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kneelingshadowsalome · 2 days

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Idk if you remember but you wrote a small drabble where reader was konigs secret admirer and it's been eating at my brain ever since😭 would you ever consider making it an actual story?

Oh I fell in love with the concept too! Here's a part 2 to that little drabble, I humbly offer it to you with my fluffy little paws ^^

CW: 18+ smut, fluff. Nothing bad here, just sweetness. Ok maybe a tiny bit of biting and light angst because it’s König after all... (Part 1 here)

He still doesn’t know who the mystery girl is.

She likes to tease him with cute messages and a photo of her tits but won’t tell him her name or where she lives. The girl won’t come to meet him so that he can show her some love, nor will she agree to go on a date with him. She just responds to his pathetic suggestions with a bundle of emojis that are about to drive him crazy, and another message that says: “Soon!”

König has to fall back on the bed and go to sleep with a rock hard dick and a set of twitching, lonely hands. His dream of having a proper girlfriend was shoved on the back burner ever since he joined the Jagdkommando, but now there’s a certain girl inside his head, a new, even better dream he can’t repel. The next day is no better; he even forgets what he was supposed to bring home from the store, knowing his mom will only sigh and tell him they’ll survive without some ingredient they both know is very well essential.

He stands before the butters and spreads, trying to recall what his mother wanted when he hears a soft gasp further down the aisle. He turns his head and barely catches the sight of a woman, turning in her heels and rushing down the flour section, just somewhere out of sight.

Hope and curiosity spark inside him as he leaves the butter and darts after her, calling “Hey” and “Wait” between the shelves as she flits towards the cashier in mild terror. He chases her as if he were trying to catch a thief, and the girl picks up her pace, then slows down to a complete halt… and turns.

Lovely, fearful eyes behold him the immediate second she meets his gaze, immobile hands clutching a bag of croissants and a jar of chocolate butter against her chest.

He slows down his jog and arrives in front of her with a smile, but the girl only looks more and more afraid. Even her jaw is clenched shut, the spitting image of a prey who just got caught.

“You’re her, aren’t you? The mystery girl,” he asks, trying to make it clear as day just how excited he is to finally meet her in person.

Her eyes stay wide as she blinks, the little bag of croissants crunching a bit further in her grip as she tries to shield her vital parts.

“Are you done shopping…?”

Still no answer.

She’s shy, just like he is... Maybe even more so, which is incredibly endearing: the same girl who sent him a picture of her boobs last night, the same girl who had no trouble teasing him to the point of leaking cum all over his sheets is as shy as a deer when caught in daylight.

It’s so incredibly cute… He thought she was a seductress of the most dangerous kind, but here she is now, looking up at him as if he was some boogieman about to come and snatch her away.

His smile only widens as he looks at his little minx who just tried to run away from the individual she’s sent postcards and love letters to ever since they were kids… Who knew his secret admirer was a bashful little cutie who sneaks around the local store to get herself some sweets and snacks?

“Let me pay for those,” he gestures at the products in her hand.

Another awkward silence follows until she finally turns her eyes to the floor and nods.

Perhaps it’s not that odd that she sent him anonymous notes and talked to him in texts and letters if she’s this timid -- he of all people should know how tough it is to walk to someone he likes and tell them he wants to go out. But he can’t help but wonder if the girl is mute, or partly deaf, or both. He wouldn’t mind. As long as they understand each other, it’s perfectly fine.

She looks at him like he’s a god —or a monster—while he pays for her humble delicacies. She stares at him with eyes still wide while putting the groceries inside a tiny cotton bag she has with her, and says nothing when he extends his hand towards her.

“Here. Give it to me.”

He’s trying to act the part of a gentleman to the full, and she offers the floor a tiny smile while handing him the bag. It weighs less than a half kilo, but the gesture is all that seems to matter because she is indeed smiling, shy and pleased as he shoulders the so called burden for her.

“I can walk you home if you like?” he suggests while pushing the door open for her.

She steps out into the luminous sunlight, eyes squinting a little from the sudden brightness. Then she turns to him and says her first meek words.

“But... Then you’ll know where I live…”

“Ah! She talks,” he laughs with a full smile and watches with a spreading warmth in his chest how she starts to grin, too. She’s looking at the asphalt and her shoes but she’s smiling, incredibly beautiful and pretty, outshining even the prettiest summer day.

“Don’t worry,” he starts to banter with increasing confidence—when has he ever teased anyone, let alone been confident around a girl he likes? “I promise I won’t come howling under your window at night...”

“It’s… It’s not that,” she laughs and bites her bottom lip. “I still live with my mom…”

She starts to walk towards where he lives, and he follows, his long legs catching up with her with ease.

“There was the COVID, and my mom is a little unwell… And with the economy… I’m still a student,” she explains while they stroll down the street.

“Really? I’m a student, too.”

“Oh…? What are you studying?”

“How to kill people,” he shrugs, cursing his stupid carefree mouth immediately. “Fuck… Sorry. That was… I mean, I’m in the army.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles.

He sneaks a peek her way, and she indeed doesn’t seem to be shocked in the slightest. Far more frightened she looked at the store when he noticed her and began to chase the poor girl.

They proceed to talk about what he does and why, how he only just returned from a month’s training that included concealment training in the mountains. She seems interested enough in his choice of career, which he tries to make sound as striking as possible, far more intriguing than it actually is. He tries to appear a little too glorious in her eyes, fearing he won’t live up to the reputation and fantasy she has built inside her pretty little head.

What if she wanted him to be a doctor instead of a moronic soldier? Maybe she fantasized about a lawyer or a historian with whom she could have fascinating conversations… And he’s just babbling nonsense about weather meters and ghillie suits.

But her eyes are still smiling, always at him when he looks away and starts to talk with his hands. When they arrive at the little wicket gate leading up to her house, he notices she lives only about a kilometre away from his childhood home.

She was always here, and he never knew anything about it… His secret admirer, his passionate seducer, turns out to be a harmless, lovely angel who lives right in the neighbourhood.

She takes her little cotton bag and turns to open the gate, and his hands twitch and flex. Say something clever, his mind yells, ask her out for fuck’s sake… But he needn’t worry, for his precious girl next door immediately turns back and shields her eyes from the sun while looking up at him.

“I’m sorry… I froze a little at the store. I just… This wasn’t how we were supposed to meet...”

“No? What did you have in mind for us then?”

She drops her hand back down and gives him a little halfway shrug, embarrassed.

“I don’t know. I just… I don’t even have any make-up on...”

He risks to bring a hand to her face, his thumb on her cheekbone, sweeps a little arc there to let her know she’s fucking beautiful.

“You’re very pretty,” he says, and she raises her eyes back to his, this time looking like she’s being blinded by the sun even if he’s shielding her from it.

“I really liked the picture you sent me,” he says boldly, and for the second time this afternoon, hopes the earth could swallow him right then and there.

A pretty girl sends him one nice picture of her tits, and he has to be an asshole about it… She looks super uncomfortable, so flustered that she nearly guides her face away from his palm.

Fuck that he’s stupid… Must he always be such an idiot and fuck everything up?

“I’m sorry... I meant to say that–”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she rises on her toes and plants a quick, flustered peck on his cheek, then turns to the gate as quickly as a whirlwind. Opens it, and returns solely to give him a bashful, naughty little smile.

“I liked your picture too,” she says so softly he can barely hear it.

“...Oh,” he squeaks, cheek still burning from her kiss.

“Do you want to come and see me tonight...? Mom usually drops before ten...”

“I… I… Sure.”

…

It’s a catastrophe.

His old jeans barely fit him anymore, they’ve become way too tight around the thighs. He’s put on some weight during the past few years and made sure to go to the gym every slack hour he has at his disposal, which means he’s packed a bit of muscle here and there. That, along with the many outdoor trainings, have ensured his appetite remains even bigger than usual so it’s no wonder none of his old pants fit. The only ones that don’t look utterly suggestive and wrong are his grey sweatpants, which he wore to the store today. He can’t very well wear those on a date, no matter what all those thirsty TikTok memes say...

He sighs, and grabs the black military pants he had on when he came here, pairing them with a simple black T-shirt. That’s all he has in his drawers: black, black, black, a few white ones that have some food and coffee stains on them, stains that never leave no matter how hard his mom tries to wash them for him.

The house is silent as he slips the keys into his pocket and hollers that he’s leaving. Like some lovesick, unneutered dog about to slink into the night…

“Mom? I’m going out. I… I have a date.”

“At this hour...?”

“Yeah… We’re… Going out to look at the moon,” he makes up off the top of his head.

His mom would scold him for harassing some poor girl when it’s almost midnight, even if it was her who invited him to her house. And if he’s lucky, there’s going to be a lot more action than just staring at the moon together… Not that that’s all he wants; it’s just that he’s been lonely as fuck and could really use a hug.

