#except dream and delusion
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isame-allen · 2 months ago
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Cross, Error, and Ink are also werewolves. Dream and Blue are vampires like Nightmare
There’s many other AUs there, including multiple variants of the same AUs but as different races
H!DS is there. Delusion’s a vampire, Pluto’s a neko (not clickbait), Slash is a werewolf, Hunter’s a naga/lamia, Byte is a skidder/aracne (think centaur, but instead of Horse it’s Spider), and Gouge is a little rabbit hybrid creature.
There’s at least 3 different Jet and Obsidians, not counting actual alternates like Onyx and Raven.
Hunter is cold-blooded, which means he can’t regulate his body temperature on his own. This also means he’s VERY cuddly with warm-blooded humans. He wraps around you and hugs you and gently squishes you <33
ERROR AND INK ARE WEREWOLVES????
BLUE IS A VAMPIRE????
FUVKING BYTE IS A PART SPIDER⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️
HUNTER IS COLD BLOODED AND CAN HUG ME FOR WARMTH⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️
SIGN ME TF UP
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beldaroot · 2 years ago
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barry s4e4........... bill hader i'm in your walls!!!!!!!!!
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moonfurthetemmie · 10 months ago
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Hello! I'm working on a DnD-based Fatal Flaws AU (writing for it this evening in fact), and I swear I did a double take when I saw that your version of DnD Cross was also a dragonborn (I saw it a while ago, but was too nervous to say anything). I've been kicking around the idea for a few months now (since around Thanksgiving I think) and that's about when I got Tumblr, so I have no clue how we convergently evolved that one thing.
But yeah. Dragonborn Vick/Cross. She exists.
oh sick!!!
Normal DS Cross in the Giant Fantasy AU is a halfling, but the DS inclusion happened way before Fatal Flaws was Fatal Flaws, and half the cast got genderbent. Back then, DS Cross was a twink to me and Wheeze, so,,,’he’ got to be a tiny gremlin.
I think if we were to make the DS part of the Fantasy AU now, she’d probably be something much, much bigger. Maybe not a Dragonborn, though it’s pretty likely
But then what would I have made Slash? Dragonborn’s perfect for her too,,,,(<- this bitch has an illogical grudge against making alternates of the same character the same race in the Fantasy AU*)
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isa-ah · 2 years ago
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been having some creepy stuff happen lately and who knows if it's paranormal or PTSD related ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯
#while i was showering a few weeks back i glanced up and saw someones head peeking over the curtain like 7ft up#no face just hair. long and tawny#that night when we laid down to sleep we said our goodnights and a moment later i heard from the head of the bed#'i love you.'#but it sounded way yoo feminine and young yo be my husband so i asked what he just said and he was like ??? literally nothing#he didnt hear it at all even though it was perfectly audible to me#a few nights ago i woke up paralyzed by the absolute self assured KNOWLEDGE that a girl was standing in our bathroom doorway#except her feet were on the ceiling instead of the floor#i was 100% too scared to look bc out of a dead sleep i was so so so sure#i pushed my face into my husbands back and staid there bc i was ckncinced if i rolled back her hair would tickle my face#which yeah ok ive gotten paranoid delusions and hallucinations before bc my ptsd is. severe lol#but not like this really#this morning my dream was interrupted much how it is when an alarm starts going off and you hear it in your dream#its dismebodied and you can consciously recognize it was real life without necessarily realizing youre dreaming#i had that except whispering? moving around our bedroom coming towards me#and the more i focused on it the more i could hear the cricket ambience i was playing irl while we slept#and i had the thought thats weird. whos walking around my room whispering?#til it happened pressed right up against my ear and i JUMPED out of my skin instantly wide awake in bed#i have no clue if its real!!!! but man. what the fuck lol
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hereticsgravesite · 4 months ago
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tacticalprincess · 8 months ago
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a/n i need him in ways that wouldve gotten me lobotomized in the 50s…
himbo!könig wanted your first time together to be special. after all the months of work he put in getting you to take him seriously, all of his dumb attempts at courting you, he wasn’t going to fumble his chances with you now.
he’s usually pretty confident in himself, almost to the point of delusion, but something about you makes him so nervous, and he can’t wrap his head around someone like you genuinely being interested in a goofy guy like him :( that’s why he misses all of the opportunities you give him to fuck you, always taking your hints and attempts at seducing him the wrong way…
“it’s so hot in here, köni.” “are you getting sick, liebchen? should i turn the air on?” “no, i think i’m wearing too many clothes…” “…you don’t look overdressed to me.”
at some point you start to question if he actually does want you in that way. but the way even the slightest touch from you has him popping boners is enough to shake you out of those doubts. everything about you seems to turn him on. he’s convinced you were plucked straight from his wettest dreams, and he can’t stand to be in close proximity to you for too long without being affected. but he thinks he hides it well enough— always covering the proof of his arousal with a subtle pillow over his lap whenever you’re around.
of course he wants to make the move, but he wants to do it properly. it happens the night he takes you to a small town carnival. he planned on kissing you on top of the ferris wheel, but he unfortunately surpassed the weight limit. instead he holds your hand on the rollercoasters and you feed each other fair food. he insists on stopping at every game until he’s won you too many stuffed animals for you to carry and eventually you’re forced to leave.
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he’s shaking in his boots by the time you get back to his place, tripping over the mess on his floor and stumbling over his words. sensing his hesitancy, you’re the one to lead him to his room, your hand wrapped around his large finger.
“are you sure, maus? we don’t have to, i have DVDs–”
“shut up and fuck me, köni.” you huff, already fully naked and exposed on his bed. “please.”
he plans to take it slow, he really does. getting the chance to please you, to be let inside your hot body for the first time, is a privilege he doesn’t take lightly. he wants you both to savor it, he has to make it good for you :(
instead, he absolutely loses himself the moment his fat, pulsing cock sinks into your gummy cunt. he goes full caveman, your headboard slamming against the wall with the force of his thrusts for all your poor neighbors to hear :( all thoughts leave him when he’s sheathed inside of you except for how perfect your sopping pussy feels around him, borderline animalistic as he uses your smaller body as a fleshlight. the sounds of his heavy balls smacking against your ass accompanied by your pretty whines and moans only spur him on.
he fucks you in missionary so it’s more intimate, but there’s nothing romantic about the way he’s mounting you. you thank god for making you flexible as he’s pushing your knees up to your ears, seemingly trying to push his cock deeper than your small cunny has room for, stretching your poor cunt past its limit. you swear you can feel him all the way in your stomach, mushroom tip bruising your cervix with each thrust.
you don’t even notice you’re sobbing until he does. “are you okay, liebe? does it hurt?” he asks through heavy pants. “fuck, i’m sorry. i don’t think i can stop myself, you just— you feel so fucking good. you’re so… warm… squeezing me so tight. just- just hang in there for me, ja?”
your brain can’t work for long enough to form words, rough thrusts drawing nothing but high pitched staccato “uh-uh-uh”’s from your throat. you’re drunk on the feeling of his thick cock splitting you open, the way his heavy body squishes yours, barricading you in so you’re completely engulfed by him. his hairy stomach ruts against your sensitive, puffy clitty until you’re clenching around him, your sudden orgasm draining the cum out of his tight balls. “so good. fuck, you’re so perfect. best pussy i’ve ever felt.” he fucks you through the high, mindlessly overstimulating you both until you have to physically push him off of you.
you might’ve created a monster…
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niningtori · 3 months ago
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mad about you | oneshot
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pairing: choi beomgyu x you, delusions of kang taehyun x you
summary: beomgyu is not only a spoiled, rich asshole whose whole life has been served to him on a silver platter, but he's also your student council vice president. things finally come to a head on your final trip as college students, but not in the way you would expect. or, beomgyu catches you, the student council president, smoking weed and tries to blackmail you for it
genre: romance, angst (only a tiny bit...? shocking i know), fluff (kinda...? shocking i know), SMUT (MDNI!!!), sub!idol, beomgyu enemies to lovers
warnings: bad writing, not proofread at all, smut (MDNI!!!), sub!gyu LMAOOOO, marijuana, dirty talk, praise, handjobs, oral (m. receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, lmk if i missed anything!
word count: 7.1k
notes: please... this took MONTHS for me to write i fear i am the worst request taker on moablr. this was really difficult for me to complete but alas... it is done. if you hate it, my fault! just please don't bully me i've got enough shit going on in my life rn 💀 i hate it too but that's okay!
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being a straight-a student is hard. being the student government president? even harder. being both? hell on earth. but now, in your senior year of college, you’ve finally managed to get it down to a science. things run relatively smoothly, which is due in no small part to the blood, sweat, and tears you’ve put in to make the student body happy, never mind the lengths you've gone to for the faculty. you can confidently say you can cope with nearly every trial and tribulation that comes your way with a smile on your face. well, except for one recurring disaster: beomgyu.
at first, he was nothing more to you than a pest buzzing around for no real purpose other than to mildly annoy you. it was strange because he seemed normal at first, but then he would pick on your looks, every time you made a mistake in class, and even how you happened to wear your hair that day. this was annoying and, well, hurtful. still, it was of no real consequence, so you were able to ignore him when that was the case, but now you know better than to underestimate just how disastrous beomgyu’s presence can be. as the student government vice president, he should be your first and most trusted ally, but he’s nothing short of, for lack of a better term, a major asshole deadset on making your life even more difficult than it already is for reasons unknown to you.
you think it may be because you would have probably beaten him for the actual president’s chair, which led him to run for vice president, instead. you don’t know why he minds this, though, because he couldn’t seem to care less about the council, not to mention school in general. it’s not that he gets bad grades, because he doesn’t. in fact, when he gets called on in class, he always gets the answer right even when he clearly wasn’t paying any attention. still, you work twice as hard as anyone else and yet your grades are only rivaled by his own. even taehyun, your (probably unrequited) crush, can’t help but be beaten by beomgyu as if the hand of god itself smacks down on everyone else every time you all take a test. 
getting good grades should be an admirable thing, right? it helps with potential internships and jobs and all that, but the thing is: beomgyu doesn't need any of it. even if he fails all of his classes, he's set for life as the son of a formidable CEO of a company whose profits are more than you could ever dream of attaining. there is absolutely no doubt that beomgyu will succeed him, and there is even less doubt that he'll undeniably be very, very good at it. what’s worse is that even if he failed to meet expectations, he’d still get the position, anyway. 
that, in comparison with your family’s laughable financial circumstances, would be enough to make you secretly hate the boy just on principle; but jealousy is ugly, no doubt, so you’ve kept your feelings to yourself. you would have fallen into a pit of self-loathing and guilt had beomgyu actually been kind, and you may have even grown to like him if that were the case, but no. beomgyu is not kind. he’s a total prick. you see it in his smug little smile when the test papers get handed back and he annihilates everyone — other than you — in class, especially taehyun. you see it in the smirks he sends you when you catch him making out with whoever his new girlfriend of the week happens to be, and in the way he openly mocks you by calling you a prude in front of the entire student population. and most importantly, you see it in the way he watches you struggle to stay afloat while he cruises on by without a care in the world.
-
honestly? beomgyu knows better than to bully the girl he has a crush on just because he wants her attention, but who told you to make it so damn hard on him? it’s not like he didn’t consider being nice at first, but your aloofness to his charms only caused him to believe that he was nearly invisible to you, and he simply wouldn't stand for that. naturally, the best course of action was to get you to hate him — at least that means you’re actually paying attention to him. that’s what he tells himself as he’s sticking one of his spindly legs out as you walk past him, effectively tripping you in the process and making the entire class erupt into laughter. your nostrils flare as your head whips up to meet his condescending gaze. once again, your eyes are completely on him. check and mate.
that's what it feels like, at least, until you’re hurriedly pulled up by a concerned taehyun and he’s frantically asking if you’re alright while fixing up your (now) fucked up hair. your eyes, which were just brimming with anger and contempt for him, are now overflowing with lovesickness and infatuation for the other boy. well, never mind about the whole “checkmate” thing, it’s like beomgyu doesn’t even exist in the same world as you anymore.
-
“you need to relax,” taehyun says, gently closing the notebook in front of you and sliding over a few of your favorite snacks. 
“th-thank you, tyun,” you reply, shyly. he grins when he sees he’s succeeded in distracting you.
“no problem, we wouldn’t want that pretty little head of yours to break from thinking too much, now would we?” he teases. you feel heat rushing to your cheeks at his words. he doesn’t really mean them, he never does, but that doesn’t stop your heart from racing when he says things like this to you. 
having a crush on taehyun is only natural. that’s what you tell yourself, but the way you have a shrine dedicated to notes he’s passed you and polaroids you’ve taken together sitting prettily in your room is most definitely unnatural. he doesn’t need to know about that, though.
“my head’s not going to break,” you huff with a playful roll of your eyes. “i just need to finish outlining the major stops on the trip and i’ll be done, i promise.” 
it’s true that all you have to do is outline where you’re going to stop on the council’s senior trip, which doesn’t sound like a big deal in theory, but in actuality, you have to clear each stop with the faculty and make sure you stay within the budget in spite of beomgyu’s insufferable attempts to exceed it. he’s made light of the finances and talked up special events to the rest of the council members, even taehyun. you tried to snuff out these suggestions with realistic arguments about how expensive it will be, but his response was to call you a killjoy. simple and straightforward, but effective, nonetheless. everyone, even taehyun, was so excited to try everything he hyped up, so how could you say no when taehyun turned to you, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and practically begged you to relent? you, unfortunately, didn’t and don’t have the heart to deny him, so you caved, and now you’re stuck trying to figure it all out. 
“you promise?” taehyun asks, snapping you out of your spiral, with his cute cat-like fangs showing ever so slightly.
“i promise,” you nod and he cheers triumphantly. again, you can’t help but feel your cheeks warm, and you’d bask in the moment if your gaze didn’t happen to catch beomgyu’s scrutinizing one at this very moment. he looks at you like he’s watching a monkey putting on a show, and your happiness is instantly replaced with a sense of embarrassment. you’ve never told a single soul about your feelings for taehyun, but eerily enough, beomgyu seems to know something the rest of the world does not. he seems well aware of your deepest secret. why he doesn’t just expose you in order to humiliate you, you have no idea, but you do know you don't like how much he knows.
-
you really, really shouldn’t be doing this. and certainly not here, of all places, but you just can’t help it. smoking weed is terrible for you, and you of all people should know, seeing as how you led a presentation on its ill effects in front of the entire student body in your freshman year. but it’s hard to truly care when you’re wound so tightly you feel like you’re about to burst. 
beomgyu is getting his way again, as always, and you’re worried about having to make yet another last minute change to your trip’s itinerary for tomorrow because he called today’s stop boring, which led to the rest of the council silently agreeing. so here you sit on the top of the hotel building as the rest of the group are out sightseeing, taking a long, lung-scorching drag from the blunt in between your fingers. 
