than I'd be comfortable with, probably aren't going to get in the way. Plus I heard somewhere that they're spelled to repel heat (couldn't find if that's actually canon tho), so if that's true they're much better than my gloves.

The crop top isn't great but he's got that belt to stop most embers. Besides he's probably not the type to yelp every time one lands on him like I am.

if he pulls the scarf over his mouth & nose it'll help delay him getting lung cancer in the death trap of a smithy Wonderstorm designed for him (my problems with it are a post all on their own. I have nothing against the artists, its pretty, but by all rights he should be dead)

There might also be a cultural aspect to his clothing:

I think the navy blue, the arm bands, the boot decorations, and his belt & tabard could all be symbols that mean "I am a metalsmith" in Moonshadow culture. (Quick side note, he's not technically a blacksmith. historically blacksmith means specifically iron workers. If anything he's a whitesmith since he usually works with silver.) We see it with the assassins, why not metalsmiths too?

Plus if you take a look at his forge in the art book, there's a design carved on it that looks almost exactly like the one on his tabard. Elements of it also appear on other parts of his clothing:

I suspect that this is some sort of symbol for metal working or fire protection. If he's in a guild it could be their symbol, or it could just be a wider cultural symbol. Either way it has a meaning that relates to the forge specifically. I couldn't find it anywhere else in the room.

I just realized that I never even brought up the metal hems on his sleeves. Then again what is there to say? It's metal, he's a metalsmith. It's pretty, he likes pretty things.

But what about the rule he completely breaks?

As I said, every moonshadow garment has some sort of wrap-and-secure construction to it-- except Ethari's clothes. I seriously doubt this is a metalsmith thing. Basic garment construction isn't a sensible way to differentiate your group within one culture. I fully believe Ethari is doing this on purpose. But why? That why gets even bigger when you realize that no other moonshadow elves we've met have brown eyes or periwinkle blue tattoos.

Put a pin in all that, I need to explain my interpretation of Moonshadow culture for this to make sense.

"Moon Primal creatures can be private and secretive, and are keenly aware of the power of appearances." - from the official website

"Moonshadow Elves obey a rather rigid, honor-driven culture." - from the wiki

To me this paints a picture of a fairly collectivist culture. They place a heavy emphasis on community and duty, two things that are usually more peaceful/simpler when you have cohesion within the group. Cohesion creates less conflict, less conflict makes your community more peaceful and your duty to it easier to complete.

But they know that this cohesion is- to an extent- only an act, so each person has a sub community where they don't have to act. Your inner self is for family and friends close enough to be family. (I honestly think they might have some sort of ritual to formally adopt friends as family) To everyone else you're supposed to put up a front that makes you seem more like everyone else.

OK back to the pin

Even without his clothes, Ethari is already visually different from everyone else. No other Moonshadow elves we've seen have tattoos or eyes the same color as his. It's a subtle difference but it is noticeable, and in a culture so focused on appearances people would notice. Most people's instinct would be to try to hide or downplay it, to prop up that front as much as they can. Yet Ethari doesn't put up a front, not to the extent that most people seem to. He's even accentuating his differences by dressing in a different style than them- and he's respected.

In my comm class the other day we were talking about groups, and one of the things that came up was that cohesion fosters sameness and diversity fosters innovation. Ethari is an innovator, it's literally his job. He invents the wingalings in bloodmoon huntress, Runaan and Rayla's weapons, and probably a bunch more stuff we haven't seen. Maybe for all they value appearances and fitting in, moonshadow culture still recognizes that people like him are important and they aren't as effective when they have to fit in. They can't be too out there (remember, Ethari only bends the rules rather than breaking them) but as long as they stay within a certain radius of the norm they can gain a lot of respect. I think this is what Ethari has done. The fact that his family (Runaan, Tiadrin, Lain) are all pretty traditional probably helped a lot. They keep him from pushing too hard on the edge of the box and he keeps them flexible.

That they aren't there anymore has probably exacerbated the rift between him and the rest of the silvegrove caused by Rayla's ghosting and whatever news has reached them from the storm spire.

I am so excited to see him in S6. I thought about adding some speculation about what his new design might look like, but I honestly don't think he'll have changed that drastically aside from his hair. My biggest question is honestly whether or not he's still in The Silvergrove.

Bonus:

I bet that some of Ethari's relative weirdness rubbed off on Rayla. She didn't have many friends as a kid so, when she wasn't in school or with the assassins, it makes sense that hung out with Ethari a lot. Since he's less strict than Runaan she was probably only comfortable completely unmasking with him. He heard about all her crushes, fears, and insecurities that Runaan didn't. Which goes a long way to explaining why Ethari was the only one who could see she wouldn't be a good assassin; she was hiding those traits from everyone but him.

This also explains some of why he was so willing to believe that she ran away. Ethari saw all of her vulnerability, but he didn't see all of her strength. While she was out training and facing her fears with Runaan, Ethari was in the smithy and only heard about their exploits after the fact. Neither of them saw all of who Rayla is, but both of them thought they did and had to find out that they were wrong in just about the most heartbreaking way imaginable.

[adobe-outdesign]

Any thoughts on the Wattrel line?

The Wattrel line is kind of a classic early route bird two-stager, except it's not early route. Still, it is a pretty straightforward bird based off of a real animal with an element twist—in this case, Wattrel is probably a storm-petrel, most evident in the beak shape.

While most of the interesting parts of this line come from Kilowattrel, Wattrel's not bad. It's visually distinct from its successor and has a super simple design, with high-contrast blacks and yellows conveying most of the electric typing.

My one issue with Wattrel is its eyes. I don't know if this is just a me thing, but the eyes are so big that I can't unsee them as being like googly eyes that someone slapped on top of a normal bird face. Maybe if they were a bit smaller or the pupil was bigger or something, but whatever it has going on here is a bit distracting.

Also, I'm not a huge fan of the gray, which mostly serves to muddy the palette. I feel like the underside could've just been all black, but if you really wanted a different color there, white would've been more neutral and complimented the eyes more. Everything else, however, is fine—nothing crazy but nice enough looking.

Kilowattrel's where this line really gets good. It's based off of a frigatebird, also known as this ridiculous thing:

Not only is that a fun choice for a base because it's inherently an interesting bird, but it also puts a decent twist on it. The yellow palette is a sharp contrast to a real frigatebird's red (side note: kind of sad the shiny isn't red), while the various zig-zags along its gular sac and wings help convey the idea of lightning. Said throat sac also lights up and glows, similar to a light bulb. Very fun, and puts a nice twist to what would otherwise be a plain design.

My one complaint about Kilowattrel is that it has this random dark blue-ish gray patch on its lower body and it's like... why? You can barely see it, and it adds absolutely nothing to the design; pure black would've looked so much better.

Also, I kind of wish the throat sac was bigger. You can see on the actual frigatebird up there that those things are absolutely silly looking; Kilowattrel's is almost too subtle by comparison, especially considering said throat sac is the most interesting part of the design. Those are nitpicks, however, and overall I really enjoy this design.

Overall, some very simple but very effective birds.

[runwayrunway]

No. 10 - Dodo Airlines

Well, @vultureworth​, I suppose you can. 

For reference: I’ve never played  Animal Crossing, so I actually had to do research for this. I saw an interesting thing or two in the process, though, so here’s what I learned! This took me down an entirely different rabbit hole, so two posts are going up today. Enjoy.

(image: Animal Crossing Twitter) 

So, to begin with, just looking up the liveries I’ve seen a few mentions of the DAL logo being a nod to JAL. 

I don’t not see it. I mean, they’re both circles and both follow an XAL format, but that’s true for like a fifth of all the airlines in the world. Both have a bird facing to the left. The fonts used are similar in width and color and both appear to be italic, but the spacing and typeface are visibly very different. I probably wouldn’t have picked up on it had it not been pointed out to me but the Tsurumaru logo is definitely iconic and it’s a neat little detail. 

The only type DAL operates looks like this. It’s too stylized to discern an exact model but my guess would be that it’s meant to be a Cessna 172 or one of the many similar-looking Cessna models. They’re extremely common and frequently fitted with floats. I’ve flown on a Cessna 180 floatplane myself. 

Yep, that’s sure a Cessna 172 on amphibious floats. DAL’s plane isn’t amphibious, only capable of taking off and landing on water, but you can do that too (I imagine it’s even easier); I just had a weirdly hard time finding a picture of a fully aquatic Skyhawk. 

(image source: ahunt)

I’m actually pretty sure it’s specifically one of the very old models which had a much more angular tailfin and no rear windows, but maybe by this point I’ve thought more about this than the art team did when designing the plane. That said, I have to question the decision to add a third prop blade to a plane that can barely pull 200 horsepower with aftermarket engine changes. That’s just inefficient.  

When it comes to the DAL livery, I enjoy the way that the curve of the main fuselage’s paint is repeated on the pontoons. The logo placement feels weird to me initially but I suppose upon reflection it would be strange to put it anywhere else and it looks fine. It would probably look a bit less fine on a real airplane but this is not a real airplane, this is a cartoon airplane flown by a silly cartoon bird in a video game. 

This is making me appreciate just how hard it is to find somewhere to put a logo on a single-engine high-wing plane. 

But the DAL fleet are actually jellybeans! That’s right, they come in four different colorways!

all images taken from either the Animal Crossing wiki or bidoofcrossing.com

I’ll be honest - I like the blue trim on the yellow and the green models, but it looks sort of bad on the red/orange. My favorite overall, surprisingly, might be the yellow. I don’t know - I like the contrast, but the yellow somehow feels less bright than the green. 

Overall...A solid C for Dodo Airlines. 

Just one thing, though. We’ve gotten basically every angle except directly from behind, but I don’t see a registration anywhere on these planes. Whatever aviation authority the Animal Crossing world is bound to is going to have some words for DAL...

[autisticempathydaemon]

My little submission for the match ups!

I just wanna see who you'll pair me up with!

song I'm hyper fixated in rn is your on your own kid by Taylor Swift the lines "I gave my blood sweat and tears for this" idk I guess it's just cool and I'm academically tired and relate to it

my ennagram type is 5w9 ISTP

video essays are absolutely awesome probably my fav vids! my favorite ones would be like the timeline of a story based/lore based game or some arg stuff

I never really had a childhood friend so I wouldn't know but the closest I had for a childhood friend is a toy I have that I pretend came alive- basically it's a white cat stuffed animal with blue eyes and a pink ribbon

my go-to way of falling asleep I guess is just the good ol' lay down and close my eyes tactic

favorite of redacted would be Geordi's throwback audio and Vincent's throwback with stranger too also Damien's non canon romances audio

Ollie and Aaron I guess I just don't get the appeal of office people

tangled, I watched it so much I practically memorized it

Asher! he's so cool and chill totally would be friends with him and his shenanigans

my favorite playlist would be my Taylor swift playlist- idk other songs just got boring and I just remembered the extensive amount of songe genre Taylor dabbles in and how I love all of it

guilty pleasure media... bf audios no comment

some random stuff Abt me would be:

I love blue! alot, it's just my fav color ig, I kin alot of the "tough on the outside, soft on the inside characters" ex. darlin', Shenhe. And that's it! excited to see who you pair me up with!

Hmmmm~ I think you and your match have a lot in common but just enough not in common to keep things interesting, to keep you from clashing. You and Damien would have a very interesting but very functional relationship.

I think you and Damien share the same Enneagram and MBTI, both characterized by an independent intelligence, capable and ambitious and curious. (This is supported by you being academically tired.) I think putting two people like that together can be really beneficial in keeping one another in check, in making sure the other doesn’t burn out, you know? There’d be a lot of checking one another’s work, late nights getting junk food and study fuel, helping each other keep an eye on deadlines, and making sure some essential self-care is done no matter what,

With that in mind, I think y’all would be so cute and so… him. Like, I don’t think he loves Taylor Swift, but I think he went about getting you Eras tickets like a man on a mission. He had the whole DAMN crew on ticketmaster and on the phone, coordinating, and drove you there and picked you up so you wouldn’t get gouged by uber surge prices. He buys little blue trinkets when he’s out shopping to let you know he’s thinking about you, because he’d be a penguin-pebbling kind of guy. A relationship with Damien is full of functional, practical but undeniable shows of his love.