Is it a crime, with the past that he has, to want some human contact? Some skin on skin memories that don’t include punching?

“My little boy,” his mom strolls into the room, looking at him with soft, worried eyes. “You look like you’re about to invade some poor, innocent country…”

“Eh… I know. All the other pants were too small.’

She smiles at him: seeing a grown man sweat like a pig before a date must be a silly sight, even more compelling when that man is your own boy. The clock ticks on the wall as she looks at him like he’s about to march off to war, his only shoes a pair of standard leather boots he’s used for two years now. He showed them some grease and a brush, managed to make them look a little less worn and torn – if he had known some cute girl back home had a crush on him, he would’ve visited a clothing store before he came here…

His mom raises a shaky hand and draws him down to kiss him on the cheek, her eyes glossy and hazed from the gathering tears.

“I’m glad you’re finally eating enough,” she whispers with a voice that barely holds intact, and they both know why it’s shaking, why everything’s trembling; her hands, her voice and her tears.

His bottom lip is twitching too from witnessing his mom being so happy for his sake. But he doesn’t want to cry. He must stay oblivious and strong and pretend that things are finally how they should’ve been: normal and easy and wholesome and good. For her, he will never show that he’s shaking… Too many things in her life have done that when she needed them to stay stable and safe.

“Wish me luck,” he gives her a nervous smile, laughing the tears away.

“I always do…”

He leaves before his tower crumbles, slips out into the sweet, scented night.

There’s roses somewhere, roses that smell heavenly, some early jasmine too that wishes to intoxicate his mind. He realizes he has nothing with him to take as a gift for her, and cusses again. This is a fucking date, and he’s not even dressed properly; he doesn’t even have flowers to bring with him… She’s going to think he’s a nobody, some penniless freak who dresses like a crazy person when he’s supposed to dazzle her and make her swoon.

On his way to her place, he stops to cut a small branch from a flowering rowan tree and shelters it from the gusts of wind that blow from the river. The tiny flowers are delicate and fragrant, not exactly what he would’ve taken to her had he been clever enough to visit a florist before they all closed. But it’s cute enough, to him at least, especially when it’s cut from the tree that was his safe haven as a boy.

The curtains at her window shift when he arrives at the gate, and he knows she’s been expecting him, waiting for the clock to strike ten as eagerly as he.

The front door opens, and there she is: dressed far more accordingly than he; his lady has slipped into a sweet summer dress like the angel that she is. It’s bright and yellow, far from the darkness he always wears, and his heart is slowly squeezing to bits inside his chest.

“Hey,” she gives him a wide, knee-buckling smile.

“Hey,” he smiles back, marching to her door like a horny, ugly wolf. “You want to go for a walk? It’s a beautiful ni–”

The moment he arrives at her feet, the moment she sees that he’s carrying a tiny branch from the rowan tree for her, she snatches the front of his shirt and pulls him inside with a surprising amount of strength.

His forehead hits the doorframe with a thick thud before he manages to bow, and there’s a bit of a commotion after that. He huffs something akin to Oof and laughs, making the angel flit around him in a wild, flustered shame, apologizing to him at least ten times.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry! I’m sorry… I’m sorry, I’m sorry….”

“Heh. It’s okay,” he smiles while rubbing the achy spot on his head. He’s forced to sit into an old wicker chair, wide enough to accommodate his back but far too low to hold his stature. He sinks inside it like a veritable giant while she continues to fuss around him, inspecting his “wound” and taking the offering from him with a helpless, embarrassed stare.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she says before leaving him in his chair, the flower he brought softly placed on the bed.

He’s afraid the furniture will break if he moves, so he stays as still as possible while taking in his surroundings, the soft girl adobe he has somehow managed to sneak his sorry rotten arse into.

She has a large TV in front of her bed, a gaming console and a lot of books, candles everywhere he steals a look. The beige bedding looks freshly changed and incredibly soft, and there’s an old bunny toy on her bedstand along with another book, both loved to bits. Some houseplants on the floor appear to be doing extremely well, a small leather bag and some makeup left scattered on her desk. Rocks and twigs and dried flowers rest on her window sill, treasures she’s gathered from her trails. It makes his heart grow soft because he knows she will probably put his little offering there too. A bouquet of expensive, luxurious flowers wouldn’t have hit their target at all.

She returns with a small pack of ice and rushes to him in her flowy, blooming summer dress. Descends on her knees and brings a small towel to his forehead before pressing the ice over it, ensuring that it’s not too cold to make him uncomfortable.

As if he could ever feel uncomfortable, seated in a wicker chair with an angel between his legs, treating his supposed wound with ice and the softest touch…

“Remember all those postcards you sent me?” he asks while she continues to look like the worst person who ever lived, simply because she was too eager to pull him inside her room.

“Sadly, yes.”

“Remember what you wrote to me?”

“Not really,” she says, dabbing the ice pack all over the rising bump on his head. “Something stupid, I suppose…”

“You told me that you love me.”

Her eyes dart to his for a while, hope and shame battling in her fae stare.

“...Oh God.”

“Many times. And then you told me that I’m cute…”

She sighs and brings the ice and the cloth somewhere in her lap. The breasts inside their soft little cell look astoundingly delicious when viewed from up here: he’s slouching in a chair and still, is able to take a rude little peek inside her dress. He slaps himself mentally for being such a goddamn pervert, but then she sighs again, the cute little peaches swelling inside her dress once more.

“That’s it?”

“That’s mostly it, yes…”

He’s getting hard here, which is a problem. A big, big problem…

His shy admirer never notices anything, not even when he softly gestures for her to give the ice to him. He continues to press it on his forehead, trying to concentrate on the cold sensation rather than the swelling dick in his pants.

How is he supposed to not grow hard when he knows this adorable little creature has been infatuated with him for so long? When he knows she’s flustered now, just from hearing him tease her about those silly, harmless cards?

“I kept every single one,” he tells her, only to watch how the shy girl grows even shyer.

“You didn’t…”

“I did.”

He tells her about the bullies and how they made it look like they had sent the cards, telling him no girl could ever want to be with him. It’s a sad attempt to fish for her affection and pity, words of contempt and judgement to hammer it home that he did receive those cards from this girl, he did, in fact, deserve to be loved and adored.

And then she starts to talk about how she watched him... How she went to a different school than him, but that she sometimes strolled behind him when he walked home. They shared the journey to and from school, and he was always completely unaware that he was being followed.

“You stared at this rowan tree for what seemed like hours,” she recalls with a sad smile. “Then, if a bee caught your eye, or a bird or some flower, you stopped to ogle at those instead…”

He laughs, but there’s a bittersweet stone in his chest. If he remembers correctly, these were the only times of the day he could drop his eternal guard: in school, he was being tormented by cruel kids and at home there lived a tyrant with his sad little subjects. Trees and bees and birds were a welcome distraction.

She smiles a little, but it’s not a happy smile, even if it is affectionate.

“My mom always told me to come straight back home,” she says. “But you were never in a hurry...”

He looks at her, and she looks back, some pity in her eyes. There arrives a sweet and sour pain in his heart, a feeling that comes from knowing there was someone who witnessed a glimpse of the hope and pain he lived in. That there was someone there all along…

“You even stopped to look at dog poo…”

“Heh... Was that the moment you fell for me?”

Her lip twitches, the pity in her stare breaks. She rises a little to lean forward, and he catches her with ease as she falls there into his arms, snug into his lap. His lips find hers without effort, and sensation bleeds: his hands are sweaty and shaking as he runs them down along her dress, cups her ass so that she gives a little gasp straight into his mouth.

That’s the thing he was pining for: for her to open that pretty little mouth so that he could pry it further open with his own. Plunge an exploring tongue inside, not too quick and not too greedy, just a little poke to see if she wants to be claimed.

The angel melts in his lap, like pure white snow, until he braces his core and rises to his feet. It’s now or never, and he’s not going to let this moment slip past his fingers. Somehow, they end up on the bed, the smell of fresh linens and her dainty perfume catching his nose before she presses a pair of weak hands on his chest.

“The flower...”

The flower... Of course.

The flower from the rowan tree.

He huffs a laugh on her face, a relieved smile as he understands she’s only worried about trampling his gift.

It’s set aside on the table, but right after that, he attacks her again, begins the ascension to heaven. His lips won’t get enough of her, not even as he drinks her like honeydew and ambrosia: the dress he used to associate with seraphs and summer now seems like a huge obstacle between his tongue and her skin, the need to taste more of her urgent in his hips.

“Can I take this off?” He roughs a hand down the fabric that shields her breasts, relishing the tiny moan that follows when he does that. “I want to kiss you everywhere…”

Her throat makes a wet, charming sound as she swallows, her eyes now pools of dark, drunken love.