“didn’t take you for the smoking type, madame president,” a voice cuts in from out of nowhere. beomgyu. fuck. 
you try to keep your cool, but you end up choking on the smoke as you hurriedly go to flick the blunt away, but beomgyu’s hand grabs your wrist before you can quite make it there. his touch feels like a brand searing itself into your skin, but you’re too overstimulated to notice. 
“i didn’t tell you you had to stop,” he muses condescendingly as you rip your wrist away from his grasp. he winces. you don't catch it. instead, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the presumption that he has the power to tell you to do anything.
“i’m not one of your little minions,” you snap in spite of yourself. “quit acting like you can boss me around.” 
“is that so?” he questions, not without an air of smugness. alarm bells blare in your ears as you try to sniff out where his confidence is coming from. sure, he caught you smoking, but it’s your word against his. that’s right, there’s no need to be scared. if he says anything at all, you can just feign innocence and say you were the one who caught him sneaking out to smoke.
“yep,” you answer with a grin at your new plan, popping the “p” with the same obnoxiousness he usually terrorizes you with. you’re no match for him in terms of popularity, but you will never lose to him when it comes to credibility.
“you’re not afraid that i’ll snitch on you? you’re not scared of me telling everyone how little-miss-perfect spends her alone time?” 
“you can try,” you reply with a shrug. he’s silent for a few moments, as if he’s in deep thought. 
“you know what? you’re right,” he concedes with a sigh, and shockingly so. the beomgyu you know and loathe would never give up that easily. “you don’t have to listen to what i say. nobody would believe me over you, right?” 
you eye him suspiciously before giving a slight nod.
“and most times, you would be absolutely right. like, just imagine if i told them you faked being sick and flaking on everyone else just so you could get high. nobody would believe me. i wouldn’t even believe me,” he continues. you have no idea why he’s going on and on about this, but you don’t like it. 
“what the hell are you playing at?” you ask through clenched teeth. 
“i mean, i’m just saying that nobody would believe me. not unless i showed them something like, i don’t know, this?” he says with a grin, holding up his phone and showing you an alarmingly high resolution photo of you taking a hit of your blunt. your eyes widen in sheer horror and you immediately jump to try to retrieve his phone from his hands, but beomgyu is quicker. he tauntingly holds it up in the air with one arm and stops you from coming any closer with the other. you try to jump to reach it, but you’re no match for his stature and long limbs. damn him for being so fucking tall.
“delete it!” you shriek, but all he does is click his tongue and shake his head like the insufferable asshole he is. 
“oh, sure,” he says nonchalantly. your eyes widen even further as he lowers his phone and fiddles with the screen, still keeping you at arm’s length so you’re helpless to grab it for yourself.
“r-really?” you ask incredulously, sincerely taken aback by his compliance. stupid, stupid you. he tuts in response.
“you don’t really think i’ll make it that easy, do you?”
“fine,” you relent, jaw tense and eyebrows furrowed in an almost comically exaggerated way. “what the hell do you want from me?”
“nothing much, just lemme smoke with you,” he answers with a lopsided grin, showcasing a dimple in his cheek you had never noticed until now.
“w-what?” you ask dazedly. 
“god, you’re slow,” he tells you with a roll of his eyes. “smoke with me and i’ll delete the picture. i won’t even mention it again.” 
“are you being serious?” you whisper. 
“dead serious,” he smirks. 
“... fine,” you find yourself relenting, yet again. you don’t know if you necessarily trust him to actually follow through with his words, but what choice do you have? why he wants to smoke with you, you have no idea, but if it gets him to keep his mouth shut, then you really can’t ask for much more than that.
you sigh and take a seat, walking over near the entrance of the rooftop and propping yourself up against the concrete wall behind you. surprisingly, he stays planted in the same spot as if he didn’t hear you. you pat the ground next to you impatiently in light of his hesitation. he snaps out of his daze as he sits next to you so tentatively it’s like you’re a stray cat he’s afraid to scare off. well, good. it’s best for him not to get too comfortable around you. you hate the guy, after all.
you take another deep inhale and he watches you with a gaze that can only be described as lovesick, but you’re too preoccupied to pick up on it. when you exhale, you find yourself starting to pass the blunt over to beomgyu before thinking better of it. 
“wait,” you say, pulling your hand back before he can grip the blunt. 
“what?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“am i gonna catch something from you if we share this?” 
“oh, fuck you,” he grunts, effectively snatching the blunt back and putting it to his lips.
“it’s a real question! i’ve seen the girls you mess around with, and i’m not trying to catch anything from you!” 
“i’m careful,” he argues with a roll of his eyes. “a lot more careful than you think.” you pout at his reaction, but for some reason, you believe his words. 
“if i catch anything, it's on you,” you reply, hackles still raised. shockingly, he doesn't press the matter any more than that. 
“... so,” he says after exhaling a deep drag. 
“so what?” you ask. 
“so why are you out here smoking instead of going out with everyone else?”
“do you seriously think you have the right to ask me that?” you scoff. there’s no way in hell beomgyu is trying to get you to be vulnerable right now.
on beomgyu’s end, he can’t help but feel slighted, even though your reaction is definitely his fault on account of how he essentially antagonizes you at every given opportunity. 
“i’m just saying that it’s weird how you’re here instead of, you know, actually enjoying the trip.” 
“oh, please. as if there was gonna be any possible way for me to have fun on this fucking thing,” you bitterly reply. 
“what’s that supposed to mean?” he asks without any malice, but with genuine curiosity.
truly, honestly, sincerely, you do not know why you say your next words. maybe it’s because you’re high, or maybe it’s because you need to tell someone — anyone — how you really feel, for once. all you really know is: you can’t stop yourself.
“i mean, how could i possibly enjoy myself when i’m left to figure everything out on my own? everyone only cares about having fun with no actual idea how we’ll do it while realistically staying within the budget and our timeline, and my vice president is deadweight, so it’s not like he’ll help,” you complain, taking a jab at beomgyu in light of your waning self control. you’re prepared to verbally spar with him after that last comment, but he surprises you.
“is that how you really feel?” he asks.
“yeah, it is,” you tell him. “that’s how i always feel,” you can’t help but add, more to yourself and less to him, but he hears you, anyway. 
“i’m sorry.” you whip your head around to make sure you’re not having some sort of auditory hallucination. did beomgyu just apologize to you? it can’t be. there’s no earthly way.
“i’m sorry. i really am,” he repeats. your whole world feels like it’s thrown off of its axis when you see how somber and genuinely apologetic he looks. 
“it’s… it’s fine,” is all you can really muster up the words to say. 
“no, it’s not. i’ll help you as much as i can, i swear,” he earnestly insists. you nod in bewilderment at his earnestness — feeling too awkward to do much else.
things are quiet for the next few minutes while you two are passing the blunt back and forth. beomgyu can feel the high finally hitting him in full force, and it takes every brain cell within his clouded mind (as well as every ounce of his courage) to finally get out his next sentence. 
“why him?” he mumbles so lowly, you don’t quite catch his words. 
“what?” you lazily ask. 
“why taehyun?” once again, you find yourself choking on the smoke. god, you’ve really got to get a grip and stop letting beomgyu surprise you — your lungs would thank you for it.
“w-what do you mean?” well, you always knew that beomgyu knows about your feelings for taehyun, but hearing him directly ask about them is enough to throw you off.
“i mean, why do you like him?” he asks, devoid of all the confidence he usually oozes. 
“what’s not to like?” you say offhandedly. if you cared enough to pay attention to his reaction, you’d see how he withers at your words. even more so when you continue.
“he’s really, really funny. plus, he’s handsome. not to mention smart and —” 
“so what? i’m all of those things,” beomgyu interrupts, irritation bitterly lacing every edge of his words. “and if you call him smart, anybody can be.” oh hell no. you’re so indignant at him calling taehyun stupid, you don’t even catch beomgyu’s childlike envy towards him, let alone why he feels it.
“just because his grades don’t compare to yours, doesn’t mean he’s stupid,” you argue.
“then what does it mean?” he asks with a roll of his eyes at your obvious bias for the other boy.
“it… it just means that he’s —” 
“a real genius. yeah, i’m sure you think so,” he snarks.
“what the hell is that supposed to mean?!” you snap, despite your better judgment to just let it roll off of your back. if he were talking about you, you may very well have done so, but this is taehyun he’s talking about. your taehyun. 
“it means he can’t compare to me,” he says, more as means to convince himself rather than convince you, but you’re so angry, you don’t even notice.
“and what makes you think you’re so goddamn special?” you ask, sarcasm absolutely dripping out of your voice. 
“i’m funnier, hotter, smarter, richer. how can he compare to me?” he snorts. if someone were to ask you why you feel so defensive at this moment, you would be unable to say why, but if you had to guess, you’d say it’s because taehyun is so good it’s impossible to see him any other way. your frustration builds up, hotter and hotter in your chest until you’re on the brink of exploding.
“you say that, but he will always be something you’re not,” you spit.
“and what, pray tell, might that be?” he cockily challenges.
“nice,” you say with conviction, and it may be cheesy, but you mean it. “he is really, really fucking nice and considerate. that’s why i like him.” well, that one went straight to his gut.
“i can be nice!” he exclaims. “i tried to be nice, but you just didn’t care! it was like i was invisible to you!” all you can do is stare, but he’s not finished. “you act like you’re some fucking angel, but i saw the way you looked at me like i’m some stupid, rich asshole who isn’t worth a damn.” 
finally, you realize that something is wrong. 
“beomgyu, why do you even care about what i think about you?” he doesn’t give a fuck about what you have to say in any other context, today’s example being only the latest in the litany of times where he’s shown you that exact sentiment. 
at this, he’s silent, which you truly did not anticipate in lieu of his tirade mere moments ago. you take a good look at the boy, and you finally register that the tips of his ears are a bright red under the fluorescence of the lone light shining next to the doorway. 
“i just… i always care about what you think,” he mumbles, face growing redder and redder under your scrutinizing stare as he breaks eye contact with you.
“you could’ve fooled me,” you snort. “you’re always undermining everything i say and do. it’s almost like you’re doing it on… purpose…” you trail off, puzzle pieces finally fitting together in a way you would never suspect. 
“beomgyu?” you ask.
“mm?” he murmurs, still refusing to make eye contact. 
“do you… do you like me?” and the question sounds so silly you can’t believe you even asked it. this guy fucking hates you, you’re sure of it, but you grow less and less sure of this sentiment with every moment he hesitates to answer.
“... yeah. yeah, i do. but so what? you don’t even care,” he mopes, and just like that, everything makes sense. his teasing, his contrarian nature, and his obnoxiousness are just part of his ruse. he’s just like a child begging for attention by acting out, but to what end? just so you’ll pay attention to him? well, he was on the money when he said you didn’t like him even when he tried to be kind, so maybe, in his own sick little way, he was right. 
but that doesn’t mean you don't feel completely blindsided by this revelation. 
“what the hell?” is all you can manage to say.
“shut up!” he demands with no real heat to it, just embarrassment. 
“i… i can’t believe your solution was to be an asshole,” you say incredulously. “if you had just been nice, or even just normal, i would have warmed up to you. i know i was being childish, but goddamn, you’re worse.” 
if he was blushing before, and he was, he’s absolutely blood red now. 
“i-it’s your fault for being so judgmental!” he sputters, but even you know he’s just grasping at straws. it all makes the worst kind of sense to you now, and you’re very much shocked at how oblivious you were mere moments ago.
“i can't believe this,” you whisper, bringing your hands up to your temples in an effort to straighten everything out in your muddled head. “you hate me.” 
“you’re so dramatic,” he huffs with a roll of his eyes, which would convincingly come across as disdainful, if only his words weren’t so shaky and unsure.
you take a good look at him now, and he can feel it. he’s a very handsome guy, and he knows it, but he can’t help but feel vulnerable. he clears his throat and straightens up his posture when he thinks that you may be comparing him to taehyun... you are not.
none of his actions escape you, which is a far cry from what usually happens, but now that you've discovered his true feelings, it’s almost impossible not to catch his tells; you even wonder how you missed them. his awkward handling of the situation is endearing, in a way. you like watching him squirm, which you realize must be the way he felt about you all those times he teased you. it just makes you wanna push him more.
you’re not exactly known for your impulsivity. in fact, you’re known for the exact opposite. you take things slowly, steadily. you plan every minute detail in consideration of every possible outcome, but as for right now? right now, as you sit and watch beomgyu pout, you just want to let go and do what you really want, and what you really want is to watch him break.
you grab his face with your hands and turn it towards you, and he scowls for just a moment before blinking his big, reddened eyes in curiosity at your unreadable gaze.
“w-what are you doing?” he asks, too exhilarated by your touch to think about batting you away.
this is a bad idea — a horrible one, even — but that does nothing to deter you. how can it when his skin on your palms makes it feel like there's pure electricity thrumming through your bones? fuck it, might as well.
you don’t realize it yourself, but you look incredibly focused as you pull him in, his lips meeting yours. you’d think with the shock he must feel that he’d be taken aback for a second, but beomgyu, as always,   does not abide by your rules. he immediately grabs your face and presses his lips even harder against yours. you’re surprised at how much heat is behind it — how much frustration.
it’s incredibly interesting to watch his reactions as you kiss him, which would be weird, but he’s far too engrossed in this newfound pleasure to notice your stare. his eyes are shut, but they tremble with every passing second, making his long eyelashes quiver. you never noticed how long they are before now. you chalk up the swiping of your tongue against his chapped lips to sheerly wanting to study his reaction, and oh man, it does not disappoint. he whines against your mouth, eyebrows furrowed like he’s pleading for something. you want to find out what that something is. cruelly, you take his bottom lip between your teeth and lightly bite. he whines even louder, his eyes fluttering open, and he pulls away and says his next words in a tinny voice.
“c-can i touch you?” he pants, forehead pressed against yours, lips cherry red.
“no,” you say with a smile against his mouth. he would whine again if he could, but he can’t quite do it at the moment, not when your hands have moved from his cheeks in order to explore the rest of him. you curiously run your fingers through his long, silky hair, and he can’t help but moan when you experimentally tug at it. it’s breathy and light, and you’re intrigued, to say the very least. 
you don’t have the most experience in the world when it comes to the, uh, matters between men and women, but you are a fast learner by nature, so it takes no time at all to figure out where he likes to be touched. his lips, obviously, and his hair. his ears, so flushed and pink and cute, must be particularly sensitive, and you test this hypothesis by dragging your teeth along his earlobe. he lets out a loud, broken moan when you do, and anyone else in the world would have been embarrassed by making such a noise, but not beomgyu. he’s so pretty and pliable underneath your touch, which feels so tantalizing that all shame escapes him.