Song:

And I've always lived like this/ Keeping a comfortable, distance/ And up until now/ I had sworn to myself that I'm content/ With loneliness/ Because none of it was ever worth the risk/ But, you are, the only exception

Delightful, I’ve been waiting for the right match-up to use this song! Damien is such a loving, darling, tsundere motherfucker, and though I focused on what your established relationship together would look like, it’s also so fun to think about the whole falling in love process. I could see a great friends to lovers, maybe even rivals to lovers dynamic, that has the two of you slowly getting closer and wearing down those tsundere walls of his until you become his only exception.

Runner-ups:

Guy would be a cute match for you because one, he strikes me as the biggest Swiftie of the redacted bois and two, I think he’d be a good contrast to you where Damien compares, you know? James, I like for a lot of the same reasons as Damien, but I liked Damien more since you’re both students.

note: thank you so much for waiting 💙

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

[asexual-but]

Character bingo for Xingqiu, scaramouche, or kaeya?

Xingqiu ^^

They are soooooo cool looking-

I absolutely adore Xingqiu's design. Again with the colors, they're gorgeous! The dark blues and the gold work perfectly together!

I actively dislike them, sorry-

I also find him annoying, he feels like a younger kid who lives on your street and really wants your attention.

Wow! They are a horrible person!-

Xingqiu is kind of horrible to my boy Chongyun. That, my friends, is a bully, not a friend.

Scaramouche/Wanderer :)

I like them enough to project my own issues to them-

I honestly didn't like him at all the first time I saw him. Afterwards I made the mistake of trying to draw him, and that just won't help your opinion of any Genshin character.

But now, seeing how his character has developed and hopefully will continue to develop, I like him a lot more.

Nothing I like about them is technically canon-

I.... I read a fic with him having a kitsune familiar like Ei and Yae, but I can't find it anymore someone help.

That fic is just so funny that I actually went and made a character with this idea. I love the idea of him having a familiar who is like bonded to him so not only will it not leave him alone, he can't even try to get rid of it without immense emotional distress. Like Ha, take that.

They work better as part of a dynamic-

Aforementioned Kitsune aside.

Him and Nahida and him and Lumine specifically is really funny. Lumine is the traveler I chose, but I think she just works more as the more serious and reserved of the two.

Scaramouche played against someone who simply will not put up with his shit. Or who will put up with it and find ways to redirect his energy and he HATES it. (except he doesn't, but he'll never admit that)

Wow! They are a horrible person-

Scaramouche has done things. Many things, many horrible things. But I really enjoyed the fact that he accepted that he did these things. He has chosen to be aware of the things he once did, and hopefully is choosing actively to become better. That's so fun, a character who wants better for themselves, so they work to be better??

They got too much screen time-

I'm just.... There's only so much I can stand of characters like this. Unfortunately, I reached the limit immediately in Inazuma, and again in the recent event. I'm just tired of him at this point.

They are soooooo cool looking-

Big surprise, I like Kaeya's design.

I actually mostly enjoy what I think it implies? I have a different headcanon for basically every character's body type. None of them look the same in my head as they do in canon... basically except Kaeya.

I like him lanky! Well, maybe not lanky, but lean. Not very wide, not super bulky, but still strong. I like this as a contrast to Diluc, who I see as being rather wide and bulky. :)

They're deeper than they seem-

I think a lot of people flatten his character into being just being secretive and hot. I'm just saying that this man is kind of a shambling mass of issues that would benefit from a hug, a kiss on the forehead, and some therapy.

Not as deep as they seem-

Guys we can think about his abyssal heritage later, let's talk about his other emotional issues first, I think they're more interesting.

I like them enough to project my own issues onto them-

It was a long journey for him to get here. I'm not going to elaborate very much, because it's more personal than I'd like to get, but know that I do.

They got done DIRTY by fans-

Kaeya is more than eyecandy!!! He's also a funny little guy!!! A sad little guy!!!

They've never done anything wrong in their life<3-

He like... hasn't. Like, I'm not joking. I thought he had, but do you know why he told Diluc about his secret backstory?? Because if you read his character story, it feels like he wanted to be punished for being born. That he was feeling guilt for what he assumed he was in Mondstadt for, and then Diluc tried to murder him.

We know I love Diluc, but I'm absolutely a Kaeya defender in this exact moment.

[ajdrawshq]

Okay, I've stopped for today some hours ago and tbh don't know if there's much more I want to see in the prototype (really loving these guys though), but unfortunately there's a new thing making me question if I wanna play the full game properly and it's that the high contrast black and white palette actually make me eyes hurt super fast I forgor oghwa

i was in the middle of typing a whole response n my phone died midway 0(-( ill just summarize my findings bc most of what i found wasnt useful anyway

basically the only solid solution i could find after the past few hours(? however long its been since u sent this) is using a blue light/night light filter (which can likely be adjusted to be stronger or weaker) which.. hopefully should be built into ur computer? if u have one it should be easy to find in one of the visual settings options, or in the place where u see notifs if its like my laptop, and im like. pretty sure ur better at techy stuff than me but i can help find it if needed. it adds a nice yellow/orange tint that makes it WAY easier to look at the game. even more than i realized tbh. i took mine off to see what itd look like and yikes ow. do Not play the game like that if u can manage it holy shit that hurts

if u dont have access to that kind of filter then things may get complicated bc i literally cant find Anything else that has a similar effect. checked my computer visual settings (and. may have fucked up some stuff in the process that i need to fix later), steam settings, looked all sorts of stuff up, and got nothing except the filter i mentioned.. not sure abt start again but isat has some visual options that could sort of help in theory (stop moving backgrounds, no flashes, stops moving text) but none that alters the contrast at all :/ if u can find a way to apply like. a color filter somehow that would probably work too, but i have yet to figure out how to do that. its ridiculous tbh why cant i just make my screen pink tinted if i wanted to i think this game would rule w pink. smh

so yeah thats. really all i got for now. i can try to find more later but ironically i have a headache from playing isat for way too long sjxbsksk dont be like me n please take breaks while playing

also please dont let me pressure u into playing the game if u genuinely dont want to for any reason bc as much as i do love it its only worth it if u can actually enjoy it so !! yeah!!

[bafflement]

Ozqrow Week - Day 7 - Alternate Prompt - Bachelor Party

Qrow stared around at the ridiculously ostentatious display of power and wealth around him in very real disgust. Trust Jimmy of all people to decide that his wedding had to happen here. Yes, Jimmy was from Atlas, but surely there were some limits if only on good taste? The colors clashed in ways he sincerely doubted Glynda would have been okay with had she known about it in advance, and dearest Brothers, was that an actual champagne fountain? Most of the guests seemed to be halfway to drunk already, the lightweights. He scanned the room, looking for a specific person amongst all the politically well connected invitees. Trust Jimmy to use even his own bachelor party as a means of drumming up support. The entire party felt slimy to Qrow, who was very well aware that he was here on sufferance. Jimmy didn’t actually have enough friends to afford to turn him away though, despite appearances. How many people were here just so they could say they had attended the party of the decade, after all?

All this schmoozing was making him vaguely nauseous. He was pretty certain he’d spotted at least five people tonight that he was highly aware that Jimmy casually despised. Oh, no… make that six. A red faced Jacques Schnee seemed to be screaming at another guest. He blinked but the image didn’t change. That was Oz, why was he in blue, had he actually followed the ridiculous dress code? Jacques was still going, gesticulating wildly as a seemingly unruffled Ozpin just looked down at him. He hadn’t fully realised how short the man really was until he saw the contrast between the two. Brothers, but Oz must be easily a foot taller than him. Why was Schnee so disgusted, anyway? He was one step up from pond scum, in all the worst ways and everybody knew it. He sighed internally, time to play the good friend and get Oz out of whatever the hells that situation was meant to be.

“Oh, hey, Oz, been looking for you. Are you done talking yet?” If anything, Jacques got even more red faced at the interruption, before seeming to hear something and come back to himself slightly. Oz, saint that he was, just looked at him patiently as though waiting for something to happen. Qrow had never really been quite sure why Oz hated the other man so much, although it was a sentiment widely shared on Remnant as a whole Oz had never really seemed to hate anyone before like he did Jacques Schnee. Except Salem, and wasn’t that a horrific thought. The idea of Jacques, or any Schnee really, with magical powers wasn’t something he really wanted to think about too closely.

There was a flash of something almost like hurt in Oz’s eyes as the other man turned away, probably to go scream at someone else. If this had been Qrow’s party, he would have been tossed out long before now. But then again, had this been Qrow’s party, he’d rather have drunk poison than let that man anywhere near it.

He glanced at Oz again, almost consideringly. He wasn’t really the type to settle down, but if ever there was someone that could tempt him into matrimony, it was certainly Oz. He hadn’t exactly been looking for love, but then that was always the way, wasn’t it? He’d fallen into it like a crow into shiny objects, and he couldn’t give it up now that he had it in his grasp.

“Oz? What was all that about, anyway?” He asked, hope over certainty that he wasn’t going to get a straight answer. Oz’s face worked briefly before the other man let out a deep, aggrieved sigh.

“Jacques Schnee remains himself, dismally so. He saw the colors I was sporting and decided to make a big deal out of things. It’s like he didn’t even read the dress code, not that you seem to have followed it, my dearest, dusty old Qrow.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Rather more surprised that you did, to be completely honest. I get the temptation to turn Jacques Schnee inside out, hell, I’ve had it a time or two myself… but seriously, what even was that? Why would he take offence to the way you dressed?”

“We had an agreement Qrow, not to pry too far into each others pasts. Put it like this, Mister Schnee seems to be of the erroneous assumption that he can control me in any way, shape or form. I do believe he has not himself truly gotten over past events. That and I fear he may have mistaken me for someone who is long dead, though I cannot be sure on the last issue.” Oz sighed again, stopping speaking. Qrow stared at him, narrowly. Had Oz been drinking? That was rather more information than the immortal ever tended to reveal after all. Then again, the provocation HAD been rather intolerable. He was reluctantly impressed, in a way, that Oz hadn’t taken the opportunity to turn Jacques inside out, though if he had actually raised a hand to the Headmaster then all bets would be off.

Just who did Jacques think Oz was, then, to react the way he had in public, around what passed for the great and the good of Atlasean society? Who would have been worth the risks, considering that enough people must have heard the one way screaming match to seriously tarnish the older man’ reputation? He glanced at Oz again, but his face had closed, eyes going distant in a way that meant he wasn’t going to get anything more out of his friend tonight. No matter what else might happen, they’d been hovering [heh] around the edges of a more than friends relationship for awhile now. He glanced back at the furious, red faced form of Jacques Schnee, For a second he’d almost seen Oz in his features. Nah, he couldn’t have. Maybe it was the company, everything was making him paranoid tonight.

[vonkarma2]

8, 10, 11 for the oc asks?