“On one condition,” she tells him, out of breath. “If I can kiss you everywhere too?”

It’s a deal, his mind exclaims immediately, but his devilish grin is how he tells her he’s more than eager to accept these terms. His clothes find their way on the floor along with hers, black on black on yellow, but he won’t let her shiver in the cold for long. Like a man possessed, his body finds hers, her soft, naked skin colliding with his like heaven after all those lonely nights of slick, urgent fapping.

He’s not sure who’s worshipping who here, but he vows to never again let this angel fly under his radar, no matter how perfect of a guardian she has been. A guardian angel, following him with her blessed stare, sending him heavenly messages that were real and true all along.

She should be rewarded for her abundant gifts, and so his lips find her shoulders and her neck; they graze her nipples and claim her breasts in devouring that leaves her back arching on the bed.

“You don’t have a girl? Waiting for you back there...?” she asks shyly, even when half her tit is being sucked by his mouth.

“The only thing waiting for me back there is my hand,” he rasps while diving down, down, down, all the way past her navel and the mound she still tries to protect from plunder.

“...I can be your girl,” she whispers somewhere high above, her hands holding his head like that of an untamed dog. “If you want…?”

He breathes on the apex between her thighs, presses a furious kiss there without care.

“F-fuck…” she sighs those thighs open, and from that point on, nothing is enough.

It’s horrible that it must be so: that he finally gets to drink his fill, and it’s still not enough. Her sighs are not enough, her trembling body is not enough. Her attempts to muffle her moans with the back of her hand are not nearly enough.

He wants more, so much more: he wants to try all there is to this with her, forever and ever until the day he dies. He wants to hear her soil her tongue with more curses as he ruins her, bit by bit, just a little bit…

“Say it,” he pants into her glistening lips, “Say that you’re my girl…”

When she does nothing but whimpers in return, he attacks her with both teeth and tongue. Bruises the thigh beside her treasure before plunging straight towards the main prize with reckless want. That’s what finally forces the words out of her mouth: his tongue inside her cunt, delving so deep he has to breathe through his nose to keep from fainting.

“I’m your girl,” she moans on the bed, a bit louder now. “I’m yours, I promise… I always… Always…”

I always was….

She doesn’t say it. She doesn’t need to.

He grants her mercy after that, replacing the tongue with a finger or two. Slow wide circles over her clit accompanied by quick little pumps in her hole make her cum in no time, and he’s glad he listened to the dirty mess talk of his filthy comrades. Patience is not his virtue, but for her, he makes all the effort.... He for sure leaves a little memory on her thigh. It’s not very nice of him, and he fears those teeth marks might stay with her longer than just a few weeks.

Maybe she’ll forgive him if he fucks her after this, rocks her slowly and softly, fucks her like angels ought to be fucked. But no, fucking is not the right word... He wants to make love to her. Drink her moans right from her lips while he does it.

After the climax, he’s still hard and she’s still panting.

He wonders if he’ll get slapped or kissed if he asks for permission to put it inside now... His dick is throbbing while they stare at the ceiling together, but as always, his angel is two steps ahead.

“My turn,” she says with newfound vigour, and he gets more than he bargained for: everything and more as she gives his body the same attention he just gave her. Bites his nipples a little too hard, the little minx, licks his ribs as if it’s some kind of a contest to try and make him tickle. Laughs angel trails across his skin, draws a finger down his nether hair until she meets his jutting dick.

She gives him a tame little lick at first, then slowly, expeditiously, kisses his cock from root to tip. Before due time, his thighs start to tremble, and that’s when she takes it in her mouth: sucks and licks him deep until his abs and balls pull tight. The sheet in his fist threatens to get torn to shreds when he cums, and for a moment, he forgets everything, even his name, until he notices that the poor little thing can’t swallow all his load. She almost chokes on the first spurt, withdraws to cough with her mouth closed while he hisses fat curses past clenched teeth.

When he arrives back to Earth, there’s cum everywhere: on her face, on the sheets, all over his abdomen and his thighs, an eruption that spilled everywhere because his angel got a little appalled.

“I’m sorry,” she peeps with her mouth still full of it.

The poor girl swallows it bravely, and his heart is about to explode: his angel swallows his filthy load like a champ and looks so incredibly valiant while doing it.

“Hey,” he raises a shaking hand towards her, too weak to rise from the bed to comfort her. “It’s okay… You didn’t need to do that…”

“But I wanted to,” she complains while the thick, sticky cum drips down her cheek and onto her breasts.

“Shit… Come here,” he coaxes, and she crawls forward to nestle in the nook of his arm.

He uses the sheet to dry the rest of it off her face. She looks up at him with that trademark seraph stare, so helpless and in love—if this is what having a girlfriend is like, then he doesn’t feel bad at all that he had to wait a little longer than most men. It was worth all the trouble and toil that he has her here now, in his arms, batting her lashes sweetly.

“You’re still incredibly cute, you know...?” she whispers, and a mountain inside him moves.

It’s not sorrow, nor is it yearning; it’s just sweet, simple love. The room smells of salt and sin, but there’s nothing sinful about her when she cups his chin. He knows it’s not elegant to tell someone you love them on the day you've met them, but if the one you love happens to be an angel, then isn't it a sin not to confess?

#könig x you #könig x reader #könig fluff #soft!könig #strangers to lovers

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imaginationofacrazyfangirl · 2 years

Text

Show Me How

Summary: You swiped right on a nerd, instead you got a Greek God. Or tired of your virginity, you decide to throw caution to the wind and find a hook up on tinder.

— PAIRING: Namjoon x f!reader

— GENRE: smut. 18+ minors dni.

— WARNINGS: fingering, thigh riding, possible hair kink (? like Joon loves touching the reader’s hair), biting, dry humping, dirty talk (?), Namjoon is such a simp, the reader is naive.

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Kim Namjoon looked nothing like the picture you swiped right on one drunken night. The original Kim Namjoon who you found on Tinder was a nerdy looking guy wearing glasses so big Harry Potter would be jealous; this man in front of you wasn’t anything less than a god. Those round disk glasses were gone allowing you to see his pretty brown eyes. The tamed golden-brown hair in the photos also vanished in favor of the tousled mop on his head, but perhaps most alarming was his tall athletic form. Call it headshots, bad angles, or lighting, but whoever took your hookup’s photo should never touch a camera again.

“You must be (Y/N). You look nothing like your pictures.” Namjoon smiled. He moved away from the door, gesturing you to come in.

Vaguely you wondered if he was disappointed. The pictures you posted on tinder were a good year old, however you rarely took pictures of yourself-especially not ones dressed up. “I can say the same. You are much more handsome than your pictures make you to be.” You complimented.

Internally you cringe at your words. Talking to guys was definitely not your forte. In fact, anything dealing with romance, boys or sex was not your thing according to Bazaar Publishers. Your gut twisted at the reminder of the rejection letter sitting in your purse. Eight months ago, you sent in a copy of your novel’s manuscript to the publishing company only to receive a letter stating that while the editors loved the concept, setting, plot and everything else; the romance and sexuality in it sucked thus they were rejecting it. They also stated that if/when you fixed these problems, they would happily reconsider your novel.

Which was how you ended up here in a potential serial killer’s apartment looking for a quick lay. “Thanks. Most people say the opposite.” Namjoon chuckled.

Heat rose to your cheeks at the dimpled smile he gave. Nervous, you looked away, looking at his living room. For a bachelor, his place appeared very clean, something you wouldn’t have guessed given the stereotype of bachelor pads. You expected strewn laundry and dirty dishes not alphabetically ordered bookshelves, decorative pillows, and Febreze. “You have a nice place…”

“Thanks, I try to keep it clean especially if a pretty girl visits.”

You rolled your eyes at the compliment. Pretty girl...you were already here. Did he really feel the need to butter you up with lies? “So…..” Namjoon drawled, rubbing his neck. “Do you want to sit down?”

You blinked. Sit down? Is this how one night stands usually went? Did people sit down, have coffee, and talk before fucking each other or what it just this guy? “No?”

“O-oh…” Namjoon stuttered. “Okay, umm….”

“Sex? I-I mean we agreed to let you’d bang my brains out, right?” You suggested, biting your lip. Just the mere idea of having sex brought butterflies to your stomach. Tonight, would be the first night you had sex ever, marking the end to your virginity and hopefully the end to your shitty sex scenes. It would be like ripping off the Band-Aid- quick, slightly painful, but for the best.

Namjoon’s face turned a light shade of pink. Suddenly he appeared more like the dorky boy from the photos than the stud who let you in. “Um...sure. No problem-I mean why waste time getting to know each other?”

“Right. No point in pretending like we are ever going to see each other after tonight.” You forced a laugh.

Namjoon laughed, “Exactly.”

