#i want to work on him outside of the game more expect art in the future | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shyoko · 1 month ago

Note

Hiiii, omg I love your writings soooooo much. Big big congratulations to the many followers.<3 I just wanted to ask of you could do a new sunoo smut if you have the time...maybe the reader and sunoo are artcollege students and the reader had much to do and works a lot and then it comes to sunoo eating out Y/N? That would be so nicee:33 I Luv uu<33

This writing is my own; no copies, adaptations, or translations are allowed. I hope you like it. (English is not my first language.)

✦ 6.4K words✧ adult cont! eating out* Masterlist˚ Taglist✧ Requests “Open”₊‧ ✦𓂃 ✦Taglist: @lezleeferguson-120 @nuki-riki @ijustwannareadstuff20 @vvenusoncasual @miellette @enhacolor @xxkatsusjinsux @somieverse @ourshin @han-to-my-minho

N/A: Thanks pretty!, I hope you like it and it is what you asked for. A big hug. i love you too🩷🩷

✦Adult content✦

You weren't supposed to look at him, talk to him, let alone feel something for him.

But then he showed up, smiled… and everything you weren’t supposed to do stopped mattering.

His eyes were fixed on you as he placed his hands on your desk, trapping you between his arms. Instantly, your body tensed as Sunoo’s lips dangerously approached your ear.

“You look really pretty today,” he whispered, and his warm breath brushed your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

You didn’t waste a second before pushing him away forcefully. What you didn’t expect was that losing his warmth would feel more uncomfortable than you imagined.

“Back off, Sunoo. I’m not your friend or anything like that, so keep your distance,” you snapped, annoyed.

That’s just how he was: affectionate, with a sugary smile that made you want to like him without even meaning to. And as much as part of you longed to let him treat you that way… you couldn’t allow it.

“Why are you always so cold to me?” he asked, approaching again, though this time keeping some distance. “Do you really hate me that much?”

His gaze was heavy, as if carrying a silent sadness. Something inside your chest tightened. Your mind started to play tricks on you, blaming you for being so harsh. But you quickly drowned that guilt.

You had always wondered what it would feel like to be free. To choose what you wanted. But to your family, you were just another tool. A piece in their game for power. All they cared about was victory. Prestige. Money.

And you?

You just followed their rules. Because they never gave you another option.

You grew up surrounded by paintbrushes, galleries, and empty applause.

But also the weight of expectations you never asked for.

They built an empire where humanity had no place.

They were arrogant, egocentric, always thinking only of themselves.

And you… you learned to stay silent, to smile when needed, to stand out by obligation.

But deep down, you don’t know who you are outside of all that.

You only know that you’re tired.

Tired of pretending to be fine in a place that was never yours.

For years, your family was number one—in sales, in awards, even recognized as the most influential company in the art world. But that whole empire, built with so much effort, crumbled overnight. And although it seemed impossible for such a big company to fall so fast, you all knew that if you didn’t act soon, it would vanish like dust.

And what caused it?

Simple: the new company owned by the Kim family.

It appeared overnight, and with its arrival, you went from first place... to second.

And when they found out the youngest son of the Kim family would attend the same art university as you, it became strictly forbidden to talk to him.

The most important thing was for you to get the highest grades, to stand out, to be noticed. That way, people would become interested in you, your art, and little by little, the family business would climb back to where, according to them, it belonged.

At first, you thought having no contact with him would be easy. Until he showed up. And sat right next to you, starting a sweet conversation about how excited he was to begin.

You found him adorable. And handsome. Very handsome. But above all, irritatingly sweet.

Ignoring him became fucking hard when that boy seemed desperate to talk every few seconds. It was simply impossible to keep him quiet…

Well, you knew there were two ways to manage that.

Your hands grabbed a frosted cookie sitting on your desk, ready to enjoy it before Sunoo arrived. With the cookie in hand, you shoved it into his mouth while he was mid-sentence, forcing him to chew.

That was the first technique to keep him quiet: keep his mouth busy with food.

Some frosting smudged on his nose, making you giggle involuntarily. He quickly joined in.

The moment shattered as the teacher walked into the room.

You both sat down next to each other while the teacher began organizing the materials for class. Internally, you cursed yourself for laughing with him. If your parents found out… you didn’t even want to imagine.

You envied Sunoo a little. His parents let him be himself and talk to the daughter of their rivals. You wished yours were that permissive.

“Good morning, class. Since we have two back-to-back sessions today, I’ve come up with a fun activity,” the professor announced, walking around.

“As you know, we’ve worked with several drawing techniques, as well as canvases and different surfaces to paint on. Today, you’ll use body paint and work on someone else’s skin.” He sat again and continued, “Yesterday, I made the pairs at home to save time, so I’ll call them out now. Grab your paint and spread out around the room. Then pick a body part—hands, arms, whatever you like—and your partner will paint whatever comes to mind.”

“Understood?” Everyone nodded. “Perfect. Here come the pairs.”

The professor began calling out names. More and more people were paired up, yet your name and Sunoo’s hadn’t come up. Until…

“Y/N with Sunghoon.”

A sigh escaped Sunoo’s lips, as if annoyed by the choice.

“And finally, Sunoo with Liz.” His already furrowed brow deepened.

“Alright, get to work,” the professor said.

You stood up, scanning the room for Sunghoon… but he was nowhere to be seen. Next to you, Sunoo was doing the same—no sign of Liz either.

“Well, looks like my partner didn’t show up, and yours didn’t either. So…” He grinned mischievously.

You ignored him and went to the teacher.

“Excuse me, my partner isn’t here, so…”

“Mine either. What a coincidence. We should pair up, right, professor?” Sunoo cut in behind you.

“Yes, you two can partner up. Those who missed today will work together next time,” the professor responded.

Your blood boiled. You couldn’t believe how shameless Sunoo was. Every day, staying away from him became harder.

You both grabbed the paint and sat in a corner of the room.

“What do you think about starting with me?” he asked with a playful smile.

You nodded, not wanting to say much. The less you spoke, the better.

“Alright, I want you to paint my back,” he added, still smiling.

You froze. His back? That meant he’d have to take off his shirt. Absolutely not.

“I’m not painting your back,” you said flatly, no hint of humor.

His smile faded.

“Why not?” he asked with a slight pout.

“Because I don’t want to. Why not just pick your arm?” you tried to reason.

“I’ve already decided. It’s my choice where,” he replied.

You huffed, tired of his persistence.

Sunoo lifted his shirt—not all the way, just enough to expose his back—and turned, giving you a perfect view.

His skin looked soft, almost velvety, and your fingers itched to touch it, feel its warmth…

Stop. You needed to focus.

With tense nerves, you scooped some paint onto a palette, dipped the brush, and loaded it carefully.

Your eyes returned to his back. For a moment, your body stopped responding.

“Are you going to start sometime today, sweetheart?” he asked impatiently, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“Stop moving and I will,” you snapped, gently pushing his shoulders forward.

The moment your skin touched his, you both flinched. Goosebumps rose instantly. You’d never had physical contact with him before, aside from the occasional accidental bump… and this was too much.

His back twitched with every stroke, reacting to the contrast between the cool paint and the warmth of his skin. The brush glided smoothly, more like a caress than painting. Each motion tickled him slightly, but he did his best to stay still.

Your hand moved on its own, guided by instinct. Gradually, colors blended, lines formed. You were completely focused… until he broke the silence.

“Can I drink some water?”

The question was so sudden that you blinked a few times before nodding. As he sipped from the bottle, you stretched your arms and shoulders, your muscles aching from holding the same position.

“Can you take a picture so I can see how it’s turning out?” he asked innocently, handing you your phone.

You took it without a word, unlocking it quickly. He turned slightly, once again offering that perfect view of his back. You opened the camera and snapped the picture.

“Done,” you said, showing him the screen.

He took the phone gently, smiling as he admired the image.

“I love it! Can you send it to me?”

He said it casually, but there was something else in his eyes. He knew exactly what that meant: you'd have to exchange numbers.

You sighed, about to refuse, but before you could, Sunoo snatched the phone and held it out of reach.

“Give it back!” you yelled, frustrated, trying to grab it as he dodged you with playful ease.

You barely saw what he was doing through the spinning and stumbling… until you finally got your phone back—only to see he’d saved himself as “Hot Guy” and sent the image to himself… with a heart.

Your body tensed instantly.

The air thickened around you. Panic clawed at your chest. Your parents could see every message you sent and received. According to them, it was “for safety”—to protect you, and the company’s image.

If they saw that…

Your trembling fingers tried to delete the message, but nerves made you clumsy. Wrong menus, closing the app, reopening… nothing worked.

“What’s wrong?” Sunoo asked, his tone now worried as he saw your pale face and wide eyes. “Don’t like the nickname? You can change it if—”

“Shut the hell up, Sunoo!” you snapped, voice cracking. “You… you don’t understand anything.”

Without waiting for a response, you ran out of the classroom.

Out in the hallway, you immediately resumed your desperate attempt to delete the message. But no matter how hard you tried, nothing worked. The system seemed frozen—or maybe the universe was just against you.

Each passing second made your heart pound harder. Your hands shook, and a wave of anxiety crept into every corner of your body, leaving you breathless.

And just when you felt like you were about to collapse, a pair of warm, comforting arms gently wrapped around you.

“I’m sorry… I’m really sorry…”

You didn’t have the strength to push him away. You didn’t want to. You needed that contact—that moment of humanity. You needed to feel like you weren’t alone.

“Let me help you. I know how to delete those messages in this kind of situation,” he whispered near your ear, his tenderness almost breaking something inside you.

Without a word, you handed him the phone. Then, you slowly pulled away from his chest and slid down to the floor, hugging your knees tightly. The cold of the hallway clashed with the lingering warmth on your skin from his embrace.

Sunoo sat beside you in silence, and without asking, he draped an arm over your shoulders, gently pulling you closer. Your body gave in to the gesture. You knew you shouldn’t be there, knew what it meant, what it implied… but it had been so long since someone hugged you. So long since anyone truly cared.

“All done,” he said softly, showing you the screen. “It’s deleted. No trace of the message. Nothing they can find.”

He looked at you with a sweetness that almost hurt. With one hand, he wiped away the tears sliding silently down your cheeks.

“Forgive me, Y/N.”

His eyes, filled with guilt, locked onto yours.

“I mean it.”

And for the first time in a long while, someone said those words… and you believed them.

The bell rang, marking the end of class. You gently moved away from him, though deep down, you wanted to stay a little longer.

“Thank you.”

It was just one word—small, simple… but heavier than anything you’d said to him before.

He smiled, satisfied.

“You still have my number. Call me if you need anything.”

With that signature smile of his—sweet, light, almost impossible to ignore—he got up and walked back into the classroom.

You stayed in the hallway for a few more seconds, making sure your tears were completely gone before anyone could see you like that. Just as you were about to stand up, Sunoo appeared again, this time with your backpack over one shoulder and his over the other. He carefully placed yours beside you without saying another word… and left.

On your way home, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. About his smile, the softness of his voice, the warmth of his hug… the way he made you feel seen, cared for, even if only for a few minutes.

Why, out of all the boys in the world, did it have to be him?

Him, who was part of the reason your life had become a living hell.

Him, whose family had triggered your family’s downfall, turning you into nothing but a tool to recover what was lost.

Before, your mother at least pretended to care. Now, she was just a cold, manipulative figure obsessed with control. And you… stuck between guilt and duty.

When you got home, you collapsed on your bed without even changing. You silently prayed that your parents would never find those messages.

That they would never know about that small moment of weakness… of freedom.

And as the weight of sadness wrapped around you, your eyes slowly closed.

Finally, your body found rest.

Even if only for a moment.

Even if only in dreams.

You opened your eyes before the alarm went off. Something inside you wouldn’t let you fully rest. You got up, got ready for class, and as you packed your backpack, a cold emptiness rushed through your body.

Your final project was missing.

The very same project that defined your most important grade of the semester. The one that would decide whether you passed the course. The one you had worked on for weeks, late into the night. It was gone.

It wasn’t in its folder. Nor on your desk. Nor anywhere in your room.

Anxiety flooded you again like a storm. You took a deep breath. No. You couldn’t fall apart.

Maybe you had just forgotten it in the classroom. You had to stay calm.

So you ran out the door, hope clinging to your chest like a lifeline.

Your hands searched frantically through your locker, then the art room, and finally your desk. Nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The project was nowhere to be found.

And your heartbeat, increasingly erratic, pounded like an internal alarm you couldn’t silence. Sunoo appeared and sat beside you, like every morning. He wore that warm, carefree smile of his… until he saw your face.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, and without waiting for a reply, his hand found yours, gently caressing it, as if touch was his way of grounding you.

“No.” Your voice trembled.

“My final project is gone. It’s due Friday morning.”

Sunoo’s expression changed instantly. His smile disappeared, replaced by a serious, almost protective look.