8. Is there a certain song or playlist of songs you have that make you think of an OC/your story for them?

Im gna post the Rocio playlist I made a while ago here it is <3

I have playlists for some of the other characters as well but they’re not really as good imo + they don’t have as many songs. I do like this one I think it captures the character pretty well both lyrically and sonically. my Spotify playlist magnum opus

10. Do any of your OCs contain any symbolism in themselves/their story?

Yes ok I’ll make a list of everything Ive like either actually used or thought abt in depth of so far. In no particular order:

Melanie: water/rain/drowning to represent like. Depression. Very original I know lol

Tiago: Birds to represent freedom (from other people from the past from your own mistakes just like in general)

Victor: water again but this time it’s like to represent whenever he’s in danger (it’s like as a callback to his backstory where he unfortunately very sadly tragically drowned and died. I mean he’s ok now)

Angel: color scheme switches from mostly yellow/gold to mostly green to represent like becoming more down to earth and living in the real world instead of like his own (incredibly self-aggrandizing and inaccurate) perception. Similarly he starts out wearing a lot of jewelry and then doesn’t so much as the story goes on. I should draw like his design at the beginning of the story vs his design at the end that would be fun

Rocio: The night sky + the open ocean. Not really supposed to directly represent or be a metaphor for anything other than like what they are which is like a vast mostly empty space that you lose it if you stare into it for too long. So I guess it’s not a symbol. it’s just that she is weirdly obsessed with like the feeling they evoke and so thinks abt them a lot. They’re incorporated into her outfit

Cirillo: Light vs darkness but usually like with regards to his relationship with other characters, like he’ll be inside with warm lighting talking to people whereas Rocio is waiting outside and it’s dark and she’s by herself, or like he’ll be holding a lantern so people can see, things like that

Aya: nature/plant life to contrast with the cyberpunk city they live in where there are like 0 living creatures except for humans aliens and like bugs sometimes. Very occasionally birds

This probably all sounds super pretentious 😭 but like it is in the story as well. It’s fine it’s ok 

11. Which character has been through the most design changes?

In terms of volume probably Rocio they’ve had 3 completely different and solidified designs whereas most other characters (Cirillo, Angel, Gloria, Jacinto, Laura, and from other stories Grace and Saida) have been through 1 previous iteration before the current design they have. Maybe Tane as well (not from the main story) because his age and like the nature of his character has changed a lot. Only problem is I only actually drew the current version and like the first idea I had lol so does that really count? I don’t think so I think he still has only 2. Yeah I don’t really do that many passes of designs on characters :P I usually just go beta design > refine it to the design I use forever into thr future. The maximum so far is 3. 

Wait actually it might be Remy bc ive had him for a while he might have had 4 iterations. Yes ok I think he did it was 80s aerobics themed beta design barely even recognizable > indie musician flannel shirt design w/blue skin > kinda cutesy idol type outfit w/purple skin > current vaguely scenecore mostly just whatever bright colors I could think of outfit with pink skin and sharp teeth. He was deyassified and then yassified again. Only consistent characteristic being elf ears and curly light colored hair 

[shioonline]

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[mcneilmcconnell3]

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[cinnamonest]

Albedo idol girl darling thoughts M A N I F E S T E D

----------

Well, to be entirely honest, he thinks the whole idol thing is a little dumb.

For someone like him, at least. He's a PhD student in his final semester, lots of work to be done and all that. So, you know, he's a responsible, accomplished adult. Not the kind of person who gets into "that stuff," as he calls it in his head.

Nor does he even know how he encountered it... He just takes the occasional break from work to mindlessly open whatever app first pops into his vision and scroll through the feed. He's never watched anything like it in his life, so he's not exactly sure why he gets recommended some idol girl thing, and even less sure why he taps it without really thinking. Probably one of those videos that gets recommended to everyone. Well, can't be that, it doesn't have that many views... Probably loosely connected to some video game he's searched before or something. He's familiar with idols and what they are, and the subculture surrounding them, but he's never really cared about it.

Honestly, it's kinda pathetic that a bunch of grown adult men get so obsessed over these girls, he thinks as he watches. He's seen the type. Lonely, asocial dudes, most definitely virgins whose only female attention in their entire life is their mother, well into adulthood with no real social group to speak of.

...Not that he's much better off, but he hasn't quite sunk down to their level. The only reason he doesn't talk to people much is because they're busy, and he's even busier. He managed to make a few friends in undergrad years. Well, study partners who mooched off his notes since he was one of the top students, but same idea. They were people he spoke to more than once, which is what constitutes a friend, right? And for the record, one time in high school a girl in his class said she liked his hair. He hasn't changed the way he wears it since. Whenever he's sad, he thinks about that compliment from 10+ years ago, and it makes him feel a little better. But now, he's constantly slammed with work and research.

And his acquaintances are also all busy. He sees notifications every now and then from social media he never checks. Everyone is getting married at this stage in life, both friends and even other PhD students in his department. Not that he's ever been invited to a wedding, he just overhears a lot of conversations, sees notifications of posts. And he will too, eventually. He just has to finish up his degree, and then... Meet a girl. Well, that's actually the second step, step one would be finding out how to go about meeting a girl. He's... Never done it before. Probably does not happen sitting in the research lab at 11:30 pm on YouTube. He's talked to one of the other PhD students who's a girl before. And only stutters sometimes. He was even able to look her in the face while he talked to her once. That's a good start.

Ok, so maybe he is a little bit pathetic, but not as bad as... These guys. Reading the comments of the video actually make him feel a little better about himself, because frankly, they're kinda wild. The worship and fawning over girls is one thing, but they even have timestamps referring to various members like "she's super cute here!" Or "you can kinda see her thigh at 3:12!" Etc etc. Yeesh, creepy. And they get into comment fights over who is the best member, as if it even matters. It's fascinating in a human-social-experiment sort of way, the manifestation of a subculture and how humans interact with each other. On and on it goes, hundreds of commenters. He pays more attention to the comments than the actual video, but the song is kinda catchy in that annoying sort of way, and the girls are cute, just kinda... The typical thing he'd expect from idol groups. But the building will close soon, so he taps back to home screen and swipes the app closed.

Unfortunately, the algorithm remembers.

And he's not certain why he clicks the next one either, the following day. The lunch breaks he takes are usually pretty rushed. Not that he has specific class times at his level of academia, but he likes to get his work done. He intentionally eats either a bit later or earlier than the lunch crowd to avoid crowds and interactions. Finds a nice secluded little table tucked away. So when he opens it back up, what do you know, several more videos get recommended. It's absent minded when he taps on one, the kind of numb-brained entertainment every modern person indulges in, videos you wouldn't really be interested in but just watch because they're there.

Ok, this is really creepy. These dudes have made compilation videos of close ups of each specific girl. It's the same group as the video he saw before, same little lewd costumes. Admittedly the girls are kinda cute. He can kinda understand the appeal. But he's not like those guys, he would never become like, obsessed with them.

The song is actually really catchy. The kind of mindlessly addictive, repetitive pop music that's the same four chords over and over, each song is so similar you can't really tell them apart, but it gets stuck in your head anyway. This group has... nine members. Who needs that many singers in one group? It's not like a band or anything, they all just sing and do their little choreography. Guess that's a form of talent, even though he doesn't really get it.

Some of the groups he sees in recommended videos are cute and wholesome, and while this group is cute too, there's a very... Blatantly intentional lewdness to their poses and costumes. A hypersexualized sort of cuteness. Clearly marketed at lonely losers who have nothing better to do with their time than obsess over a girl who will never even know they exist.

He taps another video.

So many compilations, yikes. He has to give the guys credit, they're insanely loyal to the individual member that they decide to fixate on. Oh, and they even make official figurines and posters for these girls, that's... Something.

And a few days later he can kinda recognize the girls. They have color themes, you know, identical costumes except each girl's is a different color. This lead one is red, this main backup is blue, etc etc. Lots of bright colors. Kinda hurts his eyes to be honest.

And he's seen compilations of every girl except... The pink one. The pink one is always kinda off to the side. Well, these groups do have their favoritism, there's apparently one or two lead singers in all of the major idol groups, and the rest are basically backups and dancers. Still, a lot of dudes get super devoted to the non-main girls. So yeah, he's never seen a compilation for the pink one... He can't always exactly remember which one is which but now he's seen enough to know the other girls' names. He's not sure what hers is though. So he googles it and gets the name.

Wonder why she doesn't have as many videos...? Oh, it's because she's the newest member. Only been around a few months. There's... A whole board dedicated to the group, which he's getting this information from. Wow, pathetic. What kind of person spends their free time browsing a forum for an idol group? Well, he's just doing it to find information, not for fun or anything. He was just curious. Now he knows and he can forget about it and never look at anything related to them again... after he types her name and group name into the YouTube search bar and checks the results out, that is.

Oh, so they do have some compilations for her, just not many. "(Name) thigh compilation." Fuck, these people have no limits to how creepy and pathetic they can get, he thinks... as he watches the video. Ok, admittedly there are some good thigh shots there. There's a comment. "At 4:26 you can see her panties." Pathetic. They're not wrong though. Just to be sure, you see, he tapped the timestamp, and you can, in fact, see them. Stripes. Cute.

But he still has to do his work. Can't get too invested in watching mindless videos all day. He's got a thesis to work on.

That makes him curious, though, he thinks as he goes about his research. Do these girls go to school? Do they like, skip college, or do they join some kind of performing arts school or...? So he googles it. He can remember the pink one's name now, so he just finds her Wikipedia page. Oh, so she joined right out of high school and has been in various groups ever since.

Wait, various groups? So she has more groups she's been in? What are those? Before he typed her name into the search along with the group name, but if he just searches her name he gets... A lot more content from earlier years. Huh. Didn't know some of them did group-hopping like that.

Still, no education. Must be all smiles and body and no brains. Guess that's all you really need. Yeah, looking at that whole act they do... All giggly and childish and lewd... She's probably not too bright. At least she's pretty and sings nice. And the thighs are rather good. Smooth looking. They have a sort of jiggle when she jumps up and down on stage. The thigh highs they make those girls wear have that nice little dip where the skin is compressed by the fabric. Like... right there at that closeup. He takes a screenshot.

It's readily available, he's already seen the video and knows the best parts, whereas searching for porn would take time. The sooner he can get the daily stress relief out of the way the sooner he can work on his thesis. So this way is faster. That's why he's jerking off to the thigh video and not taking the time to look for porn. Plus, it makes him cum faster. Which it probably shouldn't since it's just thighs, but... Probably has something to do with the tease of it all maybe. That makes sense.

Or maybe it's that cute little giggle he can hear at some parts. She smiles and jumps and spins and laughs.

...It makes him wonder what she'd look like crying. Scared. Whimpering. Covered in bruises and bite marks. The contrast between that state and the one on the screen. The process and the things he could do to get her from one to the other. Yeah, he realizes, it's that thought, rather than the happy giggling on video or tease aspect, that makes him cum.

He's aware that his... tastes... are a little on the fucked up side, but hey, there's plenty of bastards out there far worse than him.

One day he discovers she has social media platforms. He... Doesn't really have any. He doesn't have Twitter or Instagram or any of that but... He downloads the app and makes an account for each. Just to follow her. Ooh, they even have the option to get a notification every time she posts... That's good. Otherwise he might check too frequently. He sets a special sound effect for notifications for her socials. The first few times, you see, he would get super excited when his phone went off, only to be disappointed when it was just a work email. Thus, he made the separate sounds.

He wouldn't say he has a favorite, that sounds really cringey you know? He just... Likes her more than the others. ...Dammit, that's what a favorite is. Ok, maybe he has a favorite, that's not that bad. He's not obsessed. He hasn't bought any merchandise at all or anything, especially not member-specific merchandise. Which they do have, because he visited the store page for a while and spent all his willpower physically restraining himself from buying something. It's not that he's biased, he just thinks she's objectively better than the rest of the group. Which can be backed up with evidence, anyone with eyes could tell by watching the performances.

As to what specifically draws him to her... he's not certain, to be honest. Maybe it's because she's the least appreciated out of the group, new and all. The less popular one. Or maybe her personality... She seems so sweet, even though he knows it's probably just an act for the fans. Or maybe just those thighs. That's also a valid possibility.

He cracks and buys some of the merchandise. Only about $300 worth. But honestly, he gets more invested into just printing out pictures of you. Pasting them onto the wall above his desktop. It keeps him going when the nights are hard.

But he refrains from ever commenting on anything. Some of these losers are just... so embarrassing, he can't stomach the thought of being associated, even if it's just an anonymous comment online. It's still pretty... Distasteful. He still browses the boards every day. You're his lock screen now. And home screen. And also your solo is his ringtone. He only sets his phone on sound when he's alone at home, though, when he's at work he puts it on vibrate. He... doesn't want anyone hearing that. No offense. He has some appropriate amount of shame, unlike the other bastards.

And the girls probably know that most of their fans are these kind of loser men, right? She'd probably be surprised someone nearly graduating with a chemistry doctorate is sitting around watching these dumb videos. Is that more or less pathetic? He thinks less, hopefully.

