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#the dream: my art inspiring a fic
cosmicloak · 1 year
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collection of my trigun brainrot doodles
more art: cosmicloak.carrd.co
boosts appreciated⁎⁺˳✧༚
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wolfgirl-valentine · 2 months
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My final piece for @moorishflower gorgeous story "Us and the moon!!!! I'm sure you all would love it as much as I did 🙏🏼✨ It was an honor and a delight to paint this scenes. This was my first big bang and it was a lot of fun(and anxiety sjsjsj) thanks to everyone involved in this amazing experience, specially to Moorishflower for their wonderful narrative that was a great inspiration 🙏🏼✨
This one's quote is going to be under a cut, because it's the final part and doesn't feel right to be read for the first time this way 😅
"Just us, Dream echoes, quietly delighted, and then takes off running into the dreaming night with Hob yipping at his heels."
"And in London, in the Waking, in a cosy flat miles and centuries away from a shadowed clearing where a seven year-old boy made a deal he did not understand with a little god that he would eventually outlive, two wolves – one dark as night, one burnished bronze and tawny-gold as dawn – lie curled nose-tip to tail-tip in a nest of blankets. Fast asleep, and dreaming of the moon."
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valeriianz · 9 months
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Retired!Dream with facial hair, inspired by @watercubebee's art here!
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Dream stared at the reflection of himself in the foggy mirror, his fingers pressing into the warm skin that was now his very human face. The pads of his fingers were soft along the strange texture of his jaw, prickly dark hairs that had begun to grow.
Dream knew what this was– facial hair, Hob had it. Dream had enjoyed the burn it left along his skin when they kissed, had curiously observed Hob when he would trim or shave it, usually with a device that buzzed so it was never too short. The human experience of maintaining and grooming had been fascinating, back then. Dream loved to observe and learn and judge, of course, why humans did the things that they did. 
Hob was always so patient with Dream, explaining why he chose to maintain his scruff, and how “... I don’t see you complaining about it,” said with a smirk and a wink. Of course Dream was a naturally curious entity, he gathered pleasure from Hob’s experiences and stories. Dream of the Endless knew everything, was well aware of the knowledge of men through their dreams alone, their fantasies and nightmares. He had been very content to observe from afar– human beings and what brought them happiness or hardship always seemed so trivial and banal. Something about Hob Gadling, his persistence, his eternal optimism, was different. It made Dream stick around when otherwise he’d grown impatient.
Hob was a fighter, an enigma, something to study under a microscope. And after hundreds and hundreds of years, Dream began to admire and wonder at the mystery that was Hob Gadling. Began to relate to his experiences, growing something substantial in the meantime, something grounding.
Hence why Dream had made the decision to become like Hob Gadling; human. 
There had been trials and tribulations (forced to make small talk with strangers, using the bathroom, brushing one’s teeth, the dreaded ordeal of going to the grocery store and searching for food). But Dream hadn’t anticipated the hair.
He did not care what he looked like, in the waking world. The discovery that his body produced testosterone and therefore, hair, was startling. Dream was a being of absolute control. He couldn’t control this.
But it was… interesting.
The stubble, as Hob liked to call it, on Dream’s face had gotten quite long in the past few days. Dream dug his fingernails (another nuisance, trimming fingernails. A waste of time) into the black bristles and scratched, tilting his chin to look down his throat, grumbling softly at the realization that the hair descended downwards as well.
A knock on the door gave Dream pause, gaze stuck on the mirror as Hob spoke, his voice muffled behind the door.
“Dream? You alright in there?”
With his eyes still roving over his face, Dream spoke up.
“Come in.”
Hob opened the door and Dream watched, out of his peripheral, as he approached.
“Looking at something nice?” Hob teased, pressing his front against Dream’s naked back and winding his arms over his waist, the towel there shifting but otherwise remaining tight around Dream’s hips.
“This is unsightly.”
Hob notched his chin over Dream’s shoulder to see what Dream saw in the reflection. He chuckled as his eyes followed the movement of Dream’s fingers on his jaw, down to his chin.
“You’re just not used to it, is all.” Hob pressed a kiss to the end of Dream’s bony shoulder. “And I happen to think it looks very fetching on you.”
Dream huffed, unconsciously leaning back in Hob’s hold, discreetly delighting in the feeling of Hob’s broad chest, covered in a thin cotton shirt, warm against his damp skin. 
“You think everything looks ‘fetching’ on me,” Dream stated matter-of-factly, causing Hob to chuckle softly, his lips traveling across Dream’s shoulder and up the side of his neck, playfully nibbling along the way.