“What do you mean it’s gone?” he asked, frowning. “Are you sure?” “I don’t know. I had it yesterday, I brought it with me… and this morning it was just gone. I checked everywhere. It’s nowhere.”Your voice cracked on the last word.

Sunoo took your hand in both of his and squeezed it tightly, as if trying to transfer some of his calm to you.

“It’s okay. We’ll find it. I promise.” And then he smiled again—that smile of his that seemed able to break down any wall you put up.

That expression again. That damn sweetness.

How was it possible that just his presence could soothe you, even though you were still caught in the same disaster?

Class went by surprisingly fast. Before you even realized it, recess had arrived. You and Sunoo immediately launched into your mission: to find the missing project.

You retraced all the classrooms you’d been in the day before, checked your locker once more, and discreetly went through desk after desk, in case someone had stolen it and hidden it there.

Nothing.

A heavy sigh escaped from both of you at the same time, as if the exhaustion and frustration had synced within your bodies.

“I can’t believe I have to redo that project in just two days…” you complained, running both hands through your hair, clearly desperate. “What if I don’t have enough time?”You couldn’t stop blaming yourself. The anxiety clouded your thinking.

“I don’t know what else to say… We’ve looked everywhere and there’s no trace. It’s like the earth swallowed it whole,” he replied, mimicking your gesture and brushing his hair away from his face.

“Are you sure you didn’t go somewhere else? Or maybe you accidentally left it at home?” he asked, as if that were the last possible option.

“I’ll check again when I get home, but I’m sure I brought it. I haven’t seen it since yesterday.”

Your gaze dropped to the floor, helpless.

Then you felt a gentle weight on your shoulder.

Sunoo’s head had softly leaned against you, as if his closeness could ease the tension. A current of electricity ran down your spine.

And without warning, his lips brushed your neck.

A brief touch. Warm. Intimate.

Your skin tingled instantly, and you slowly turned your face, meeting his eyes locked onto yours.

He said nothing.

His gaze dropped to your lips for a few seconds that felt eternal. The world around you disappeared.

His hand caressed your cheek with a tenderness that made you hold your breath, and he leaned in closer, until your lips were just a breath apart.

And just then, your phone rang.

The name on the screen: Mom.

Everything froze.

The warmth that had filled you instantly turned to ice.

Your once relaxed body tensed up again.

It was a message:

“I’ve found out something I’m not the least bit happy about. We’ll talk as soon as you get home.”

And once again, that stabbing feeling in your chest. In life, there are people who make you feel safe, seen, like you can breathe without fear… like Sunoo.

And then there are the others. The ones who make you feel like a burden, a mistake, a mere pawn in a game of power. Like your mother.

Your expression darkened instantly, but before you could react, Sunoo took your phone with determination and slipped it into your backpack.

Without giving you time to think.

And then, as if he were the answer to all your inner chaos, his lips found yours.

He kissed you.

And he did it with a sweetness that almost broke you. His lips were exactly how you’d imagined them… soft, gentle, yet sure. His hands on your cheeks pulled you closer, guiding the moment with tenderness.

All you could do was wrap your arms around his neck, completely losing yourself in him. The kiss deepened until the lack of air forced you apart.

Your face turned red instantly. Sunoo let out a soft laugh at your reaction.

“And now you’re getting shy?” he asked, gently brushing your cheek with his fingertips.

And just then, the door burst open. A flood of students entered the classroom, filling the space with voices, footsteps, and noise. You and Sunoo separated and quickly returned to your seats, though the tension still buzzed between you like a string no one dared to cut. A few seconds later, the teacher entered.

“We’re going to continue with the activity from last class. This time, the ones who were painted will now do the painting.”

The pairs began moving around when a firm hand grabbed your wrist and spun you around. It was Sunghoon.

“They told me I was paired with you,” he said casually, holding the supplies in one hand and guiding you with the other to the far side of the room.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sunoo’s irritated voice cut through the air like a knife. You’d never heard him like that. And certainly never seen that look in his eyes.

“What do you mean what am I doing?” Sunghoon turned around, surprised. “I’m going to paint Y/N. The teacher said so.”

But before he could take another step, Sunoo grabbed your hand and pulled you to his side with unexpected firmness.

“Too bad you didn’t show up the other day. If you hadn’t missed it, you would’ve had your chance. But not anymore,” he said with a not-so-innocent smile, guiding you away from him.

He took you to a quiet corner of the classroom and gently sat you down. You couldn’t help but laugh. The situation was so ridiculous it felt like something out of a comedy.

“Did you seriously just fight over me like you’re five and arguing over candy?” He laughed with you, completely unbothered.

“I didn’t want him touching you.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. And your heart skipped a beat.

By the end of class, you had a painting of butterflies on your thigh. When you got up to leave, Sunoo, with his habit of never letting you go easily, gently pushed you back into the chair and took out his phone.

“Let me take a photo of your… thighs, I mean, the butterflies,” he joked. You laughed at his words and let him take the picture.

After that, you gathered your things, and the two of you headed toward the exit.

“Well, see you tomorrow…” you said, but the air between you turned dense, an uncomfortable silence wrapping around you both.

“Yeah…” he replied, his voice hesitant. You didn’t know whether to go for a hug, a fist bump, or… maybe something more. Everything felt so strange.

Then, as if he couldn’t hold back, Sunoo gently pulled you toward him and, before you could react, his lips brushed yours in a brief kiss full of palpable tension. The world stopped for a moment. When he pulled away, he quickly walked off in the opposite direction. You were left standing there, frozen, unable to process what had just happened.

When you got home, the memories of the kiss still lingered in your mind, but they were quickly overshadowed by the growing anxiety over your mother’s message.

You opened the door with a heavy feeling, not knowing what to expect, but fearing the worst.

As you entered, you saw your mother sitting on the couch with an expression you knew all too well: cold, furious, like she was just waiting for you to make a mistake so she could blame you.

“Sit down,” she said without even looking at you, like you were an object rather than her daughter. She pointed to the couch with authority.

You sat down heavily, letting your backpack drop to the floor. You already knew something was wrong, but the tension in the air made it even worse.

“I heard you were desperately looking for your final project today,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Do you know what that means for us? For our family’s image? You don’t even care what we represent. If you don’t pass, you’ll be a disgrace to all of us.”

She got up from the couch and began walking toward you, her gaze cold and hard, a punishment in itself.

“Aren’t you ashamed?” Her tone was pure venom, and it felt like an electric shock on your skin. Every word cut deep.

After a calculated pause, she delivered the final blow: “I know who has your project.”

Your heart sank. You knew what was coming, but still didn’t want to believe it. “The youngest Kim boy has it,” she said with a cruel smile. She looked at you, waiting for guilt to consume you.

“It wasn’t him, Mom. He wouldn’t do that,” you replied with what little strength you had left, your voice rising more than you’d normally allow. Frustration overwhelmed you.

“Shut your mouth!” she yelled, her fury exploding in full force. “Who else could it be? Why don’t you understand? It’s him, and if it’s not, then who?”

“That’s not the point,” you shot back, trying to stay calm, though your mind was already in chaos. “Just because you have a problem with his family doesn’t mean they’re out to get us.”

“Enough!” Her rage became even more obvious. “Don’t give me that nonsense. Are you friendly with him now? Is that what you’re trying to say?”

The fury in her face escalated with every word.

“What did I say about them? What part of ‘stay away from them’ didn’t you understand?”

“Give me your phone!” The command flew from her lips with dangerous speed, almost like she was waiting for you to talk back just to have an excuse. “Give it to me now!”

You had no choice but to obey. You handed it over with a mix of fear and desperation. She snatched it from your hand, threw it on the table, then grabbed your arm roughly, making you flinch.

“You’re going to start that project again. And you’re not leaving until it’s done. Do you hear me?”

She shoved you violently into the art studio and slammed the door shut, making sure you couldn’t get out.

The key turned with a dry click, and the air grew even heavier.

The confined space of the studio closed in around you, and you knew you were trapped again—caught in that cycle of guilt and control, where you were always the one at fault. Every time it happened, your mother shed the blame so she could keep controlling you, and you always ended up apologizing for something you never did. The guilt was never hers. It was always yours. Just like always.

After endless hours working on the project, the door suddenly opened.

“Miss, you can go have dinner now,” said one of the staff members, interrupting your concentration.

You ate the bare minimum to survive, with no appetite to enjoy anything. Your stomach was so twisted you could barely swallow. Every bite took more effort than you could handle.

After eating, you got into the shower. Hot water fell over you as you tried—unsuccessfully—to wash away the bad memories, the dark thoughts, the crushing sensations that surrounded you.

Finally, you collapsed into bed, too exhausted to do anything else. You just let yourself fall, hoping sleep would pull you away from it all for a while.

Sunoo was already in his seat when you arrived at school the next day. You heard him talking on the phone, his voice low and tense:

“She doesn’t know it was me… No… is at home… I don’t know… Okay, bye, Mom.”

Your chest tightened like a fist hitting your stomach. You knew it. Your mother was right. He was the one who stole the project so you’d fail—he did it to ruin everything, to watch you fall apart.

What hurt the most wasn’t just what he had done, but how coldly, how deceitfully he had done it.

Sunoo turned toward you, his face going pale the moment he saw you. He froze like he’d seen a ghost.

“I-I can explain… Y/N… Please,” he said, trying to approach you, but you pushed him away harshly, as if his mere presence burned you.

“S-stay away from me. Don’t come near me again,” you said with a broken voice. Tears started to fall uncontrollably.

You ran to the bathroom, looking for something—anything—that could shelter you, even if just for a moment.

He had been the first person to make you feel loved, important. He made you feel like you could be yourself, like you could breathe in a world where you only existed to please others. And now, all of that was crumbling.

Why you? Why did you always end up like this—alone, abandoned? You didn’t understand how you got to this point. All you understood was that it hurt. It hurt deeply. More than you could bear.

What hurt the most wasn’t just what he had done… It was that you had trusted him. You had given him your trust, and he had stomped all over it. Your mother was right, and that destroyed you.

You couldn’t stay there. You couldn’t stay still. Not that day. So, without thinking, you grabbed your things and headed home. You needed to keep working on the project—do it on your own. You didn’t want to see Sunoo. You didn’t want to feel the way you did. You just wanted to escape it all.

You worked for hours without pause, completely absorbed in the project you couldn’t let go of.

The clock struck one in the morning, and you still weren’t done. You decided you wouldn’t go to class the next day—not until the evening. That way, you could work through the night and submit the project the next morning, as soon as the teacher arrived.

You felt exhausted, but at the same time, you knew you couldn’t give up.

Morning came, and you were still in the same spot, glued to your desk. Working. Focused. But your mind was entirely occupied by Sunoo. You had tried everything to stop thinking about him… But you couldn’t. Despite what he had done, you missed him—more than you dared to admit.

Suddenly, you heard his voice in the distance. You froze, tense, listening closely. But after a few seconds, you gave up. It was just an illusion—your mind recreating what your body longed for.

When night came, you dressed comfortably and took the project with you on your way to class. The walk was long, the cold sharper than expected, but you finally arrived.

You entered the studio, walking through the hallways with nerves on edge. You laid out your materials, prepared your space, and continued with the project. Brushes were scattered across the table, and the colors on the canvas were also painted across your face—streaks of paint on your cheek and nose.

The door suddenly opened, and a startled cry escaped your lips before you could see who was coming in. It was Sunoo.

He walked in with palpable nervousness. Your body tensed at the sight of him, and the feeling of betrayal weighed on you like a crushing force.

“What are you doing here?” you asked harshly, the pain and anger starting to rise.

“Y/N… I…” His eyes couldn’t meet yours. They dropped to the floor. “I’m so, so sorry…”

“I don’t want to talk. So leave,” you said, cutting him off as the pain started to choke you.

“It was my parents,” he blurted out suddenly, like it was the only way to free himself. “They… you’d understand. They want to maintain their power, and they use me for that. They forced me to do it… Please, understand.”

Your eyes filled with tears—his did too—as emotions spilled over. It didn’t matter anymore if it was him or his parents.

What mattered was that you had trusted him, and that trust was now broken.

“This is all bullshit,” you said bitterly, referring to the situation you were both trapped in. No freedom. No choice.

Sunoo stepped forward and placed your project on the table.

“You shouldn’t do this,” you said, concerned. “You’re going to get into trouble.” He looked down, visibly frustrated.

“I don’t care anymore… Fuck it. Fuck all of this.”

He stepped closer, and for a moment, you felt again the warmth that once made you feel safe—like anything was possible again.

“I love you,” he said with a steady voice. “And this,” he gestured to everything between you, “is a mess.”

Before you could respond, he continued:

“I went to your house today, and a staff member answered the door. She told me I couldn’t come in, that your mom would be furious if I did. And I… I couldn’t just sit and do nothing. I can’t. She told me you’d be here tonight, and I came because I…”

He couldn’t stop talking—he never could.