In fact, the other fans kind of irritate him. They're really cringy and annoying and it gives him secondhand embarrassment. And something... Deeper. Something about seeing the comments upsets him on a visceral level. It's gross. Sure, he's grateful for the dudes who sit around and make a list of timestamps for upskirt shots and the like, but... It kinda bothers him, feeling like there's some other dude out there sitting around, watching these long videos with his gross eyes and recording the times of shots that get him off. It feels gross. But more like... A violation against you. Sure, your group is very blatantly sexualized and intentionally risque in clothing but... Still, it feels wrong for someone to go through and get to see all of that.

Well, someone else. It's ok for him, since he's not a gross degenerate like the rest of them. He does genuinely see himself as... Above them. You know how like, back in the day, how the nobles used to sit around and watch plays from the far back while the peasants gathered around the stage? It's like that. He's not a gross loser or a NEET or anything like that. He's got a life. Well... Not a social life, but he's doing better than them, at least he has a degree, and soon a higher degree, and a job. He has a lot of things they don't. Basic hygiene. Student loan debt. And uh... Well, he's probably more pleasant to interact with, at least he's not gonna be frothing at the mouth like an animal if he saw you in real life. He would certainly freeze up, but that's preferable, isn't it?

And one day there's a video circulating in the idol community - not that he's a part of it or anything, he just keeps getting the dumb videos and watching them for mindless entertainment - where some girl group had an attempted kidnapping. Not her group, but some other group. The video has gone viral. Some dude tried to rush the stage and pull one of the girls away. Apparently the cops found he had an obsession with her.

What an idiot. If you're gonna kidnap someone, put some effort in, jeez. It's not hard to figure out how to do it right.

If that were him, he wouldn't be that stupid, he'd just look for an interval where she's alone. They have those solo or breakout group songs where some of the girls are backstage, just get her then. Memorize the concert schedule, wear something over your face, chloroform her, and stuff her into something and walk right out. Easy.

....

He catches himself in the thought and realizes that might have been a bit creepy, but he was just thinking in terms of hypotheticals. If he was the kind of crazy to do that, that's what he'd do, that's all.

He's always enjoyed entertaining strategic thoughts, really. He's had a couple fantasies about how he would commit murders of this or that person before, and he's never murdered anyone, so thoughts don't lead to actions. He just... Really doesn't like those people, and the fantasies help him... Deal with it. He just likes to strategize about methods, and how he'd get away with it... Stuff like that. Actually, he's convinced it's a very normal thing, but no one wants to admit it. Everyone has detailed murder fantasies every now and then.

Which is why this is no different. He's just strategizing because it's fun. He has no intentions of doing anything for real. He just plans out the details like a game. And tells himself to just never think about it again.

Until one specific night that he's staring down at his screen. Lying in bed. He should be asleep, he needs to be up early tomorrow but... He's just checking to be sure he's reading this correctly. You're coming to his town? He wouldn't think so, since it's not too big, just your average college town. But still, you'll be right here, right in his general vicinity, not far away at all.

Not that he'd ever actually go to such an event. No way. He hates crowds with a passion. He hates loud environments even more. A concert is like his worst nightmare. Besides, knowing the general audience of your group, it'll be a bunch of sweaty NEET dudes who haven't showered in a month and haven't crawled out of their house in even longer. No thank you.

But.

That's when the thought pops back up. It's been a few months since that night he had that strategizing fantasy, and, well, he tried to forget it but... It kinda lingered in the back of his mind. And now it's back in full force.

He shrugs the idea off. It's crazy. He'd never actually do something like that. It was just a fantasy.

...But he could get away with it if he wanted to.

He's not scared or anything, no, he's confident in his strategizing. He knows he could. Totally. It's foolproof. There's no need to carry it out to know that, besides, what would he even do with you?

Well, he's pretty certain he does know what he would do with you. He's watched that thigh video maybe a hundred times now. And even if he won't admit it, he's jerked off to the exact same fantasy for like, several months.

He doesn't really... Think about it. Just kind of slips into subconscious actions. Autopilot. One click and well, there goes $400 on an amp case. His eyes gaze over the dimensions... And then there's your height on the Wikipedia page... Yeah... That should work. He gets it sent to the address a few doors down just in case, and snatches it from in front of their door, but he finds himself backpedaling. What the hell is he doing? He would never actually go through with this, what a waste of money... But he still opens it. Sets it beside his front door. Tests the wheels to make sure they work.

He knows how to make chloroform. He doesn't need YouTube tutorials (unlike a certain someone else), he knows exactly how to do it, even alternate methods besides the usual acetone and bleach combination - so long as you end up with the same chemical makeup, it's all the same. He just goes with the traditional way though... Doesn't really know why he does it. Just mutters as he stares down at the concoction wondering why he wasted his time... But he pauses before pouring it down the sink, and instead puts it in a container and keeps it on the counter. Your weight is on Wikipedia too. Taking into account your height and weight you would need about... Yeah, a very specific amount to knock you out for about three hours.

The concert day draws closer and closer and he can't sleep very well. His mind keeps running what-ifs. Just, hypothetically, what if he did go through with it? What then? What would he do long term? How would that all work out?

Well, you'd probably hate him for a while, right? But that changes. Stockholm syndrome sets in. He would know, he had to take Psych 101 back in undergrad, and the professor talked about it for a full 10 minutes, so he's basically an expert. It's been like, 7 years since then, but he still kinda remembers it. He remembers that it's supposed to set in at about 2 weeks, and solidify with time. If the captor is nice, that is, which he totally would be. ...Maybe not in bed, but most of the time. He would be nice to you, and you would start to like him. Besides, they said Stockholm syndrome set in faster if the abductor has good qualities, so, he could also reason with you, remind you that you're lucky you got abducted by someone with money - or, well, he will have money once he graduates! - and isn't some ugly gross slob. He's clean and neat. Sorta... He'll clean up all those dishes that have been sitting there a few days now, pick up all those clothes off the floor... Ok, now he's clean and neat. And, uh, what else would girls care about... He's smart. He's pretty sure he can say that with confidence, if nothing else.

Ok, so, it would work. He could... Keep you kinda... Tied up here... If you started complying within that two week period, he could get you up and walking before atrophy set in. You'd probably have to get used to the lifestyle... Right now he's kinda on a budget, but, he can get you things to keep you occupied... And so, yeah, it could work. It's simple, just keep you with him and isolated for a few weeks and uh, you'll transform into some kind of hypersexual obedient cumslut and never want to leave. That's... How Stockholm syndrome works right? Maybe he should have paid more attention in that class... Oh well. He never liked psychology.

So the day draws nearer and nearer and he starts really getting into the right... Headspace. It's a sort of manic state that he's in. Operating without really thinking, all inhibitions removed by simply refusing to think about it. He lets the subconscious take over and do all these little things to prepare, until finally that day is tomorrow. And then he kinda snaps back to full awareness and questions, again, what the hell is he doing? He can't just... Kidnap a person! Normal people don't do that... It's illegal, he'll get caught, it'll ruin his life and....

What life does he really have to ruin?

That's the thought that sort of solidifies the decision. He realizes why he's even on this path in the first place. Sure he's got a lot of academic accomplishments, but his life is... Rather empty. He doesn't really have anyone. Maybe that's why he's slowly become... Consumed by this obsession that yes, he's now willing to admit to himself is indeed an obsession. It's kinda slowly taken over his everyday life without him even noticing it was happening. He's... Kinda miserable. And very lonely. And... If nothing else... This one girl makes him feel kinda happy.

... Which is why he's going to go through with it.

And he slips back into autopilot, ends up standing outside the building. It's every bit as loud and headache-inducing as he knew it would be. Ugh. He can't wait to get out of here. If this doesn't work, well, he'll be forced to turn around. The plan is a very simple one, actually... Act like he's supposed to be there. And he does. Dresses in all black like stage technicians do, dragging his big amp case behind him, holding a bunch of cords from random things he grabbed in his house, and tries not to look nervous, keeps a neutral face and walks straight forward and... He slides right in. The security guards off to the side don't even bat an eye.

And then he has a moment of "well, I didn't expect to get this far." Pauses. So uh... what now? Well, probably should find you first. He memorized the setlist, so he knows when you'll be off... And alone. Right now there should be three of the girls backstage. It's pretty easy to find where you are, but he's paranoid that the amp case is too loud as he's dragging it around. It's necessary, though. And then, finally, he stumbles upon the room... Opens the door, half expecting to be immediately stopped, but... He can just kinda waltz right in here, some open backroom, a person here or there coming through, a lady that looks like a makeup artist doing something over there, and an actual, real tech guy over there... And over to the far back corner... Oh. That's you. He takes a moment to revel in the sight, unable to move or even breathe, and has to mentally prepare himself before moving forward. He's... Not sure exactly what to do at this point... It's kind of perfect, to be honest, there's no one around you, and you're right out of sight, where he could turn the corner and not be seen. But he's not sure how to... Approach? He thinks about it as he walks, but again, autopilot is on in his brain and he's just numbly walking forward. Does he just... Keep walking until he's right at you and just... Or...?

And a miracle happens. You hear someone coming and you turn and smile and ask are you the tech guy here to fix my mic? You point to the little microphone attached to your face. They told you someone would be coming to fix it before your next song. You presume that's him, since he's dressed in all black like all the other stage techs. He hesitates a moment, wide eyed, but then nods. Yeah, that's him, he says. His voice cracks when he says it. It's kinda cute.

You smile at him. It's wide and sweet and genuine and it almost makes him pass out on the spot. He has to swallow for a second before continuing.

But, uh, he can't do it right here he says, because fiddling with it could disrupt the uh, frequencies, cause that really shrill sound you hear sometimes. So, um, come over this way a sec, over in this dark corner of the studio conveniently out of the view of all people and security cameras. You don't know how any of that stuff works, so you trust him, it's his job after all. So you get up and straighten your little skirt out - wow those are even more revealing in person - and walk over it the dark corner where he's waiting and... it's the last thing you remember.

He does a quick look left and right to ensure no one saw you collapse in his arms, but sure enough, this area is empty. You fit into the amp case with ease. Just curl your body up and pop the lid on. Wait, can you... breathe in there? Well, it won't take long to get outside. He just rolls the case right out the door, right past the guards again, and no one stops him, no one suspects a thing. Puts the case in the backseat, opens the lid, does a quick check go make sure you're breathing alright. So he props it open by keeping a book in between the case and lid as he drives home.

Once he does get home, he just does the same thing he did before - close the lid, roll you into the elevator and up the stairs and into his place, looking back over his shoulder over and over. And once he gets you inside he just kinda... falls to his knees. Shivering. Disbelief. Because holy shit he actually did it. He actually went through with it and it worked. He sits there and stares at the case and - oh, fuck, gotta open it again for you to breathe. Actually, he might as well... take you out... when he first shoved you in, he was so high on adrenaline he didn't really process any of it, but now... he almost can't bring himself to take you out. That means he has to, like, touch you. He's gotta take a moment to mentally prepare for that. So he does. Deep breaths. And finally, with trembling hands, pulls you out, carries you on shakey legs over to the bed and sets you down.

You know, you're a lot... Smaller... Than you looked on screen. Sure, he knew your height and weight but... somehow you still seem so much smaller than he expected. That's good. Will make everything a lot easier, since you're easier to restrain. And your thighs. They're... so soft. This is so much better than the video. They're so... fleshy and warm in person. Perfect. And wow, that skirt thing is... scratchy. Actually, up close, that whole outfit thing you wear looks super uncomfortable. It probably is. ...Well, guess he now has a reason to take it off.

The rest of your skin is... also fleshy and soft. Warm. Your face... chest... stomach... everything. Your tits are really cute, too. It occurs to him that all those rabid commenters on all those boards and videos would probably kill to be him right now, pinching and squeezing at your nipples. He's seeing something they will never see. It gives him an ego boost, to be honest, makes him feel proud to get a sort of one-up on them. He gets you naked, but refrains from pulling your legs apart. He probably... wouldn't be able to control himself, and he's aiming for some self-control right now.