The dimpled smile returned along with a lusty twinkle in his eyes. It will never cease to surprise you how quick guys can switch their moods. Then again you shouldn’t complain given the circumstances.

“Well, shall we go M’lady?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You nodded. "Lead the way my prince. "

Namjoon laughed, taking your hand in his. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine. It wasn't like you never held a guy's hand before but there was something different about the way his fingers wrapped around yours. Your heart stuttered in both fear and excitement. Silently you reminded yourself to write this feeling down in your notepad later.

"Well, here we are, my lavish bedroom." Namjoon said. His ears turned a twinge red.

You took in the bedroom noting how similar to the living room it was. Bookshelves lined the walls yet again, leaving only a small opening for a desk and dresser. His bed was a single with neatly tucked white sheets and a thick blue comforter. It was small but it looked large enough for two people.

"So…. What now? I'm new to this whole thing. " You confessed. The double meaning of your words went unsaid.

Namjoon gave a sheepish look. "I'm actually rather new at this too. Tinder-I mean not sex. "

"I would hope so." You giggled.

God you fucking hoped so. You were screwed-figuratively speaking if this guy was as green behind the ears as you.

"Well since we're both new to this, why don't we start slow." Namjoon suggested sitting on the bed. A big goofy grin spread across his face as he patted the spot next to him.

The sight shouldn't attract you. Such a goofy grin was anything but sexy, yet something jolted within, and you soon felt an unfamiliar throbbing between your legs. He looked like the sun shined on him right then. Your legs shook as you made your way over to him. Silently you tried to squash the butterflies suddenly in your stomach.

This was all research. You were doing this for your book. No reason to be nervous… you sat down hyper aware of how close you two were. "You have such beautiful hair. " Namjoon said. "Can I touch it?"

You nodded suddenly speechless. Slowly his hand reached out gently caressing your hair. A shiver ran up your spine. Hair caressing should not be this erotic. "It's so soft- like silk.” Namjoon marveled.

You laughed causing him to blush. "Sorry...I tend to talk too much. I've been told it ruins the mood. "

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh- it's just that it's really not. I mean my hair is many things but silky isn't one of them. " You explained.

"I disagree. It's beautiful." He said, stroking it. "Though I shouldn't be surprised given that you're a pretty girl. "

Again, your heart leaped. Pretty words shouldn’t mean so much. As a writer you utilized pretty words to craft beautiful poetry and elegant stories; you knew easily used they were. However, what you couldn't ignore was the way Namjoon stared at you through half-lidded eyes, pupils fully dilated.

"Namjoon...kiss me." You whispered.

"Was hoping you'd ask." He leaned in, fulfilling your request.

His lips were softer and plusher than you ever imagined a guy's to be. The kiss was awkward at first, starting out as a peck before evolving into an open mouth kiss. Your naivety to kissing didn't help either. You didn't know how to move or what to do with your tongue. Every movement you made seemed like a mess. Embarrassment burned through you as Namjoon pulled away. This was just an experiment, no need to feel lacking. Yet you couldn’t stop worrying. Were you that bad? Could he tell you were a virgin?

As if reading your thoughts Namjoon smiled, dimples shining brightly. "Just follow me, okay? I'll lead. "

"Okay." You nodded.

“Okay.” Namjoon thumbed your bottom lip, dorky smile still bright.

A strange comforting feeling washed over you at the sight. Suddenly it didn’t feel like two strangers rushing for a quick fuck, but two friends exploring themselves together. The emotion brought up a platitude of questions for you. However, before you could even begin to ponder them, Namjoon pressed his lips to yours. Another peck, but this kiss was more planned-more precise. He lingered for a second only to pull away. A pang of longing filled you, however it was quickly swallowed by his lips meeting yours once more. Again and again, he dipped down peppering you in small, tiny kisses.

“You’re so cute. I can’t help but kiss you like this.” He teased, placing another butterfly kiss on your mouth. “But I suppose you want more huh? Not just pecks.”

“I do.” You shamelessly admitted. “I want you to kiss me like they do in the movies. The whole opened mouth, bottom lip sucking, passionate tongue -”

Namjoon swallowed your words in a kiss. His tongue glided effortlessly across yours and you moaned into the kiss. He tasted good but not in the sweet sugary or bitter coffee way books often described. Instead, he tasted like how you pictured a hot meal after a long day: mouthwatering, delicious and leaving you wanting more.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders. The flimsy material of his shirt bunched under your fingers' grip. His hands moved to your lower back pressing you against his chest. Another thing the pictures got wrong about Kim Namjoon; he had muscles. Hidden behind those baggy shirts, and loose button ups was the body of a god. Fuck. How did you get so lucky?

“This. Can I take this off?” Namjoon asked, in between kisses.

You blinked realizing he meant your top. His fingers traced the hem of your shirt, occasionally caressing naked skin. Your heart did a flip. It would be the first time someone ever saw you without a shirt. “Are you okay? We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” Namjoon said.

“No. I’m fine.” You insisted. “I was just trying to remember if I wore a matching set.”

You were. You fished out a simple pair of black cotton panties and bra the minute Namjoon agreed to meet. He didn’t need to know that though. “You know despite what the media portrays. Sexy underwear isn’t as big of a deal as you might think, especially not when the woman’s already beautiful like you.” Namjoon chortled.

You rolled your eyes. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

Yet again he gave you that gorgeous smile of his. “You think too highly of me. I don’t sleep around that often.”

“Maybe not, but I bet you have pretty girls when you do.”

Namjoon shook his head. “I get the feeling no matter what I say, you’re going to deny it. I’ll just have to show you how pretty you are-starting with your shirt downwards.”

You shivered. Once again you thanked your lucky stars for Namjoon. Any other tinder hook up would probably result in a quick one, two, not soft reassurance and romantic words. God, your readers would eat this up when you implemented it into your book- he kissed your neck blurring your thoughts into one low moan as he bit down on it. The mixture of pain and pleasure caused you to buck forward, pushing yourself against his knee. ‘Biting…’ you barely thought. ‘Biting is definitely getting jotted down.’

You felt Namjoon smirk into your neck, clearly pleased by your reaction. Gently he sucked on the now bruised spot, tonguing where his teeth marks were. Fingers dipped underneath your jeans teasing right above the hem of your underwear. Slowly they moved down as Namjoon nibbled farther up your neck. It was not until he licked the shell of your ear that his fingers brushed against your clit.

“Fuck!” you cried, jerking upwards. “I thought you were starting with my shirt-shit why is this so good? You’re not doing anything I don’t do.”

He laughed drawing lazy circles on your clit as his knee rocked against your core. “Sorry, I couldn't help it. I normally don’t get this good of a reaction.”

“I find that hard to believe.” You pressed yourself closer trying to mold your bodies together.

His hot breath kissed your ear as Namjoon continued his ministrations. “Fuck. Forget me, why are you so wet already? I’ve barely touched you yet you’re soaking. Do you know how hot that is?”

“Don’t know, don't care, just keep going.”

“Trust me, pretty girl. I have no intention of stopping.” he said, flipping you onto your back. “In fact, it’s the opposite, I going to fuck you until the image of you cumming is burnt into my brain.”

Another moan escaped you. Why was that so hot? Just the thought of you seared into his brain was enough to drive you wild. Would he think of you later when he masturbated? You could just see it now: his beautiful face coming undone at the thought of you. The thought caused a delicious shiver to run up your spine. God, you wanted to see him undone.

"Do it. " You gasped, feeling his fingers sink into your core. It was an odd sensation. Someone else's fingers buried in you, but not an unwelcome one. Strangely it was more filling, hitting spots you didn't know existed with each curl of his fingers. Subconsciously your own fingers made their way to his shoulders gripping them hard. Thankfully Namjoon said nothing, either not minding the bruising force or completely unaware of it. "Fuck. It feels so good."

"Yeah? Should I go faster, pretty girl? Make you feel more than good? Would you like that?" He teased, thumb gliding over your clit. You merely moaned clenching around him. Apparently, that was the right answer, because Namjoon picked up the pace. "That's it. That's the reaction I want to see. You going to cum for me, pretty girl? Can you do that for me?"

Before you could respond, his fingers touched a spot within you. A feeling unlike anything unless washed over you as you clamped down on him. Somewhere in the room, you heard yourself cry out; your voice barely recognizable to you. Then everything went blank for one blissful second. You officially had your first orgasm.

When you came to Namjoon was on top of you hungrily kissing your neck. His body grinded itself hard against yours desperate for friction. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist drawing him closer. He let out a moan of approval. His face pinched in pleasure and need. "Fuck, why do you feel so good? I'm not even in you yet…" his words stuttered as you rocked back against him. "I'm going to- I need to be in you now or I won't make it-"

In a bold move you bit the tip of his earlobe. Another low groan sounded from Namjoon as his hips rocketed forward suddenly before he stilled, eliciting a low guttural groan. Your own moans escaped you at the feeling of another orgasm approaching. Was this normal? Two orgasms in such little time? Did you stumble upon some sex god on tinder?