“And I am always right.” His fingers pinched Dream’s hip bones before descending lower, forcing Dream to bite back a jolt of surprise at the tickling sensation. Especially as Hob’s hands, stark in color against Dream’s milk-white flesh, began to caress the line of hairs that had begun to grow under his belly button as well.
Dream’s breath, another anomaly that he was fascinated by, hitched audibly as Hob’s fingers dipped just a fraction below the towel wrapped around him.
“I also quite enjoy this.” Hob murmured against his skin, watching Dream in the mirror’s reflection. “I love seeing your human qualities come out. How your body responds to it.” 
Dream drops his hand to wrap around Hob’s wrist, meeting his chocolate brown eyes in the mirror as Hob takes a step to crowd Dream further against the counter, his hips slotting along Dream’s ass as he gets his clever fingers deeper, wrapping them around Dream and causing his jaw to drop in a silent cry.
Hob’s eyes flutter shut as he nuzzles his way up to Dream’s ear, bumping his nose against the coarse hairs at his jaw, biting it gently.
“Let me show you how much I love it.”
In response, Dream turns his head and captures Hob’s mouth in a burning kiss.
—----------------------------------
A few days go by and in that time, the scruff on Dream’s face only becomes longer, individual hairs popping up as far up as his cheek bones, and Dream scowls as they even begin to curl.
“I want it off.”
Hob looks sideways at Dream in the doorway to the bathroom. “What?”
Dream stands, that attractive frown only making Hob– who’d been trimming his own beard before the interruption– slowly begin to smile.
Dream points to his face. 
Hob raises his brows as he gives Dream a once over. 
“Your scruff?” Hob clicks his tongue as Dream huffs impatiently, affirmatively. “But it really does become you.”
“I do not care for it. Remove it.”
Hob chuckles lightly, turning back to the mirror to finish up his grooming.
“Always polite,” he quips lowly, tilting his chin as he works. “Give me a mo’ and in the meantime, take a shower.”
After Dream is clean and his skin is warm to the touch, Hob has him seated in a stool he pulled from the kitchen, keeping a warm towel around his face while Hob gathers his equipment.
Dream watches silently, his eyes tracking Hob’s movement before finally meeting his gaze as Hob drapes another small towel over Dream’s shoulder.
He removes the towel from Dream’s face and stares at him, causing Dream to raise a brow.
“What?”
Hob sighs, bringing both of his hands, cool from a fresh wash, around Dream’s face, thumbs stroking his cheeks.
“Just saying goodbye.”
Dream is unable to stop himself from rolling his eyes, another human trait that he’d been having a hard time tamping down.
“Perhaps once I am ‘used to it,’ as you say, I may consider growing it out again.”
Hob’s eyes seem to sparkle with excitement.
“Yeah?” At Dream’s nod, Hob gives his cheeks a brief squish, making the skin bunch up around Dream’s mouth and his frown deepen.
Hob laughs softly, the crinkles around his eyes deepening, striking Dream down and reminding him why he loved Hob so much. The laugh lines on his face, centuries of smiles and laughter etched onto his skin forever. A trait that made Dream himself smile more, enamored by the history there, in not just Hob’s laugh lines, but the wrinkles of his brow too. Years of hurt and frustration carved deep enough to leave memories that Dream could trace with his fingers, his lips. The stories Hob’s skin alone could tell made Dream want to trace constellations upon it.
Hob leaned forward and kissed the tip of Dream’s nose, breaking him out of his stupor. “I look forward to it.”
Dream had to admit, as Hob prepared him for his shave, that he quite enjoyed being pampered. 
Hob had lathered a thick cream upon Dream’s cheeks, mouth, and neck with a horse hair brush, his eyes gone serious, gaze studious as he worked and Dream once again, could do nothing but watch, sitting still as Hob took up a blade and began carefully stroking it down the side of Dream’s face.
“A straight razor,” Hob spoke eventually, his voice quiet, hot breath puffing against Dream’s ear. “Is my favorite for a close shave.” He swipes the blade on the towel resting on Dream’s shoulder, cleaning it before going back in with short, sharp strokes.
“Never goes out of style…” Hob murmurs, his free hand pulling slightly on Dream’s skin to keep it taut. “Also doubles as a weapon, eh?”
He gives Dream a cheeky grin.
“Have you slit many throats using a straight razor, Hob Gading?” Dream makes sure to speak once the blade is safely away from his skin.
Hob hums, going back to Dream’s jaw, going with the grain of Dream’s hair.
“Sweeney Todd style?” Hob pulls back to give Dream a look. “Can’t say I have. Though, in other instances…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence, leaving Dream to guess the answer.
They are silent for a long while after that, the only sounds filling the air being the grazing of the blade against coarse hairs and Dream’s own breathing. It tickles Dream’s ears, the gentle vibrations of the blade, and he continues to study Hob to distract himself from the sensation.