So he waits. Breathes deep. Restrains himself with every ounce of willpower he has. It occurs to him he has no fucking clue what he's gonna say to you. Unfortunately, that thought occurs to him as you're starting to twitch and mumble, so, he doesn't have too much time to think. Oh, fuck, you're not restrained... well, he bought some duct tape and handcuffs and blindfolds off of amazon too, so he quickly puts those in place as you're starting to wake up, and then finally, you come to full consciousness -- that telltale jerking at the restraints, the muffled little cry of confusion and fear. It's kinda hot to be honest. Well, fuck, very hot actually. You're so scared. It gives him a rush of power. Said rush goes straight to his dick.

He's got a mixed twist of guilt and arousal at the whole thing, but... he's still trying to have some self control... and if you start begging and pleading and crying, it would be too much. Oh, no, not that it would be too much in terms of guilt, no no, just that he wouldn't be able to stop himself from fucking you if he sees you cry. So he leaves the restraints on for now, so he can't see your face emote.

Then, he does something really, really mean. He knows it's cruel, honestly, it's just... so cute. What that is, is that he does nothing. Says nothing. He goes about his work, typing away, knowing you can hear, but doesn't say a word. He knows you're awake, he just wants to see how long you can sit there scared out of your mind before you finally make another noise to draw his attention. Right now, he thinks, you're probably debating, you're probably questioning whether you should keep quiet and make him think you're still out or make a noise... but eventually you will. He can see you trembling. You're probably thinking so many horrible things right now, wondering what will happen, what he'll do to you... it fills him with a sort of sadistic glee that overrides the guilt it comes along with. Sure, the guilt is there, but fuck, he could almost cum just watching you shiver, and that's more important.

And you finally make a noise. A little whimper. He stops typing, and swears he sees you tense when he does. And when he stands up, walks over to you (making sure to stomp hard and walk slow for extra effect, watching the way you curl in on yourself with each step he takes), and stops right in front of you. Finally, tells you not to scream. He's gonna give you water, ok? You nod. And, surprisingly, you don't make any move to scream or anything, you let him give it to you. You don't move a muscle besides your shaking and sucking the straw and swallowing the water. You must be really scared of him. He knows that's technically not what he should want, but... it feels nice.

He spent that time of silence coming up with what to say to you. He says that for now, you're going to stay right here. Don't ask questions. Don't make any attempt to escape. If you really need something, tap the headboard until he hears. Understand?

You're... Surprisingly receptive. You give a twitchy smile and stammer out an o-okay. He's almost pleased, but quickly realizes what you're doing.

You've been trained for this, you see. This kind of thing is attempted rather frequently in the industry. You received training for this situation - comply, don't fight, prioritize your safety, because in 99% of these cases, the missing idol is found and recovered within 48 hours. So you do what you were told to do -- smile, pretend you're ok with it, don't do anything to anger your captor.

He knows that too. He doesn't do much in that 48 hours, in fact, he even tells you he's waiting to "see what happens." He knows he can't control himself very well, so he stays in his living room for the most part and works on research, it might be pointless if he's in jail a few hours from now, but oh well. Sleeps on his couch. He offers to feed you, but you say you don't feel good. He understands.

See, in his mind, if he gets to fuck you once or twice and then be hauled off to prison and never touch you again, well, that would be actual, literal torture, so much so that never fucking you at all would be more bearable. So that's why he forces himself to wait now. He feels like he can't breathe, he's so nervous, like any moment police are going to come knocking on his door. Every little sound makes him jump. He can't sleep.

But 48 hours pass and... nothing happens.

He breathes a bit easier. Finally dares to go online, which he's been avoiding, and check on your situation... Oh, wow, social media has exploded over your disappearance. But... They have no leads. Nothing. Says she basically vanished out of thin air. Situation is, quote, "looking hopeless." Huh. He did an even better job than he thought he did. There's videos from loved ones begging the captor to let the girl go, offering to give him money even. A lot of money. But, you're more valuable than any monetary measurements could ever conceive. And he's happy. It really worked out. Everything went right, and for once, he has something that really, really makes him happy.

Likewise, the 48 hours are even more torturous for you. You start out telling yourself it'll be fine. Hopeful. But that hope in your chest slowly, gradually dies out as you realize you've hit the 48-hour mark. Even for a normal missing person, you've always heard that if they don't find them within 48 hours... the chances of ever finding them goes down significantly. But, that's because they're usually dead, right? And this guy won't kill you, so, your chances are better, right...?

He comes back after that 48 hours and finally, for the first time since you woke up, crawls onto the bed, touches you, grabs your hips with his hands. Tells you that, well, they haven't found anything yet and it looks like they aren't going to, so you're officially his now, and he's no longer worried. You should accept it. It'll make things easier for both of you if you do. You'll get adjusted in no time, you'll see.

Unsurprisingly, you're a bit less compliant than you were when you had hope. You whimper and and struggle, but it's really weak. So much so it's cute. You ask who he is. No one important, he says. Just... A fan of yours. You can hear clothes shuffling. He doesn't waste time, he's already waited two whole days suffering, so he gets his dick in you pretty quickly. Manages to make you cum. It horrifies you and kinda surprises him too to be honest. You must kinda like pain, huh. Well, that works out well.

As time goes on, what hope you had left dies completely. Weeks pass. You realize they're not coming for you. In an attempt to get you to accept it, he even shows you that you've been replaced. They're rather quick to fix the absence. They have a new girl in your spot by the end of the month. He quickly realizes maybe he shouldn't have told you, from the way your face falls and you get all hysterical. Sorry. It's the way the industry is. Don't worry. She's not even half as cute as you.

He shows you the announcement when they close the investigation, too. This also earns a rather hysterical response, but he thinks it's important you see it, so you can finally come to terms with your fate, the way things were always meant to turn out. He gets a bit frustrated. Just accept it. It's not that hard. The sooner you do, the happier you'll be. It's for your own good that you accept it.

And you do. Try as you might. You begin to make conversation. He's the only source of interaction you have. You learn about him and his life. You become invested in it. You start to cum more easily. When he's sitting on the opposite side of the bed typing away, you find yourself slowly wiggling your way over and pressing yourself against the warmth, and he certainly doesn't mind. You ask him about his research just to hear a voice talk.

And sometimes you sing. It's absent minded, soft and quiet, when you have nothing else to do. He likes that a lot. You get sweeter. Nicer. Fight less. It does take a bit longer than two weeks to set in fully. But it does in the end.

He can't be with you 24/7, as much as he would like to be, so sometimes he has to tell you to just hang on a little while. Be good and sit still for just a bit. He'll be back soon. Just give him an hour. You're just really distracting and, well, his progress report is due tomorrow morning.

And you keep getting upset over the new member, bring it up a lot... It must have really bothered you, huh. Well, don't feel bad about being replaced. To him, nothing could ever replace you... you're still his favorite.

[quirklessidiot]

Title: pretty eyes [short story] Pairing: Gojo Satoru x gn!reader [soulmate au; takes place eight years before the yuuji and sukuna fusion] Genre: josei, romance, fluff, comedy, and your normal tragic angst!

Summary: in which the right eye is mine and the left eye is yours and when we meet for the first time, you see your own eyes staring back at you. Warnings: language, blood, minor manga spoilers, mild ooc gojo and death

Notes:  can we all just sit down admire satoru? Like the eyes man, the attitude omg... Ah im so sorry in advance  if hes ooc here sksksk it is my first time to write about any jjk characters and I havent fully grasped them yet despite reading the manga anyways i wont be online next week and tomorrow so i decided to publish this ahead of time. ily all and again thank you for the love and support, it does mean a lot *bows down* see you all again when i’ve got time? jskskss i fucking hate college and online classes, satoru save me please soulmate au’s [not read in any particular order nor are they connected, they just share the same trope]  Pretty eyes [gojo vers.] ||  lasting blues [toji vers]

tragic soulmate au series || taglist 

“Pretty.” were the very first words you uttered in complete awe as you saw yourself in the mirror and no, this wasn’t directed to your physical appearance. It was directed to your left eye, the eye of your soulmate.

Contrasting to your normal boring color on the right, your soulmate’s eyes were ethereal and unreal. How could someone have such pretty eyes? It was completely surreal at that point that you refused to believe that someone with these eyes were actually human.

You placed one hand and gently caressed the left side of your face where the pretty eye rested, “You must be an angel.” you muttered, “Only angels have pretty eyes.”

Thus      like every child     you gave your soulmate a nickname, ‘pretty angel’  and every night before you slept, you’d wonder out loud how your pretty angel was doing, if they were nearby, or anything like that. You wonder what type of food they like, do they like to leave the window open for a cool wind or do they like their chocolate hot or iced.

Yet as you grew older, the pretty angel faded out into your thoughts. The pretty idea of soulmates and love disappeared like the story books you read as a child. The pretty blue eyes on your left is forgotten as life takes a toll on you.

They say death was inevitable, when your mother died in middle school, you watch as your father’s left eye turn to your mother’s color. You watched as he clenched her hand, like it was some last resort of plea. You watched him cry as he passed by the mirrors and you wondered, would it hurt like that too?

It baffles you how beautiful and cruel the soulmate system was.

How every time your father would stare at his own reflection, his left eye would be nothing but a reminder of your dead mother.

You let out a second meek cough in the quiet bookstore that night, the sounds of the car passing by were nothing but quiet noise to you as you immerse yourself in the literature book you were reading, your students would surely love this one.You let out another cough as you turn around to find a small space to read since standing for too long made you tired too quickly. 

You’re too enchanted by the words of the author that you don’t even notice the rather tall man in front of you.

You look up, ready to give a quiet apology but stop short when you notice how ethereal the stranger looked. Albeit he wore a pair of weird Lennon shades at this time of night, he reminded you very much of an angel with his snow white hair.

You don’t even notice how your left eye is returning back to it’s normal color, the stranger does though and it surely was odd to see his eyes on a stranger.

“Well,” the stranger has a shit-eating grin decorating his handsome features, he definitely looked like trouble for sure, “This is unexpected.”

He lowers his shades and your eyes immediately widen as you suddenly cup the left side of your face, you’d recognize those unique eyes anywhere, after all, you had those on your left eye since you were born, “Y-You.” you muttered, the shock momentarily eating you up.

“Yeah, me.” He grins, loving the sudden attention, “Wow, I was expecting something like fireworks or flowers to appear.” He suddenly teased, bending down to your level.

Now that you notice it, he was very, very tall.

“I…” You blink, trying to gain your composure, “Wow…”

“Did I pass your expectations?” it’s been a few minutes since you started talking and all he has been doing is teasing you. 

“You do look like an angel.” You complimented and his eyes widened at the rather out-of-place compliment, “Your eyes are very pretty, thanks for letting me borrow them for twenty-two years.”

Gojo Satoru thought he had the upper-hand, after all, you looked quite meek but when you said those compliments, he was sure that you were going to be the teasing one in this whole-soulmate thing.

So he tries to one up you.

“I’m Satoru Gojo but you can call me tonight.” He grinned, trying to tease you once again, the corny pick up line sounds suave but your blank expression says otherwise.

“I’m Y/N L/N and  think I should call you in the morning, it is quite late right now and I still have classes at eight am.” You mumbled, looking down at your watch, “How about you just walk me home, then?”

“Okay.” Satoru immediately raises his hands, signaling that he was giving up, “First off, you should be more hyper aware that I may be a serial killer.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Are you a serial killer?” you repeat, “That would be awfully disappointing if my soulmate was one since I’d immediately give you up on the police. I’m not interested in being in a Bonnie and Clyde type of thing and I think it’s too early for me to die.”

“You’re very upfront about these sorts of things.”

“Well, you’re very teasing for someone who just met their soulmate a few minutes ago.” you shrug, “So, are you going to walk me home or not?”

“Ah, bossy too. I love the attitude already.”

“We’re spending our whole lives together. You might as well get used to it.”

You’d think the idea of soulmates would scare you after the firsthand experience with your parents but curiosity always got the best of you and the white-haired man proved that maybe it would be different this time.

Throughout the few months you’ve spent with him, You’ve noticed that Gojo Satoru and you may be alike in some ways but in most ways, he was different. 

First, he was enigmatic. You’ve known the man for a couple of months now and you’ve been going out on dates but you don’t know much about him except that like you, he’s a teacher at a good school and he tends to be conceited when he talks about his personal skills as a teacher.