Fuck...maybe Namjoon was too good? Your readers would have unrealistic expectations if you used him as inspiration.

“Shit. I haven't done that since I was a teen." Namjoon breathed, rolling over beside you. Even sweaty with deflated hair Namjoon still looked handsome. It kind of made you wonder why he swiped right on you. Especially when tinder undoubtedly had hotter women on it than you.

"Is that a bad thing?" You questioned, feeling a bit insecure.

Namjoon grinned like the cat who caught the canary. "Not all. Usually, I get the girl undressed though, before I cum. "

You looked down at yourself realizing that he was right. Other than the sliver of skin between your unbuckled pants and slightly raised shirt you were completely dressed. "I guess we got a little carried away huh?"

"It's your fault for making such cute faces at me. I couldn't help but want to see you cum for me. " Namjoon sighed dramatically. "Totally worth it by the way."

Heat rose to your cheeks at his words. Seriously, what was with this boy? Not only did he shower you with false compliments after the fact, but he was abnormally confident in himself. "So now what?" You asked, avoiding the strange compliment.

Namjoon hummed thoughtfully, propping himself up beside you. "Well, if you give me a moment, we can do it all over again. This time with me inside you. "

“Okay.” You said, feeling shy suddenly. Casually you looked around his room trying to ignore the beating of your heart or the increasing nervousness you felt. A more experienced/ charming woman would know how to make conversation, perhaps even flirt her way to the next round. You however barely managed to make it pass the first act.

Act sexy… your mind whispered to you. Instantly your thoughts turned to flashbacks of characters from romance series. As belittling as it may seem for an English major, those dollar romance books were a guilty pleasure of yours. Especially the Jessica Monrose series which featured a sexy bounty huntress on the ride of a lifetime fighting werewolves, and demons alike. Her character never feared men or sex. She was sexy, confident, capable and- “I can suck you off if you want.” the words fell out of your mouth before you could ever ponder them.

Suck you off. Out of all the romantic enticing sexy things you could say, you chose the most literal and porno like line. You nearly facepalmed yourself. Undoubtedly your face was a disturbing shade of red right now. With no other option, you bit your lip staring patiently at Namjoon. It was too late to take it back after all, so you might as well pretend confident in this situation. Imitate Jessica Monrose, she would never back down from what she said, even if it was as stupid as your offer.

Namjoon simply kissed you. His lips moved simultaneously with yours; all previous awkwardness vanished. Looks like you learned something within this half hour here. You opened your mouth allowing him to slip his tongue in. It glided against yours. Some daring part of you closed your mouth around his tongue, gently sucking it. Surprisingly it wasn’t as disgusting as you thought it would be. Your one previous kiss in high school involved tongue and it felt you uninterested in kissing for years. This, though... was nothing like high school.

Namjoon groaned, sending a thrill down your spine. Your thighs pressed together at its sound. He had pretty groans. You wanted to hear more of them. Not just that, you wanted to see him lose control again. The idea of sucking him off appeared in your head once more, however just as your hand made its way down to his zipper, Namjoon regained control. Pushing you into the mattress his hands make busy work of your shirt. Cool air touched your naked skin. Goosebump pricked your skin but whether it was for the temperature or Namjoon’s longing stare at your clothed breast, you couldn’t say.

A moment of silence passed before he expertly unclasped your bra. It fell halfway between your shoulders and elbows, showing just the peak of your nipples. The hunger in Namjoon’s eyes grew.

Your heart beat rapidly against your chest as butterflies reappeared in your stomach. Nerves grew inside of you as worries came back alongside your longing and excitement. No one has seen your breasts before. This was the first time. What if they looked weird and you never knew it? Or perhaps they weren't the right shape or size- you knew they didn't match Cosmopolitan's interpretation of "the perfect breasts" by a long shot, but you thought they looked decent enough.

Time slowed down as he stared at them without a word. Hesitantly you moved to shrug the bra back on when Namjoon suddenly reached out tenderly cupping one of your breasts. A shiver ran down your spine at his warm touch, and the straps to slide down more. Your face bloomed a bright red Thankfully it went unnoticed by Namjoon, who seemed fully entranced by your body. Looked like you didn't need to worry about Namjoon’s opinion of your breasts. At least if his darkened eyes had anything to say.

Gaining a bit of confidence, you slipped the bra completely off. "Better?" You asked in a teasing tone.

"Much. " Namjoon replied, breathy. His hands fully palmed your breast as he engulfed you into another kiss. Long fingers teased your nipples until they perked and darkened, causing the ache between your legs to worsen. Something tells you; Namjoon's fingers won't be enough this time.

He shifted placing more weight onto your body. His hands desperatly clutch at your breasts as the neediness in his kiss increase. The kiss was now a sloppy (yet not unpleasurable) mess, sporadically switching from tongue play to kitten licks and bites on your bottom lip to Namjoon pulling away slightly only to continue his assault on your lips. "You are so beautiful, you know that? I don't think I've seen such perfect breasts.”

You give a small moan bucking your hips upwards. Seriously, what was it about Namjoon that reduced you into a needy slut. Was it simply because you were a virgin? A classmate once told you that people who lost their virginity after the age of twenty- three either turned into a slut or an old maid. At the time you laughed it off but how you felt now with Namjoon...but they weren’t so far off. If things continue how they are, you don’t know if you’ll be able to let Namjoon go that easily-

“Thoughts on me, pretty girl. Nothing else matters.” Namjoon teased. His hips pressed down on yours, stopping any movement from them. A small smirk formed on his lip as you whine in protest. Something wicked gleamed in his dark brown eyes as he drew circles into your hip with his finger. "Sorry, pretty girl but I don't make the same mistake twice. This time I'm going to make you cum on my cock."

"Hurry up then. I'm already wet, you don't need to flatter me anymore. " you pouted. You can’t help but feel annoy at how Namjoon's sudden dominance affected you so much.

Your tinder date merely smiled outlining your bottom lip with his thumb. "Now, now pretty girl, it's a man's job to let his partner know how beautiful she is. And you are especially beautiful…."

His lips hovered over yours. One inch more and they would touch yours, however he hovered denying you the pleasure of his touch. Something told you that Namjoon enjoyed teasing his partners. Otherwise, the damn bastard would be in you, rocking your world. “It’s not fair you know. Me being half-naked and you having all your clothes on.” you murmured.

“You’re right. I suppose I should take this off.” he grinned, peeling off the baggy shirt.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his athletic build. Sure, you felt the muscles on his shirt, but seeing them was another story. Namjoon reminded you of a soccer player or maybe a basketball player; lean, muscular but not too bulky. Really just the right amount of muscle, where he could easily carry you without accidentally crushing you to death. “You okay there, pretty girl?”

“Yeah...sorry, I just wasn’t expecting this.” you gesture to his body. “You are real right? Not some drunk hallucination from the shot of tequila I took earlier.”

“That’s a first.” He snorted. Humiliation washed over you. Okay, stupid question, but really this was not what you expected your first time to be like. Seeing your discomfort, Namjoon placed your hand on his chest. The warmth of his smooth skin radiated off of him. It made you giddy in an inexplicable way. Slowly he guided your hand downward sliding it across his abs, before raising it to his lips for a kiss. “Real enough for you? Or do you need more proof?”

#namjoon x y/n #namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #bts smut #bts imagine #kim namjoon #namjoon fluff #bts #Namjoon fic #Bts fic

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killxio · 1 year

Text

the start of something beautiful | r. braun

word count: 402 [ 1 min 30 sec read] | ✪ content warnings: uuuhhh stay away if u team fuck them kids. i mean i am too but like.. who don't love a fictional baby?

✮ new dad!reiner x new mom!reader / reiner x black!reader

you, your man, and y’all’s newborn baby.

- new dad!reiner who cried more than the baby did at birth

- new dad!reiner who, despite not letting you lift a finger since finding out about the pregnancy, still puts you on bedrest for the first few weeks post-partum. regardless of doctor's orders.

- new dad!reiner who rushes to his babygirl's every beck and call. he's learned her different types of cries after just one week, and can damn near hear her cry before she actually starts crying.

- new dad!reiner who's there for every post partum ache or craving, anything you want he'll get.

"whats wrong?" he immediately shoots up from his book in bed at the sight of you teary-eyed.

"it's s-stupid" you sniffle

"how many 'stupid' things have i made happen for you during the pregnancy? you still think i care about stupid?? tell me what's wrong baby."

"i want a kinder bueno bar so badddduhh" you whine, slumping over into the pregnancy pillow you still utilize.

you barely blink and he's sliding on his hoodie and slides.

best believe you got three of those damn bueno bars.