And since there was no food to quiet him this time, you went with the second method.

Without thinking, you kissed him hard.

Your lips silenced him, as if in that kiss was everything you needed to say. He lifted you from the chair and, holding you by the waist, set you on the table. You clung to his neck, wrapping your legs around his waist, your hands exploring his back, needing to feel him—close, so close it ached.

Each caress made you feel more alive, more you. The connection between the two of you was so intense that, for a moment, everything else disappeared.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, smiling that damn smile you could never forget. “Let me apologize to you.”

And, in that moment, you let it be. You let words not be necessary, let gestures say it all.

His hands slid under your shirt as his lips slowly traced your neck. With a nimble movement, he found your tits and caressed them with a perfect blend of firmness and tenderness. His lips left a warm, moist trail on your skin, while your nipples hardened under his fingers, which pinched them mercilessly.

He lifted the fabric covering your torso, leaving your tits completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes glistened with desire before he leaned down to lick one of them greedily. His tongue traced slow, wet circles, exploring every nook and cranny of your sensitive skin, focusing especially on the places that wrenched tremors of pleasure from you. Your soft moans fueled his enthusiasm, urging him to continue with more intensity.

When your nipples took on a reddish hue from the stimulation, he lifted his head. Seeing you with your head thrown back, completely surrendered, he couldn't help but bite and suck on a spot on your neck that made you shudder. Seconds later, a burning mark was imprinted on your skin.

“I hope your mother understands that you're mine now...” he whispered mischievously as he descended-. And I don't give a shit what she thinks.

He grabbed the ends of your pants and, with a single tug, pulled them off, leaving you in just your underwear. Wasting no time, his lips descended to your thighs-those same ones he had claimed as his own, painted and denied any other man touching.

He began to traverse every inch of your skin with wet kisses and soft bites, leaving a trail of heat and desire. His lips paused barely to savor your reaction before continuing to descend, each touch laden with intent.

“Sunoo, please stop teasing...” you tried to speak, but your voice broke on an involuntary moan as his lips pressed against your cloth-covered pussy.

He didn't respond right away, just continued his game, spreading small kisses all over the area, applying a little more force just as he reached your most sensitive spot, causing your hips to twitch reflexively.

“Don't despair, baby” he whispered with a dangerous smile. “I promise the wait won't be in vain.”

And, with that promise hanging in the air, he slowly pulled back the cloth that separated him from you.

The cold air brushed against your newly exposed skin, contrasting with the warmth emanating from you. Sunoo did not hurry. He looked at you as if admiring a work of art that only he had the right to touch. Then, without warning, he sank his face between your legs.

His tongue moved with cruel precision, alternating between slow, deep caresses and soft licks that barely touched your skin. He knew exactly where to stop, where to insist, and how to wring from you those moans he loved so much. He held your hips firmly when you tried to move, forcing you to receive everything he gave you with no escape.

“Can you feel it, baby?” he murmured against you, his hot breath causing you to shudder. “No one else is going to make you feel like this. Only me.”

His tongue traced faster, deeper circles, playing with your clit until your legs began to tremble. Your every moan was fuel for him, and he didn't stop until you were on the edge, lost in a sea of sensation.

When he sensed you were about to explode, he stopped abruptly. He lifted his head, his moist lips glistening with your essence, and looked down at you with a crooked smile.

“Not yet, love... I want to watch you beg.”

Your hips were still trembling, frustration mixed with desire throbbing in every corner of your body. You looked up at him with eyes clouded with lust, chest rising and falling fast, and unable to resist any longer, you let out a shaky whisper.

“Please, Sunoo... don't stop, I beg you.” He arched an eyebrow, clearly enjoying your surrender.

“Are you that desperate for me?” he murmured as he ran a slow, torturing finger along your sensitive folds.

“Tell me, I want to hear you.” You swallowed your saliva, swallowing your pride, and nodded with a broken voice.

“Yes... only you can make me feel like this, please, I need more...” Sunoo laughed low, pleased by your surrender.

“That's the way I like it. You know who you belong to.” And without giving you another breath, he sank between your legs again, this time mercilessly, ready to rip from you every plea, every moan and every cry of pleasure that belonged to him.

Your body shuddered one last time on the studio table, surrounded by brushes, canvases and the smell of fresh paint. Still with your legs shaking and your breath hitching, you lay back, letting the pleasure slowly dissipate as he gazed at you as if you were his masterpiece. Sunoo approached, still with that intense gaze, and began to dress you with the same delicacy with which he traces a brushstroke on a canvas. He pulled your clothes up with gentle hands, kissing your skin as he covered it, never taking his eyes off you for a second.

When he finished, he leaned over you, pressing a deep, slow kiss that spoke more of love than desire. Her lips parted just barely so she could tell you, “It's going to be okay.” He caressed your face with the backs of his fingers. “Even if our families hate each other, even if they try to separate us...I don't plan to give up. I don't care what they say, I don't care what they do.” He took your face in his hands and locked his eyes into yours. “I'll do anything to be with you. Anything. You're the only thing that matters to me.”

And finally, you were able to let out a quiet sigh. Even if nothing was resolved, even if your world was still in chaos, there was only one certainty beating strong inside you: you loved him, and he loved you. And outside of that, what else could matter?

I love you all 🩷

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #kpop #enha #sunoo #enhypen sunoo #enhypen smut #kim sunoo x reader #sunoo x reader #kim sunoo #enha sunoo #sunghoon #sunoo smut #enha smut #writing #engene #enhypen writers #kpop smut

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bullet-prooflove · 10 months ago

Text

Summer School: Daniel LaRusso x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @kiwiwatermelonsuger @sadgenderfluidmaniac @junghwansy2k

Daniel meets you because of a summer arts program. Him and Amanda have been divorced over a year and they’ve been trying to figure out a way to prise Anthony away from his screen. It’s gotten worse since the split, his son has retreated entirely into the world of video games.

Daniel can’t help but feel responsible for that. He was the one that told Amanda he was unhappy, the one that made her realise that she was unhappy too. In the beginning he thought maybe if he’d kept his mouth shut they could have persevered but time has given him clarity, they were friends more than lovers and Daniel, he wants passion, he wants romance. He deserves that and so does Amanda.

It's Amanda that finds the program, it allows students to try out different art forms over a six week period. Painting, pottery, metal work. Anthony protests at first but they present a united front, if he doesn’t attend he spends the entire summer without any screen time at all.

The first week Anthony complains relentlessly. Painting is very much not his thing and Daniel happens to agree, he’s all for self-expression but Anthony’s work, it’s beyond terrible.

The same goes for pottery, he comes home with a bowl that’s slanted to one side with weird, wonky edges. Daniel takes it into work and uses it to hold his paperclips.

By the time week three rolls around Daniel expects more of the same, he’s used to Anthony’s sullen moods, he’s been sulking ever since summer school started. Today however when he gets into Daniel’s car, it’s the most animated he’s seen him in years. His eyes are bright, he’s excited. He shows Daniel the motorcycle he’s made out of nuts bolts and wrenches and he’s completely blown away.

“Jak’s been giving me tips on making my own designs.” He tells his father proudly. “We need to hit the art supply store so I can get a sketch book and some pencils.”

That night Daniel calls Amanda after dinner.

“It’s like he’s a completely different kid. I don’t know who this Jak guy is but he’s worked wonders on him. He hasn’t looked at a screen all night.” He tells her as he watches Anthony sketching out design ideas on the kitchen table. “I feel like we should be gifting him a car.”

“Maybe we go smaller.” She says thoughtfully. “Start with some beers from that microbrewery you like. We don’t wanna scare him off by coming on a little too strong.”

“Yea I think I have a six pack somewhere, I’ll drop it off tomorrow morning.” Daniel murmurs, his palm rubbing over the back of his neck. “I’ll ask if he does classes outside of the summer school. I’d like to keep the momentum going.”

He drops Anthony off a little early the next morning so he can pop in and meet the man who has managed to engage his son. He has the six pack of mixed microbrews tucked under his arm when he raps his knuckles on the door and pokes his head inside.

“Hey, I’m looking for Jak.” He says to the woman sorting through the cardboard box of random metal bits and pieces.

“You’ve found her.” You say looking up from your task.

“You’re Jak?” He asks, his dark eyebrows raising as he drinks you in.

You are the furthest thing from metalwork artist that he ever expected. You’re breathtaking for starters, he means that literally, the oxygen catches in his throat when he looks at you.

“You were expecting a man.” You say in an amused tone before gesturing towards the box of beers. “Starting a little early.”

“Ah no.” Daniel says his cheeks colouring just a little as he sets them on the desk beside him. “They’re for you, a thank you for the work you’re doing with Anthony. It’s the first time I’ve seen him engaged with anything other than a video game since the divorce.”

He watches as you approach, his mouth going dry. There’s a sensuality to your movements, a gracefulness and it sends heat flushing through Daniel as he watches your fingertips caress the glass of each of the bottles as you study the flavours.

“A nice variation.” You say before slotting them back in the cardboard. “You’ve picked some of my favourites Mr LaRusso.”

“Danny.” He asserts and the edges of your mouth tip up into a smile.

Something blossoms in his chest and it feels like he’s seeing the sun rise for the very first time. This is what he was missing with Amanda, this passion, this fire.

“Ok Danny.” You say and he loves the way his name rolls off his lips. “What can I help you with?”

“I wanted to know if you do sessions like this after the summer? Anthony, he’s really excited about working with you. My ex-wife and I would really like to keep the momentum going if we can, make sure he has a creative outlet.” Danny tells you as you lean back against the desk.

“I run sessions out of my studio in Santa Monica. Each student works on their own project, they start with their own concept and then develop it, I’m there to show them the techniques, help them make it a reality and they take those skills into the next project.” You inform Danny as he settles beside you. Your perfume floods his senses, something floral with citrus notes, it reminds him of the first days of spring. “The stuff we’re learning in class this week is very basic and Anthony has taken to it really well. I think his interest in mechanics and the way things work definitely helps.”

“Mechanics?” Daniel repeats, crossing his arms over his chest. This is the first time he’s hearing anything about Anthony taking after him in that respect.

“Not the traditional concept like cars and engines, I mean more like cause and effect." You explain as you tuck your hands into the pockets of the cobalt blue blazer you’re wearing. “It’s why he’s so interested in games like Minecraft, he likes to see the effect that one thing has on another, kinda like Mousetrap. He’s trying to figure out how to make things move in his sculpture work.”

“I honestly had no idea he was into any of this stuff.” Daniel says rubbing his palm over the back of his neck.

“Kids don’t really share a lot with their parents at this age.” You reassure him before picking up a post it note and scribbling on it. “Why don’t you come by my studio, get a feel for what I do?”

You hand him the post it note and he studies the address, this thumb tracing lightly over the writing.

“I’ll do that.” He tells you as the bell rings, signalling the start of class. "I’ll try to stop by tonight.”

Love Danny? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

#danny larusso #danny larusso x reader #daniel larusso #daniel larusso x reader #ralph macchio #cobra kai

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the-reader-insert-gazette · 3 months ago

Note

Thanks for taking this on when I dmed you separately. The open comm you had and how you checked in w me regarding the ideas you were considering was appreciated! I'm super looking forward to reading this based on what we discussed! If you want to post with the request I'll put it here for context: Jing Yuan from HSR if he saw fem readers scars (some self-inflicted, others work-related) for the first time despite knowing her for a while + some implied spice and funnies 👀

The Scars You Carry - F!Reader x Jing Yuan

Request Column - Honkai Star Rail

Reader never talked about her past, and despite their emotional involvement, Jing Yuan had never asked. But when an unguarded moment reveals the scars she’s carried for years, he can’t help but reach out. What begins as a quiet touch spirals into something deeper.

TW: Mentions of injuries/self-harm scars, touching without explicit verbal consent/implied consent, mild nudity/implied intimacy, possible undertones of existing PTSD

The scent of incense clung to the air, mingling with the faintest traces of mist from outside. It was a humid but otherwise cool and quiet evening in the Cloud Knights' chambers. It was the type of night that wrapped the Luofu in a false illusion of peace.

[Name] rolled her shoulder, testing the joint as she peeled off the top layer of her uniform. The fabric had stiffened from dried sweat, the aftermath of yet another long, grueling day at work. Being a medical examiner was her secondary role within the Cloud Knight beyond defending again abundance abominations, though this secondary role demanded more than simply identifying causes of death. Least to say, she had a habit of ending her nights here, half-draped over a chair in her private quarters, too exhausted to do more than breathe.

A breeze stirred as the balcony doors behind her clicked open. She barely reacted to the sound of footsteps behind her. “You’re late,” she murmured.

"Am I?" Jing Yuan’s voice was the same as ever—deep, smooth, tinged with amusement. “I thought I was arriving precisely when I meant to.”