“...What are you doing?” Satoru asked, peeking from behind your shoulder as you type in the grades of your student for your class.

“I’m grading my students.” You muttered, it was after dinner at your place and he was lazing around your place, the sound of faint jazz music could be heard throughout your small space and the wafting smell of freshly baked brownies filled the room, “Aren’t you supposed to be doing something since you're a teacher?”

Satoru quirks a brow as if you had said something odd then it seemed like realization had dawn upon him at that moment.

“Ah, I’m not doing much since my students are on break.”

“Didn’t you say that last time?”

Silence filled the room and Satoru breaks it off with his very famous ‘heh’ that made you inwardly roll your eyes and chunk the pillow that you’ve been hugging towards his direction, “Stop slacking off, you’re a teacher.” You scold him mildly, followed by a small cough.

“Ah, Y/N-chan. You’re so mean to me,” He frowned, handing you the mug filled with water, “...No fair.”

“You're a teacher and you’re slacking off.” You deadpanned, ignoring his sly ways of trying to get you in his arms, “How is that even fair?”

“My students can handle themselves so well that I don’t need to babysit them.” He hmphed,  arms crossed and head held up high in a rather arrogant manner. You could only only scoff back a reply at his rather haughty attitude but you’ve gotten used to it to the point where you just roll your eyes.

“You’re a very bad teacher, Satoru.” 

“Hey, I am considered one of the best and it’s an honor-”

You clicked your tongue and just pinched his cheek in reply to get him to stop drawling on about his achievements. You wondered if you dated a man child or something.

Second, despite his teasing nature and good looks, he’s a rather shy bean and has some insecurities about it too, maybe it was because there were moments where you couldn’t really understand your soulmate and his puzzling life. He didn’t tell and you didn’t want to pry because you technically both had your whole life to get around that subject.

Luckily, you seem to have found a remedy for moments like that.

“Satoru…” You called out to your soulmate who was staring at the nutrition content of the wafers on his hand, “Satoru!” 

“Oh, sorry. What were you talking about?” he finally snapped out of his daze and turned to you who was standing there, hand on your hip. The crispy wafers on his hand are long forgotten. 

Your soulmate is good looking, alright. If anyone were to pass by him they wouldn’t see the minor zilch of worry in his eyes.

“Are you alright?” You ask, walking closer to him, completely serious.

“...You aren’t going to leave me, right?” 

You raise a brow at the sudden question, wasn’t he too young to have some mid-life crisis? Was this because of the soulmate movie you watched late last night about the soulmate leaving their other half to rebel against the system and because of his partner’s family?

“Why would I leave you?”

He blinks once, then twice, the only sound that could be heard was the familiar music playing throughout the grocery store, it was as if no one was there during the mid-day. Satoru proceeds to look away, “I don’t know. What if you realize that you don’t like me as your soulmate and you followed what the dude did in the movie?” he started to mumble, mouth pressed on a straight line.

“Ah, the whole rich in-laws.” you blinked, “Don’t tell me you’re a son of some huge clan in japan that’s loaded and I’m going to be a disgrace to your family name or something?”

It came out as a joke at first, it really did and you were going to laugh but when you notice the straight face he has on, you realize it was anything but a joke.

“Oh.” 

“Yeah, Oh.” 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one asking that question then?”

“What?” He almost half-yelled, eyes wide behind his usual shades that he seemed to wear a lot, “That doesn’t make sense!”

“Neither does your question, Satoru.” You frowned, massaging your temples, “I should be the one asking you that, are you going to leave me?”

“Of course not.” He sputters out.

“Then there goes my answer too.” You replied, huffing out as you grab the sweet wafers on his hand to put into the cart, “You’re very weird.”

“You’re weird.”

“No, you are.”

“You seriously asked me if I’d leave you because of your rich family in the middle of the day.” You deadpanned, inching closer to him to the point where your lips are brushing against his.

“This is unfair.” He huffed, suddenly turning red, “You’re attacking me in broad daylight.”

“Oh dear.” Your beguiling eyes, enjoying his rather embarrassed state, “This isn’t attacking, Satoru.”

Then you closed the distance between you two, his eyes seemed to widen behind his shades at your forward approach, clearly you guys never did PDA. You took this as an opportunity to lick his lower lip so you could slip your tongue in and as he starts getting into it and placing his hand to cup your ass, you pull away with a big smile on your lips, “That’s attacking.” you grinned.

Satoru seemed to have regained his senses quickly after that rather heated public make-out session, he placed his hand on top of his mouth and feigned embarrassment, “My, My, I didn’t think you’d enjoy those types of things in public.” he was back to his normal teasing self.

Well, that seemed to have worked very well.

“Mhm,” 

Yet unknown to you those thoughts still lingered in his head, it wasn’t just his family that he was worried about, it was also regarding his job as a jujutsu sorcerer       something he has yet to mention, he’s not even sure if you’d believe him       it’s a normal occurrence for people like him to die in this occupation and he’s scared that one day, you’ll see your left eye turning back to his eye color with no valid explanation.

Not only that but the amount of people who’d go after you to get to him, he clenched on the shopping cart tightly

“I’m tired.” You cut his thoughts short and Satoru turns to you, unlike him, you weren’t physically active so you tire easily, even joking around that you were a granny in a child’s body, “Can we sit down after this and get some gyudon?”

“Sure Y/N.” he grins, giving you a one-arm hug and kissing your temple.

Third, he’s terrible with kids, period, no questions asked. 

Your eyes narrowed to slits as he brought in one of his students named Megumi, the boy is quiet and compared to your giant and teasing soulmate, he’s serious. In fact he was more serious than the tiny pinky of the white-haired man.

“...Are you kidnapping a third grader?”

“He’s one of my students.”

“You don’t even know the first thing of looking after kids.” You pointed out, “And didn’t you mention that you teach high school students?”

“Well,” he drawled on, “It’s kind of a long story but he’s technically a genius.”

You let out a stifling sigh, “You’re impossible.” you mutter, bending down to the small boy’s level, “Would you like something to eat in compensation for him annoying you?”

The boy nods mutely.

“I wasn’t annoying him!” He corrects.

“He looks very annoyed standing next to you.”

“That’s literally what he looks like!”

You roll your eyes in reply and turn to the young boy, handing him a pastry that you had brought earlier. You  watched Megumi eat his pastry in front of the television that played some child-friendly show as you let out a soft cough and pour yourself some water

“Are you alright?” Satoru asks, resting his head on your shoulders.

“Yeah,” You replied, “Why’d you ask?”

“You’re looking quite pale these days.”

“Maybe it’s the allergy season, already.”  you nonchalantly replied, taking another gulp of water, “You’re terrible with kids, by the way.”

“That’s why I’m a high school teacher, Y/N.”

This connects you to your fourth observation, he’s nonchalant and easy going but he harbors a rather deep worry for you to the point where you wonder if he was really your soulmate or your mother incarnate. Three years into the whole soulmate thing with him, you still couldn’t help but think that he’s doting nature was quite adorable.

You feel like you’re coming down with a cold these days, your head has been throbbing and your cough is worsening. Satoru’s eyes are filled with nothing but worry as he handed you some medication. Your soulmate was now a mother hen and if it were different circumstances, you’d laugh it off.

“We should go to the doctor.” He nagged you once again.

“I’m literally going to sleep it off.” You hoarsely replied, “I’ll be fine, Satoru.”

“You literally sound like you smoked a pack with your voice, are you sure?”

“I am.” You glared, “Don’t sleep-”

Before you could even finish what you were saying, he flops right next to you in the bed, “-I literally told you to not sleep next to me.” you scolded him.

“A mere cold won’t phase me.”

“I swear to god, Gojo Satoru. I’ll kick you out.” He ignores your ministrations and snuggles his head on your neck, his warm breath tickling it, “You’re impossible.”

“You love me.”

“Sadly.”

“Hey.”

“I’m kidding.” you let out a quiet chuckle, looking down at your soulmate and running your hands through his white hair, “I love you very much, you idiot.”

“Hard same.”

“Never mind, I take it back.” you giggle.

And after a rather short playful banter between you two, you find yourself sleeping and snuggling on his long limbs. You think all is well, you really do. That was until you wake up later at three am in the morning with a loud coughing fit. Satoru immediately sits upright and opens your nightlight but what he sees next, scares him more than the curses he has ever encountered.

Your sheets are now stained in blood from the coughing fit that had just happened and you're completely taken aback too, completely breathless.

“Y-Y/N…” He gulps down, quickly taking the sheets away from you, “Let’s go to the hospital now, please?”

“...L/N-san, have you been getting coughing fits before this?” the doctor asks, looking up from your chart. Satoru watches you shake your head as you clench the paws of his jacket, the doctor takes off his glasses, “How about coughs that don’t seem to go away? Getting tired too easily?”

Satoru doesn’t like where this was going, he doesn’t like where this was going at all.

“Um, just some dry coughs and I’ve always been an inactive person.” You quietly replied, contrasting to your usual bright and teasing demeanor, you looked too tired this morning and Satoru just hopes it’s because he dragged you out of bed at four am to get yourself checked asap.

“Y/N-san, has any of your family members been diagnosed with lung cancer?”

The whole room is silent and you could almost hear a pin drop, Satoru feels his knuckles suddenly turn white, “I recalled my okaasan died because of that.” You replied silently and the doctor nods feverishly.

“...Y/N-san...It pains me to say this but the reason you’ve been experiencing this is because of the tumors located in your lungs.” Satoru feels his heart drop when he hears those words, “We have to do further tests to confirm-”

“Do it.” Satoru cuts the old doctor off, his hands are visibly shaking already, he hopes that this was just a misdiagnosis, that this doctor was just a bad one or better yet whatever excuse his mind could make up at that moment, “Do all the tests needed for Y/N, please.”

Fifth, he’s very supportive towards you and your impulsive decisions. If he could join you in it, he would but you usually decide against it.

It’s another quiet night for you as you sit across from your soulmate at the dinner table. You’ve grown awfully thin and your hair was starting to fall off due to the chemoradiation, this day marked the third month since you found out that you have lung cancer just like your mother. Surgery was apparently too risky so the safest option right now was this treatment. 

You don’t deny the anxiety eating you up every day, specifically the fear of death, you’re even more worried for Satoru since not only had he been paying for your treatment but he had opt to take care of you, saying that his job would be fine without him since you were going to get better soon anyways.

“Would you still love me if I shaved my hair?” You asked, your voice still quite hoarse.

“You kidding me? I’d still love you even if you turned into a roach.”

You immediately crinkle your nose in disgust, “That’s disgusting.”

“Honest reply.”

Truthfully, the man had been your rock these past three months. You knew how hard it was for him to be happy around you, how he had put on a brave front and remained positive saying that this was just going to be a rough couple of months and you’d be back in no time despite the bleak outlook.

It kept you sane amongst the tragedy.

“I wanna shave my hair.”

“Like right now?”

You nod, “Can we use your electric razor?”

“You want me.” he points to himself, “To cut your hair?”

“I wouldn’t want anyone else to do it.” You grinned.

And that’s how you ended up in your bathroom after dinner, Satoru’s shades on the side and his concentration directly on your scalp. You had literally told him that he just needed to do it the same way as he shaved his beard but he was still scared. Apparently, he had never shaved anyone’s hair before.

“...Okay, Y/N. Here goes…” He proclaimed, switching the razor on. As bits and pieces of your hair fall to the ground, you feel your cheeks getting wet and your shoulders tense, Satoru is quick to notice the switch of emotion and immediately turns the razor off before bending down in front of you, “Woah, woah… Y/N….”

“I-I…” Your lips are quivering as the tears fall faster when you see his pretty eyes staring back at yours, you try to let out a laugh but instead it comes out as a choke sob, “Sorry, this is stupid. I’m literally crying over fucking hair.”

“No, of course not…” He replies, enveloping you in a hug, “Of course not.”

Satoru feels you start to shake in his arms and he knows he should keep his emotions in check, he’s a sorcerer for crying out loud but seeing you break down for the first time in three months had him shaking too, you didn’t deserve all this, fuck, you didn’t deserve any of this at all!