- new dad!reiner of whom you have a video of slowly swaying in the kitchen, lowly singing to an RnB song, daughter laying across one arm and a spatula in the other one early morning.

- new dad!reiner who has no concept of when a baby is meant to start eating solid food.

"so uhhh.. what's going on here?"

"’m introducing her to peanut butter."

"for one, ill be damned if my baby likes that solidifed dog water and two.. she's three and a half weeks old?"

"yeah. and?"

"'rei, that's like 8 month old shit. she can't even sit up on her own?"

(spoiler; not that you liked peanut butter before, but during your pregnancy the smell made you throw up on more than one occasion. no suprise she didn't like it a year later when reiner tried again.)

- new dad!reiner who you find in the hall late one night, showing babygirl your bump progression photos, explaining to her how big she was at each interval and how excited he is that she's finally here in the flesh.

- new dad!reiner who's first post of her had lyrics to "she's mine, pt.2" in the caption.

- new dad!reiner who, again, cries more than the baby does when his paternity leave is up and he has to work again.

- new dad!reiner, who makes you wanna marry him all over again.

#aot au #reiner braun #reiner x y/n #attack on titan reiner #reiner imagine #aot reiner #reiner x reader #reiner brainrot #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #black tumblr #black reader

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stormblessed95 · 2 years

Note

https://youtube.com/shorts/DPoRHQslNWM?feature=share

Iconic Park Jimin

Iconic Kookmin

Jimin in a skirt is 😙.. expecting more 👀

And Jeongguk being whipped af

Iconic Park Jimin is correct. This is everything I could ever want and I want it again please 😭😭

He is perfection

This isn't FUNNY JIMIN

I'm obsessed and if Jimin ever deigned to grace us with more Skirt content, I would be able to die happy. It took SO MANY YEARS for us to get Jimin in a skirt again. Lol

He is beautiful. For real. The perfect person DOES exist and his name is Park Jimin

#park jimin in a skirt #jimin butter concept photos

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yourmaidsp · 2 months

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Hii,

I'm having big difficulty with digital coloring T-T Are there perhaps any tips u can give me pls? Ur so good at it

Hii! (˃ ⌑ ˂ഃ ) I'm so glad u come to me for help! Umm well I'm not that confident about my skills and techniques, but here's everything I've learned over the years

Also, bc I'm gonna do demonstration and detailed analysis, this will be the only time I make tutorial on coloring, I spent 5 hours making it, and I hope you guys are okay with it :3

( and sorry if I nag a lot(´ . .̫ . `) and forgive me of my poor english)

1. Preparation:

first u gotta analyze the image you want to achieve, if it has background, what environment will it be, indoor or outdoor? what time of the day is it? Do u need it to be stylized or realistic?

When your idea is finalized it's time to gather references, I'd recommend using tools like PureRef to make a ref sheet bc it can be set to always on top layer, it's easier to reference this way.

If you're going for a realistical color design, search for photos close to what you desire, especially film screenshots. Also I'd suggest that u start to take reference photos yourself, bc search on Google leads u to ai sometimes,

and those are no good (´ . .̫ . `)

(For surreal color designs I'll elaborate on the next chapter～)

(here's my all in one big ass ref sheet for sp projects

bc I'm lazy(´ . .̫ . `))

I suggest u make different ref pages for different illustrations.

2. Set Tones :

(I find this color wheel on the internet, we'll be using this for demonstration)

Now u have a ref sheet, hurray! It's time to set the tone!

Most of the time u want a consistent tone for the image, like, I wanna go for a green overall tone, I'd fill my cavas with a green background color. Then decide what other colors goes good with it.

here's how it works:

For coherent overall tone, most colors tend to be in places near your main tone. as seen in the color wheel, pick colors adjacent to it's position. We call these analogues.

A small porpotion of colors on the opposite side of your main tone can be used to break the continuety, just like in music, you purposely add stuff to make it less repetitive. It's called complimentary.The most contrasted two colors on the wheel.

I use these two tricks a lot, as seen in both these two paintings:

(I put the small orange/red dots near the edge even though it's not there, to emphasize the concept of light against the overall blue tone.)

(to make Butters stand out against the environment I give him an orange bucket and a more saturated skin tone :3 )

For extreme stylized tones, I'd suggest just go wild! experement and use colors straight out of instinct, use whatever that is on the colorwheel. Use a lot of contrast!

(for e.g, this piece about that stan and whales I've doodled, it's an imaginary space, so no realife coloring rules applied.)

Oh oh and um try thumbnailing different sets of colors! Make more designs in case u change ur mind-

Also you can find color palettes other artists summarized online, they'd be quite helpful. And when you're improving you'll have palettes of your own!

3. Analysis n Theories:

Now onto theories-

I'll just use this sketch as an example, it's easier to demonstrate - (thank u Stan_(:зゝ∠)_)

(this is gonna be the longest part pls bear with me´_>`)

First is base color, without lighting this is what most objects are. Imagine things like they're in south park, just paper cutouts, without being affected by any light.

If I use color straight from the show, he's base color would be like this. It goes well with the show's design, but I need to adjust it a bit when putting him in a 3d scenario.

tips: considering the overall tone from chapter 2 while doing this would help a lot. U can tweak the base color before you deal with lighting, for a better effect.

(for coherent tone, some adjustments are made, mainly reducing the overall saturation.)

Then is lighting, normally 2-3 sets of them. Let's do it layer by layer.

Main light source. If it's an outdoor scene, most likely the sun. And for indoor, a lamp, your room's light, or tv screen etc.

When there's one light, it cast one shadow, as seen in my demo, I assume it comes from the sun, it's higher than Stan and on the right side, and cast a 45°shadow to the left side.

In this step u don't want to overthink, just do one plain shadow, follow the structure of the objects you'r painting. You can find a lot of anatomy refs online.

Secondary light source. It can be used to elevate the mood, and in some cases creates a stunning silhouette.

Since he's in an outdoor scene, my secondary light might come from behind, could be sunlight reflected by a smooth object or sth.

tips: You can use rim light as in some cases. I do that when I don't know what to paint for background.

(this one consists of a warm rim light, to add a slight sacred feeling, and a vague light from somewhere to the left and above him, I make it a cold light source to cool down the skintone for a melancholic mood )

(it's my personal habit of adding tons of these, bc I love subsurface scattering!(it appears when your skin is in front of the light, like my hand here) I find them helpful if you want to indicate intimacy or vulnerability)

Another type of light u can add is environment lights, it comes from various objects around your character, it's a bit complicated, but we can do that later.

Okay, next step,we're gonna use the shadow we just created on our base color, u have different ways to do it.

The quickest one is just put your shadow layer on top of the base,and set the layer property to multiply , grain extract or sub.

This is similar to anime cel shading, add some highlight to the eyes, some variety on the skin tone (for lip, cheek and nose), then you're done! I used to do this when I color the animation, but for illustration I think it might be too simple. I'll show you how I do that when illustrating next.

So, 'member all the shadows we did after base color? Now we need to actually paint them.

In natural environment, your color for shadow should be more sturated than the light, if not affected by environment light and reflections. That's why I lowered the saturation for base color.

So here's the skin color, to find a shadow color for it, tune up saturation and tune down the light.

But this might be just a bit boring, and actual light have color, so either make it a bit warmer or cooler depending on the color of your main light source.

The sun is quite warm, so I'll be tweak it a bit toward red.

(ah, much better!)

Now apply the same method for everything. Pay close attetion to some details:

(the shadows of eye structure is like this, bc the lens is transparent.)

(do a dark shadow in the center of the head to make silky smooth hair, also make the edge of your shadow area sharp.)

(for dry and curly hair, the shadow pattern would be gradiented with small bumps, think about snowball, or cloud.)

Okay, now we finished the first layer of shadow and light!

Now, for secondary light, I chose a reflected sunlight, thus it'd be yellowish. and since it's reflected, a less saturated color

Now apply that logic to everything, remember to use strokes or a softer brush for the subtle lighting.

And don't forget about hair highlight and subdivision scattering!(for the ears mainly, u can add some under the nose aswell)

Another trick is that u can duplicate the line and Gaussian blur it lightly, then set layer to Burn or soft light

(Here's your nostalgic filter!!Neat!)

You can either stop at this step or go in for more detail. But you might need to know about the structures if u wanna do that.

Here's a site I visit for human anatomy:

We'll go back to face again. My habit is just abandon the line and merge all layer at this moment (It's not a good habit so I won't suggest u to do the same.)

Basically what you'll need to do here is to assume more environmental color reflected on to your character, like a bluish light coming from the sky. Also the inside of collar may recieve a warm tone from the skin, etc.

When you do the strokes, remember it goes along the direction of the structure, the length and density will create a sort of rythm, and showing the texture of things. Like, for the hat I'll use shorter and wider, bc it's made of wool.