She scoffed, but it lacked heat. He always did this. Jing Yuan rarely made his entrances known, but she had long since learned to expect him. The general carried a sort of unshakable patience, the kind that let him sit at a board for hours, moving his pieces at his own pace, certain the game would end in his favor. [Name] knew because she played the same way.

Tonight, though, she was too tired to match his wit.

“You shouldn’t keep a woman waiting,” she muttered, pulling out the pins that kept her sleeves in place. The last one slipped free, and the linen fell away, baring the jagged remains of old wounds across her back. Wounds, that she let few see, including Jing Yuan until this moment.

Jing Yuan, who had already been strolling toward the lacquered table near the balcony, stilled.

For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then, ever so quietly, he asked, “Why did you never mention these?”

[Name] paused, her fingers still curled around a cuff. The question was not unexpected, but the way he asked it—gentle, but weighted—caught her off guard.

She glanced over her shoulder. “You never asked.”

That was the truth of it, wasn’t it? She was used to questions, to prodding, to those who thought they had the right to dissect her past. She had spent years perfecting the art of redirection, of smirks and well-placed jabs to keep people from looking too closely. But Jing Yuan had never asked.

He had never needed to until now.

His gaze flickered over the old scars, tracing the uneven ridges with something unreadable in his golden eyes.

[Name] turned back around, feigning nonchalance. “They’re old,” she said. “Not worth your concern.”

Jing Yuan sighed. She heard the rustle of fabric, then, before she could predict his next move, his fingers brushed against her shoulder blade.

The touch was featherlight. A mere press of fingertips.

It should not have startled her as much as it did.

She didn’t flinch. She had long since trained herself out of such things. But Jing Yuan had a way of tilting the battlefield when she least expected it. He never moved aggressively, never pushed when it wasn’t warranted.

She could feel the warmth of his hand, just barely there, lingering over the deepest scar, the one that stretched from the base of her neck to the middle of her spine. It was old, healed over many years, but the history in it remained.

“Did this one hurt?” he asked, voice unreadable.

[Name] exhaled through her nose. “The most, for sure.”

His fingers moved again, tracing another mark along her side.

“This one?”

“No.”

His touch ghosted over a smaller scar near her ribs.

“This one?”

She swallowed. “…Not at the time.”

Jing Yuan hummed, as if he had already known the answer before she spoke it aloud.

His hand lingered. Not pressing, not demanding—just existing in that space between her past and present.

After a moment, he spoke again. “You never told me you carried such ghosts.”

[Name] let out a quiet breath. “You never told me you cared.”

That made him laugh, soft and knowing.

“Oh, [Name],” he murmured, his fingers finally leaving her skin, though the warmth remained. “I would have thought that was obvious by now.”

She turned to face him fully, searching his expression for any hint of insincerity. But there was none.

Jing Yuan was many things: calculating, reserved, infuriatingly patient, but he was never insincere.

[Name] tilted her head. “And if I told you I don’t need your pity?”

His smile was lazy, but his eyes were sharp. “Who said anything about pity?”

There was a shift between them, subtle but undeniable. A moment stretched between heartbeats, something fragile yet unyielding settling into the space they shared.

[Name] could have said something then. Could have teased him, could have thrown up her walls, could have done anything to disrupt the way he was looking at her.

But for once, she let the silence be.

Jing Yuan, ever patient, waited.

And when she finally, carefully, let her fingers brush against his own, letting herself take, just this once, and he did not pull away.

The moment hung between them, [Name] wasn’t sure who had moved first, if she had leaned in, or if Jing Yuan had closed the space between them, but the warmth of his fingers curled lightly over her wrist sent something deep in her chest thrumming.

She had spent years evading questions, slipping through fingers that tried to hold her still long enough to dig beneath the surface. But Jing Yuan did not dig. He did not prod or demand. He simply…

Waited.

And it was that patience that undid her.

[Name] swallowed hard, tilting her chin up just slightly. “If you’re expecting some dramatic confession, you’re wasting your time.”

Jing Yuan smiled—that slow, knowing smile that always made her want to either punch him or kiss him, depending on the day. “No confessions, then.” His fingers brushed the inside of her wrist, tracing the faint scars there. An old wound, self-inflicted in her youth, when the world had seemed too big and she had felt too small to hold her place in it.

His thumb skimmed over her pulse. Steady. Measured. Jing Yuan, for all his posturing as the lazy, dozing general, was a man who knew the weight of touch. He was not careless with his hands.

[Name] exhaled, shaking her head. “You’re not going to start spouting poetic nonsense, are you?”

Jing Yuan chuckled, low and amused. “Would you prefer something crude? I can oblige, if you’d like.”

She rolled her eyes, but she didn’t pull away.

“Surprised?” he murmured.

She tilted her head, considering. “Not really. I always figured you had a bleeding heart somewhere on that sleeve of yours.”

Jing Yuan sighed, though it was more indulgent than exasperated. “If I have a bleeding heart, then what do you call yourself, [Name]?”

“Efficient,” she said without hesitation.

His laughter was warm, and she hated that it made something in her chest tighten. “Ah. Efficiency. Of course. And it’s efficient to keep things bottled up?”

“I never said that,” she shot back. “But there’s no point dragging people into things they don’t need to carry.”

Jing Yuan hummed, clearly unconvinced. His fingers finally left her wrist, only to trace a slow path up her forearm. “And yet,” he mused, “you let me see.”

[Name] stilled. He wasn’t wrong. She had let him see. She hadn’t covered up, hadn’t hidden, hadn’t laughed it off as she might have with anyone else.

She should have been annoyed that he noticed.

Instead, she found herself exhaling, shoulders dropping in something dangerously close to relief.

“You have an irritating habit of getting under my skin,” she muttered.

Jing Yuan smiled, not the usual lazy thing, but something softer. He reached up, brushing an errant strand of her hair away from her face. “Likewise,” he admitted.

She wasn’t sure what made her do it, maybe it was exhaustion, maybe it was something deeper, but [Name] leaned into his touch, just barely. It was reckless. A gamble.

Jing Yuan, ever the tactician, did not waste the opportunity.

His fingers traced the line of her jaw before resting just beneath her chin, tilting her face up toward his. Not forcing, not demanding—just waiting, always waiting, to see if she would move first.

[Name] was tired of waiting.

So she closed the space between them.

It was not the kind of kiss that belonged in sentimental stories. There was nothing tentative about it, nothing shy. She kissed him like she was proving a point, like she was testing him, like she was daring him to make the next move.

Jing Yuan, to his credit, did not disappoint.

His hand slipped to the small of her back, pressing just enough to remind her that he was here, that he was present. His lips curved against hers, a smirk just barely there before he deepened the kiss, slow and devastatingly thorough.

He kissed like he fought—measured, strategic, never rushing but never hesitating either.

[Name] felt the warmth of his hand against one of her deeper scars, the one that ran along her ribs, and despite herself, she shivered.

Jing Yuan pulled back just enough to murmur, “Still think I’m wasting my time?”

[Name] exhaled a laugh, breathless. “Oh, shut up.”

She kissed him again.

And this time, neither of them pulled away.

The taste of incense lingered between them—static in the air, the scent of mist clinging to their breath. [Name] didn’t think about what it meant to be here, pressed against Jing Yuan with the warm weight of his hands anchoring her in place. She didn’t think about the scars under his fingers, nor about the years of silence she had wrapped around them like armor.

She just let herself take.

Jing Yuan, ever the patient tactician, met her halfway. He always had a way of turning things on their head, of guiding the tempo without forcing it. The way he kissed her now—slow, unhurried, teasing—made it clear he intended to enjoy every second of this.

She almost wanted to fight him for control. Almost.

Then he traced a slow line along her spine, fingertips grazing old wounds with such absent-minded reverence that [Name] felt something shift in her chest. The tension she carried, the tight coil of self-preservation—he was unwinding it, piece by piece, and she hated how easy he made it seem.

She broke the kiss first, if only to breathe. Her forehead rested against his, their breath mingling in the dim light of the chamber. The balcony doors remained open, letting the night air cool the warmth threatening to spiral out of control.

Jing Yuan exhaled a quiet chuckle. “You’re full of surprises.”

[Name] huffed. “That’s what people say when they realize they’ve underestimated me.”

“Oh, I never underestimated you.” His fingers, still trailing over her skin, pressed just slightly—a silent acknowledgment, nothing more. “I always knew you were dangerous.”

She scoffed, but before she could fire back some quip, his lips brushed the corner of her jaw, the motion lazy and deliberate. “You really enjoy hearing yourself talk, huh?”

Jing Yuan hummed in mock consideration. “I do. But tonight, I think I’d rather listen.”

His fingers curled around her waist, his lips trailing back to hers, and [Name]—reckless, tired, and utterly done pretending—let herself forget about the rest of the world for a while.

[Name] laid stretched across the silk-draped lounge chair near the balcony, the cool night air tracing across her skin. The warm glow of lanterns cast soft shadows across the chamber, their flickering light just enough to catch the faint glimmer of silver strands in the disheveled cascade of Jing Yuan’s hair.

He sat next to her, one arm draped lazily over the back of a chair, golden eyes half-lidded with something unreadable.

Comfort, perhaps. Satisfaction, most definitely.

She huffed a soft laugh, tilting her head to look at him. “You’re staring.”

Jing Yuan smirked, resting his chin against his palm. “Can you blame me?”

[Name] exhaled through her nose, amused. She stretched, languid and unhurried, rolling her shoulder where his hand had once rested. There was a quiet soreness there, a reminder of their earlier activities.

This was… new.

Not unpleasant. But new.

She wasn’t sure what to do with that realization, so instead, she deflected. “You’re a menace, you know.”

Jing Yuan leaned back, utterly unbothered. “I believe you said that earlier.”

“Yeah, and it bears repeating.”

He chuckled. “If I recall, you weren’t exactly protesting.”

[Name] turned her head, meeting his gaze with something sharper, something knowing. “Neither were you.”

Jing Yuan hummed, the corner of his mouth twitching as if debating whether to press his advantage or let her have the final word. Eventually, he relented. “I suppose I wasn’t.”

The quiet stretched between them, comfortable in a way [Name] rarely allowed herself to experience. It was a dangerous thing, this kind of ease.

But for tonight, she let herself have it.

Just this once.

[Name] was awake before him, which wasn’t surprising. Jing Yuan had perfected the art of sleeping in as though it were a divine mandate. She laid still for a moment, eyes half-lidded as she listened to his even breathing. His hold on her had shifted sometime during the night, after they made it back into the bed, one hand now resting against her hip, his other arm tucked beneath the pillow.

She would have let him sleep a little longer—really, she would have.

But fate, or rather, a very loud teenager, had other plans.

The doors burst open with no ceremony whatsoever.

“GENERAL! YOU—”

Yanqing’s voice cut off abruptly.

[Name], still tangled in the sheets with Jing Yuan’s arm loosely around her waist, turned her head just enough to stare at the young lieutenant standing in the doorway. His expression flickered rapidly between confusion, horror, and dawning realization.

Jing Yuan, in a true show of shamelessness, did not stir.

Yanqing’s grip on his sword tightened as if he were considering using it to gouge his own eyes out. “Are you kidding me?!”

[Name] sighed, rubbing her temple. “Do you knock?”

Yanqing made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t expecting to need to!”

Jing Yuan finally stirred, stretching like a lazy cat before cracking one eye open. His voice was thick with sleep, utterly unbothered. “Ah… morning already?”

Yanqing looked like he wanted to throw either him or himself out the window.

“You—! You promised morning training! I got up at dawn! I waited! And then I hear the other Cloud Knights gossiping about where you were, and I—” His face scrunched up as if the very memory pained him. “—I should’ve never come here.”

Jing Yuan yawned, stretching his arms over his head before resting one lazily back over [Name]’s waist. “Mm, my apologies. I must’ve lost track of time.”

[Name], feeling very little sympathy for him, pinched his arm. “You knew you had training with him.”

“Did I?” Jing Yuan murmured. He sounded entirely too pleased with himself.

Yanqing, in the doorway, was losing his mind. “YES! YOU DID!”

[Name] sighed, pushing herself up, making sure she was covered. Jing Yuan sighed letting his arm slide away from her but made no move to leave the bed.

Yanqing groaned into his hands. “This is so unprofessional.”

[Name], despite herself, smirked. “Well, General, shouldn’t you set a better example?”

Jing Yuan chuckled, sitting up at an unhurried pace. “Ah, but an important lesson can be learned here, Yanqing.”

The lieutenant glared. “What lesson?”

Jing Yuan stretched, far too pleased with himself. “That patience is a virtue.”

Yanqing looked seconds away from quitting. Moments later, he stormed off, muttering under his breath about irresponsible generals and unnecessary mental scarring.