“do you like that, beomie?” you whisper teasingly, employing a nickname you’ve heard from a few of his ex-flings, and another strangled cry leaves his pouty lips when he feels your breath touch his ear. 
“mhmm, i like it! like it so much, princess,” he babbles, eyes screwed shut as you trail your lips from his ear to his unblemished neck. 
“princess?” you can’t help but question. “where’d that come from?” 
“think about calling you that all the time,” he moans as you suck on a previously unmarred patch of skin on his neck. “think about you all the time.” 
“and what do you think, beomie?” you whisper encouragingly, as if he’s a stupid boy squirming under your thumb.
“th-think about how much i wanna fuck you,” he admits. “h-how much i want to fill you up, make you m-mine.” honest to god, your panties were already feeling a little sticky just from teasing him alone, but his words make your core heat up tenfold. you shift your legs while trying to make yourself more comfortable, but you fail miserably.
“you’re delusional,” you snort, as you pull away from him, but his lips try to chase yours before you lightly push him away.
“i’m not! i-i jus’ wanna make you feel good,” he slurs, and oh god, you simply can’t be saved.
“well, wanna make your delusions reality?” you can’t help but ask before you can think better of it, but when you see how his eyes light up in hope and pure, primal lust, you realize you don’t regret it.
-
the walk to his hotel room is silent, so unbearably silent that you can’t help but second-guess yourself. are you really gonna do this with beomgyu of all people? but it’s been so long since you’ve let go, who will it hurt just to have fun for once? maybe you, probably you, but who cares? it can't be any worse than it is now. besides, you're graduating soon. if things go as badly as you’re pretty sure they will, you’ll never have to see beomgyu again after the fact. plus, things really can’t seem to get any more embarrassing than the humiliation ritual you put yourself through every day that you spend pining after taehyun.
and so, you enter his hotel room, which is easily double the size of yours (sans a roommate, no less) with a look of determination. beomgyu completely misses it, though, as he shuts the door behind you and immediately tugs you towards his bed, quick to rekindle the atmosphere you two had on the rooftop. surprisingly, it’s not hard to do so when he’s back to kissing you so desperately it’s like you’re his lifeline.
he impatiently swipes his tongue across your lips, mirroring what you did earlier, silently asking for entry. you oblige. he groans at the feeling of your warm tongue brushing against his own, savoring the way you taste, which yes, does have notes of weed, but there’s something sweet in there, too. something he’s only ever fantasized about with his hand down his pants.
one of your hands is currently tangled in his hair, just the way he likes it, while the other one exploratorily finds its way down his lithe body. you’ve never done what you do next before, but he seems so incredibly sensitive, it feels like a matter of course to put your hand up his shirt and tweak one of his hardened nipples. he lets out a strangled cry, which only makes you certain that you’ve done the right thing. 
“is it good, beomie? is it everything you wanted it to be?” you tease. he nods like an idiot.
“y-yes, even better,” he moans. “feels s-so good.” 
in the dim lighting of his hotel room, you can see that he means it as the tent in his pants gets harder and harder to ignore. the poor thing is so wound up by your caresses that he may just cum untouched, anyway, but what fun would that be? so, before you can think too much about it, you palm him through his jeans. 
“ah!” he cries, eyebrows furrowed. you palm him again, rougher this time, and just like clockwork, he cries even louder.
“want me to keep going?” you ask, studying and soaking up every reaction of his. all he can do is nod.
he unzips his pants and he’s all too willing to help you slide them off of him, tossing them on the floor before hurriedly grabbing one of your hands to meet his barely clothed bulge. it’s big, because it’s beomgyu and of fucking course it is. as if he needed another reason to be conceited. 
it doesn’t seem like he’s very conceited, though, as he moans like a whore at you hooking your fingers under his waistband and tugging his boxers off of him. his cock is very obviously leaking, and it’s as bright red as his ears were earlier, completely flushed with beads of precum drooling off of it. there are angry veins running up the sides of it, which sounds gross, in theory, but you can’t help but feel like they make it even prettier. you gulp when you imagine how they’ll feel when they’re dragging in and out of your pussy.
“don’t stare!” he says, breaking you out of your reverie. honestly? he knows it’s pretty, just like every other part of him, but he feels incredibly scrutinized under your gaze. you don’t listen, still very much staring as you take your thumb and experimentally swipe it over his thick, reddened tip. then again. then again.
“s-stop teasing me, please,” he whimpers, but you’re so enamored with his reactions you can’t help yourself. you spit on your hand and grab the base of his cock, which is no small feat considering how thick it is, and you give it a harsh tug. he bites his bottom lip to try to stifle his moans as you start to jerk him off, applying pressure exactly where he needs it most, but he quickly gives up on being quiet when you bend over and lick his tip. he tastes salty, but not unbearably so, and in a way, he’s almost sweet. that could just be your imagination, though.
beomgyu is no longer trying to bite back his moans, but he's stuck in another dilemma: he can't seem to unscrew his eyes for long enough to fully appreciate the sight before him. one of your hands is gripping the muscle of his thigh as leverage while the other aids in squeezing and pulling the parts of him you can’t quite fit in your mouth. you’re not looking at him, which would normally be disappointing, but it’s impossible to be anything less than satisfied when you’re hollowing out your cheeks to suck on him even harder. you take your hand from his dick and ghost your fingers over his balls, and he has to push you off of him so he doesn’t blow his load right then and there.
“what’s wrong?” you ask, wiping some spit and precum off of your lips. he’s enchanted by the way your lips are swollen from sucking on him, so much so that he almost forgets to answer.
“‘m gonna c-cum,” he says shyly.
“and?” 
“i don’t want to yet. i wanna make you feel good, too,” he argues petulantly.
“oh? is that what you do in your dreams? you make me feel good? i’m surprised, i figured you’d like me to do all the work and —” 
“shut up!” he hisses, and you can’t help but laugh. 
“let me eat you out,” he offers, trying to distract you from his evident embarrassment. it’s tempting, very tempting, indeed, but you’re so hot and bothered that you kind of just want to get to the main event. especially since you just know it’ll feel good to finally have him inside of you. it’s been so long since you’ve been with somebody, after all. 
“no, thanks. do you have a condom?” you ask, ignoring his suggestion, and he’d be humiliated if only your question weren't so damn exciting.
“n-no…” he stammers. your face falls for a second before he rushes to get out his next words. “b-but i can pull out!” 
“sorry, this was fun and all, but i’m not letting you fuck me without protection.”
“please?” he begs. “i’m clean, i swear! i told you i’m more careful than you think. i really don’t sleep around that much, honestly,” he admits. 
“what?” you ask, genuinely bewildered before calling his bluff. “bullshit. i see you with a new girl all the fucking time. quit lying.” 
“i’m not! i promise — i promise — i don’t sleep around a lot. i only act like i do ‘cause of you!” 
“because of me?” and it actually makes sense when you think about it. he acts out, bullies you, and pretends he’s involved with a lot more girls than he actually is just to try to get you to look his way. oh man, what are you gonna do with him? 
“you’re so pathetic,” you sneer before hiking up your skirt and mounting him. 
“w-what are you —” 
“shut up before i change my mind,” you spit. and just like magic, his mouth is snapped shut.
you start by rubbing your clothed pussy against his bare cock. your slick has already ruined the fabric beyond salvation, so you don’t really mind ruining it some more. beomgyu is absolutely in awe at your actions, rutting against you feverishly. he’s greedy, if nothing else, so he impatiently moves your soaked panties to the side and tries to seek relief in your warm hole. you let him grab your hips as he tries to ease himself into you, but he’s stunned at the resistance he’s met with as he tries to push himself in. 
“s-so tight,” he groans as his fat cock breaches the tight rim of your pussy. the muscles contract as they stretch to accommodate his widened tip. 
you were right about how good you anticipated the feeling of his veins scraping against your insides would be, and you revel in the feeling as you sink down inch by scorching inch. beomgyu, on his end, looks absolutely devastated as you slowly take him in. his mouth is twisted open in a silent scream, and his eyes are watery, tears threatening to spill over at any moment. when your ass finally meets his hips, you can feel his length pulsating all the way up to your cervix. it’s a snug fit, too, and it takes everything in him not to hump you like a fucking dog. 
slowly, you raise yourself up again, almost completely off of him, before slamming yourself back down. then again. then again. he whimpers when you do it, grabbing your hips to help steady you as you ride him for everything that he’s worth. he’s enraptured as your breasts bounce with each movement, and he can’t help himself now — he begins to thrust into you wildly, matching your rhythm and making you cry out. if you were in your right state of mind, you’d feel sorry for the poor souls who are on the same floor as him. 
“pussy so f-fucking good,” he grunts as he feels you squeezing around him, and you’re about to smirk before he pushes you onto the bed then turns you on your side so you’re facing away from him. he tries to slide back into your needy cunt, but the new position makes you feel even tighter. still, with the combination of his slick and yours, he’s able to push himself in again before rutting into you. he presses one of his big hands against your stomach while the other one hastily grabs one of your tits, and suddenly he's back to fucking you like a wild animal. 
you've never in your life felt so wanted, so needed, but beomgyu needs you in a way so carnal it makes you feel even more turned on. he nips your ear, mimicking your actions from earlier, and begs for your praise. 
“a-are you feeling good? you’re feeling good, right?” he chokes out as he hits a particularly deep part of your pussy. 
“so good, beomie,” you moan. “you’re fucking me so good.” those words would normally never leave your lips, but he seems desperate for your validation, and you know he’s too far gone to mock you.
“oh god, this is w-what i dreamed about,” he babbles as he takes the hand that was pressing on your stomach and uses it to massage your clit, earning a strangled scream from you. “th-this is what i’ve always wanted.” and if you could see his face, you’d notice how his eyes roll backwards in sheer ecstasy. 
“i’m gonna cum!” you cry, all self-restraint gone.
“m-me too, princess,” he moans. “c-can i cum inside?” it’s a pipe dream if he’s ever had one, and you can believe that he’s had one, but your response floors him.
“yes, yes, yes! do it inside, i want it!” and that’s enough. he spits out a curse as he hammers himself into you, making you almost sob as you come undone with him inside of you. the feeling of your pussy sucking him in even more as it wildly contracts around him pulls him over the edge, so he paints your walls with his seed and fucks you through both of your highs. 
he stays there until he goes soft, slowly pulling out and watching in awe as the cum spills out of your hole. he pulls you flush against his body and sighs as he tenderly fixes up your hair. 
“i really, really like you,” he earnestly whispers into your hair. 
“i —” 
“it’s okay if you don’t like me yet,” he interrupts. “i can wait.” you’re glad you’re not facing him, because you actually feel a little awkward at his sincere words, but you can’t deny that it makes your heart flutter to hear them.
“okay,” you say.
“okay?” he asks, just to be sure he heard you correctly.
“yes, i-it’s okay. you can wait.” he’s so excited that he throws himself on top of you and turns you to face him, lips greedily meeting yours, putting every ounce of yearning into the kiss. 
honestly? with the way things are going right now, he probably won’t have to wait very long at all. 
notes pt. 2: yeah... i'm so sorry that this is bad i'm just used to writing angst angst angst and this def veered more into cute territory but whatever just don't bully me
permanent taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1 @shymexican @milkandoranges @that1sadgrl @archoive @paegesoobin @buttercreamerie @ifwtxt @softesyoongi @serenityism00
mad about you taglist: @m00gyu @bambammtori @yelsuki @denleave1088 @hyewka
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kroosluvr · 3 months ago
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pleasant dreams
for as many days or years as you may have.
BAD END LONG WINTER AU ANYONE???? (crickets chirping) erm. well
anwyay i hope i scammed at least 1 person out of fluff. whistles cutely
bad end: royal trio try, struggle, and fail to rescue any of the thieves from the delusion, or find the route to the treasure. with maruki's overwhelming hold on the thieves(+confidants) and his staggering security + ability to manipulate the design of his palace at will... (<- i elaborate on this in my shsm fic that i uploaded a while back but maruki tries to psych the three of them out of navigating his palace by hacking at all the infiltration routes they try. and since its just the 3 of them it's pretty easy to block them off) akira goro and sumire do their damnedest but they come up just short
anyway TLDR they just can't crack it and it's over.
in this case, since they don't get to rescue the thieves, they spend even more time together than Usual Long Winter AU. so i feel they're even closer than usual.
on 2/2, they stay in and sleep in, idly talk about anything other than the circumstances that they're in. they waste the day away and then fall into an endless slumber.
in the first page goro & sumire look kinda discontented, but after akira breaks the ice a little, they manage to fall asleep (more) peacefully.
im not gonna lie this treads into like TOO MUCH HOPELESS ANGST for me but also i had the idea listed down in my Royal Trio Ideas List so i had to draw it..eventually... so. (flips through stack of ideas) erm. heyyyy (i also think it turned out MORE SAD when i drew it HKDJSGSKJDW when i just wrote down the idea it was like kinda just silly)
also goro is wearing akira's raglan shirt from pre-p5r!! no reason except i like it and also i want them to share clothes
"never change, goro" hehe. Smile. well he won't have to! i guess!
bc of Longlonglongwinterau sumire is more perceptive of goro and akira. i think she probably also knows the gist of yknow goro's whole past, the whole trying-to-kill-akira thing, etc.
sorry for the scam. if u were scammed.
a little more musings cont'd here
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nyashykyunnie · 3 months ago
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˗ˏˋ Jinwoo x Isekaid! Artist! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗
ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ
・┆✦ Entry : 044 ✦ ┆・
[Tw: I think this fall under depictions of depression and panic attacks. Please, if you're not in the headspace, do not read this. ]
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╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Muse] ¡! ❞
Isekaing to Solo Leveling is one thing, but living in this world is just... Way too brutal for your poor heart.
Why is that? Anxiety is a major enemy.
What do you mean everyone else is living normally not having little paranoid moments that lead to panic attacks with overtaking at the possibility of a gate opening somewhere near you and monsters would come out?
Sung Jinah's school wasn't even safe. How are you gonna live?
Anyway.
You have a job to do.
Even though you just wanna spend all of your time crying in the corner of your room and praying to god to protect you when technically you aren't even religious.
But what are you to do?
It's not like Sung Jinwoo will swoop in and save you from misery.
...Hahah, if only.
You are one of his more delulu fans, like every other girl in this country— You are a big fan.
Well, except the fact that you know far more things about Jinwoo since you came from a world where he is fiction.
The flex you have is that you know how awfully adorable that petty bastard is when he was still an E-ranker. Those Jinwoo simps will never know the fact that Jinwoo has the fluffiest and softest looking cheeks ever.