“Would you like me to shave my hair so you’d feel a bit better?” he asks. After recovering from your breakdown, you had asked him to continue shaving your hair because you might as well be done with it.

“Please don’t.” You reply, wiping your tears away, “We’d look like eggs.”

“Cute eggs, you mean.” He corrects, teasing you and trying to cheer you up, this was all he could do and he hates it. 

He really hates it.

What good was the title of being the strongest when he couldn’t save you from all of this?

Lastly, if you hadn’t highlighted it enough. He has pretty eyes, contrasting to your dull and boring ones, you always loved how different his eyes are. Sometimes you wondered why he dared to hide them behind his crappy and overused Lennon shades.

“Can I see them?” 

Your room is dimly lit as Satoru sleeps next to you on the hospital bed, you were growing weaker and frailer by the day and you could see the toll it took on your soulmate. You were heavily reminded of your father who was sitting right next to your mother on her deathbed.

“See what?” He yawned.

“Your eyes.”

“You’re awfully in love with them, huh?” 

“I’ve always been in love with them from the moment I saw it in the mirror.”

Silence envelopes the room with your statement and as requested, he takes the shades off and now you’re greeted by the most beautiful blue eyes that you love to look at in the reflection since you were a child, “Pretty.” You muttered, raising your frail hands slowly to cup his face, “Pretty eyes.”

Satoru takes in a deep breath as he places his hand on top of yours, the silence is heavy. You both know what’s about to come in the next few days, you’re lucky if you even last a night. Yet he doesn’t want to talk about it, he shuts the topic off quickly when you try to even raise it.

“Yeah.” he mumbles, staring at you, “Pretty.”

You let out a quiet laugh, “I doubt it, I’m anything but pretty now.” your voice hoarse, making him lightly squeeze your hands, “Will you be bringing Megumi tomorrow?”

“Yeah, the brat said he saved enough money to get you your favorite pastry.”

“That’s good.” you blinked, “I’m tired.”

Satoru feels his shoulder tense at your words, they were so plain yet at the same time so heavy, “Should I call the doctor?” he asks. You shake your head and just snuggle on his chest.

“No,” You mumbled, inhaling his scent and basking on his presence, “I want your warmth next to me.”

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“You know, you’ve always had prettier eyes.”

Yet you don’t reply and he feels your grip on his sweater lessen, he doesn’t even need to see his reflection to know that his left eye has returned back to your (e/c) ones.

taglist [if crossed out, it means you aren’t available for tags!]

@airybnb​ ;  @hcn421​ ;  @shinhiromi​

[adobe-outdesign]

How do you feel about the pre-evos for the pre-release revealed Gen 9 mons? (Or to put in more simple terms, Charcadet, Tadbulb, Shroodle and Cetoddle)?

Charcadet is more or less what you'd expect from an Armarouge pre-evo. It's small, it's cute, and it's pretty clear how it transitions into its evo. The coal mask is clever and the dark parts of the body give the design good balance and contrast.

Notice, however, that I said it's what you'd expect from an Armarouge evolution. It's very bizarre that it has a split evo, yet the pre-evo so strongly resembles only one of its evolutions. The Gumbi limbs, the color palette, and the shoulder pads are all Armarouge-like, while literally the only Ceruledge element in it is a tiny spec of blue at the top of its fire "ponytail". It would've been easy enough to work some more blue into the design if nothing else, so I don't know why they didn't do so. Not that big of a deal, obviously, just the one main thing that bugs me about it.

I actually like Tadbulb more than Bellibolt. I don't love it or anything, but I feel like it's stronger in concept and overall design than Bellibolt, which felt somewhat unfocused.

The idea of a tadpole that's also a lightbulb is simple but effective for an electric-type. The body shape conveys this well, with the upper body having a distinct light bulb shape and the tail being more tadpole like.

That said, I'm not a big fan of the colors or the markings. It's hard for me to unsee the yellow on the head as hair, and even putting that aside, brown doesn't feel like a good pick for a light bulb; a solid yellow body, or even white, would've worked just as well. The white dots on the yellow are also bothersome; what even are those? I'm also not big on the face, but that's just a personal thing.

So in short, I like the idea and I think Tadbulb has the right idea overall; it's just that the execution could've used a few more rounds of refinement to really work.

For some reason a lot of people seem to be confused by a "mouse" evolving into an aye-aye. To me, it makes perfect sense—as Shroodle's name implies it's a shrew, not a mouse, and shrews are one of only a few venomous mammals. This fits with Grafaiai's poison-typing and poison saliva. And Pokemon have never needed to evolve into the same species as they start out with, so I don't get why people have an issue with this.

What I will say, however, is that I find the change in anatomy jarring. Grafaiai has relatively realistic anatomy with defined limbs and whatnot, so it feels weird to go from that to this shapeless little blob. Stuff like it having no whiskers, nose, or proper limbs make it feel like a completely different Pokemon despite the obvious visual similarities (such as the eyes, colors, "hair", etc.).

And just in terms of isolated design, the "notch" in the black feels strange (mostly because it's hard to unsee it as an ear), and it having pupils feels weird. It's fine enough, but I don't find myself liking it even a fraction as much as Grafaiai.

Finally, Cetoddle is fine; nothing spectacular, but nothing bad. When I first saw it I thought it looked a bit too much like Cetitan, and indeed, it doesn't progress at all in the land whale department. However, the "toddler" elements, such as the uncertain gait and single buck tooth, save it from feeling pointless.

It also has some visual differences; it lacks an underbelly or any gray on the design whatsoever, the mouth is a different shape meant to close around its single tooth perfectly, and the pink covers only the upper eyes instead of the entire outside ring. It also only has one horn and no claws. These changes, combined with the slightly tweaked concept, help it stand out a little against Cetitan. It's still obviously not a groundbreaking pre-evo, but it works for what it is.

So overall: Charcadet is good except for the complete lack of Ceruledge elements to it. Tadbulb has some design issues but is still stronger than Bellibolt, Shroodle doesn't quite fit artstyle-wise with Grafaiai but at least makes conceptual sense, and Cetoddle is perfectly fine and does what it needs to.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be. 

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

--

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor. 

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you. 

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall. 

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud. 

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though. 

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself. 

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for. 

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts. 

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch. 

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours. 

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast. 

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing. 

So, yeah. 

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin. 

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting. 

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week. 

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role. 

You almost burst out laughing. 

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure. 

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking. 

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop. 

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table. 

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?" 

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud. 

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table. 

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t. 

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression. 

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back. 

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh. 

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty. 

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness. 

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises. 

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never. 

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response. 

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually. 

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it. 

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it. 

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck. 

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you. 

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going. 

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue. 

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's. 

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss. 

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away. 

It started out with a kiss. 

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss. 

It was only a kiss. 

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it. 

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face." 

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over. 

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace. 

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his. 

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name." 

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip. 

"I doubt it," he purred. 

Yeah. 

Jungkook was right. 

Ah, well. 

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms. 

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips. 

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm. 

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand. 

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm. 

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name. 

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed. 

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him. 

Oh, fuck. 

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his. 

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered. 

Yours. 

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk. 

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin. 

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd. 

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick. 

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far. 

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl. 

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin. 

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat. 

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do. 

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled. 

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you. 

--

masterpost

[yanderenightmare]

ooh I wanna see ua bakugo frustrate with his affection over this clueless moron, kinda like shoto, like he gives her like a flower and she's just like wuut .__.

yandere ! BAKUGO KATSUKI

Support me at KO-FI if you feel like it<3

This is so cute, I can’t. Don’t know if this is what you wanted hahahaha, but I have a weak spot for like Luna Lovegood girls, like Alice in Wonderland derpy pigtailed pastel Melanie Martinez lookin’ cupcakes. And made this still in the UA au... hope that’s ok!

goodiebag WARNINGS: slight yandere, slight dubcon theme, profanity, anxiety, hallucinations, stalking

SCARY LOVE

He felt like such a stalker, like a wolf hiding in the grass, just a disgusting waste of a human being standing and ogling her from the safe distance, far enough away that she wouldn’t care to look up, but just close enough to see the color in her eyes from where she was planted in the shade under the campus willow-tree.

Why was she so fucking cute?

Her locks knotted up into two big messy buns, big splendid pastel bows tying them both into place, one blue, the other pink, matching puffy scrunchies decorating both her wrists. Cute. Small wisps of light flowing hair falling in front of her face, tickling her nose, making it scrunch like a how bunny would every now and again. Cute. White ruffled socks reaching halfway up her leg. Cute. Her knees baring pastel-colored band-aids and small scrapes and purple bruises, in the same state her elbows were. Cute. Nimble fingers handling the book that seemed so out-of-place in its size where it weighed down heavily in her lap. She looked like such a fucking fairytale. A soft-tinted cotton-candy daydream. 

Ready to have his bloody hands fuck up everything.

Bloody hell. What the fuck is he doing?

He can’t just stand there like some lovesick freak and do nothing, simply waiting for the school-bell to sound off its alarm, making her jump up like a little bunny popping up from its rabbit-hole where she’ll struggle with carrying that ridiculous book and sit down in class only to daydream about going back outside, but not before she’ll walk past him, allowing him to smell that sweet perfume that always has his heart clenching furiously in his chest and his cock growing warm and heavy in his pants.

What is wrong with him?

He can’t be thinking of her like that. This sweet precious little flower sitting so quietly with no wish to bother anyone, so soft and sweet he bet she’d cry if she so much as stepped on an ant. He wondered if she was a crier, if she’d be this adorable little crybaby ball of sobs and wet moans beneath him. He wondered what types of sound she’d make if he shoved his cock inside her. If she’d squeal and gasp and hiccup at his size, if she’d mewl, if she’d whimper, if she’d scream.

Fuck.

He needed to calm the fuck down.

To think he would never have met her if he hadn’t been forced to sign up to that stupid side-course. To think he was so mad that he didn’t make the cut for the class about war-theory and was forced to take philosophy with a bunch of air-headed freaks instead. To think he almost didn’t meet her. To think- fuck, he’s even starting to sound like one of them fucking philosophy-ditzes.

To be or not to be, or to drool over the girl sitting beneath the willow-tree.

Maybe that’s what he should submit next time they have one of those moronic poetry sessions. Perhaps then she would look at him with interest, with surprise and even praise, maybe even reverence, mirroring the look he gives her when she stands on the podium reciting her swirling words and artful descriptions, looking as though she’s entirely in her own world, dreaming, not just speaking but preaching, preaching to him about gods he’s never heard of yet somehow always believed in.

He used to believe gods drank blood and could only be celebrated through pain, that they made creatures like him, crafted him from dragon bones and fire and everything sharp and deadly, crafting him from war for war to become war itself, to find purpose in conquering, to find worth in glory. But now… looking at this creature, this creature who celebrates life and not death through laughter and daydreams and love far away from pain, he knows he’s had it all wrong.

He’s no good with words. He never has been. Except when insulting people, then he turns into a fucking lyric. What she can do is a gift. Either that, or she’s simply just insane. Either way, he doesn’t really care. She’s still soft, a tender type of madness, sweet and small and would look so good with a couple of love-bites to crash that display of milk and cream and cotton, so fucking brilliant with his handprint marking her ass… and he’s doing it again.

Fuck.

None of that will happen if he doesn’t grow a pair and go talk to her. But he can’t just talk to her. He has nothing to say. Or he has plenty to say, but nothing she could hear. He needed to find the most straightforward approach, however… while it needed to be unmistakable or lest she misunderstand, it couldn’t be aggressive. That would frighten her and he couldn’t risk spooking her away. He couldn’t risk ruining everything. It was apparent she didn’t think too much of him except that he was an angry looking boy in her Friday-classes, he needed to prove he too could be… sweet… or at least something akin to it.

He was wrong in thinking that anything would make her look up from her book. Even as he stood a mere meter away from her, she didn’t look up, completely lost and submerged in her own world as she always was. Only when he cleared his throat did she finally lift her gaze, eyes fluttering from traveling the pages and blinked softly to look up at him.