[Name] turned back to Jing Yuan, who was watching her with that infuriating, lazy amusement.

She raised an eyebrow. “You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?”

He smirked, reaching for her wrist to pull her back toward him. “Always.”

She sighed but didn’t resist.

They could afford a few more minutes.

Editor's Note: Hey "anon", not a problem, I'm glad we were able to collab on ideas for this, I messaged separately already but I hope you enjoyed~ Also thanks for encouraging me to get out of my comfort zone with this.

#honkai star rail #hsr #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #reader x jing yuan #hsr jing yuan

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rosazoldyckk · 2 years ago

Text

Yandere! Silva X Daughter Reader

⚠️warning⚠️ obsessive thoughts and mentions of death

Fandom: Hunter X Hunter. Character(s): Silva Zoldyck, Zeno Zoldyck, Illumi Zoldyck, Milluki Zoldyck

A/N: I DO NOT INTEND FOR THIS CHAPTER TO HAVE ANY RELATIONS TO INCEST!! I'm aware that some things written in this chapter might be mistaken as incest, but I promise I don't intend to make it seem that way.

Of course you can interpret my writing however you want to, I have no issues with that. Just please know I don't write stuff related to incest♡︎♡︎

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧ 1138 words *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.

*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*. *.:✧*.:✧*.:✧*

"Didn't I tell you to stop killing these poor butlers, father? How do you expect us to be taken care of if you take your rage out on our servents?" The young Assassin grumbled while putting her hands on her hips. Suddenly, the whole estate went silent. However, the rest of the lower butlers blinked and gulped in hope.

At the edge of the room, the young assassin can be seen. Her long H/C hair that shined under the moonlight can put any woman to shame. Her E/C eyes that they inherited from her father were sharp yet adorable. It could not be denied that with her looks and god-given talent for assassination that the girl belonged to the Zoldyck family.

With their sudden appearance, Silva lowered his guard and relaxed. It could be seen by his face that he adored the presence of his dearest daughter. With a soft tone, he asked, "Y/N, dear, what are you doing here? I thought you were out of the house."

The Lower butlers secretly beg the assassin to spare them from their death. By doing this, not only do they have a higher chance to survive, but they could also continue to contribute in caring for the Head's most adored daughter, Y/N Zoldyck.

One with no common sense would simply assume that Y/N was the glass child of the Zoldyck family, but behind closed doors they couldn't be any more wrong. Y/N was the glue that kept the family together. She was known to be cruel, sadistic, and outstanding in the art of assassination. However, there were people such as her siblings that could see the other side of her. Most of the time, Y/N was a kind and calm individual outside of work. And today just so happened to be a day where she felt generous.

Y/N thought for a bit before shaking her head, "I thought I told you our agreement about killing butlers in the mansion. Their screams can be heard from my room. It would be better if you killed them quickly or just let them free," she sighed as she turned her eyes to the poor butlers that had been severely tortured by electric shock.

Silva on the other hand glared sharply. Although it was subtle, his eyes went smaller, and clenched his hand.

He hated it.

He hated it when HIS daughter ignored him for Illumi.

He despised it when HIS daughter left him alone to play with Kalluto.

He loathed it when HIS daughter was playing video games with Milluki.

He felt sick to his stomach whenever he witnessed HIS daughter braiding Alluka's hair.

He detested it when HIS daughter is 'playing' outside with Killua and his pathetic excuses of friends.

And oh dear god did he want to smash a boulder across his head whenever he saw HIS daughter laughing with her mother and grandfather.

Silva loved his only daughter to death. Every inch of his daughter belonged to him and ONLY him alone. He hated sharing with others, family only being a small exception. If he could, he would lock her in his room and make her look at him and ONLY him alone.

Knowing that the entire family would riot against him if he were to bring harm to the assassin, he buried that plan deep within his heart and continued to be a 'good dad' for her. He forgot the agreement and decided to play it funny so that his daughter could let this case pass.

"I apologize, dear," Silva grumbled with a fake frown. "Unfortunately, these foolish butlers failed their mission and their penalty is nothing but death. I thought it would be great to punish them first but I overlooked an important part,"

Y/N kept her mouth shut and looked at her father. Somehow, Her emotions had stirred up from her father's response. She knew that her father loved her the most out of her brothers. He would remember every word she had said and did not dare to break any promises. Sadly, although she had been feeling generous, today has been a tiring day for her and all she wanted is a good night's rest.

"Just let them free for my sake. I couldn't hear them screaming any longer! Do you know how much their screams had disturbed me from my sleep?! This is a simple agreement and somehow you can't even remember my words. I'm so disappointed in you," Y/N spat in tiredness. As soon as she said that, she quickly turned her back and jumped to her room which is located on the outer side of the fortress.

Silva hid his rage and waved to her daughter's back. "I hope you'll have a nice dream, my sweet Y/N"

Soon after Y/N left the room, the temperature dropped. The butlers shivered as the waited for another wave of electricity to shoot through their bodies, but nothing came. They glanced up at their boss, only to see him with an expressionless face.

Without another word, he allowed the ball of electricity growing on his hand to explode, killing the butlers in an instant. With his eyes full of tenderness, he took a deep breath of air.

"I'll make it up to you, my daughter..."

⁂✧⁂

Zeno sighed tirelessly as he observed his sons actions. "When will he stop with this obsessive behaviour? Those butlers did nothing except make sure Y/N was taken care of, and yet he still killed them? In all my years I've never seen Silva express such madness before."

Illumi sighed in helplessness to his grandfathers words, "Even I'm starting to get a bit bored now, As her beloved eldest brother I must make sure that she is on the path to success. Father doesn't need to get involved when she has me by her side at all times."

"You're right," Milluki replied in annoyance, "Though Y/N is next in line to head the family, seems like dad is a little too eager for her to stay by his side, am I right?" He grumbled as he shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.

The 3 of them shared looks of confusion as Silva finally got up to exit his room.

All they could do is wait.

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sadagios · 3 months ago

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another very long analysis from @misticalnova !! 6w6 this time im going to cut your ask into parts not because i'm going to omit some points you've made like i did last time, but because the ask is really long haha. i also would like to tackle each part. so this time i'll post your ask in its entirety!

i loved that idea so much i had to add it, especially gria's reaction to scar's voice. but yes-- since third life was one of the later seasons i watched, i was so used to proximity chat that i thought it was so endearing how they were excited about it during their first session. grian was so excited about it and the fact that someone could just catch him from behind talking to his audience, and in the lens of this au it might be a detail i could just gloss over but... thinking of VR games, the surround sound and proximity chat is one of its fun features and one that makes it incredibly immersing! Virtual reality games are so easy to be immersed in, and i do believe that if i were gria i wouldnt question the npcs having voices right away. i'd have an "oh hold on," moment way later. out of all of them, it was actually him who was the first to find it strange. even if joel found out about it at the same time as him, and -- going with third life canon -- jimmy meeting scott early on, they wouldn't find it suspicious or odd right away. that's because they're all easily immersed in the game.

for hermitopia and the life game, it was really hard for me to explain the mechanics only through descriptions and comparisons to existing games, so i do hope to create a game UI or fake screenshot of the games for better visualization of what i imagined. and yes, hermitopia is a popular game! not one that is mainstream that anyone outside the gaming sphere would know, but it might be notorious among spaces like how the elder scrolls franchise is. it's also the titular game of an AAA video game company, one that could afford to release it not only on consoles but also port it to PC, which is how Gria got to play it. i'm excited to talk more about that one when we get there.

the XP points are something i hope to play around with so i added it, as well as the customization aspect. i'm still working on the character designs, and i should've also drawn what they looked like when they played the alpha version, which was a huge oversight on my part! (one of many, now i realize) but for now, please imagine the customization to be something like how they all (mostly) shared a steve skin on EVO smp during the starting episodes. the customization was something new to their current game, but they were still able to use preset skins in the alpha test like how we have other default skins (ie. alex, efe, noor, etc). i genuinely forgot to tackle this aspect and it's now bothering me like a finger splinter ... ToT expect a chapter 0 where theres no words and just designs because now im going crazy over this

no you're not reading into it too much, but i did not think of this aspect and i now have plenty of ideas with it (and details i wish i could change in the last update ToT). I do want to say that they all look a tad bit different from what they look like irl! a good comparison would be their portraits here in the first part and something similar to my art of lifers in my style. but as for the facial expressions, that is a detail i did not think about... i was going to say they only rely on each other's tone of voice, but now im thinking maybe (at least only in this beginning part of the au) they have limited facial expression options that could show if they are smiling, frowning, or angry. something like this, maybe! :

i do like this idea!!! i like it a lot. that is something i havent thought far into. currently, they do not feel pain. the beginning part will be them going through it and focusing on the game mechanics, and they would react to "pain" like an immersed gamer would (ie, the streamer you watch saying "ouch" if they have been hit in-game). i wont say when they will feel real pain, but i love your take on it and i might be inspired by this when i get to writing this part. (of course, only if you're okay with that)

the background noises are such a great detail ... and i only have thought about gria's living condition, which is him renting a small apartment with his desk setup near a window (i have to draw this at some point, too.) as for the sitting down part, i do think the evo gang + joel are all standing up when they played real life, except skizz. so that is a fun idea to play around with...

ive thought about the limited movement in minecraft vr (specifically in 'real life') so much that it was my basis when i wrote the prologues instead of nicer, better tracked movement in VRChat. so ... there is motion tracking but it's incredibly janky.

scar interacting with gria was one of the only things i was intentional about, especially him putting his arm around gria and him winking. he has more control of his actions and expressions than gria and the rest of the gang at this point of time, yes :D and i am excited for the scarian moments ahead when gria is able to move freely like him. so excited.... very excited. :)

dont be sorry! your last ask helped me out a lot when i wrote the last update and it was such a delight to read through and think about. your ideas are so cool and i love them, and i am thankful something i wrote received such a long and thoughtful feedback.

thank you again so much nova !! i'll definitely come back to this ask frequently as i draft the au haha. i hope you have nothing but wonderful days ahead!

#ask #rambling #AU - Scarian Death Game #sdgau ask

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blueberrypancakesworld · 6 months ago

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I have always seen you

Salo x Lest

warning : kiss, hurt/comfort, drinking alcohol

Summary : He had been through all of Piltover's parties, knew every guest and had extensive connections. But he had seen such beautiful golden eyes and shiny fur before, but now that he was at a low point, he was ready to actually approach the pretty one instead of keeping quiet. Because a broken man had nothing left to lose and she wanted to make him better.

info : Thanks for the request @1v31182m5 the ship needs more works and art, it took me a while but i finally finished it, have fun reading ;)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he had entered the room just a few weeks ago, he had been greeted warmly, almost idolized. Green eyes wallowing in appreciation, blond hair that matched the red and white suit, fabric of the highest quality, gold on his body more valuable than anything else. The wine in his goblet imported and appreciated by his guests and hosts alike, he was at the top of his game.

But the highly esteemed Council member Salo was alone wherever he went, a woman, no husband and no family by his side. He was alone and when the doors of his mansion closed he couldn't stop himself from shuddering when he met the silence, a silence that was interrupted by his dreams.

Golden eyes seemed to haunt him, a soft fur he could almost feel and a voice calling him...but then all this old life, luxurious as it was, was all a lie, a lie that was torn apart with an explosion and Salo saw the bitter painful truth for the first time.

Of the moment the broken building ceiling landed on his legs, his scream barely heard in the chaos, and he felt a fear that let him know his legs were useless, a fear that made him sick, a fear that let him know he was an outsider in a city of lies, falsehood and snootiness.

He was the living lie to the residents, no one cared about the sick, the broken from the moment he sat in the wheelchair to the moment he walked into a room he saw nothing but ignoring and rejection. Salo had lost his face.

Another sigh and clink of the goblet was heard as he ran his hand over his face, his thoughts trying to drown in wine as he saw the soft brush but felt nothing, no coldness or warmth.

Useless.

His green eyes even if tired and exhausted looked back at her, his interest on her, ,,They hate me you know, a sight at every party at every damn invitation I was the guest of honor...and now-now I'm nothing more than a shadow to be avoided” he said bitterly, clenching the goblet on the side table and wishing the glass had broken, just broken and taken him away.

His help only responded with a nod, she mostly just listened anyway, a few words though he enjoyed her voice, his hand moving to her cheek she pulled back almost startled.

Golden eyes different from his, fluffy ears twitching around and a short, ,,Don't...Salo” as she tried to brush again but her payer didn't hear, his fingertip passing over her ear and a smirk on his lips, ,,You're soft” he said with fascination.

A response she did not expect, she was ignored, not spoken to, she was paid for her art not for what she was, a reality she had long accepted but Salo remembered.

He knew her, had seen her, at all the parties he'd been to that were a little more “special” in the back rooms behind velvet curtains, the purple paint shimmering on the bodies of her clients, ,,I...know you Lest...you were involved in the lying parties like me,” he said, sitting up to look at her better.