Not to mention, you have all of his powers memorized to even the titles those powers have. You can name a lot of his shadows.
Of course the easiest to name are Beru, Igris, Bellion, Kaisel, Tank,.... And the easiest,... One, two, three, four.... Yeah, you get it.
But why are you being so smug? As if you 're not the same fool who secretly buys Jinwoo polaroids. Coming from this country full of fangirls is a haven for you since there is quite... The plethora of Jinwoo trinkets.
And you, being a lovestruck fool, went all in and took "Take all my money" to the next level even though the man you're obsessing over is 10x more richer than you.
But ah, this isn't the time to fawn over your Jinwoo merch paradise.
You have work.
Thankfully enough, this world has given you mercy. Despite it preying on your paranoid self, it gave you the blessing of living the life you've always wanted.
And that is to be a freelance artist.
Not doing your average 9-5, crying about the lack of fame you receive that hinders the pathway to making a successful art career, not having to listen to family members berating your love for art as low as a drug abuse.
In this world, no one is going off about your craft, no one is belittling your passion to something akin to a crime.
Like it's just a pathetic hobby and there's no meaning to all the hard work you put in the past years improving your skills, there's no value to being able to draw squares and circles more impressive than others, there's nothing note worthy of being able to pick and choose colours— There's none of that.
To be honest, there was even lots of moments where you wanted to give up, where you realized maybe they're right.
Even if you had starved yourself just to save up for your art materials, even if you work hard micro-analyzing your artstyle, even if you spent hours studying the algorithms, even if you shed blood sweat and tears just for the glimmer of hope that maybe you can turn your art into something more— It's all just delusions.
Like how you hope to be one of those big artists who inspire other people to create their own pieces. Like how you secretly hope that maybe your artworks can bring a smile to anyone's face if they come across it. Like how you silently pray to every single star that may your wish come true.
You wanted to keep hoping, for the slim chance of having a single magnus opus that will instantly put you in the limelight— You wanted to keep having your hand outstretched to that tiny light.
But everyday, with each piece, you start to realize that your dreams are all for nothing.
You had been so focused on art that it's the only thing you have that defines who you are as a person and as an individual.
Art is what made you human.
Slowly, your innocent dreams molded itself into a twisted and vile poison that ate you from the inside out. Your love for creating backfired and now it's a blur if your passion stems from adoration or you just ran with it because it's the only thing that made you feel relevant in this world.
Maybe you should give up.
Even if there is a drastic improvement in your art with each piece, what good is it if it can't guarantee that career you oh so desperately want? The big artists say that you should make art for yourself, well yeah, they're right. But what if even if you do that it doesn't work?
Colour theory, shape language, line language, composition— All of those improved out of sheer love to learn. You've seen other people around you get careers out of it so it will happen to you?
Right?...
Right?
You're not a problematic artist, you don't make trouble, you don't make enemies, you don't participate in drama, you stay humble and eloquent.
Surely it will work... Right?...
Hahah.
In that world?
No it didn't.
It did not.
You died in your deathbed after being involved in a hit and run.
And after a long period of slumber, you have awoken in this world where somehow you are a renowned artist.
It felt shallow, really.
Suddenly having all of that in a snap of a finger through death?
Hah.
It felt like it mirrors Jinwoo's life. Except he had rightfully earned the flory of his powers.
Truthfully, you love him because of that.
What was it?
Ah yes.
"Because I was rock bottom, I longed for the highest peak."
That was the line that made you love him.
As someone who had no future in your art career, it was that line that made your heart yearn for him.
Two unfortunate souls who struggle in the same thing in different dimensions, except one managed to create that dream into reality.
Sure, you have the glory now. And although it made you so happy, it still felt so shallow because you didn't achieve this through hardwork. You just had to die.
You had to be dead.
It took dying to be given the mercy of having your dreams be granted.
And that just made you feel so... So awful.
⋅ ˚ ₊ ‧ ଳ ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅ ⋆ ౨ৎ ˚ ⟡ ˖ ࣪
With a canvas on one hand, your painting materials neatly arranged in a bag in the other hand— You take a deep breath and enter the party.
Brilliant golden lights twinkle above your head coming from the magnificent chandelier hanging above. Cameras flashing, the clinking of glasses as hunters and celebrities discussed amongst themselves dressed in luxurious outfits and blinging jewelry.
The sight made your stomach sink and a lump in your throat forming.
This is an entirely different world you knew from the lonely greys and blues.
You look around frantically, almost panicking at the overwhelming chatter and blinding lights.
"Ah, you're here" A voice snaps you out of it.
You turn to see your sponsor, Choi Jong-in flashing a polite and handsome smile. You bow your head politely.
"Please," Jong-in simply shakes his head, "No need to be so polite. I am pleased that you have arrived in time. Champagne?"
He extends a glass towards you and you shake your head, sheepishly saying "O-oh... I'm not really an alcohol enjoyer. I'm fine."
"Ah, I see" He nods apologetically before gesturing you to a clearer space.
Jong-in escorts you to a less crowded area of the ball, the lessened crowd and noise calming your accelerated heartbeat down.
"If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me or the waiters" He says kindly, "You are also free to eat food."
"Thank you, Mr. Choi" You bow politely.
Before he could even reply, Jong-in was called over by a beautiful blonde girl you knew all too well.
Cha Hae-in.
She's as lovely as she was in the manhwa panels, with that red dress and her neatly tied hair— She was a sight to behold.
But as soon as you see a tall man clad in black, you feel a distinct thump in your heart, a twisting kind of small pain that made you feel like it stopped beating along with the way your lungs stopped breathing— You knew who it was.
"A guest?..." He inquires, making your heart thump even harder at the sound of that deep voice you only heard through the speakers of your phone and laptop.
"Mr. Sung, I'm glad you could make it along with my vice master" Jong-in hums, "This is an artist I'm sponsoring, I thought it would be a good idea to commemorate this important event celebrating humanity's win against the gates"
"Ah, I see" Jinwoo's handsome grey eyes would sweep onto your anxious form who is fidgeting uncontrollably in her hands. "I'm Sung Jinwoo,"
He extends a hand, making you look up at him with an even nervous look. It took you a while to extend your hand, and the moment your palm touched his— You felt as of you're touching someone from a different species. Something too unreal and dovine.
You barely had even managed to speak your name out with how much of a nervous wreck you are. Shaking his hand didn't happen if it weren't for Jinwoo gently doing it and letting you pull your hand away.
Your palms may have been trembling, but now it's even more erratic as you step back, not meeting his gaze.
Thank gods Jong-in decided to start a conversation to pivot Jinwoo's attention away from you.
As you attempt to calm yourself with a persistent panic attack, you feel a soft tap on your hands.
"Thank you for coming, I-I hope you enjoy your time" Hae-in says in her hesitant voice.
And you, who cant mutter a single word after your very first encounter with Jinwoo— Only muster a polite nod at her as she turns away to join Jong-in and Jinwoo in their conversation.
You were on a trance for almost five minutes, before finally deciding to set up your easel and canvas. You took out two different mason jars and filling them up with water; the gouache paint you will be using as a medium; the ceramic palette you have been using for quite a while now; and finally gently arranging your brushes.
Jong-in didn't specify what you should be painting for this event. But decided to paint the stage. An hour into the event, Jinwoo would start giving his speech as he is the main hero of the war against the gates and monarchs—As well as the person this whole event is dedicated to.
You had to pause in your process of painting the canvas, just to give respect to Jinwoo.
Your idol.
Your role model.
The man of your dreams.
His words aren't even registering as you can't help but be lost in a trance as he continues with his speech. Unconsciously, your hand raised itself and started to paint carefully, your eyes fixated on the hunter as your hand moved with a mind on its own.
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Jong-in was extremely worried for the artist he had hired, he could tell from earlier she was having a panic attack with the hesitance. And when Jinwoo came into the picture, it seemed to frighten her all the more. He quietly called for his secretary to add at least 40% more of the initial payment that was planned to compensate for the unintentional distress he had put her onto.
While Jinwoo was giving his speech, he couldn't help but check on her by glancing from the distance.
In that canvas, he saw the stage, and in that stage was Jinwoo.
The artist was carefully painting Jinwoo.
Delicate strokes despite her eyes not on the cloth and brush. She was just mindlessly moving her hand as she looks at Jinwoo.
"Ah... I see it now."
Jong-in quietly smiles to himself.
It wasn't that she was frightened of Jinwoo's intimidating presence. No way does someone scared of a person have that same intense look with such dilated pupils.
With a determined hum, Jong-in knew exactly what to do.
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It had been three days since that event, and Jinwoo was attending to paperwork when he was informed of Jong-in's visit.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose with a bit of worry that his 'senior' might scold him for renting out gates in territory of Hunter's guild.
To his surprise, Jong-in entered carrying a rather large thing into his office.
"???" Jinwoo cocks up an eyebrow, silently inquiring Jong-in at what is the thing he brought in.
"Take a look, hunter Sung" Jong-in simply says and the hunter reluctantly stood up from his chair to approach the item his senior placed down.
When Jinwoo pulled off the protective cloth, he was met with a brilliant painting that felt like it was straight out of a renaissance era painting.
The red curtains were blood red and shaded softly. The wood is delicately painted, with even tiny specks that indicates the painter's exquisite attention to detail, but most importantly— His eyes were drawn to the middle, where a man stood center.
It was him.
His face was delicately painted, even his tousled black locks were intricately painted to imitate the way his strands behaved, his body language was painted in a relaxed but still managed to somehow translate the undertone of authority and power he held over the crowd that was purposely painted in a blurry manner to give more focus to him. Even the lighting of the stage was expertly imitated on the canvas.
The piece looked as if its goal was to put emphasis on his—the man who is standing in the golden limelight. As if it were trying to put him on a divine pedestal, to show him off as this some sort of god woth the painting.
"Who?..." Jinwoo finally manages to inquire.
"The artist chose you as her muse for the painting" Jong-in says, fixing his tie as he does so. "Quite the talent, no? Even us hunters who have quite the skill in the art of combat, are taken aback by such craft. It was as if she had magic on her very fingertips despite being just a civilian."
"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats, not knowing what to feel about it.
"It would be... Quite indecent of me to keep a portrait of a rival in my guild, no?" Jong-in coughs out, making Jinwoo awkwardly nod. "Consider it as a gift and a thank you for assisting my guild in jeju raid as well as your role in the war."
"I have quite the awards really, no need" He shakes his head.
"Yes," Jong-in glances back at the painting. "But I think that you, as the painter's muse, must see for yourself this piece created on your image."
"Mn...."
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Jinwoo quite frankly grew curious of the little painter he met and made him the centerpiece of her painting. He was honestly worried at first, she was so small compared to him and she was trembling at the sight of him. It didn't help that he noticed how she grew more shaken after they exchanged pleasantries.
Maybe he had gripped her hand a little too much.
Beru on the other hand, was visibly very pleased at the painting as well as the other shadows who wont shut up about it.
Throughout his monotonous days and hours, Jinwoo would often think of the painter.
It feels... Weird to be in someone's painting.
It's unreal even.
But ah... By chance, he met that pleasant little painter again.
She was in the bookstore, picking up several heavy books. When he approached her, she was flustered and nearly dropped the books she was purchasing if it weren't for him assisting her.
Just like their first meeting, she was clearly bashful and anxious. So Jinwoo made space between them and made small talk.
Somehow, their small talks would develop into long and meaningful ones with the days passing of them having frequent encounters.
There is this tiny, tiny warmth in Jinwoo's heart whenever he finds himself in the presence of his painter.
His heart whom he thought had lost its capability to harbor affection— Is beating fast whenever he crosses paths with her.
There is... Something about her.
Her little habits, her never ending curiosity, her childish habits and her love for everything beautiful. Somehow, everything in her eyes has the potential to be a piece of artwork.
Jinwoo was never a creative soul, he's only ever creative at insults maybe.
So to see someone so dedicated to her own craft, to see someone so full of love for something... It's like peering into a different world he never thought was there.
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Go Gunhee decided to visit Jinwoo, it was to thank the hunter again with coffee beans and two— Just to visit Jinwoo.
"Ah, hunter Sung," Gunhee smiles as the person he waited for appears. "I hope you don't mind, I just wanted to pop in"
"Not at all, director" Jinwoo smiles politely.
"That piece," The old man's gaze drifts to a painting hun by Jinwoo's side. "What a magnificent work of art. I heard Hunter Choi gifted it to you after the artist he hired decided to put you as the centerpiece. Truly such remarkable talent by a younger lady."
"Yes, hahah" Jinwoo awkwardly rubs his nape.as he serves Gunhee a cup of tea.
"My father told me that artists have a special kind of love" Gunhee hums, reminiscing. "He told me that having an artist love you is different. A writer glorifies you into pleasant words, a musician translates your beauty into compelling music and a painter immortalises all of you in a single painting. A blank canvas is a tool by painters that they use to communicate. All the ugliness of the world can be put into ink, and all the beauty into wonderful pops of pleasant colors"
He continues, "And through my years, this is one of the few most magnificent pieces I've ever seen that shows the painter's love for it's muse"
"Her muse," Jinwoo repeats it, "I've been told the same thing."
"A lovely feeling, no?" Gunhee chuckles, "To be loved by a person so full of love."
"...So that's what it means"
"..."
The old man's face wrinkles into a happier smile.
Young love, truly beautiful, isn't it?
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"That colour is really pretty" You mutter absentmindedly glance at the flowing water underneath, as if trying to ingrain the memory and behaviour of it.
"Thinking of a new artwork, again?" Jinwoo asks, glancing down at the direction you were staring at. "I can't wait to see what you'll make."
"Your pieces are always so beautiful"
It felt as if something struck an arrow at your heart, you glance at Jinwoo— Completely frozen in state.
When he noticed the heavy silence, his eyes would befall on you before his mouth going a little agape.
You're crying.
"Did... I say something wrong?..." Jinwoo asks and you panic, immediately tearing your gaze away.
"No, no, no" You shake your head, hiding your shameful tears from Jinwoo.
Compliments with your art were never really foreign, but you, being the insecure sad soppy excuse of a human being would always downplay it most of the time.
You were never truly satisfied with yourself and anything you ever made. Mostly because you came from a household where everything is never enough.
Ultimately, that system has been fully ingrained into your body that it became your personality.
Colors are muddy, the lines aren't steady or too thick or thin, the anatomy is off, the composition isn't fluid and the harmony is all over the place.
You were always, always, critical of yourself.
Nothing is ever enough.
Your works aren't beautiful enough, and you thought they never will be.
But when Jinwoo told you your art was beautiful, it caused something to crack inside and burst open.
Maybe it's because you loved him so much. Maybe it's because he is the person you admire the most in your sorry, lonely life.