There is an intimacy here that isn’t lost on Dream. The trust he places in Hob’s very capable hands. Hands that have seen violence, committed crimes most egregious. Hands that were calloused over from physical labor and then softened by wielding a pen. Dream was fascinated, watching how Hob’s fingers held the blade, sure and confident, bringing it down swiftly, a tame version of a sword. 
All while performing something so… domestic. These hands had also healed and loved, touched Dream with such reverence, held him with gentle astonishment, as Hob admitted freely how lucky he was to have Dream in his life. Making love to him slow and deep, but also hard and brutal, fingers interlocked with Dream’s and holding him in place, keeping that connection. 
And in this moment, with Hob’s hands touching him fastidiously, attention focused solely on him, Dream felt relaxed and safe, enjoying the experience more than he’d ever admit.
It was over far too soon, Hob taking up the towel to wipe off any remaining shave cream and instructing Dream to rinse his face with cold water.
Once dry, Hob massaged an after shave balm into Dream’s skin, catching his eyes and smiling almost shyly.
“You were very distracting, you know.” Hob says, pulling Dream to standing. “Watching me the whole blessed time.”
Dream’s head tilted a fraction as he brought a hand up to feel his smooth skin.
“I like watching you work.”
Hob huffed, his smile widening as he playfully tugged Dream’s hair.
“Go on, take a look,” he gestured behind Dream to the mirror.
Dream obliged, sweeping his gaze over the smooth skin he had been used to wearing his entire existence and hummed in approval.
“Next time,” Hob said, tossing the towel in the hamper. “I’ll properly show you how to shave, so you can do it yourself whenever you’d like.”
Dream hummed, contemplating.
“Or you could always do it.”
“Oh?” Hob chuckled, turning Dream around and getting his arms around his hips. “Figures a king would overindulge in my humble services.”
“And you indulge me so well,” Dream crooned in a low voice, feeling his lips curl in an unconscious smirk that always caught Hob off guard. It was his favorite thing to do, if Dream was being honest, causing Hob to hesitate and laugh.
“I think I’m just whipped.”
Dream nodded with a considerate hum, leaning forward to brush his lips against Hob’s.
“Good.”
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housh · 1 year
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smashing together my current interests like a toddler w legos
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nympippi · 2 years
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I love the c!Techno giving c!Dream his cloak in prison au’s/ fics
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woah-uhuh-uhuh-uhuh · 7 months
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begging for boyfs but they’re butch4butch lesbians,,,,
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@mynameismicah-getitright lumping these together!! anon this is my favorite request by FAR omg your mind...
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(he/she jeremi & she/any mike hehehe)
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tabithatwo · 10 months
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art by @sensationnelsqueer / words from always be my baby
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art by @sensationnelsqueer / words from just unzip me
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crimsonsabbath · 2 years
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some wanderer island AI art inspired by @the-darklings incredible fic !!!
... last two are cori and wanderer on the beach together :')
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distant-velleity · 5 months
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if the shoe fits
read more trivia in the tags :)
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fedoranon · 2 months
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ok maybe commenting on fanfic isn't just a thankless task that at best results in apathy and at worst levels of vitriol that might (did) expel a person from the entire concept of fandom for half a decade
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zarla-s · 10 months
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[previous]
This isn’t saying you shouldn’t write bad or sad stories or anything, but from Gaster’s perspective as a character in those stories of course he’d want “happy” endings, haha.
But anyway, I kept telling you guys that when Handplates was over I would tell you. Well... here we are. After seven long years, here we are.
When I started I never thought I’d make it. To be honest, it doesn’t feel real to me at all. My brain still expects to do another page in about two weeks as it always does. I assume it’ll take a while to sink in. There’s a lot to say but this post is already incredibly long (sorry), so it’s probably suited to its own post.
But for all of you out there who read this story, whether you were there from the beginning or just came in now, thank you so much. And for all of you that were inspired by this comic, who created things for it, who blessed me with so many amazing gifts of art and fic and music and dubs and videos and so much more... I don’t know how to thank you enough. I never dreamed that an idle idea could have come this far or had such an impact on my life and so many people, but it did.
I kind of feel at a loss for words... again it’s very surreal. But I will say that Gaster wondering whether the kid is an actual human or not has an unintended level to it since my avatar is a fox but it’s TOO LATE NOW I GUESS lol.