Words that made her pause, the brush no longer wandering over his legs and golden eyes avoiding his, nothing sated and instead he reached for the bottle to fill his glass further.

But he got no answer, instead she gripped her paintbrush tighter and quickly, saying nothing, she circled the couch, ,,You can't leave!” he suddenly shouted, fear rising in him as he realized she was leaving him.

Dropping the cup, he tried unsuccessfully to reach for her hand and almost fell off the couch, ,,I'll be back tomorrow,” she assured him coolly, not looking at him or taking his hand, his door opened and closed...and Salo, Salo was left broken once again.

Crying, screaming, cursing, the wine bottle crashed to the floor and he saw his reflection in the dark drink.

A likeness that startled him - tousled hair, a light beard, tired eyes - he wasn't even the rich businessman Salo anymore, he was just a broken cripple.

A fact that made him even more desperate and he reached for another bottle, but the sight of Les and her softness didn't seem to leave him even in this state.

~~~~~~~~~~

Lest, on the other hand, did not dislike him, at first she had even taken a liking to his luxury at the parties when she talked to him, painting him more often than not. But he always drank too much for her to remember him properly until today.

Integrity was something she kept, no one stayed with her for long and it was better that way, so why did she cheat herself and come back to Salo?

They both knew that the shimmer didn't work, it could heal wounds that were life threatening yes but not body parts that were already lost and yet she came back every day, ,,You have no idea how close you are to me...Salo” she mumbled as she put the brush in her bag and set off after him again.

Salos surprise was surprising and yet not unpleasant, his demeanor understandable and his fear justified...perhaps it was that on the brink of war, kindred spirits find each other.

He saw her for what she was, considered her right and did not misappropriate her work and she, she appreciated him as a person and not as an outsider.

Maybe that was what made her open the door and her heart beat faster to take him in, ,,Leeest” she heard his voice, slurring and shuffling as he seemed to still be lying on the couch.

Almost stunned, she looked at him, he looked like a broken peacock with barely any pretty feathers left, ,,You've been drinking, raging and all with justification...but don't make yourself more unworthy than you are Salo” she replied and locked the door.

No one should see him like this, no one would understand as she set the bag down and reached for a cloth and garbage can, deftly picking up the shards of bottle and goblet and holding the cloth under water in the bathroom before wiping the dried wine from the table.

She returned the room to its former glory before turning to Salo, who had been mumbling something apologetic the whole time, ,,It's none of your business,” he said, his voice clear as glass for a moment as she sat down with him and held out a vial of shimmer for the pain of his drinking.

Lest suppressed a sigh when she saw that he was still lying here, not having slept properly, ,,It doesn't...but two party guests of a special kind get along better than the gold-drenched inhabitants of this city,” she said and he opened the vial and drank the contents.

Saw that it tasted sweet and bitter as he grimaced and sat up to avoid looking like a hunchback, she ran a damp cloth over his face, held him a mirror as he combed his hair and carefully trimmed his beard all while glances of green and gold met again and again.

,,I will pay you for this, even if you didn't have to, I thank you for still seeing me as Salo and not as the broken one,” he said with a bitter grin as he looked down at his legs and was about to hide his face in his hands when she grabbed his hand.

A touch she agreed with, a touch he felt, he saw her warmth and kindness, ,,Healing can sometimes come from deeper feelings, not from drugs or money. Sometimes it's enough to have someone, someone in the world who understands you better than anyone else,” she said, not letting go of him and drawing closer to her.

She placed his hand on her cheek, soft fur was brushed by cool fingers, green met gold and she gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead.

A kiss from someone who cherished him, loved him and saw him for who he was, there was no wrong time between them.

A kiss that became a real short intimate one and two people were united in a look of green gold.

Salo was seen and Lest was not overlooked, they were two who could heal each other in a world that could no longer offer them anything, they had each other.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#arcane #arcane season 2 #arcane salo #arcane lest #salo x lest #arcane s2

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httpvomitello · 7 months ago

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heeeeey girl or boy idkn sorry ahaha, I would like the idea or the reaction of bay tmnt or rise or both of them that splinter has a man partner, that they have a new cool dad that contrasts splinter's attitude

Hello! I'm a girl 😊. Anyways ~ i hope you like it! ♡♡♡♡

The Cool Dad *⁠.⁠✧

Leo doesn’t immediately warm up to the idea

He’s used to Splinter’s disciplined ways, so this easygoing, “normal” guy feels a little out of place

Leo observes quietly, unsure what to make of him

Over time, Leo realizes he’s just here to be supportive and present, with no agenda or hidden teachings

Leo starts to appreciate the simplicity of it; it’s nice to have someone around who just wants to listen, chat, and occasionally tell him that he’s doing great without expecting anything in return

The new dad shows Leo that it’s okay to just be, to hang out and relax without constantly pushing himself to improve

Leo finds himself loosening up, realizing that even a little downtime has its own kind of value.

Raph clicks with him almost immediately

He’s the first adult figure who doesn’t seem fazed by Raph’s attitude or rough edges

Instead, he laughs it off, treating with a level of casual respect that Raph instantly appreciates

He’s not there to discipline or shape Raph’s attitude, he just encourages Raph to be himself

Raph’s never had someone outside the family who gets him so well

If Raph’s training or punching a heavy bag, he’ll be there cheering him on or even helping, ir just talking

The casual bond they share makes Raph feel seen and appreciated, maybe even more understood than he is by his own brothers.

Donnie’s intrigued but unsure of what to expect

When he realizes this guy doesn’t know anything about ninjutsu or science, he’s both a little relieved and curious to see what he’s all about

He quickly finds that Splinter’s partner has a surprising amount of curiosity and interest in Donnie’s work, even if he doesn’t understand it all

He encourages Donnie to share his projects, hyping him up even if he’s clueless about the details

Donnie isn’t used to having someone cheer him on with no questions asked

The support is genuine, and he starts feeling more confident in himself

It’s refreshing for him to have a cool dad who just thinks everything he does is awesome.

Mikey absolutely loves him right from the start

He’s fun, engaging, and doesn’t shy away from Mikey’s goofiness

In fact, he joins right in, making Mikey feel totally accepted

They quickly develop a bond over movies, snacks, and games

Mikey finally has someone who’ll watch every cheesy movie and try his new recipes without a second thought

They share inside jokes, and Mikey feels like he has a buddy who genuinely gets his vibe

He hypes up Mikey’s art, jokes, and wild ideas

For Mikey, who’s used to being the “baby” of the family, it feels amazing to have someone who lets him shine without teasing him, boosting his confidence in all the right ways.

#reader #x reader #y/n #tmnt #tmnt x reader #bayverse tmnt x reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse leonardo #bayverse mikey #bayverse donnie #bayverse raphael #bayverse master splinter #master splinter #master splinter x reader #gay couple

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skyeslittlecorner · 1 year ago

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Okay I know it's too too late now... but can we have some scenarios about the kings (maybe Lucifer and your fav nobles too pls) reactions when receiving Valentines gifts from MC plssss 🫶

Don't worry, anon! We're between Valentine's Day and White Day, so it's the perfect time for some romance~

This is my first time writing for Luci. I can't wait until we finally see him in the game and I can add him to the royal team permanently.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Satan doesn't pay much attention to such occasions, so when you approach him and give him chocolates, it's a surprise for him. Very nice one. It's actually obvious that you chose him, after all, he is your boyfriend a demon with whom you signed a contract. Get ready for a deep kiss of thanks and to be pampered even more than usual throughout the day. You will feel his true gratitude at night, where thanks to his excellent mood you may even try to gain some dominance.

Mammon is curious about where you're taking him, why he has to keep his eyes closed, and what that mysterious gift you mentioned is. When you take off his blindfold and he sees the chocolate fountain in front of him, he bursts into laughter. What generosity! He will take you in his arms so you can dip your fingers at the very top of the fountain. Of course, you won't try it yourself, and he will gladly lick the chocolate running down your arm.

Beelzebub examines the strange chocolate you prepared for him. It seems fragile on the outside, but inside it is full of a thick cocoa, liquid mass. A half-smile appears on his lips. Did you do it on purpose? He already knows how he wants to try it. You will be dragged to the nearby club. Beel will lay you on the table, break the chocolate and pour the cocoa mass on your cleavage. He refuses to taste it any other way than from your body.

Leviathan was expecting to get something from you, so he becomes more irritated as time passes. When you finally come in the evening, he looks like he's about to hang someone. Only when you explain to him that you had to finish your chocolates and show him the tiny works of art wrapped in fancy paper you will be spared. Paper with roses… were you and Barbatos wrapping them? Bingo, he has a prey to hang. He'll try one, but you can't tell from his face if he likes it. And as punishment for coming so late, you have to spend your entire night in his coffin.

Lucifer is a devil who is hard to read, but you feel like you saw him smiling under his breath. He just connected the facts. So that's why you came to him yesterday with a burnt hand? Were you careless when making him a gift? He will thank you and kiss the poor fingers that sacrificed itself for him. On the one hand, he would rather you not hurt yourself and be more careful. On the other hand, your eyes sparkled with tears so beautifully when you came to him asking for help... If you really want to make him happy, be like that again.

You invited Sitri into the kitchen to help you prepare chocolates for the others, so he knows exactly what you're planning. But he didn't expect he'd get some himself. When you hand him the hand-wrapped tea biscuits, he looks completely moved. Of course, now you both have to try them out. You will spend a lovely evening drinking tea, just the two of you, in the palace garden (sometimes disturbed by explosions from somewhere in the city).

Amon has an expression like a surprised pikachu, but a hundred times cuter. How so? Is this for him? Chocolates you made yourself? No one had ever done something so intimate for him. He will be touched both because you chose him and because he will remember how Beelzebub gave him a cookie and saved his life. Prepare for tears and feeding each other.

At first, Andrealphus doesn't understand why you put a cardboard box in his hands, and what does this have to do with Valentine's Day. He knows that lovers and friends exchange chocolates on this day, but he himself never did it. A whole life spent alone is not conducive to cultivating such customs. He will smile warmly hearing your stressed gibberish, and tell you to relax. It will be difficult to go to a café together without spreading panic, but what about going for a walk?

PS. If you would like more Valentine's Day headcanons, let me recommend @sulumuns-dootah works! They are wonderful. Here is a link to Gehenna demons, but there are more, check it out~

#whb #what in hell is bad #skye's little talk #whb satan #whb mammon #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #whb lucifer #whb sitri #whb amon #whb andrealphus

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katnissdoesnotfollowback · 2 months ago

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WIP Wednesday ~ WIP File Game

Um hi there. *waves nervously* Soooo over the past two months, I've been tagged multiple times by different people to partake in various WIP Wednesday posts and WIP file games. Sadly, I haven't had as much time for fandom as I would have liked recently, and I've just let those tags sit there unanswered. Thank you for thinking of me @mega-aulover, @unnamednarrator, and @thesweetnessofspring.

I'm going to use this post to answer both types of tags, and the people I tag in turn, please choose which version you'd rather play, play both!, or play neither.

First... a snippet from chapter 40 of Spellbound:

“Peeta! Let me go!” There’s the metallic thunk of a heavy round. Hands yanking on my wrists. I stare at the body. His jaw blown off, silencing him forever. Eyes empty. Hollow. Gone. “Peeta?” That’s when the trembling starts. I blink and the shadows recede. His face gone, replaced with Haymitch’s skull gleaming oddly in the flashlight on the cave floor. The jawbone fallen at an odd angle. Fingers dig into my wrists. Deep enough that it hurts. The pain in my wrists and my knee somehow grounds me. Pulls me away from that day in the sun baked streets and back into this one. “Peeta?” Katniss asks. I can barely make out her shape in the gloom, and I shake my head. Who dropped the flashlight? When did we wind up on our knees? “I’m fine.”

And now for the more difficult part. Here's a list of my current WIP files. If it's listed as a story on AO3, I hope to finish it this year. If it's listed as not yet posted to AO3, then I'm hoping to start posting it/finish it this year. The third list is a bunch of random ideas that may never see the light of day, but I've included them for funsies.

Feel free to send an ask to receive a snippet if I have one, a summary, a long winded excuse for why it's still not done yet... I'm working tonight but I have tomorrow off and will answer asks then!

Stories on AO3:

Outside Chance

Outside Expectations

Outside the Lines

Spellbound

Where the Stars Crumble to Life

One Last Hope

Everything You Are

Ampersand (Series)

Fickle Games

No Reason

Holiday Havoc Ensues

Smutercising

Stories Not on AO3:

Bound to Get Burned

Caught in the Net of the World

The Courtship of Lambs

Crush My Bones with Bittersweet

Grief Catches Us All

Hand porn

In the Waiting Dark (the Red Moon Rises)

Kiss Me In the Dark

Making Dents in the Wall

Septimus

Sin Bin

Small Turn Ons

Spiral & Collission / Ellipses & Ignition

Tangled AU

Through the Eyes of My Love

To Know, Not to Be Known

Turning of the Seasons

You + Me

Random Files:

Anyways

Arrive Broken

The Art of Peeling Pearls

Autumn Delight

Awkward

Bed Head

Bend Me, Shake Me Any Way You Want Me

The Cold Side of the Bed

Dear Diary

Everlark on the Prairie

Fluffy Menace

Full Zeroes

Holiday Pet Sitters

Hypocrites

Kiss Me in the Dark

Kissing Clause

Last Dance

Long Have I Waited, My Darling

Love in the Library

Nude Dude Foods

On Lockdown

Peeta POV

Scrawled Upon My Skin

Shattered Into Ash

Seven Feathers

The Strong Arm of Justice

The Touch of Time

Under the Pink Sky

Yes, Chef

And Finally, for the Truly Brave (I mean it, don't do this if you have very clear lines of what you find acceptable in fanfiction), I will answer questions about my folder titled "What Is This Shit?!?!", where I put all of the weird, dark, morally questionable fic ideas that I'm certain about 95% of you all would absolutely hate. Actually some of them are not that bad, but others really are a dumpster fire. Send a number between 1 and 66 for a potentially unpleasant surprise, if you dare.

Now for the tags! I tag @mega-aulover @unnamednarrator, and @thesweetnessofspring because it's been over a week since each of you tagged me mwahahaha. Also tagging @shesasurvivor @louezem and @burkygirl (I've seen you lurking in my notes, don't think I didn't. Hope you've had a restful break from fandom and glad to see you around here again.)

#wip wednesday #my wips #wip file game

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asksythe · 9 months ago

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Soooo cute!!! Look how happy he is! And those things on Ritsuka are tiny bunny ears. Hah!

Commed art. Artist: Minh Nguyett

This piece is a companion to this other piece I posted before.

Ahh... I want to write a bunny!Ritsuka x Oberon story...

You know how once upon a time, a character being secretly some kind of magical creature or fantastical race was all the rage in fanfic writing?

I want to write something like that.

But how would that work with the game's presented canon of Ritsuka being the representative of humans / primates and being their Last Master?

Well, it's simple. Chinese folklores are chockful of creatures who toil for centuries and absorb the breath of the world (or, in Fate terms, mana) to transcend their beasthood and become... a human!

And since I think bunnies are tote cute, I want to write Ritsuka (F) as a young bunny from a den of already fairy magical bunnies, becoming a beloved pet to lonely, sickly-child Ritsuka (M) and through this shared friendship, she learns of all the wonderful things about being a human.

Ritsuka (F) adores Ritsuka (M) and so decides to embark on the long journey of cultivating to become a human and be his human friend.

Before she can complete her human transformation (curse those stubborn bunny ears and fluff tail that won't recede no matter what she does! How can Ritsuka be a real girl if she goes around with her bunny ears and tail still intact!?) and surprise her friend, he, unfortunately, passes away, leaving behind his dream of stepping foot outside his house for once and taking this parttime job with some company called CHALDEA!

So, in honor of her beloved friend, Bunny!Ritsuka takes up the mantle and the name Ritsuka and joins Chaldea in his stead, determined to do everything that Ritsuka (M) wanted to do in his name. But there's more to being a human than just having a human body (most of the time. She's still working on them ears and tail). Humans don't think like bunnies do, nor live like bunnies do. They have all kinds of weird, unspoken rules and expectations and silly limitations on what a young girl bun can and cannot do. Bunri has a lot to learn!

Of course, the story is Obegudako.

I really just want to write a scenario in which Bunri attempts a bunny mating dance with a clueless Oberon and her happily declaring to him that she would like to bear him one hundred kits or something.

This story shall be titled...

... Ritsuka-Chan wants to be a human!

Hmm... but what's the offspring of a magical Bunny-turned-human and a part-dragon-part-insect-part-fairy terminal device?

A Bunny Dragon? A Hopping Insect? A fae bunny dragonfly?

I know!

Their children are going to be the Rabbit of Caerbannog!

#fanart #fate grand order #gudako #ritsuka fujimaru #obeguda #obegudako #oberon

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itshirohi · 1 month ago

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Rant time?

Okay, so I watched the Netflix DMC show. I usually don't really share my opinions on things but... well...

This will most likely be a mini-rant of sorts, feel free to skip this. Also:

SPOILERS WARNING! (for pretty much all episodes as I have binged it all)

I don't really want to be too negative here, that isn't really my intention, but I can't guarantee I will have many good things to say either. You have been WARNED.

For those skipping, have a quick Lady art :>

So after watching all of the episodes, gosh, I have so many questions I don't even know where to begin with this.

I started watching this with a neutral attitude. I didn't really have any high expectations or anything. I was kind of expecting to be disappointed to be honest. It is what it is after all.

Okay, let's start off with the things I did like and enjoy:

The art! I feel like the style and animation were really nice (the 3d demons were honestly not as bad as I initially thought they would be LOL).

Dante.

The White Rabbit. When I first saw him I was pretty excited and honestly I think he delivered (even though he is completely different than the bunny from the OG source material, like many characters). I enjoyed the moments with him the most out of all.

ARIUS AND LUCIA MENTIONED!!!! Outside of the fact Lucia being really pale which threw me off like hell, I'm happy to see those two again (but maybe it's just my DMC2 loving heart... maybe).

And... that would be about everything I remembered liking about it. Do keep in mind I have issues remembering things a lot of the time and so my brain might have skipped over some parts.

Now, what I didn't like? Pretty much everything else. But let's just get over some points that I think confused/annoyed me the most:

I think we need to address the elephant in the room and that is... Lady. Girl... what have they done to you 😭 Maybe it's just me, but this version of Lady was just... a very annoying bitch? And why, oh why, must she say "fuck" in literally every single sentence that comes out of her mouth? I don't mind characters swearing, don't get me wrong, I think Lady could totally swear every now and then without feeling OOC, I just think THIS was a bit of an overkill. It made it very hard to even try and enjoy her character for me personally.