It was always Jinwoo who was in your mind whenever you had those bad episodes of just having silent mental breakdowns.
It's his image that became your most beloved saviour.
Perhaps you're sobbing because you're finally able to hear the words you've imagined he would during the times you daydreamed about him.
Or maybe... Your body reacted because you knew deep down that Jinwoo was never a liar.
That he didn't say those words out of empty praise, that he said your crafts is beautiful because they simply are.
In your broken, shattered heart a heavy yet soft warmth swelled. Swelling so much that you felt so overwhelmed and couldn't control your emotions.
That kind of validation just felt like it washed away all the doubts that plagued you for years.
As you cried uncontrollably, Jinwoo would instinctively reach his hand out and pull you in for a searing kiss. His tongue gently nudges your lips before shoving itself into it.
One flick.
Two flicks
Three flicks,...
Until you yourself cant even count it anymore.
He pulls back slowly, but still not far enough for you not to feel his hot breath fanning over your cheeks.
"I only said your paintings are beautiful and yet you are crying like this, sarang?" He rubs his nose against yours, "Just what happened to you that you're this emotional, hm? Did you not think what you make is stunning? Did you never once think that your pieces are captivating? Why are you crying like this? How hurt have you been that it feels like you're crying out this kind of sorrow I can't seem to understand?"
"Why does your sobs feel like you've been dealing with such loneliness that a simple sincere compliment breaks you to this extend?"
"Everything about you is beautiful. All of you is beautiful." Jinwoo says in that ever so gentle voice of his, "Never doubt that for even a single second."
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꒰ 🪼 A/N: what started as another simple fluffy idea turned into something more... Personal :'DD. Sorry guys hahahahsheshdg. Idk when I will have the free time to make the second half of the cai bots yet but please look out for when I do. ��
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ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .。✧・゚: ~♡ — All stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.
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blood-orange-juice · 7 months ago
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I swear, Dottore was written by a former STEM graduate. People don't normally write mad scientists this way.
Whenever I try to dig into deep lore, his research repeatedly turns out to be among the most useful data I have.
I know a good study when I see one. I've been on both sides of the academic hiring process, I've written grant proposals and I've reviewed them and I've seen better scientists than me discuss them, so please understand how much weight I put into this: these are very good studies.
(except for, you know, ethics)
His research topics seem random but he actually pokes at the most fundamental questions of Teyvat with each one.
His Eleazar studies dig at the relationship between forbidden knowledge and dead gods (surprise: these are different things. I might have lumped them together if not for his notes).
Cloning himself pokes at the difference between machine and man, and also it's the technology of Eclipse Dynasty, Teyvat's main historical enigma. Have you ever wondered whether all ruin guards were men once? Or why did they switch from alchemy to ruin machines so abruptly? Or why they were cursed.
(I have a suspicion it also pokes at the nature of time and stories, the way he talks about a need for an ideal observer, and also the way Khaenri'ahn history went)
Delusions answer the question of why does Teyvat need Archons for Visions to appear and for humans to be able to use elemental magic. We don't know the answer but Dottore does.
I'm eyeing his artificial god because I don't think that what we saw in Sumeru was the final project. He seemed so nonchalant when it failed.
This is theoretical science at its finest. As a cherry on top, every project also yields practically applicable results.
He's a dream of every grant commitee.
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azen13 · 5 months ago
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CW: Yandere Themes, Mentions of Blood
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆
Yandere!Childe who stares at you with the most loving, affectionate eyes imaginable. When he is home, he trails behind you from room to room, desperate for your attention and love, for sweet little kisses and quips. Yandere!Childe who loves combat and fighting and the thrill of a hunt, except when it comes to you. Oh, how he hates it when you try to run; he wishes he could kiss all your fears away. The idea of you in pain is unfathomable. Childe knows his hands are stained with blood, but whenever he returns home to you, for just a short period of time, he can be clean.
Yandere!Childe who wishes he didn't have to whisk you away to a safe and secluded cabin in Snezhnaya, but knows that if any of the Harbingers find you, it only gives them more leverage against him. He can't let that happen. Can't let them take you away from him. Every time he intertwines your hands with his, he swears you have magic in your bones, a piece of divinity tucked away in your soul. You heal the invisible wounds that mar his mind. Yandere!Childe who watches fondly as you drift off into sweet dreams one night, brushing away a strand of hair from your face. So fragile. So beautiful. So powerful. You're so dangerous that you have disarmed one of the Fatui Harbingers, tamed him beneath your unwilling touch. Yandere!Childe who wields his delusions like weapons. You don't hate him, you're simply adjusting. Soon enough the two of you will be dancing to invisible music on hardwood floors and cuddling on couches, protected by wood walls from the harsh chill of winter. And even if it takes time, he'll be sure to pierce your heart eventually with his love, and claim victory in this battle.
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ahhnini · 2 months ago
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let you break my heart again - rafe cameron x reader
your relationship with rafe is nothing more than a twisted fantasy
warnings - fake dating, rafe breaks reader’s heart, fluff, angst, degradation (not in a kinky way), not proofread!
a/n - based off a dream I had of rafe, kind of in a writing slump so pls send in reqs! <3
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when rafe cameron came knocking at your doorstep at two in the morning, face angry, you were more than confused. you two have never been that close, however, the forced proximity of figure eight led you two to form an acquaintance with another. when you had asked him what was going on, he barged into your house, gripping onto the sides of your shoulders like you were gonna fly away. he looked up at you, eyes red. then, you heard him say words that you didn’t think he’d ever utter to you, “I need you to be my girlfriend.”
so that’s how you ended up here, laughing with the camerons’ on their yacht, sailing the sea. it’s been a month since you’ve agreed to be rafe’s “girlfriend” and everyone on the island bought it. they’ve never known that much about you anyways, so when he started parading you around, everyone began to gossip how rafe cameron charmed the mystery girl of kildare island.
you felt a kiss on your cheek as you pour yourself another drink. “you doin’ okay?” rafe asks as he begins to pour himself a whiskey shot. you nod your head, looking up at him while he downs his drink, “good,” he wipes his lips, walking away to talk to his father. you let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. this was harder than you thought, especially when you feel butterflies in your stomach every time he shows an ounce of affection to you.
you made a promise to yourself that this was definitely a no strings attached situation. he would get you around the island, introducing you to valuable connections, while his reputation would change to be a better one. it was a win-win. you didn’t really think about the other factors, like the fact that you’ve had a secret crush on the infamous kook prince since you were twelve.
you really shouldn’t be feeding into your delusions like this; it’s unhealthy. that’s what you keep telling yourself, but each time you see him, you can’t help but have a smidge of optimism, that he actually likes you, wants you.
your heart breaks in the serene island of guadalupe, tears streaming down your face as rafe yells at you in the costal house bedroom. “why would I ever like you, y/n! the only reason why we’re doing this is for my reputation, for my dad to trust me again, for me to show my family that i’ve changed! you don’t mean anything to me, stop thinking i’m actually in love with you, because i’m not! I don’t even think I’d wanna be friends with you,” he huffs, cornering you to a wall. he lifts your chin, observing your tear stricken face, “cry all you want, but that’s not gonna help me change the way I feel.” he backs off, turning around to enter the bathroom, “i’m gonna take a shower, clean yourself off, make yourself presentable. we have dinner in two hours.”
you sip on your latte, waiting for rafe to get back home. you sat like a wife who’s husband spent too much time in the office. except he wasn’t your husband, he was just…a guy. you hear the front door shut, immediately shuffling to greet him. “hey, what are you doin’ here?” he slurred, breath reeking of alcohol. “uh—wanted to make sure you got home safe, that’s all!” you fidgeted with your hands. he let out a soft hum, “you can spend the night if you want to, y/n, i’m going to topper’s,” you look up at him, meeting his dilated pupils, “wha—huh? you’re gonna drive to topper’s?” rafe rolls his eyes, nodding, “yeah, I am—” “no! I can’t let you do that, let me drive you, c’mon—” he sighs, giving in, and you thank the alcohol has made him less stubborn, “fine.”
you pulled up to topper’s house, the porch light on and inviting. you speak up after the silent drive there, “um—are you sure you want to spend the night at topper’s? we can always go back if you want” he shakes his head, turning towards you. “no, i’m sick of your shit, y/n. always treatin’ me like I can’t take care of myself. guess what,” he points at himself, “I can take care of my own shit, okay? I don’t need you,” he rushes out of the car, stumbling up the porch stairs, disappearing behind the house door.
you stay there for a couple of moments, sniffling. during the drive back to the camerons’—yes, you were staying the night, you needed to take care of rafe for when he was hungover—you reflected on your relationship with him. how one day he’d treat you like you were his queen, the next he’d treat you like you were dirt. you can’t stop your feelings, no matter how hard you tried to repress them, they always end up coming out. you know you don’t deserve this. you deserve someone who actually loves you, not someone who’s using you. but…rafe…you can’t imagine being with someone who’s not him. that night, you lay down on his bed, fantasizing the perfect life with rafe, waiting for him to come back tomorrow morning.
you swallow, telling yourself you’d be fine being with him, being in this arrangement. even if he’ll never love you back, you’d let him break your heart over and over again.
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taglist - @nemesyaaa @julie123456897 @mfdoomdickrider @grxnde-dwt
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mrsparrasblog · 5 months ago
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I can treat you better than he can
Summary: You were hopeless in love with your Captain who pushed you away denying his own feelings for you, maybe this time he pushed you in the wrong hands.
Pairing: Keegan x Reader ( Callsign Sunshine)
Words: 2500 I think
A/N: This is a small chapter of my fic Nightmares become true solider(my first fic and the love of my life but its to long for Tumblr so I post stand alone chapters) The fic is written in an I perspective
TW: canon typical violence and swearing, sex, oral sex, fingering, spanking, cumplay, reader is a pervert, Keegan too, Price is an idiot, Reader is unhinged
Defeated, I walked over to the boys, leaving John alone by the bar. Well, he sure will join us later; why shouldn't he? "John doesn't want to join."
"Better for us, old man is always winning," Ghost said. Even in the bar, he wore a mask—not his hardshell mask he wore on missions, but a skull-faced balaclava—making him look like he was about to rob the place.
Confidently, I tried to challenge Ghost, saying that I could surely win a second time. "Maybe Kyle and I will win against you and Soap."
"Not possible."
We played some rounds of pool in which every single round Ghost and Soap won, surprising not only because of Ghost's skills. Soap was the best pool player I had ever seen; he was super focused, and every shot was a hit. After a while of sore losses, we decided to sit down in a booth. The bar was crowded with lots of soldiers and girls who wanted to find themselves a military guy. To be honest, I couldn't judge them. Military men were toxic but so damn attractive.
Even through the crowded space, we could see the Ghost Team sitting in a booth, still with their masks on, and drinking. They didn't seem disappointed in their loss. I saw a lot of similarities between them and us; anyone could easily see that they were more than just a unit—a family like us. Well, maybe like the four boys and me as a distant cousin taking up all the space at a family gathering.
"You sure don't want to drink, lass? Celebrate our win; we are officially the best team on base again."
"I don't want to drink today; we have training tomorrow, and I don't want to throw up on the mat."
"You sound like a mom," Kyle complained, and Ghost almost gagged when he heard this.
"Aye, look, Captain is flirting with a bonnie." As I heard this, I turned around, capturing the scene in front of me. John was sitting at the bar with a woman—worse, a pretty woman who looked like the complete opposite of me—and not just in a different hair type way—in a different figure, appearance, style, hair color, height way—everything about her was different. She looked so stunning; the boys, well, more like Kyle, repeated over and over again how gorgeous that woman was and how the captain normally doesn't pick up girls at the bar—but probably made an exception for her because that woman was stunning. 
If I hadn't been so jealous, I probably would have had a panic attack right now. I observed the pair—how she touched his chest, giggling and whispering into his ears—and he looked happier than just happy, delighted, lucky, elated, cheerful, joyful, content, and ecstatic—and every word in this universe to describe his smile. He didn't look repulsed or anything at all. Right now, I feel incredibly stupid. For a blink of a second, I thought that maybe he would like me too. He held me, he comforted me, and God, we almost kissed—but maybe it was just my delusion feeding me with unrealistic dreams for the sake of my hopeless romantic heart. I definitely made him uncomfortable; he was surely disgusted and repulsed by me for how I behaved and how I looked because in no way in heaven did I look like her.
"Captain is a lucky bastard."
"Quiet, Kyle."
I didn't listen to the banter of the boys; the only thing worth my concentration was John and how he laughed with this beautiful woman, and how I desperately wished it was me instead of her.  But life wasn't fair, and I was so freaking dumb for believing I had a chance. She sat down on John's lap. Would it be crazy to threaten her to leave him alone? She surely wasn't military-trained, and with her perfectly manicured nails, she would have trouble fighting me, but was it really her fault? She did nothing wrong, and I still wanted to gut that bitch out. Pardon me, I mean woman. As their lips touched each other after moments of anticipation, I almost lost it, but in fact, it strengthened my self-awareness, and finally, I knew all I thought happened between John and me was pure imagination. 
I took Ghost's Terrible Bourbon out of his hand and chugged it down as if it were orange juice. Kyle and Soap looked at me as if I had just murdered their grandma, but Ghost had a knowing expression. How did that little shit notice my utterly cringe and embarrassing hopeless crush on the Captain?
"That Bourbon was expensive, Sergeant."
"I'll pay you back," I claimed—I won't—and he knew.
He almost whispered an act of kindness to him to not address it in front of Kyle and Soap, who wouldn't let me hear the end of this. "It will pass."
"What?"
"The feeling."
As I saw John and the pain of my existence making out like teenagers, I had finally enough. John had his fun, fine; I can also have much fun and forget that wixxer. Without responding to Ghost or entertaining Soap and Kyle's curious expressions and Kyle's question if I got my period, I left the table, walking straight to the table with the American mask boys. I will definitely regret this tomorrow, but tonight I don't care.
"Keegan, right? Come with me."
"Doll, do you really want to be a sore winner and rub your win under my nose?"
"I thought more of a consolation prize or how you say these things in English."
"Are you not a native English speaker?"
"And there I thought my accent was a dead giveaway."
"You're annoying, kid; did someone ever tell you this?"
"Ghost constantly."
"He is a dick."
"I'd second that."
"So tell me the real reason you're requesting my presence. Don't get me wrong, Doll. I won't mind, but I want to know why I have this luck."
"Nothing, just a girl in a bar speaking with a man in a bar."
"And there I thought, after you jumped into Price's arms today, you would be his partner."
"No."
"Liar."
"Did no one teach you how to flirt, Keegan?" I scoffed.
"Doll, I know how to sweep you off your tiny feet but tell me first, am I a rebounder?"