Cute.

He forgot to say anything, with a hand reached out, fisting the air, knuckles whitening in his grip, where inside the seemingly furious hand was something to contrast his otherwise deadly red stare.

The look of puzzlement on her face was insurmountable. Her small hands giving no indication to receive whatever he was offering.

“Is this a threat?” Came her soft voice, shaking him out of the faze he’d slipped into, though quickly plunging him into another one, this time not so much anticipation but confusion.

“What? No!” The both of them simply looked at each other for a moment. Bakugo’s hand still protruding out towards her, the thing in his hand no more tempting to accept than before to the girl who was still planted, making no action to get up from her spot.

“I don’t understand…” She admitted, wondering if he perhaps wanted her seat in the shade, but wasn’t given the time to ask the question as he decided to clear things up.

“It’s a flower.”

She could see that. It was a flower ripped from its root, an otherwise healthy flower before being suffocated in Bakugo’s death-grip.

“It’s a dead flower…” She corrected, a hint of sorrow on her features and he knew he was already failing in his pursuit, wanting to make things right before they could derail even more.

“It’s pretty... like you.” That came out as even more an ominous threat he realized, indicating she’d end up like the proven pretty dead flower in his chokehold.

“Are you sure this isn’t a threat?” The fact that she felt the need to ask him not only once but twice told him all he needed to know of her thoughts regarding him. She obviously thought he was a deranged explosive beast from the Hero-course.

“Goddamn it, no, I…” He frustrated, finding it hard to arrange the words, finding it hard to even find the words. “You… You’re so… You-” She was oblivious to how much he was struggling it seemed, as her personality suddenly shifted and she jumped up, book thrown to her side rather recklessly, skirt with ruffles and all bouncy with the same vigor as her tits.

“Oh!” She exclaimed, clapping her hands together, eyes wide with such bright light Bakugo almost felt blinded by, it even managing to frightened him a bit. “Thank you, that’s very good to know! I’d be terrified if I was anyone but me!” His brows lifted in dawning realization, feeling safer by being calmed by the reminder of how he was talking to a ditz, a complete mental-case… though… a mental-case who’d managed to dance her way and get lost in his heart. “Pardon me for being so blunt, but I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I didn’t ask.” Preparing him for her question, she leant in just a bit more, looking at him intently. “Are you yourself today, Bakugo?”

As absurd as the question was to him, when it rolled off her tongue it nearly seemed like the most casual of things to ask someone, as though she was requesting his thoughts on the weather. And though it was the epitome of peculiar, the more he thought about it, the more he realized how appropriate the question was, because he were, in fact, not at all feeling like himself.

“… No.”

She gave a contemplative look and a hum. “Then you must be Baku-gone…” He couldn’t hold back the snort that followed her statement, again being reminded of what a complete klutz she was, something so far away from his cynical view of the world and something far more relaxing than what his fears had managed to conjure of her rejection. It seemed so ridiculous now, that he’d thought she would run away or scream, never having let himself imagine her in what he knew was her true nature, light-hearted and incapable of doing any harm, at least not on purpose. “Wow, you really must be, huh?” She continued, fishing him out of his curt chuckling. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh. Come to think of it… I don’t think I’ve ever even seen you smile.” She mused, admiring the small pleasantness stretched upon his face.

But then his brows furrowed, the happiness seeping from his features and leaving them contorted with annoyance, much to her dismay, regretting her choice of words. “I smile.” He argued, looking at her as though demanding she explain herself.

She cocked her head to the side, eyeing him, scrunching her brows and biting her lip for a second or two as though she were in deep thought, not wanting to upset him any further, though not wanting to speak without candidness. “No… you… bare teeth… like a wolf eager to catch its prey.” His ears retracted, features taken aback by her observation, finding he couldn’t quite say otherwise, though he’d never viewed it that way, but again, the more he thought about it, the more all her strange words made sense as he found them to be true. Silly of him to think his wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing approach could fool her, silly of him to think he could fool himself into believing she’d ever consider going out with someone so… predatory.

Though, minds are easily swayed, he reminded himself of. Her opinion of him wasn’t set in stone after all. “Does it scare you?” He finally asked, finding that was the only thing he was actually curious about. Though… perhaps it wouldn’t be the worst thing if she did fear him just a bit, because god knows how terrified he is of her and how she makes him feel as though he’s bleeding or falling or stripped of everything, cut by the knees and naked and so very needy to have her just look at him.

“I would say no, but I cannot lie.” His heart sunk upon hearing her admit it, disappointed, not sure if it was in her or in him.

She’s scared… Of course, she is scared! Who wouldn’t be? Dumb of him to think anything else.

“But, that’s rather the point isn’t it? To scare people?” She took a step forward, eyes bright and hopeful, hating to think she’d upset him.

“Not you.” It was barely above a whisper, words simply cast out there, and it left the girl looking perplexed, curious and even guilt-stricken or ashamed.

“Well… I shouldn’t fear things I know too little about… that would be silly…” She felt the urge to touch him, wanting him to truly hear her words, wanting to enforce them by touch, yet as her hands reached out to take his all so brazenly her eyes fell upon the flower again. She didn’t really have any wish to touch something dead, it always being such a cold and empty feeling running like ice through her veins, yet she reached out to receive the flower anyway, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “So, if not my fear, what is it this Bakugone wishes of me then?” She slipped on a tender smile, genuine and perfect, her soft fingertips brushing against his.

“I…” He was so focused on how she was touching him, the pressure, the elegance, the perfection, so focused he forgot the words again, so focused on her soft fingertips, her warmth, her pastel-manicured nails, he didn’t realize how the movement had stilled.

“You want to eat my heart.”

Her voice made him look up from where they were conjoined, crimson orbs dragged slowly to meet the oddity of her voice no less her words, yet as he looked, he continued to search because he found no eyes looking back at him, only whites, wide gleaming glowing void whites staring at him.

“You want to rip open my ribcage and feast.” Shaken and confused his brows twisted as he yet again tried to find her eyes. “You want to see me burst and bloom for you.” He hadn’t tried pulling his hand away, not really wanting to either, but he realized he perhaps wouldn’t be able to even if he’d wanted with how hard she was now digging her once soft fingers into his wrist. “You want to cripple me. You want to hear my deathbed confession. You want to lick the sin from my expression.” Her brows were the ones to crinkle now as she inhaled a shuddering breath, her hand shaking as she held onto him, seemingly as though her life depended on it. “You want and you’ve been wanting for so long. You want and want, there’s no end to what you want.” Her voice was now frantic, sporadic, hitched and frightened. “You want more and more and more and more and more-” She shook so much she lost her footing and tripped, staggering back and hitting the dirt with a sharp thud, knocking her out of whatever trance she’d slipped into, no more words coming thundering from her lips except for a cute little exclamation of oof, fluffy skirt puffed out around her like a jellyfish.

“What the fuck!” He shouted once she let go, flower falling to the floor, dropped in the midst of his shock and confusion as to what had happened, yet also feeling embarrassed with how she’d seemed to have caught him red-handed, and shaken with how much she knew, disturbed with how it all had been phrased, yet concerned, concerned because he knew he’d failed, he’d scared her so much she nearly melted, but somehow even more concerned with how she’d hit the ground. “I’m-” She looked up at him and he was left dumbstruck with how wide her eyes were and how full they now seemed with the return of her irises and pupils. No longer looking like wax, but like great gems or galaxies he couldn’t help but fall prey to, especially with how glossy they were, shining and glimmering and wet, wet with tears.

“No wonder you feel gone.” She suddenly mumbled, or it wasn’t exactly a mumble, but in contrast to whatever voice she spoke in before it surely seemed subdued. “Someone’s run off with your heart!” She clumsily got back to her feet, gripping his shoulders, nearly making him stagger back and fall with just how intense and vivid her actions were thrown at him. “You’re in love!” She squealed, nearly screaming it at him, before reeling herself back in, probably only now realizing how she’d attacked the boy. “Excuse me, I mean pardon, I mean I’m terribly sorry if I frightened you.” She backed away, fingers playing with each other as she tumbled through her sentence. “It’s my quirk you see. It has a habit of living its own life. I didn’t mean to spout out your desires like that, it was a total invasion of your privacy and completely rude and unethical on my side. I really am so sorry. Would you forgive me?”

Wasn’t he the one who should be apologizing to her?

He remained stunned and confused and growing even more so by the second as she spoke. “Perhaps I could make it up to you? Perhaps I can help you in your quest to retrieve your heart? Who is the thief?”

And there it was.

She was so overwhelmed she didn’t even pick up who the emotions were for.

Silly thing.

This made him ease up. He hadn’t spoiled everything yet. In fact, she seemed even more enthusiastic now than before, even more eager to talk to him and help him even. “Is it that green-haired boy? What was his name again? Something with D or M, I can’t for the life of me remember! Or perhaps it’s the floaty one? You know, the one with the big brown eyes. No! I know who it is, it’s the one with the shark teeth, and the spikey red hair-” She rambled, and even though some of her suggestions revolted him, he couldn’t bring himself to stop her when she was so… so bouncy with thrill, so cute with how her tits squeezed together in her top and jumped for him with every word that fell from those lushes pink lips that would feel so good to bite into and feel on his neck and down his chest and-

“You can help me.” He suddenly blurted, whipping her from her rambling.

“Really?!” Big eyes, filled with such expectancy and acceptance of whatever he was about to request even without a shred of knowing what. “How?” It was as though it were her life wish to help, that denying him would mean death or something even worse in her eyes.

“By making it up to me.”

His grin returned, the one that lacked… not exactly happiness, because there was still a certain glee to it, a certain enjoyment, yet lacking altruism and was instead left looking greedy and gluttonous and as though he was made up of… teeth, and only teeth, and too many teeth, and that those teeth were too sharp.

“Oh.” She seemed drained of her vigorous passion, like a light snuffed out, swallowing thickly. And though she knew it all to be in her head, knew it all to be but a figment of her fears, she still took a step back as though she’d seen something that worried her, and was quickly followed by what had worried her as Bakugo paralleled her backtracking, leaving her no further away from his hungry open-mouthed smirk.

“Kiss me.” She realized she’d backed all the way into the tree, her back meeting the hard trunk seemed to shake her from her vision as the biting image submerged and left her with a quite normal-looking Bakugo towering over her, no longer Bakugone or just a toothy grin, and she was left deciding whether it was any better or maybe even worse than what she had been picturing.

Yet, she had no time to think as Bakugo’s hand raised to cup her cheek, where in the seconds it took for him to do so, she needed to prepare herself for all his obsessive lovesick thoughts she knew would yet again flood her mind, only now she wouldn’t shake from them, and what more, now she knew who they were about. Poor thing had taken Bakugo’s heart without knowing, without knowing to prepare for Bakugo’s blood-stained scarred hand to reach into her chest and hold her own terror-wide heart in a chokehold as he too took it for himself. Without knowing how to protect herself from his many sharp teeth that would steal and eat to satiate what livid hungry fire, what desperate thirst she’d awoken inside his heart, to relieve the pain of it all, to finally breath again, to find safety, to find belonging, to find life. And she had no way of preparing for it, no way of protecting herself from it, no way of hiding from Bakugo’s sharp teeth… but when his hand, his calloused sandpaper-textured palm handled her cheek she was met with a new image, a soft-tinted mellow yet dramatic rhapsodic fire, one that she rather cherished than feared, one that she felt like chasing, one that seemed like it was calling her.

Bakugo leaned in slowly, as though asking for permission, receiving no complaints, just a set of large eyes staring at him. Her hands, feeling as though their fingertips had plunged deep into the bark of the tree behind her, ripped loose to touch him, feeling the simmering plethora of brutally violent passions swimming beneath them as they hovered on top of his skin. Tasting it on her tongue as he captured her soft lips with his own stiff ones. She could taste the hunger, the teeth, the longing, the pain, the fire, the waiting and time he’d suffered in the darkness all alone, she could taste the war, but more… she could taste the fear, the fear of losing or not having at all, and at the very tip of her tongue, stronger than anything else, she caught it, the flavor crystalized like sugar… hope… love.

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