The... uhh... enemy choices. Why the hell were Agni and Rudra there? Why the hell was Cavaliere Angelo there?! Huh?!

The setting (time-wise). I just can't tell when this is taking place or how old are the characters supposed to be. Some things lead me to believe this is set in a pre-DMC3 type of time, but then we have things like Vergil being Nelo Angelo already? Not even mentioning Dante getting his DT so early. And all those DMC5 references and outfits also threw me off. But again, maybe it's just me.

Making the 'good demons' + all/most humans bad was definitely a choice, alright.

Arkham better come back, that's all I'm gonna say.

America colonizes hell. America. Colonizes. Hell. HUH. (This made me laugh more than anything.)

I could probably go on for longer, but I really don't want to. I feel like it'd be pointless, besides most of the things I said had probably already been said by someone else and put together in a better way than I ever could. This is all purely my opinion and feelings.

My other gripe with this show is that it just focuses on all those, kind of out of nowhere, political points way too much. The whole demons good, humans (america) bad, it just feel so... odd? The DmC (reboot) game had way better groundwork for what they were going for here, I think. If it was an adaptation of the reboot instead, I would've perhaps enjoyed it more.

Overall, the Netflix DMC wasn't bad. It was nowhere near horrible as its own thing. But here is the key point: as its own thing. An AU of sorts. As an adaptation of the games it just doesn't really work, it's confusing. Or am I just a big dummy for not understanding a thing that was happening, trying to connect it to what I know and remember from the other media?

They have changed so much about the world and characters I don't even know what to fully think about it to be honest.

Okay let's get this over with. Time for the final thoughts.

My overall rating? I'd give it about 5/10 enjoyment wise. If you ignore the source material, throw it out the window and just not think much about what is happening, I guess it is a decently enjoyable watch. But as far as adaptations go, the 2007 anime did a FAR better job.

Will I watch the next season/s? Probably. Now that they have shown Arius, I want to see what they do with him (I am desperate for any crumbs of my babygirl... same for Lucia). But will I interact with this much (make fanart, talk about it)? No, probably not. (Okay, maybe a few drawings of Mr Easter Bunny will be made- 👀)

Anyways, I've put out my two cents here, sorry if this was hard to read, messy or if I simply overlooked/mixed up some things. My brain is kinda all over the place right now and I don't feel the best. Now that that's over, I'm off to go play Kenshi and suffer trying to 100% DMC2 again (it's taking me embarassingly long to get all those achievements in lol). I'll be seeing you (hopefully) soon with some art. Maybe.

Cheers! ✌️

#devil may cry #dmc netflix #devil may cry netflix #hiro's rambles

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deliciouskeys · 1 year ago

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Cozy Corner Domaystic prompts #16: Going through immigration and #24: Identity theft.

Guys. Guys, I’ll be honest. I have no idea what possessed me. I think I found these two prompts as some of the most challenging to imagine as a domestic fic, and… my thinking got a little bit too outside the box.

This fic will have an intended audience of about 1 (me). But I want to give major major props to @olliveolly who introduced me to this game and was the one who came up with this That’s Not My Neighbor / Boys crossover AU (with a couple lovely art pieces on the theme). The “lore” of this horror game is very simple. Tell me you don’t see it:

Butchlander. That’s Not My Neighbor crossover/AU. Rated E (why). 3.3k words (why). 2nd person to allegedly reflect the feeling of first-person gameplay (why). Is this domestic fic? Welllllll. It takes place in an apartment complex so it counts, right? Lax interpretation of ‘going through immigration’ but honestly that’s what this game really reminds me of 😂 AO3 link

Another day, another interminable shift working as the concierge in the dreary lobby of this apartment complex. It was exciting at first, sure, what with getting to play the first and last line of defense against the doppelganger monsters that attempt to sneak in every single day. But you’ve just gotten too good at noticing discrepancies. Nothing gets past you anymore. You know every single feature- hell, every single freckle! -of every single resident in the building. By this point you’ve got all their phone numbers memorized, for no better reason than there is simply too much tedium to this job. You find yourself wishing you could actually watch the D.D.D. ‘decontaminate’ the lobby, as they so euphemistically put it, instead of just sitting there twiddling your thumbs behind a pulled down rollup metal shutter after summoning them. You could still make out screams without seeing the brutality, and you knew the D.D.D. employed flame throwers and other serious weapons to deal with these monsters. Sometimes you caught yourself feeling just a little bit of sympathy for the doppelgangers, even though their main goal in life appeared to be to imitate people to blend in and then feed upon human flesh, and your main goal in life was supposed to be to ensure none of them would ever get let in through the locked inner door.

John Gillman comes in through the first door and gives you a tired, nominal wave before fishing around in his pockets for his documents to gain entry. He might be your favorite resident— always polite, always in that clean-cut milkman uniform at least when you happen to see him, because no one really leaves the apartment building outside of work obligations. There’s no nightlife in New York anymore, not with everyone nervous of dark alleys or being alone on the street, especially after dark. When you came over here from London, you certainly didn’t expect to get stuck here during a worldwide apocalyptic event like this that has resulted in curfews and lockdowns. You certainly didn’t expect to get zero action and get a mindnumbing job just to make ends meet. It was probably still more interesting than your gig working as a bouncer back in London, but at least you got fresh air there, and sometimes a date to go home with after closing time. Maybe that’s why you’ve started hyperfixating and daydreaming about one of the residents— the involuntary celibacy is getting to you.

John just always looks uncannily attractive. Maybe it’s that silly uniform that’s easy to fetishize. Maybe it’s because his tired eyes also look like bedroom eyes, or the dark circles function the same way eyeliner would. Why is he always so tired anyway? You know he lives alone up there in F03-02. He never gets any visitors either. How much can a person masturbate, really? There’s a rumor around the building that Becca Saunders’ tyke might be his, but you don’t really see the resemblance, and have your doubts that this didn’t just start as a “sleeping with the milkman” joke that got out of hand. People just like to gossip about single mothers. Things like this shouldn’t be considered scandalous. It’s 1955 for god’s sake!

“Sorry, William,” John says, hurriedly shoving his ID and entry request form underneath the glass so you can take take a look. “Almost thought I left my ID at work.”

“Long day, huh?” you ask without expecting a reply, pretending to scrutinize the documents while making small talk. You know this is John. You’d know him from a mile away. But it doesn’t mean you can’t have a little bit of fun. “Looks okay, and you are on the list of people authorized to come and go today. But can you take off your cap?”

John grabs his milkman cap off his head, exposing a mop of blond hair, looking mussed after being under the hat all day. You really wish you could test him, see how far you’d be able to take things before he refused to cooperate. Take off your shirt, John. Gotta make sure it’s really you. You never know these days. But of course you don’t. All you’ll have is your fantasies about breaching every code of ethics and using your master key to gain entrance into his apartment, seducing him, ravishing him right in the middle of what must be a depressing bachelor pad. Give him much darker undereye circles by keeping him up all night. Give this apartment complex a more interesting rumor to spread about the milkman in their midst.

“You’re good to go,” you say and press the green unlock button to let him in. He gives you a wan smile and walks out of view, and you listen to his footsteps ascending the stairs.

The rest of the afternoon is uneventful, only a few people coming and going, and a couple of doppelgängers with laughably strange appearance or bad credentials being dispatched quickly. Or at least it’s uneventful until John walks in, just a little bit past curfew.

“Hey William,” he says, sounding distracted, rummaging in his pockets for his documents as a cold sweat breaks out on your forehead. This better be a doppelganger, you think to yourself. But he has both his ID and the entry request filled out correctly. He looks identical to the John that passed by here a couple of hours earlier. This can’t be.

You start dialing John’s number, not taking your eyes off the man in front of you.

John’s eyes widen with alarm when he sees that you get an answer from the other end of the line.

“Yes, hello? John here. I’m not expecting any visitors.”

You hang up pretty abruptly, staring at the John in front of you, searching his appearance for any subtle defect or inconsistency but finding none. Your finger is hovering over the alarm button.

“Oh my god. Oh my god, you think I’m someone else? It’s me, William! I swear to god it’s me! I don’t know who you let in earlier, and who’s answering the phone now, but it’s not me up there!”

And shit, you believe him. You must have fucked up. Gotten smug and sloppy. Maybe the doppelganger handed you a fake ID but you didn’t notice because you were too busy daydreaming about fucking him.

“William, please believe me, please!” John is pressing up against the glass at this point, clearly scared that you’re going to quarantine him in the lobby and sic the D.D.D. on him. They don’t tend to ask questions. You’ve never had it happen, but you’ve heard of innocent people getting snuffed out on the mere suspicion of being doppelgangers, the D.D.D. rarely admitting to such mistakes even after the fact.

“Alright, alright, I believe you. I just have to think…” you mumble. “I’ll let you in, but don’t go up to your flat. We have to figure this out.”

John nods frantically and slips into your office after you buzz him in.

“What are you going to do?” he asks, and if you weren’t scared shitless at the moment, you’d probably get a kick out of how vulnerable and scared his expression is compared to his usual tired, impassive one.

“I should call the D.D.D. and get them to go up there,” you think out loud.

“Won’t you get reprimanded?” John asks, and oh how sweet of him to worry about your job when you’ve fucked up so royally and almost gotten him killed with your negligence. Maybe already gotten some of his neighbors killed.

“I just don’t want you losing your job over this— you’re the best concierge we have,” he says and then looks down shyly, as if realizing how strange that concern is.

What is this? Are you dreaming? Maybe you’re just out of your mind with adrenaline, but John sounds like he’s got feelings for you.

“Let’s just go up there and see what’s going on,” he says, and damn he’s persuasive as fuck. You want to go and deal with the mess you made, and protect him.

“I’ll go up there and just check,” you say, hardly believing yourself as you grab the fire extinguisher from the wall as a makeshift weapon. Everyone who was scheduled to return to the building has, so you shouldn’t get any more legitimate people coming through, but you still tape up a note that you’ll be back at your post in a few minutes. “Right then. You just stay down here and wait. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk. If I’m not back in five, call the number on the post-it.”

John shakes his head and follows you up the stairs. “I’m not letting you go up there alone,” he says in that quiet irresistible voice and you start to wonder if there’s something strange going on. Why are you going on this potentially suicidal mission to deal with a doppelganger on your own? So what if you get fired? No job is worth your life, right? But you probably wouldn’t see John ever again if you lost this job and that’s clouding all your judgment right now.

Knocking on John’s apartment door is probably not a good idea, and will just give the monster inside time to prepare or hide. So you take out your master key and turn it in the lock as quietly and quickly as you can. The door swings opens with an ominous creak, revealing a dark living room with no sign of anyone there. Did he hear you coming up the stairs? You try to keep John behind you and shield him in case anything sudden happens from within the apartment, but then you feel a strong push from behind and both you and John are in the flat now.

You’re so stupid, so critically, fatally stupid. The John you let in earlier was the real one. You’ve let a doppelganger convince you that you made a mistake, and now you did let one in. You whirl around, try to hit him upside the head with the fire extinguisher you’re brandishing, but he blocks the move with little effort.

“I thought we agreed,” he says, and you realize he’s speaking not to you but past you to someone else in the room.

“Thursdays are my days,” an identical voice answers from behind you and you step back and try to make sense of what you’re seeing. Two John Gillmans, both in the same uniform, neither one looking the least bit spooked, both looking mildly irritated if anything.

“Since when,” the John who came up behind you asks of the other one. “I get to be here every other day, doesn’t matter what day of the week it is.”

“So now what are we going to do about him?” the John who was in the apartment asks, pointing to you. “Why didn’t you just leave once he called me? Are you stupid?”

Your heart may be racing, but your thinking feels as slow as molasses. They’re …. both doppelgangers?

“What have you done with the real John Gillman?” you whisper hoarsely. The twins turn to look at you and you’re creeped out by the very similar smirk that spreads across both of their faces. They’re really impeccable facsimiles of the real person, but this is an expression you’ve never seen on John.

“You’ve never met the ‘real John Gillman’,” one of them says.

There’s enough cold sweat that’s broken out on your back that it starts to trickle down as drops.

“We like you William. It would be such a shame for our friendship to end.”

You hold up the fire extinguisher in front of yourself defensively, but you’re not sure you can really do anything against two of them. You’ve never noticed before, and maybe the real John’s teeth didn’t look like this, but the two doppelgangers have sharp looking canines when they’re grinning. It’ll serve you right to get devoured in this dark flat for making so many mistakes and bad decisions in a row today.

“So you’re just going to kill me then?” you ask.

“We’d really rather not,” one of the twins says. “A murder would bring a lot of snooping law enforcement if not the D.D.D. Itself.”

“And it’s so hard to find good lodging to spend the night.”

They must be joking. “You really expect me to believe you’re not just here to eat people?”

One of the twins rolls his eyes. “Eat people! Yeah, that’s why we’re here, clearly.”

“Has anyone in this apartment building ever disappeared in all the months you’ve worked here?” the other one asks.

“How should I know?” You’re beginning to feel like this has to be some sick nightmare. You can’t possibly be having a civil conversation with a couple of cannibal monsters. This thought has a strange calming effect on you. “If I didn’t know you lot were masquerading as John Gillman, how am I to know how many other residents are real people?”

The twins turn to each other, still smiling and shrugging.

“We’ve been on a vegetarian diet for a while,” the other says and you can’t help but bark out a laugh.

“Laugh all you want,” the other one says, spreading his hands in concession. “But milk is more than enough to sustain us. We do think people are delicious, but there’s one thing we like much more than eating them.”

“And what’s that?” you ask, emboldened by the possibility that you’re just in a ridiculous, paranoid, bad dream of a worst case scenario at your job.

“We’ve been watching you William. We think you’ve been interested in us.”

“We’ve never fucked anyone from this building, and never fucked together, but there’s a first time for everything, right?”

You just stand there, fire extinguisher still raised up defensively. No question about it, this must be a nightmare that’s slowly but surely twisting itself into a sexual fantasy.

“Come on, William. Let’s make you comfortable.”

You can hardly protest as one gently pulls your makeshift weapon out of your loose grip, and the other one sweeps you off your feet with preternatural superhuman ease and carries you over to the couch in this sparsely furnished apartment.

Gentle but insistent hands undo the buttons on your trousers and then maneuver you so they can pull them off completely and free your legs.

“Humans are such fun creatures,” one of the Johns comments when he sees that despite your fear of the situation unfolding right now, you are sporting a half-hearted hard-on. It somehow only gets harder when you hear them talk about people as another species.

Both Johns are still fully dressed, situating themselves to kneel on the floor on either side of you. It’s wild. You must be dreaming. And as you watch both Johns lean forward, extending their tongues and licking your cock up and down from opposite sides, you realize that if this is a dream, you never want to wake up.

They know what they’re doing. They bring you right up to the edge of orgasm and then pull away, leaving you feeling desperate and even annoyed. You’re not annoyed for long though as they both strip down, and you see that their human-mimicking powers are perfect, down to the most minute details that would never be seen under clothes. Granted, you don’t know what John Gillman looked like naked, so maybe they’ve taken artistic license and embellished. Whatever it is, they’ve compared notes, because they still look indistinguishable to you.

“Like what you see?” one of them asks and you realize you I’ve been staring, maybe even with your mouth hanging open. You never imagined you’d hook up with a doppelganger, let alone two of them at once. But you have imagined foisting yourself on John in this very flat, and you’re about to live that daydream.

You end up doing things with the two of them beyond what you’ve ever dreamed of. You fuck one of them, and at the same time get fucked by the other one from behind, the cheap bed’s metal joints creaking and moaning from the motion of three bodies rocking against each other. You let them suck your cock and rim you to get you back in the mood for another round, trying not to think about how unsettlingly hungry they both look, and who they really are underneath the human-looking exterior. The exterior slips periodically when they’re in the throes of pleasure. You wince when they betray just how strong they really are, whenever they flip you over or change positions, as if you weigh nothing. You try not to pay attention when their eyes start glowing red when they’re particularly turned on, but it’s impossible to ignore in the darkness of the bedroom.

“William, you are fucking delicious,” one of them declares, licking his lips obscenely after swallowing down your cum, and all you can do is emit a short nervous chuckle, and think that even if they do decide to eat you at the end of all of this— either to cover their tracks, or just because they might start feeling peckish after all this is over— it will still have been worth it.

You don’t get eaten. In fact, you’ve had the time of your life, and as you get up from the bed and mumble that you have to get back to your post before your shift is over, the two Johns lie languid, naked on the bed watching you, each enjoying a post coital glass of milk (that’s all they have in the fridge— you saw when they opened it), like perfect mirror images.

“You won’t be making any unnecessary phone calls, right William?”

“We can count on you to be discreet and keep a secret, right?”

Through the combined haze of being scared for your life and then having the time of your life, there’s still one thing that bothers you, and you ask about it, against all your best self-preservation instincts.

“So what have you done with the real John Gillman?”

They turn to look at each other, not exactly conspiratorial but it still makes you uneasy.

“Oh, John Gillman never existed. We’ve been around a lot longer than you humans think. Many of us never tried to replicate and replace real humans.”

“Yeah, and a lot of good that did when some of us started! The ones who are doing it are the reason we’re being hunted now. Unoriginal hacks. And so bad at mimicking too.”

“So many embarrassing ones out there.” They both nod at each other.

You’d like to believe them. You really would. “So why choose this persona?”

“The milkman gets free milk and gets around in your society! And humans seem to like this look,” one of them says, grinning and gesturing with his hand over their naked bodies.

“But we only ever get to enjoy bored housewives.”

“And why are there two of you?” you ask hesitantly, glancing at the clock on the wall to verify that you’re not late yet.

“Oh there’s more than two of us,” one of them says and they laugh in unison in a way that sends a chill down your spine.