"Yes."
"Well, we can work with that," he grinned as he flicked his cigarette away, now completely focusing on me. "It must hurt seeing him like that at the bar."
"Like hell."
"Merrick was right. Price is an idiot and a goddamn fool. He's got a dime piece right here, and he's chasing after...that!?" He gestured over to that incredible woman.
"I wouldn't describe myself as a dime piece, Keegan."
Keegan leaned closer to me. His voice is now soft and low instead of his usual hoarse voice. "I would absolutely beg to differ. You're a goddess, and he's a complete moron if he doesn't realize that. Why do you even like this guy?"
I rolled my eyes at his hyperbel. "Well, isn't it obvious? He is tall, strong, and masculinely good-looking, but that is only his appearance. He is smart and funny; I would without a doubt rely my life on him." I noticed John's glance at me. Why? It's not like Keegan was the real enemy. 
"I'd just like to point out that so am I, and I've got something he doesn't." Keegan laughed, and his laugh was magnetic.  I would lie if I said he wasn't attractive, so would this be so wrong?
I'm single and young, so fuck off, John. "Tell me what you have and what he doesn't."
His expression turns to one of pure confidence and pride. "I've got class, doll. This 'captain' of yours is off there in this nasty bar, out with a random chick, eating her face at the bar for all to see. And I'm here, paying attention to you—only to you."
"Oh, so you're a high and mighty soldier with class and only pure intentions towards me?" I chuckled as I realized I was really bad at flirting, mostly because I only relied on my good looks. And here I am constantly insulting men I am interested in.
"Only the purest intentions towards you, and I got something else that he doesn't, doll."
"If you say big dick, I'm going to cringe."
He laughed, not even insulted by my comment. "As much as I'd love to, no. No, that wasn't what I was going to say. But I'm glad that's where your mind goes first."
"Well, then we are on the same page. But I think that's the problem with me. I think like a whore, and of course, he wouldn't like me. I'm just the type for fun, you know."
"Who told you that bullshit?"
"My ex."
"Bastard, come on, doll, let me show you a great time. Forget about that stupid captain of yours."
"Maybe I should."
He lowers his voice even further while his eyes meet mine, not afraid of eye contact. "I think he's intimidated by you. I mean, look at you. Smart, beautiful, and strong—you kicked all our arses today like we were toys, and Price knows that; he has no shot with you, and instead of taking a chance, he's hiding behind another girl."
His big hands started to caress my hair, tightly gripping it in an act of dominance. He wasn't afraid of showing me that he wanted me.
"Well, that other girl is hot."
"She might be hot, but she's also clearly not you. She's just someone he can control—someone who will do whatever he wants. Just a mere civilian girl with a boring life—but you're a different story. I already know how strong you can be and how much you like to do things your own way. And that's part of what makes you so irresistible—you're more than just a pretty face; you're a great soldier too."
Fuck it. I pulled him to my height, removing his mask enough so his full lips were finally free. He had a sharp jawline and stubbles that almost tickled against my skin as I finally planted my lips on his, desperate to kiss him and feel desired. He wasn't expecting my sudden kiss and his breath hitched for a moment, his hands tightening in my hair, keeping me so close. I could feel his lips curving into a slight smile, his eyes fluttering shut as his body froze, a low masculine groan escaping his mouth as he pressed his rock-hard body against mine. His hands started to roam over my body until they found my ass, squeezing it firmly and pulling me up in his arms to close even more distance.
John's POV
"Soldiers always had a different kind of appeal to me." If she tells me one more time how she fetishizes soldiers and how she always dreamt of marrying one and being a stay-at-home mom while her husband would be on dangerous deployments, I'd gladly off myself. It wasn't wrong to want to be a stay-at-home mom; John's mom was one too, and she did way more than his old man gave her credit for, but he always hated women who only cared about his status in the military and the benefits it came with. Well, at least she was pretty.
"Do you even listen, Johnny?" Johnny, really?
"Yes, of course, sweetheart." She always blushed when he called her sweetheart, and he felt incredibly terrible for only calling her that because he couldn't, for the love of God, remember her correct name: Sarah, or Sandra; certainly not Sunshine. John thought he could erase Sunshine completely from his brain by making out with that woman. He was wrong— it only made him long for her even more. For heaven's sake. He could lie to himself and say it was that woman's fault, but she was pretty and even a bit smart—she just wasn't Sunshine, and that frustrated him. He didn't even get a physical reaction out of that woman— even his dick betrayed him.
"Oh, God, John, that woman is completely embarrassing," she gestured at something, and when John turned around, he could see it. It was his woman in the arms of that tosser, exactly like he held her today, only that they were making out. Disgusting—deep inside, he knew he couldn't judge her. He was making out with a random woman in the bar just so he could forget her, but still, his stomach built a knot that twisted him like the time he got stabbed near his kidney in Afghanistan.  He would never admit that he was jealous—jealousy was something for weak people. He never felt this way before, and he won't start now. 
It clearly only bothered him because he was one of Merrick's fellow guys; he'd probably only flirted with her because of the rivalry. And as the good captain he was, he needed to stop that, right? So his woman—uhm, his sergeant—wouldn't get hurt and be unconcentrated in missions. 
Sunshine was now sitting on Keegan's lap as he whispered things in her ear that made her sweet cheeks rise with a beautiful color. John couldn't stand this sight anymore; his knuckles turned white from the tight fist he made. He didn't even listen to the woman whom he tried to lay tonight, and as Keegan walked towards the loo, he saw his chance to act like the proper captain he was, and he went after him.
"You deserve better than me, sweetheart, someone who is emotionally available." He didn't let her form her words in protest; he only put $50 down on the table and left in the direction of the loo. He entered the room, closing the door behind him. He was used to being intimidating, and he sure as hell would intimidate that little Sergeant of Merrick. He leaned against the door frame, not saying a word at first, waiting till he noticed him. Right now, he felt strong; it had something powerfull seeing his enemy with his dick out pissing—John was fully clothed, stoic, and strong while Keegan was exposed and vulnerable. John tried to hide his smirk as he saw how he was thicker than him down there—way more for his Sun to enjoy—concentrate on the task, John.
"Sergeant Russ," he said with his hoarse voice.
"Price, what do you want?" he practically spat out.
"Touch her again, and I'll make sure that you won't be able to touch anything else." He saw the look of fear in Keegan's eyes. Of course, he was a strong soldier, but Keegan wasn't a fool and knew that Price was a real threat. 
But then he tested John's patience by saying something foolish like "jealous that you won't be the one to make her scream in pleasure tonight." John saw red, his fists held close to his body, his knuckles turning white. He wanted to beat that shit out of that bastard, but being violent isn't what makes the other scared; it's his calmness and the fact that if he loses it, it's over. 
"Care to repeat that, Russ?"
"I'm going to touch her the whole night, and you guided her into my arms like an idiot." He didn't understand what he meant by him being at fault for Sun's interest in Russ, but never in his life dared someone to call him an idiot.
"I'll give you one last chance, leave her alone."
"Or what, you kill me?" he scoffed and laughed.
"Maybe I will," he said with a low growl that signaled Keegan that he wasn't joking. 
Both fell into silence as Soap and Ghost stumbled out of one of the cabins. They clearly fucked again; he would have said something about not sleeping around in the military, but he wasn't such a hypocrite. 
Soap interfered in the situation, "Aye, calm down, Captain; he isn't worth the stain." Why did they both need to interfere? He couldn't threaten Russ properly without giving the suggestion that he was more than just a caring captain for his Sun. 
Keegan rolled his eyes, "Whatever, I'm going to fuck your little sunshine now." Before John could react, Keegan already had a fist in his face. 
Surprisingly, not from John himself but from Ghost, the reserved man who seemed to hate Sunshine with all his heart. Was he perhaps interested in his Sun? No, never. Ghost was head over heels for Soap, even if he would never admit that. But why the sudden act? Keegan left the loo with a bloody lip.
"You fucked up, John."
"I know, Simon."
Soap and Ghost left the bathroom shortly after, and John could hear the arguing, something about Soap being jealous and thinking Ghost wanted Sunshine, and Ghost replying that Soap was fucking delusional and should know his place. If he hadn't been entrenched in his own hell of drama, he would have talked to Simon. Fucking hell that evening was fucked up. 
As he left the bathroom, going to the booth of his boys, he noticed how Soap and Ghost were silent, Soap's glance almost burning in rage. Sunshine was dancing with Keegan while he groped her precious ass. John sat miserably with his own scotch, but at least Gaz was happy drinking his beer and ranting about something.
After a while, he saw Keegan pull Sun over his shoulder, and they went straight out of the bar, with her being a tipsy and giggling mess. "What a show-off," he scoffed.
"How funny that Sunny is the only one getting action tonight," Kyle looked confused as every man at the table shot him a death glare. For heaven's sake, that evening was cursed, and in all vulnerability, John hoped that this was just a one-night thing for her.
Sunshine's POV
He threw me over his shoulder and carried me out of the bar. As we walked towards his room in the base, I could already feel my arousal approaching. It took forever since we stopped always to make out.
You could say a lot about him; he is arrogant, narcissistic, and a bit crazy, but he's a damn good kisser. We reached his barrack, it was as simple as hers just that his wasn't a single. She hoped desperately that his roommate didn't bulge in. 
He pressed me against the door frame as their kiss deepened, Keegan's hand slipped under my shirt tracing soft circles on my back. His other hand slides gently around my hair pulling it towards him as a show of his dominance.
I couldn't hold back and moaned into his kiss. "Fuck it." I ripped his shirt off him ogling over his muscular frame. He was toned his pecks were perfectly sculpted, every woman would kill for that sight but I thought about John - stop it, forget John, think about Keegan.
Keegan smirked as I ripped off his shirt, his hands slowly exploring every inch of my clothed body. His touch was rough and possessive like he desperately needed me. He released a loud groan as I started to trace down his abs and prominent V line. I pulled off my shirt and bra and threw it in the corner. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of my breasts. His rough hand cupped them and his calloused fingers from his work in the military brushed across my hardened nipples. "Fuck," he breathed out his lips finding mine again in a hungry kiss. His erected dick already pressing against my stomach.
"Please Keegan, I need you." I pleaded, Keegan broke our kiss, his lips trailing down my neck and collarbone, his teeth graze my skin lightly as he nipped at my shoulder- Oh he is a biter. His hand squeezed my breasts again before he started to undo his pants. His hardened dick sprung out of his boxers, his pink tip already glistered with pre cum. He wasn't very thick but the length was impressive and he was circumcised. I licked my lips in anticipation. "Shit you're big." Keegan only chuckled darkly at my words. "I'll show you how big." He growls his hands moving to grip my hips firmly as he ripped off my thong revealing my already wet folds.
"Hey, I liked that one."
"I buy you a new one."
His finger dips into my moisture before teasing my throbbing entrance. "You're already so ready for me," he murmurs. 
"Keegan please stop teasing me."
Keegan's other hand slipped down to play with my clit. His thumb circling gently the sensitive knot. With one swift movement, he pushes his thick fingers deep inside of me. He groaned in pleasure at the tightness that surrounded him. "Fuck you feel so good- around my finger."
He pushed his fingers lazily against my G spot and started to scisor them inside, he looked determined at my face to learn which movement kept me going. I felt the knot in my stomach building up letting me almost explode. His lips trailed down my neck sucking on my nipples while he continued to abuse my clit.
"Cum on me Doll."
I came hard spasming around his thick fingers and coating them with my juices. Keegan's cock throbbed in anticipation as he watched me cum around his fingers. He pulls his hand away, relishing the sight of my wetness. "That's it, baby girl."
"Let me take care of you Keegan." I let myself fall on my knees and slowly started to stroak his dick and lick the pre cum of his swollen tip. Keegan groans deeply, as I take his cock into my mouth, his hips jerking automatically forward. He grips my hair trying to maintain his control. "Fuck Doll." 
I bobbed my head up and down while playing with his balls with one of my free hands. He pushes his cock deeper inside of me but he should know that I'm the one in control. I bite softly on his tip to make him crazy. His lips escaped moans - loud moans. His cock throbbed in anticipation leaving stains of pre cum on my tongue. "Fuck Doll, that feels good don't stop."
I began to deep throat him almost gaging because of his length, my eyes began to tear, I tried to maintain eye contact. Keegan's grip on my hair tightens his knuckles turning white. His hips jerk forward, pushing only deeper into my throat. "You're so fucking good at that, I cant last longer."  I press my plump lips together tightening the friction around his member. 
As he feels him getting close he pulls my head back away. "Not quite yet Doll," he growls his voice stained with the effort to hold back his orgasm. I started to laugh and ignored his attempts to last longer I moved my head faster. "Fuck you're going to make me cum." I moaned in agreement - my voice only sending vibrations down his dick.
Keegan grunts loudly. His entire body tensing up as he loses control and erupts deep inside my throat. His cock twitches repeatedly, sending wave after wave of hot cum down my throat, I swallow every sip of his cum and finally hold my tongue out showing him my empty mouth. Keegan stared down at me in shock, his eyes dark with lust and satisfaction. His muscular thigh trembles as he tries to hold his composure. He gently traces down my jawline. "Fuck you're mine Doll" - I was definitely not his. 
Keegan lifted me and threw me on the bed as he spread my legs wide, positioning himself between my legs - his cock already hardening again. He looks down at me with a predatory grin, then lowers himself onto my waiting sex and pushes inside me with one powerful trust making me scream in pleasure and pain at the same time. 
He begins thrusting into me, hard and fast. The bed cracks under our combined weight as he takes me roughly. His muscular arms flex with each stroke. 
"Keegan, it feels so good."
"Doll," he groans his voice hoarse with lust, "you're so fucking tight I can barely hold back." 
"Don't hold back, Keegan. Fuck me."
He grins. "You like it rough doll?" I nodded and with a swift move, he flips me over onto my stomach and pulls my ass up, with brutal precision and starts a relentless pace as he fucks me from behind.  His large hand gripped me tightly leaving marks on my body. "This is what you want isn't it?"
I start to clench around him, only getting more aroused at his words. "Oh you're so wet," he murmurs, moving one hand between my legs to stroke my neglected clit. The added sensation sends shockwaves of pleasure through my body causing me to arch my back and cry out his name.
"That's it, Doll, take it all." 
"I'm close - please, Keegan," I pleaded to him to finally release me.
"Cum for me Doll," he growls picking up the pace even more. His cock slams into me over and over again, each thrust sending a vibration through my core as he pinched my clit hard. I started to cry out of pleasure and finally came spasming around his dick - coating him with all my juices.  Keegan held me firm supporting my body weight as he let me ride out my orgasm while starting to kiss me all over my body and leaving marks everywhere. 