Here's the outcome! It still needs some improvement, but very close to a finished work.

Some times I add a layer of noise texture to it, I guess you can do that easier on the phone.

4. Brushes n Textures

Oh um, this is actually a part I especiallly have no confident in,,,,, bc I'm not a big fan of using comlicated brushes or blending brushes. Usually I paint with TVPaint animation, for I also do animation and it's simplicity made me unable to be distracted by fancier techniques, I only use these two brushes:

(the basic clear edge round brush)

(and this pencil brush that can also spray paint)

Most of the time I find these enough for my works.

I'd suggest using Procreate, Krita, Photoshop and othe tool for more complicated brush use~

You can learn from some artists I mentioned in the next chapter for brush techniques~

5. Learning habits

So um another thing I'd do in my free time is just browsing Artstation and Pixiv, and if I find a good painting I'd analyze it, using the theories from chapter 3 and 4.

Here are some digital artists I like:

Gop gap, Tommy Kim, Krenz, Qqingyi

And some traditional artists I like are:

John Singer Sargent, Andrew Wyeth, Chirico, Alex Colville, Edward Hopper, Wu Guanzhong.

I hope this tutorial I make will be able to help~

Wish u the best of luck!

#maid's requests #art tips #sp fanart

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daechvvitas · 1 year

Text

GIRL MEETS EVIL | prologue

to escape her harrowing past, a young woman runs away to seoul and is taken in by the the owner of BANGTAN, the hottest club in the city. what seems like just a luxurious nightclub on the surface is actually a money laundering front for its true purpose: the stomping ground for the most notorious mafia in the region. and when the past comes back to haunt her, the seven members vow to do anything to protect her.

pairing(s): mafia!bts x bottle girl!reader (f) genre: mafia au, noir, angst, sm*t rating: mature, minors dni warnings: mentions of physical ab*se (not from the boys) word count: 1.1k

a/n: this has been an idea of mine ever since the butter concept photos dropped and now i'm motivated to finish it! this is just a small prologue/flashback to set things up. all of the boys will be featured in the next chapter!

MASTERLIST • NEXT CHAPTER

january 2020, seoul

Seoul was made for the night time. A myriad of lights reflected off the skyscrapers and hanging signs. The air was filled with laughter from pedestrians, watch where you’re going! from drivers, and a cacophony of music. Sleep-deprived university students wandered down the sidewalks, on the hunt for study fuel. Meanwhile, the hedonistic and the reckless drunkenly bounced from one bar to another without a care in the world.

And then, there was you.

Somehow, you managed to find a quiet spot amongst the bustling activity. Your frame, worn down from hunger and exhaustion, was just barely propped up against the brick wall in the dark alleyway. Shallow breaths slipped from your lips, eyes fluttering open and close to try and keep yourself awake. But it was too damn hard. An almost unbearable pain radiated through your ribs. He’d broken them, that was for certain. Or at the very least, sprained.

Just the mere thought of him was enough to send you into a panic. Tears began to fall. Teeth slicing into your inner cheek, you squeezed your eyes shut and forced yourself to quell your ever-rapid beating heart. You’re safe now. No one will hurt you ever again. The words weren’t as comforting as you hoped. It was a lie, after all. You weren’t safe. If there was anything this cruel world had taught you in nearly twenty-three years of living, it was that you would never be safe anywhere.

"What are you doing?"

The unfamiliar, masculine voice jolted you into alertness, but the bruised ribs kept you from making a run for it. Another surge of panic overtook you. It may not have been him but that didn’t lessen the fear. The voice still belonged to a man and that was more than enough reason to beware.

Blinking rapidly to clear your blurred vision, your wide eyes landed on the tall shadowy figure standing a few feet away. His face was hidden by the shitty lighting, even as he slowly began to approach. Ignoring the pain, you slowly curled your legs into yourself, rendering yourself into a ball of protection from the unknown source.

"I’m not going to hurt you."

You bit back a humorless laugh. How many times had you heard that before? You’d just escaped the last man who promised you that.

"Don’t... D-Don’t come closer." Those were the first words you’d spoken in a day. They scratched at your throat unpleasantly.

"You shouldn’t be out here alone—"

The man’s voice trailed off as he stepped close enough to get a proper look at you. He exhaled sharply, his entire body suddenly rigid as he took the sight in. Your ribs weren’t the only thing bruised. Under the left eye, a harsh purple-red discoloration marred your skin. Your lips were swollen beyond its limit, dried blood caked over the bottom. Hair that reached your mid-back was currently matted down by sweat and dirt. You felt mortified to be witnessed like this.

"Who did this to you?"

He was angry. You dealt with enough angry men in your past to know exactly what that sounded like. As he knelt before you, you flinched, preparing yourself for a blow to the face. But one never came. Instead, you in return caught your first sight of him as he stepped into the light. Even at your eye level, his tall stature couldn’t be ignored. Silence fell between you two as you took him in. His dark, draconic eyes were narrowed in suppressed rage.

It should have been a terrifying sight, but it was strangely beautiful. Just like him.

"What’s your name?" He asked.

You felt compelled to tell him, but you remained silent. Trust was not something that you could hand so easily onto a plate. You’d done it before and it did nothing but land you here. He nodded, seeming to understand your hesitation. It was almost eerie how gentle he was being. Almost as if he knew that one sudden move would cause you to crumble all over again.

"You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to."

His eyebrows furrowed in concern. The controlled calm he had over the conversation was admirable to witness. In comparison, you felt like an embarrassingly fragile little thing. You were all raw, devastating emotions while he was steadfast and firm. He clenched his teeth, the muscle flexing beneath his sun-kissed jaw. The small movement caused the collar of his expensive dress shirt to shift, exposing a huge, jagged scar on his neck. Your eyes widened, wondering how deep and far the cut ran. He noticed instantly and his expression clouded, fixing the collar to cover the healed wound once more.

“Guess we’ve both been hurt.” He piped up in a cryptic tone. As if he was trying to coax a morbid laugh from you. It didn’t work. Instead, you felt your heart sink. Someone had hurt him — just like someone had hurt you. You couldn’t help but wonder who or why. But that wasn’t a question you dared to say out loud. As beautifully phlegmatic as he appeared, he was still a stranger to you. You never knew what could change his expression of worry into one of fury. And you had zero desire to find out.

"My name's Kim Namjoon. You don’t have to speak, but let me help you. You’re obviously cold and hungry." He offered. "You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you ever again."

You’re safe now. No one will ever hurt you ever again.

A chill crept up your spine, hearing him repeat the words you’d just said to yourself. You wondered if it was a sign from a god you didn’t even believe in. He said the statement with all the confidence in the world. It felt like a silent vow at the altar. Kim Namjoon made you want to believe that he could actually protect you.

"O-Okay..." You whimpered out with a slow nod. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to express your consent. Namjoon gave you a gentle smile in response. You could tell by the way it shyly formed on his features that it was a rare gesture. And yet, he decided to give you one.

You hoped the smile would be the first of many.

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts imagines #namjoon x reader #jin x reader #yoongi x reader #hoseok x reader #jimin x reader #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #bts scenarios #fic: girl meets evil #*gme

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sweetly-yours-and-mine · 1 year

Text

Bordeaux

Pairing: Marc Spector x f!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: She's not exactly sure why she's invited Marc to Bordeaux.

Warnings: mentions of the death of a loved one, written in two hours, poorly edited (author has BDE)

A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my head ever since I watched Un Beau Matin. Any dialogue I used from the movie is bolded down below. English translations will be given at the end of the fic. French is not my native language, so please excuse any mistakes.

I don't own photos, dividers or characters.

Élodie had invited her, once again, to the villa in Bordeaux. Had tempted her really, with the promise of sunshine and a warm, swimmable, ocean. Two things that were a rarity to come by in London, and a luxury spilled in abundance in the South of France.

There was also room that would be left empty, Élodie had said, a friend of a friend had cancelled last minute (so much the better for everyone else, if you asked her sister), and if she wanted to, she could bring a friend.

Friend, being a word heavily insinuated and laden with worries unsaid.

A word that she bravely took at face value and approached Marc with the offer.

Though it was easy to play oblivious to her sister’s intentions, it was less possible to ignore her own motivations.

Why Marc?

At face value, it was because there was a loneliness in him that she felt was reflected in herself. Because he was the only person she dared call a ‘friend’, ever since moving to England and isolating herself on the little island.

She liked to believe Marc was a friend. They went out for lunch almost every week and usually, Friday evenings, she’d come over and get a little tipsy on wine, tipsy enough that her words would slur and her well-practised English would slip and fall into her mother tongue. Once or twice a month they go and see a play or movie, or to the orchestra, with drinks before and dinner after.