~~~

You think you’ve got it all worked out. You’re letting the John Gillmans stay in the apartment undisturbed, and you let them through even when it’s obvious that there’s more than one of them coming and going. You figure it’s a win-win. They promise to protect the building from any rogue doppelgangers who infiltrate and intend to harm the residents, and in return get a place to stay the night peacefully. You get to visit apartment F03-02 after your shift ends and have mind-blowing sex. They seem to enjoy the orgies as well. They know your shift hours and try to only come and go during those times. There doesn’t seem to be a problem with this arrangement.

Or at least not a problem that you’re going to make into your problem. When one of the Johns walks in, visibly smeared in blood, you do give him a hard time.

“Come on, John. Just because I’ll let you in, doesn’t mean you can just stop trying to look decent. God forbid I call in sick and someone else is here.”

John shrugs and goes through the formality of pushing his ID and entry request under the glass window.

“And get a new ID…” you tell him when you see bloody fingerprints all over the worn paper.

John shrugs, doing his usual tired act, despite how ridiculous it looks to be so bored and nonchalant when he’s smeared in blood.

“Whose blood is that, anyway?” you ask, wondering why you’re not more disturbed.

“Someone who was of no consequence and who won’t be missed,” John replies, terse and cool as a cucumber.

“I thought you said you were vegetarian?”

“I’ll take a cheat day if I run into a wifebeater,” John says, shrugging.

You buzz him in, telling him to get washed up before someone sees him, wondering if you’re being colossally naive to believe his story, and wondering if you’ve got a death wish because you’re still looking forward to going up there once your shift ends in a few hours.

(What in the world. 💀)

ETA: now with another art piece by @olliveolly

#cozy corner domaystic #lol #butchlander #that’s not my neighbor au #homelander #billy butcher #the boys #the boys tv #fic #mystuff

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