After my orgasm, he guided me on top of him and I started to ride him as his hands roam over my body, griping my hips tightly again. His eyes followed the movements of my breasts, his mouth watering at the sight. He pulled me forcefully tight onto his shaft brushing against my cervix so I would start to see stars, his hand now pressed against the familiar bulge inside my womb.
Keegan started to rub my overstimulated clit again as he finally chased after his release, with each thrust his hips slams powerful against me, he became slowly sloppy and uncontrolable begging me to finally release him.
I clenched tight around his dick, his eyes rolled back inside his skull. With a groan that echoes through the room, Keegan's hot seed erupts inside of me, filling me up completely. His cockhead twitches as he emptied himself inside of me- pushing his cum deeper into my hole.
"Fuck." He collapsed on top of me, our bodies still entwined, Keegan pressed his face into the crook of my neck inhaling my scent. "What the fuck was that, no women made me cum like that before."
"Well, I'm pretty skilled at these things."
"You're fucking amazing Doll." He slowly pulled his softening dick out of me watching his seeds drip down from my cunt into his mattress.
"As much as I like to see you coated in my cum, let me clean you up."
"Oh, what a gentleman."
"It's the least I can do after you gave me the best orgasm of my life." 
"Oh was it?"
"Don't lie to me it was fucking amazing for you too."
"A close third place Keegan." I grinned.
"Don't challenge me Doll." 
"Or what?"
"You will regret this."
"Why?"
"You like Price even tho I don't know why."
"And Price doesn't like me, so I can have all my fun while he has his with that other woman."
"His loss is my win."
He cuddled against me after he cleaned his seed from my thighs but as he fell asleep snoring the only thought in my brain was John. 
I'm screwed.
368 notes · View notes
whoistartaglia · 1 year ago
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genshin men and napping
including: childe, alhaitham, the wanderer, xiao, zhongli
childe
childe prefers the pass-out-for-twenty-minutes-and-go type of naps. it’s not the harbinger can’t take hours long naps, but power naps are childe’s go-to—even when he’s not currently working. sometimes, you don’t even know it happened until it’s over. childe will annouce something like he’ll be right back or needs to do something, and sometimes he’ll just go off, crash in the bedroom, and circle back less than a half hour later. the only sign he napped is his hair, slightly more messy than normal, and rumpled clothing.
the only time he’ll take slightly longing naps if he’s napping with you; then he can’t resist resting a few more minutes. you’ll lie down next to childe midway into his sleep, and curl yourself into his side. you fall asleep almost instantly, but wake not even ten minutes later.
“five more minutes,” you mutter, feeling childe stir next to you. “please?”
“fine. but only five,” the harbinger hums in response. (five, ten, fifteen, thirty minutes passes. childe’s still asleep, and so are you).
alhaitham
alhaitham is an accidental napper. his naps are often in various, uncomfortable positions: on his desk, the floor, his chair. everywhere except for his bed or the couch. you’ll hear light snoring from the hallway and fine the scholar in his office, dozing over a pile of papers, books, scrolls. you cringe at the slight drool at his lips and go to gently remove the documents when you boyfriend bolts upstraight.
“i’m awake!” alhaitham announces to no one in particular. he realizes its you and sighs slightly, resting back in his chair. “how long was i out?”
“not sure,” you reply, inspecting the documents for signs of drool. “if you’re tired, you could just take a normal nap like the rest of us.”
he considers, looks at his mess of a desk, the sunlight drifting in through tinted windows. it doesn’t take a scholar to know it’s the perfect afternoon for a nap.
alhaitham relents on the condition you take the nap with him, and less than five minutes later of moving onto the bed, you’re both out, snoring and drooling, together.
wanderer
wanderer does not officially take “naps.”
“they’re just shorter intervals of sleep when i’m feeling slightly tired,” he argued that one time you tried to call his rest bits “naps.” “they are not naps.”
you furrowed your brows but let you boyfriend convince himself of his delusions. the wanderer’s not-naps are about a half hour to forty-five minutes long. he doesn’t snore, doesn’t drool, doesn’t have nighmares nor dreams. it was simply sleep, a recharge of batteries.
he doesn’t annouce them, either. you’ll find him on the couch, eyes closed, breathing steady. when you come over he stirs, and you can tell he’s in that state of sleepiness and lucidity, mind fog and haze clouding his judgements and responses.
your lips quirk into a smile. “did you have a nice nap?”
“huh? yeah,” he says, blinking away sleep. a second later he realizes his mistake. “i was not napping—“ he cuts himself off, and sighs. he’s going to be living with this for a very long time, judging from the delight in your eyes.
xiao
xiao takes days long “naps.” for an adeptus, you guess it makes sense; his perception of time is much different from mortals. a couple days long nap for him is probably equivalent to a power nap. you don’t really want to know what the two or three hour equivalent is—a month? two? you’re used to now, though you freaked out the first time when xiao was still asleep after twelve hours.
you asked zhongli about it and the only response you got was a shrug and “mortals also take naps. it’s the same thing. he’ll wake up soon.” any protests that it was most definitely not the same were waved off.
when xiao did indeed wake a few days later, he was rather confused why you were leaning over him, eyes damp.
there was a lot of relieved crying and “you’re okay!” on your end and slight bewilderment on his.
“thanks, but, why wouldn’t i be okay?”
“you were out for like four days straight!”
“oh.” xiao is still confused. “a nice and short nap?” you kind of laugh-cry harder while xiao puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, still not quite sure what he’s supposed to be comforting, but doing it all the same.
zhongli
the mortal zhongli no longer takes days, weeks, months long naps, but a he’s held onto a peculiar habit of his. whenever he naps, he always seems to be surrounded by gold? jewels? other forms of treasure? you’ll walk past the bedroom and see him curled into ball. when you walk closer, you see fistfuls of mora, expensive gemstones, gold and silver, tucked next to him. your first thought is how?? did that get there?? especially considering you just paid the bill last night… but you kind of force yourself to shrug it off.
you have the idea it’s either the former god’s version of stuffed animals or a habit from his days presiding as a dragon. or both.
you decide to take a nap with zhongli to see how it appears, but almost a half an hour into sleeping with him, he still hasn’t. you poke your boyfriend awake and he stirs.
“what is it?” he asks, still sleepy.
“where’s the gold? mora?”
it takes a second for zhongli to realize what you’re talking about. he lets out a tired “oh,” and you think he might have fallen back asleep until he lets out a sleepy, “you. treasure. you are the treasure.”
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jaylver · 1 year ago
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YOU BELONG WITH ME — Y.JW
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synopsis: The boy next door was practically everyone’s dream. Straight As and top of his class, basketball captain, popular kid with a heart of gold, who wouldn’t want him? Yang Jungwon happened to be him, your childhood best friend who you’ve been pining for almost forever. But how could you compete when you were the complete opposite of his girlfriend? Except that you’ve been there in his life all along, the one who understood most. All you could think was: you belong with me.
pairings: non-idol!jungwon x afab!reader
genre: childhood best friends to lovers, boy next door + athlete jungwon, romance, very very slight angst, fluff
warning(s): profanities, both are kinda idiots xx
wc: 3445
a/n: yes, this is based on tswift's you belong with me song + mv 💓 (please tell me you're not sick of me and tay atp) tbh this was originally a hee fic (idk why he always inspires a lot of fics for me LMAO) but i wanted to change it up! hope you enjoyed it! please leave a feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated! muah muah!
masterlist | © jaylver all rights reserved.
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You were down bad. 
That wasn’t a statement, it was a fact.
Nothing could simply hide the fact that you were down bad and feral for your neighbour. Yes, you heard that right, the neighbour. And no, your neighbour doesn’t happen to be someone who was on the edge of deathbed kind of old, but he was, in fact, the same age as you, which didn’t help the ample amount of delusions that you could actually get him. 
Yang Jungwon. 
He wasn’t just an average boy next door, he was your childhood friend, who you knew since he moved in when you were six. Naturally, his mum and yours became buddies and it was a big factor in pulling you two together. As you grew older, you and him got closer and were practically stuck to the hip. The downside of highschool and Jungwon looking as though he was personally carved by Greek Gods was that he got popular instantly, while you, on the other hand, was regarded as a simpleton. 
To be fair, you get it. Jungwon was a smart guy other than his obvious charming features and particularly those dimples. Gosh. He was a perfect straight As student, a student loved by teachers and his peers. What made him even alluring was his athletic abilities as well. Wasn’t it just cruel to others to be absolutely blessed both academically and athletically? Captain of the basketball team who’ve won many championships and tournaments. Right, you finally understand why you’ve got to fight other girls for him. 
High School was hell. Being splitted into either the popular kids or the nerdy kids, you happen to be stuck in the middle. Jungwon was off with his popular bunch and you were with Sim Ja Yun, or Yoon, your platonic soulmate that you found equally dying in Maths class. Without her, you were never surviving this hell hole. 
You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss hanging out with Jungwon. Now that you were in two different friend groups, you only got to see him after school or during the weekends. But at least there was a fun part to it, considering how his window faced yours and you two ended up creating this new way of communicating where you would write on either a whiteboard or a piece of paper.
There were ‘how are you’s and ‘good’s and some random rants, most of these ended up being something sentimental to look back to, and they were piled up in a small section in your drawer. 
“Did you hear? Jungwon’s dating that popular cheerleader,” Yoon nudged your side, whispering quietly as you two made your way to Chemistry. 
“Wonyoung?” you exclaimed, a shocked look on your face. 
Jang Wonyoung, the cheer captain of the school, an equivalent of Regina George that practically ran the school without saying. She was the total opposite of you: she wore short skirts, you wore t-shirts; she was cheer captain, you were on the bleachers; she wore high heels, you wore sneakers. How cliche could this be? Of course it had to be the cheer captain and the basketball captain that got together.
Yoon nodded. “Out of everyone, it had to be her. She’s literally known to be a serial cheater.”
Jungwon deserved better. That was all you could think during the entirety of Chemistry. Why didn’t he tell me? Was this new? Countless thoughts filled your mind till the point you swore you were seeing stars. At the end of the day, you concluded it was none of your business, seemingly reaching ‘acceptance’ in the five stages of grief. Maybe this was an actual sign for you to finally stop harbouring a small teeny liking towards Jungwon. Just maybe.
Sitting by the window and staring out into the dark skies completely distracted you from the fact that Jungwon had entered his bedroom right opposite your window. He was the phone, face twisted and expressions screaming out the signs that things didn’t seem to be well. He was yelling something back before hanging up with a sigh and a frustrated ruffle of his hair. 
It took a few minutes for him to recollect himself before regaining composure completely. You pretended you didn’t see the whole commotion when he sat on his bed, facing towards you and your window, casting you a smile and waving at you, to which you reciprocated. You couldn’t help noticing the disappointment on his face.
You reached over for your notepad, scribbling on it quickly.
‘You okay?’
His face instantly lit up, beaming happily, contrary to the expression from a minute ago. 
It was his turn to write something down on his notepad.
‘Tired of drama.’
You then wrote your reply.
‘Sorry :(’ 
He shrugged, shaking his head slightly. You wished you could do something to help, but simply, there was nothing.
‘I like—’
You found yourself writing those words of confession unknowingly, as if your hands knew what your mind constantly thought of. You didn’t even finish writing it, you couldn’t. By the time you glanced up, Jungwon was gone and a shade of blue covered his window.
Well, there goes another chance.
It might’ve been a typical Tuesday night, but that wasn’t stopping you from staying up and acting insane. You were lying in bed, staring at the ceiling with your headphones plugged in. The late night was calm and peaceful, no schoolwork, no trouble, no crush to mull over about, you were finally alone and at peace. The upbeat songs blasting into your ears had you jumping from your bed and dancing around, feeling as if you were the only one in the world.
But you weren’t the only one. 
Unbeknownst to you, Jungwon was by his window secretly looking at your dancing figure who mimicked a singer, a smile on his face.
If only you knew.
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Sitting alone in your own front yard shouldn’t sound as depressing as it was. 
You thought the best self healing method was getting in touch with nature like what those magazines had claimed, but it was only making you seem pathetic to people that drove past. Plus, how could you achieve peace when the person who destroyed it countless times was walking in your direction towards you.
“Hey, hey,” Jungwon greeted, dressed in his worn-out jeans and a white t-shirt.
“Hi,” you replied, patting the empty spot next to you.
“You’re reading ‘Pride and Prejudice’?” he wondered as he sat down, catching a glimpse of the book in your hand.
“I’m pretending to read, but I’d like to say that I am,”
Jungwon laughed in amusement, shaking his head. “Well, I’ll pretend to be impressed,” his dimpled smile never leaving, which persisted in tormenting you, because how could anyone look like that.
He’s got a smile that could light up this whole town. Hell, he was the sun that shone over your measly sad town. The light of your life and the happy pill of everyone else’s life. 
It was just a shame that you hadn’t seen it in a while ever since his girlfriend has brought him down. Even though he has reassured you that he was fine many times before whenever you asked, you could tell he wasn’t fully truthful, you know him better than that. 
Speaking of his girlfriend, Wonyoung soon pulled up by his house, and he had to eventually say goodbye to you too. Staring at the sight of them being close simply had your stomach turning and twisting, especially when she herself probably knew that you were secretly pining after him. Were you that transparent? Who cares?
As they drove off, you felt your grip on your book loosen, your heart equally dropping. 
Hey, whatcha doing with a girl like that?
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It was one of the most important times in the school calendar. 
No, not exams. The national basketball competition. 
You weren’t a big sports fan, but somehow, this tournament would always rope you in every year, mainly because of the influence around you too. Exhibit A, Jungwon. But other than him, your friends were constant supporters of the school’s basketball team, not to mention, the atmosphere every year would go insane.
The game against the rival school was something you couldn’t and wouldn’t miss. Well, you didn’t have a choice either way. Being in the band team meant you were spending most of your time on the bleachers. Sigh.
On game day, you were there at the basketball court earlier than the scheduled time for final preparations, helping your bandmates around and idling boredly. You didn’t realise someone sneaking up on you until you heard your name being called, startling you and almost had you dropping an instrument. 
“Jungwon?”
“Hey,” he was in his practice gear, basketball trainers in his hand. “Didn’t mean to scare you. How’s the performance for tonight?”
“I’m hoping it’ll go well,” you said honestly, feeling uneasy under his intense stare. “I’m hoping your game goes good too,”
“Thank you,” he smiled, and there it was, his dimples. One look and it had you lightheaded. You couldn’t believe he had this effect on you still. “Will you finally treat me to some of your signature cupcakes again if we win?”
“I’ll consider it,”
“Great,” he beamed, a pleased and confident smirk replacing that sweet smile. “I’ll make sure to win it for you then,”
How could he say that and casually bid you goodbye after? Has he got no regard for your sanity whatsoever? 