Those nights, the formal nights, Marc is partial to an all-black getup, a black dress shirt that he leaves unbuttoned, a black suit. It’s an image that alights a squiggly feeling inside of her, one a clumsy child’s hands would make with a broken blue crayon on paper.

Other than that, sometimes Marc comes over for brunch on Sunday mornings, a concept he’d introduced her to and one that she’s come to grudgingly see the appeal in. He sips coffee with her and eats buttered toast and makes her laugh with crude little pequin peppers of jokes.

But never, from either side of the conversation, has there been any hint towards inviting more people into their bubble.

Her excuse is simple, she doesn’t know anyone else to invite. Everyone she knows is on the other side of the Channel.

Marc’s excuse is not so obvious to her. She squints through the parchment papers of them, and can’t come up with a satisfactory answer.

She wonders that maybe the reason why she hasn’t bothered herself to find more people she’d be able to call friends was because she was happy with Marc’s quiet companionship. His not-so-smiling-smiles, the way his eyes crinkle when he gives her a belly-laugh like a giant Ferroro Rocher ball, wrapped up in golden paper.

She’s moved to England for almost a year now, and she’d only been lonely the first two months, before she ran into Marc in a coffee shop, tears in her eyes and ready to call this new chapter over before it was written.

Sometimes, she tries to reason that it’s because he’s an American, a foreigner in a new continent. That his move was more intense than hers, and together, they found each other in the margins and happily decided to set up camp.

His Americanness is also a blessing in disguise. The dreaded oral exams of her youth were always in a quite generic, American accent. When moving to London, she’d had a false sense of security that there would be a very short adaptation time to the English accents, since she could understand the unobstructed audio of the woman saying I like bananas very much. What is your favourite fruit? in her BAC listening exams.

Coming home from work, her head is pounding from the struggle of trying to sort through the various inflections, tones, speeds of the seemingly infinite variations of a single accent. She feels betrayed by the French public education system. Nobody had prepared or warned her about this.

When she talks to Marc, however, it’s easy to understand him. It relaxes the joints of her brain, soothes it over. It’s the reassurance that she’s not in fact stupid and incompetent, things her coworkers must surely think of her after she’s asked them for the fourth time to repeat themselves.

She could also argue and say that she had already pushed away many of her own friends, heaping handfuls of time before her move. That the very reason why she changed countries was to start fresh, and that inviting her old university friends to the vacation would be awkward and heavily-charged with betrayal, a step back.

Despite all this, she hasn’t been able to ignore the true reasons underneath her choice of Marc.

Quite simply, she could have just said she had no one to invite over.

It would have resulted in a decently heated exchange or two, about wasting her life, about using her youth to find someone to settle down with before she was too old for it.

Not a pleasant experience for what should have been easy vacation, to kick back and destress.

But at least she would have had an easy mind about her own choice.

Yet, looking at Marc now, playing with her niece, she’s not sure she regrets it; even if her mind has been plagued with the why of it ever since they arrived.

He’s letting her niece play with his cheeks, letting her hands push around an imaginary bubble of air in his mouth.

The two of them had been able to surpass the language barrier quite easily it seems. Though little Anaïs, at only five, had been sure to show him that she was quite well-versed in English by rattling off the alphabet and counting to twenty-five for him, the difficulties only starting from seventeen.

Relaxed and sunkissed is a nice look on him.

Laughter comes easier to him now, even if their jokes and stories are poorly translated and lose a lot of their mirth in English. The smile lines are deeper than the frowns, the delicate folds around his eyes like embroidery almost always present.

In London, Marc combs back his hair meticulously. She’s seen him do it, grumbling and swearing under his breath when it doesn’t fall the way he likes it to.

In Bordeaux, he lets it loose, free from the obligations of work and life and the fresh air and the saltwater bringing out the best of it. His short curls move as if they have a mind of their own.

She longs to thread her fingers between them, to sink her teeth into the exposed, caramel-like freckled skin of his chest as if it were cotton candy and salt-water taffy.

She had meant to be reading.

The sight in front of her, the view of the ocean just a stone’s throw behind the two, was much more appealing at the moment.

The glassed door opens and there’s the gentle swish of Élodie’s sandals, the faint thud of a tray of lemonade and wine hitting the table beside her.

“T’as soif?”

She shakes her head, murmurs her thanks. She’s the type of sleepy that comes from too much rest and sunshine.

The hinges of the chair squeak as her sister sits down beside her.

The moment before it happens, she knows it’s coming. They’ve barely had any time alone together since her arrival, and Marc’s presence had already raised quite a lot of eyebrows, undeterred by the fact that they had separate rooms.

It’s the perfect moment for some older sister grilling. Everyone’s retreated to their own rooms, or to town to stock up on some groceries and alcohol.

Marc doesn’t understand French, Anaïs too little, and too preoccupied, to understand what they’re truly saying.

She tsks and sets down her book a tad too harshly on the table, “Putain, Élodie-”

“J’ai rien dit!” she holds her hands up in defence.

At the sudden sound of an argument in the making, Marc looks at the two of them, a crease forming in his eyebrows that fades as soon as she smiles back at him.

The momentary distraction gives Anaïs the executive power to decide that a change in pace would be nice, and she pounces on him from behind.

Marc’s taken aback but then he laughs out, turning behind him, “You’re a bit of a monkey aren’t you!” They tumble together onto the ground, the girl’s excited giggles swirling up into the ocean air.

The sight warms her heart in ways that his all-black look does, and she knows better than to dive into those emotions.

“Il est beau, ce Marc, non?” Though the question is teasing, though she’s heard it multiple times from the people in the villa, there’s an undercurrent of sisterly concern and worry. Despite all the troubles Élodie gives her, it’s a sound that pricks tears from her eyes, reminds her just how homesick she’s been this past year.

She takes an exasperated breath and picks up her book again, “J’en sais rien.”

There’s a heavy pause, almost as if it exists outside of Marc’s happy world. She’s never heard him giggle like that before, it twists at her stomach in unignorable ways.

“Tu l’aimes?”

She turns an unread page and hopes the thundering of her heart isn’t too loud.

Her sister’s eyes soften, out of the corner of her eye she sees her head tilt towards her direction, “C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche?”

“Non,” she concedes and picks at her thumb, then thumbs the corner of her books, letting the pages run under her finger.

“Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune,” she rolls her eyes at this, it’s the same excuse every time. “T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée.”

When it’s clear that she won’t respond, Élodie continues, slyly, “Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien?”

It stings like a bee, her words. The images that arise in her mind against her will are like poison, homebrewed alcohol.

She stings back, “Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille.”

That manages to shut off the conversation, though there’s a sour taste in her mouth that also hangs in the air between her and her sister.

With a squeal, Anaïs runs towards her mother, a grin pressed into her cheeks, “Maman!”

Élodie takes her daughter in her arms, kisses her cheeks, “Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien?” The girl nods, hugging her back. “T’as soif, alors?”

Marc gets up from the ground, and brushes off the dirt from his shorts. There’s a groan as he tries to stand up, and he rubs his back soothingly to combat against it.

She treasures the sound he made, the gentle frown in his face and the soft way it faded away with the pain in his back. “Are you thirsty, Marc?” she calls out to him. He comes to stand in front of her, and he nods, an open smile hanging around his face like morning dew. “Wine? Or lemonade?”

As she pours him some wine, her niece some lemonade, Steven looks at her from the wine bottle with a dumbfounded expression, his eyes dark and serious with grief.

A glance at him makes Marc wonder what kinda stick his alter’s got up his ass now.

But the wine is refreshing, and it brushes away any thoughts of Steven and of the heated words the sisters had exchanged as he was playing on the ground.

Thanks for reading, if you liked it, please consider leaving some feedback! I don't usually respond to, but I obsess and re-read reblogs and comments constantly. (Part 2 to this is looking enticing lemme tell you)

Masterlist here, requests here.

Translations:

T'as soif? - Are you thirsty?

Putain, Élodie - Fuck, Elodie

J'ai rien dit! - I didn't say anything!

Il est beau, ce Marc, non? - He's pretty, this Marc, isn't he?

J'en sais rien - I don't know what you're talking about.

Tu l'aimes? - Do you love him?

C’est son souvenir qui t’empêche? - Is it his memory that's stopping you?

Alors, c’est quoi ton problème? Chérie, ça fait presque cinq ans depuis sa mort et t’es encore jeune - So what's your problem? Sweetheart, it's been almost five years since his death, and you're still young,

T’as le droit d’aimer, d’être aimée - You have the right to love, to be loved.

Alors, tu t’en fous que Marie l’aime bien? - So, you don't care that Marie likes him?

Élodie, t'es pire que maman. Laisse-moi tranquille. - Elodie, you're worse than Mom. Leave me alone.

Bonjour mon ange, tu t'amusais bien? - Hello, my angel, were you having fun?

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