His words continuously occupied your head even when your performance ended and the game started, your focus only trained on his running figure. The score was narrow, time was ticking and Jungwon had one target in mind, dashing towards the hoop and shooting the ball into it. That was the winning point and there was no doubt that the home team had won. You and your bandmates got up cheering, yelling and giving each other’s high fives. You were proud.
The cheerleaders by the court were cheering as well and doing their routine. The sight of Wonyoung caught your attention, her gaze was not on her boyfriend, but on another player. What? 
Once the game had ended, the team stayed on court celebrating. You were still on the bleachers, so all you could do was observe the scene unfolding below. Jungwon approached Wonyoung, but what you failed to notice was her standing with the player you saw her eyeing earlier. A fight broke out, a sour expression on Jungwon’s face, betrayal evident. It didn’t take long before he stormed away.
Oh no.
Upon returning home, tired and drained, you saw Jungwon in his room by the window, head hung low staring at his phone. At first, you didn’t know whether to get his attention and ‘talk’ or rather stay silent, but how could you when he seemed like a sad sappy kitten. So, you sent him a text, prompting him to stare up.
‘Hope you’re ok’ you wrote on your notepad.
He gave you a small smile, scribbling something down and holding his notepad up after,
‘I think I am? Whatever :/’
‘I’m here if you need to talk.’
‘Thanks :) you’re the best.’
‘I know’
He laughed at your response, but you continued on.
‘Congrats on your win! Super proud.’
‘Thank you! Does that mean I get my cupcakes now?’
You rolled your eyes, feigning an angry look. 
‘Fine >:(’
‘Sweeet. Talk tomorrow? We both need a rest.’
You nodded, and with a last wave from him, he closed his curtains and you did the same. It was obvious he didn’t want to talk about the clear fight from earlier and you didn’t want to push him either, but the sadness in his eyes told you he wasn’t getting over that easily.
Can’t he see that you were the one who understands him?
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Prom, the day you dreaded. 
You were adamant on not attending initially, but the convincing from Yoon and your other friends had you eventually caving in. Poor you.
It wasn't like there was no one out there who asked you, you were actually just a great friend who agreed to go with them instead. Besides, men scared you, mostly the ones you didn't know. Not Jungwon, he's an exception, or maybe you were biased.
Once you were done getting ready in your bedroom, you opened your window curtains out of reflex and with purpose, gazing out. There was Jungwon, in his sleek black suit and tie, looking like a graceful prince. Abort, abort, abort—
Too late.
Upon seeing him noticing your figure by your window, it was too late to flee or hide. So, you waved at him, taking your notepad along.
'You look great!'
He smiled once he saw your writing, seemingly relieved and less tensed up.
'Thanks! You're beautiful in that dress. I love it on you.'
You're praying he didn't notice the slight tinge of scarlet on your cheeks from a distance away. Well, unless he has great vision. 
Shaking your feelings and thoughts away, you wrote your last message since it was time to leave soon. 
'I need to leave soon :( see you tonight?'
He nodded, writing swiftly before showing it.
'Yes! Will see you soon. Have fun :)'
Having fun isn't exactly the expression you would precisely describe how you felt at that hour. 
Alright, you found it dumb to get slightly jealous over the fact that Jungwon was with his girlfriend tonight, but you couldn't help mulling over it. You just wanted him, but why couldn't he see that?
Or maybe … you didn't know that he does.
Jungwon, on the other hand, was in the men's restroom, washing his face over and over again. He needed to think.
Breaking up with Wonyoung after the whole fiasco at the basketball game had affected him. Although a month and a half seemed like a  short time, it was still a relationship anyway, wasn't it? That's besides the point here.
Jungwon realised he liked you. 
He found it douchey especially when he had just gotten out of a relationship, he didn't want you to think that you're some rebound, but he ended up realising his true feelings. Gosh, couldn't the timing be any better?
His childhood friend, number one supporter since the start, you were the one he was in love with, and it was ridiculous he had to go through a long while just to find out his actual thoughts and feelings. It seemed unfair to you.
Rather impulsively, he hit the 'send' button on his message app, asking for you to meet him outside the hotel. 
Waiting for him to arrive was nerve-wracking for you. Having not seen him almost the entire night and now he had sent an ominous message to top it all off, it simply didn't come off as nonchalant as he intended it to be.
"Hi," you greeted as he made his way towards you. 
"Hey," his eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of you in the prettiest dress, one that complimented you to the brim.
"You … wanted to see me?"
"Oh," a gear clicked in Jungwon's mind. Seeing you had completely malfunctioned him and he almost forgot the task at hand. "Right. This is going to sound in–insane but, here me out,"
"Okay?" 
"I like you," 
He likes … you?
Were you tripping or was that genuinely what he'd said? 
"I'm so stupid for not realising sooner. You were always there for me, since we were kids till now. At my basketball practices and competitions, I can spot you in the crowd easily, you're the shining star. Whenever you're playing by the bleachers, I wish I could just run to you. I like you, Y/N, I do,"
Every word was filled with pent up frustration and love, unaware how much he has been pushing back until now. But what concerned him most was your quietness.
"Y/N?"
You blinked, instead it was your turn to malfunction. "I like you too," those words came out pouring naturally, as if you were built for it, fully ready and prepared. "Wait!"
Your exclamation had him jumping up in shock, startling him and catching him off guard.
"I broke it off with her. A–and before you think I'm trying to replace you with her or anything, I'm not. Just wanted to make it clear," he said quickly, almost slurring, clearly panicked. “We can take it slow, don’t need to rush into anything, all it matters is you knowing,”
“I’d like that,” you fiddled with your fingers, nervousness eating you up from within. “I–uh–can I kiss you?”
Where did that come from?
Jungwon flushed a shade of red, coughing from shock. Your eyes widened in horror at his reaction, waving your arms frantically. “It’s okay if you don’t want to! I’m sorry, I don’t know what got over me—”
“I–I do want to kiss you,” he rushed his words out, sounding in a hurry. He was just as whipped as you. 
You smiled, and that was all it took before you grabbed his tie, pulling him in to lock your lips with his.
It was magical. The feeling was something you’ve anticipated since forever, living up to those scenes you’ve seen in your favourite rom coms and having you giddy. His kiss was gentle but desperate, palms resting against the back of your neck and cheek, pulling you in for a deeper kiss. 
You drove him insane. The cherry chapstick he could taste on his tongue, the touch of your lips against his, never in a million years had he imagined himself in this exact scenario, usually he expected himself to fumble, but he was glad he didn’t. He wished the night would never end, and so did you.
Reluctantly so, you eventually pulled away from him, both of you having your breaths taken away and breathing deeply. Even though it was silent, no words even exchanged for a while, you found yourself basking in his presence and taking in the moment. Then, you broke out into a giddy smile, giggling out of nowhere.
Jungwon couldn’t help but be infected by you, smiling along and laughing. There it was, his smile, his dimples, the crinkles by his eyes. Everything about him was surreal to you, whatever happened tonight seemed surreal as a whole. 
“Can I take you home?”
“Of course you can.”
That night, you made sure to have him waiting outside your front yard as you ran in looking like cinderella dashing out of the ball, dashing towards the kitchen to fetch what you had promised. Cupcakes.
“I’ve made them,” you presented the cupcakes in all their glory, each decorated prettily and cutely. 
“You remembered!” he stared at them in awe, then looked back at you with the same expression. “Thank you, really,”
“It’s no biggie,” 
You passed him a reassuring smile, one that he responded back with a small grin. He glanced at his wrist watch for a second, then pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “It’s late, I’m sure you’re tired, and I still have to drive the car into the garage,”
“Right,” you laughed at his car parked half-assed by the sidewalk, luckily no passing car was present. “Goodnight, Won,”
“Goodnight, Y/N. I had a lot of fun tonight with you. I’m glad you were there,”
“Me too.”
Back in your room, you were done washing up and getting ready for bed, looking out your window as it has become a habit by now. Surprisingly,  Jungwon’s light was still switched on, and you had thought he was sound asleep by now, but guess he wasn’t. 
Speaking of him, he came crashing into your sight not even a minute later, notepad in hand and a cheeky smile that told you he had a plan up his sleeve. He stood right in front of the window, directly across your room, then held up the notepad in hand.
‘Be mine?’
This guy …
You grabbed your notepad, writing down the obvious answer, a lovesick smile that he never failed to put on your face. 
‘Yes!! Duh!!’
He let out a laugh at your response, but said nothing more, acting out a sleeping gesture to signal you to sleep soon and that he himself was also off to bed. You only nodded, but before bidding one another goodbye, he blew you a kiss.
You rolled your eyes at his playfulness, blowing one back and waving him goodnight, both of you unwilling to close the curtains and go to bed.
Either way, you were going to bed that night with peace and love in your mind, because finally, he belonged to you.
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( © jaylver all rights reserved. do NOT copy, plagiarise or edit my work and repost whatsoever. once discovered will be exposed and blacklisted. )
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midnightarcheress · 7 months ago
Text
Simon thinks he could live like this.
pairing: bodyguard!ghost x actress!reader cw: nothing he's just down bad 7 | gold rush masterlist.
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“are you insane?!” Daniel shouts, slamming the door behind him and stomping his feet towards Simon with a menacing look, “you think you can just move her around like this?”
“she wasn’t safe in that house, this is for her protection,” he answers promptly, crossing his arms and taking a step in front of you, covering your frame from the irate man. if he could, he’d land a punch on his face in no time, not caring that technically he’s his boss.
“yeah? and you simply have to be here with her, right?” he scoffs, rolling his eyes at him. you watch the scene unfold from behind Simon, brows knitted together and bottom lip nearly bleeding from biting too much. he’d managed to momentarily tranquillize you, bring you back to earth after the terrifying panic state, but the anxiety kept simmering underneath your skin, just waiting for another chance to take over your body.
“the shitty security system you put in her house wasn’t enough to prevent the bastard from intrudin’, the bloody alarm didn’t even go off,” he retorts, eyes shooting daggers straight ahead, “so yeah, i’m gonna stay with her for as long as it’s necessary. contract says to protect her, doesn’t it?” 
the two of them stay quiet, a silent staring competition on Daniel’s side, a mere warning on Simon’s side. he won’t budge, won’t allow you to go back to that house, hand you on a silver platter to the grim reaper hiding behind letters and eerie messages. 
Dan leans on his side to look at you, ignoring the mass of a man in front of him. “are you sure about this?” his tone is strangely soft, like a switch flipped in his mind, all anger vanishing. you nod, offering him a small smile that does a poor job of concealing how nervous you are about the situation. he purses his lips, taking one last glance at Simon’s unwavering posture before sighing in defeat.
it’s been two weeks since the mirror message that led Simon into comforting you, and two weeks since he had to control his own panic, trying his best not to spiral. it had been a while since he shared a living space, so staying with you feels like a dream that he’s constantly afraid of turning into a nightmare by saying the wrong thing, acting the wrong way, or even thinking about what’s happening. 
the safe house Price arranged is far from the size you’re used to, being at least three times smaller than your own house. but to his surprise, again, your reaction to it contradicts his expectations. it could just be you being a phenomenal actress, covering your resentment behind a beaming smile, but you seemed to have grown accustomed to his presence easily, didn’t protest once, never lamented the loss of luxury and privacy.
he wanted to deny the feeling, shove it deep down in his brain and lock the safe, but it was nice, the domesticity of it all. it was nice learning little details about your routine; how you only get out of bed the second time your alarm rings; how you’re definitely not a morning person, judging by the gruff good morning you mumble when you slide to the counter stool; how you love trying new recipes and quietly dance in the kitchen, freezing when you notice him watching you; or how you’re always carrying something to read, it being a book or a script.
it was nice making you coffee in the morning and seeing you rub your sleepy eyes, nice hearing you humming a song in the shower, nice catching a glimpse of you in lingerie when you forget to lock your bedroom door, nearly making him choke in his own spit by the sight of the small tattoo on your hip. is it a star? a flower?
he felt like he was playing house with you. a game where you’re his loving wife and he’s a devoted husband, where he could feed his delusions, live everything he was convinced he’d never have in this lifetime. inside those walls, he could do it all, except the one thing he longed the most – touch you. kiss the top of your head when you’re baking in the kitchen, run his fingers through your hair when you’re curled up on the couch, feel your soft skin under his fingertips when you lay in bed, bend you over the table when you pass by him in skimpy pyjama shorts.
“do you... wanna watch a movie?” you ask, remote in hand and head leaned back on the sofa, chewing the inside of your cheek and attentively glaring at the television. he tilts to the side, stirring his thoughts away and taking in the view of your features illuminated by the bright lights coming from the screen. it was easy to get lost in how beautiful you were, a magical creature brought to earth to bewitch him. 
your head suddenly shifts to where he’s sitting, and it hits him that you’re still expecting an answer. fuck. “uh, yeah, sure.” he mumbles, snapping back to the telly, swallowing the desires his throat dared to spill.
later that day, Simon steps onto the front porch for a much-needed nicotine fix, dark blues painting the sky as the last rays of sunlight vanish from the horizon. he hates the burning sensation of the smoke in his lungs, but always craves the lightheadedness and dopamine flush in his veins, no matter how many years it takes from his life. 
“god!” you jump, looking behind you and putting a hand over your chest to steady your rapid heartbeat, “you really are a ghost, aren’t you?” a chuckle falls from your lips after the startle, travelling the air like a lullaby, and he ignores the flutter in his chest that happens whenever you laugh.
“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” you shrug and turn back to your initial position, sitting on the steps and watching the crunchy tree leaves dancing in the breeze. he follows your gaze to the front lawn, bringing a cigarette from the pack to his lips, debating if he should truly smoke with you in there. you never complained, but he’s caught you frowning at the thin cardboard a few times around the house, so he decides not to light it.
“can i ask you something?” you blurt out, lifting your chin to face him, eyes searching for his, and his head dips, irises focusing on yours. one brow raises at your sudden curiosity and he nods, back propped against the column, waiting, “why Ghost?”
his jaw tenses, gaze shifting from you to the carton in his hands. the ever-dreaded question. “dunno. just a nickname.” lie. he couldn’t tell you how everything was taken from him and he faked his death years ago; how he truly became the ghost of man. you don’t deserve to be burdened with that knowledge, so it is just a nickname. 
he looks back to you, gauging if you bought his deflection or not. you’re still focused on him, vision flicking at every crease of his expression, waiting for any falter, but it doesn’t come. “you can call me Simon.”
the thin line of your lips breaks into a smile, cheeks rising and making his heart skip a beat. so much for easy detachment, “okay, Simon.”
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the way i still have at least ten parts of this story in my outline but i'm so unmotivated to write it :(
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