( About how it’s a long, long, long journey that we’ve been on And it’s a long long long story that shall be told And it’s a long long day, and we’ve come a long long way But there’s still a long way to go
It’s a long long long way It’s a long long strong way It’s a long long long way Forward - [x] )
[index] [patreon] [comicfury]
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isjasz · 2 months
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[Day 238]
💤💤💤
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ME WHEN I GET A FULL BLOWN FIC INSPIRED BY MY ART AND MAKE A FULL PAGE COMIC OUT OF IT HOW WE FEELING💥💥💥💥💥
Explodes this still feels like a fever dream hi so @definitelynotshouting this absolutely batshit insane guy wrote "honey it's starting to storm" INSPIRED BY THIS ART FROM CHRISTMAS. I need to yell about it more istg this is the W of the century. Guys please it's so good go read it go read go rea
Emphasis GO READ IT👉
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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months
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Say I Do (m) | jjk
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Summary: you and Jungkook tease each other at your wedding reception.
Pairing: jungkook x female reader (no Y/N and unnamed)
AUs: non-idol!au, wedding!au
Genres: smut– like it’s just smut, nothing else 🤣
Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!
Word count: 5,2k
Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸
Warnings/tag: unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, public sex, handjob, oral (female receiving), dirty talk, slightly rough sex, choking, biting, spitting, ass grabbing, impreg kink, degrading names (whore used once).
Author’s note: I made this for my lovely friend Lua (@letjungcoook7)!!!! SURPRISE!!!! I hope you like it! I was inspired to make this because of our chat, and I just want to say that you are so fucking lovely, sweet and kind 💖 I really hope this isn’t too much, but I just had too 🥹 I really wanted to make it dirty, but it ended up being more sweet instead, I’m sorry! I love talking to you and I just wanted to let you know that I adore and treasure you 😘 
Honestly Lua, I just wrote this to tell you how beautiful you are– mind, body and soul. Thank you Lua, I love ya 💜
This is just something very short while I work on ‘My Heart’s Home’. But I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think: my inbox is always open, and I love to hear from you, even a reblog/comment will put a big smile on my face 💜
Also!!! This is written from Jungkook’s POV (well I tried, lol). And normally I don’t describe the reader/MC, but she does have a tiny bit description in this, but I still feel it’s vague enough. But if that isn’t your thing, it’s completely fine 🙂 This is not proofread (because I’m too lazy for that right now).
This has nothing to do with my other fic 'say that again (I dare you)', but if you want to read that I'm not opposed (it's also a jjk fic) ✨
Fancy reading on AO3? 😉 
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Rising gracefully to his feet, Taehyung's infectious enthusiasm fills the room as he declares, “I propose a toast!” His radiant smile sweeps over the myriad of guests you meticulously invited to your wedding—more than a hundred souls sharing in the joy of your love story. 
As he prepares to speak, Jungkook can't help but marvel at the grandeur of the occasion. Despite his personal inclination towards a more intimate celebration, he wouldn't dream of denying you this moment, surrounded by the warmth of friends and family who have come together to witness the union of two hearts.
Despite Taehyung's earnest attempt to capture Jungkook's attention with a throat-clearing preamble, Jungkook finds himself inexplicably entranced elsewhere. Even in the midst of one of his closest friends delivering a heartfelt wedding speech—something he should be wholeheartedly absorbing—but it’s hard. As hard as his dick that you’re palming over his dress pants.
The tantalizing dance of your hand sends ripples of pleasure through him, an intoxicating distraction that eclipses all other thoughts. It's an artful symphony of sensation, each movement crafting a masterpiece of desire within him. The struggle to concentrate on anything else becomes an exhilarating battle. Fuck. 
You, the mischievous enchantress, wield your allure like a potent spell. 
A tantalizing awareness of your own danger courses through your veins, and you wield it with an expert finesse. Every knowing glance, every sly smile, is a calculated move in the game you effortlessly play. You've mastered the art of ensnaring him, wrapping him around your finger with a magnetic force that compels him to dance to your whims. It's a dangerous dance, but he willingly succumbs to the intoxication of your charm, embracing the thrill as much as he cherishes the intoxicating love he feels for you.
What the fuck is Taehyung saying?
Taehyung’s words dissolve into a meaningless buzz, drowned out by the illicit symphony you're orchestrating beneath the table. The audacious zipper sliding down and the tantalizing exploration of your hand over the fabric of his boxer briefs command all of Jungkook's attention.
Profanity trembles on the edge of his tongue, but it's lost in the overwhelming sensation that eclipses any coherent thought. Your stealthy touch renders him blissfully oblivious to everything else unfolding around him.
Suppressing a low, guttural sound, he clenches his teeth, using every ounce of willpower to stifle the moan building in his throat. As desire courses through him like a wildfire, he willingly parts his legs, a silent invitation for you to explore more boldly, granting ample space for the electrifying touch of your hand over the hardened length of his cock.
He marvels at your audacity, finding it both exhilarating and daring that you'd embark on such a provocative escapade during your wedding reception. Yet, deep down, he acknowledges that it's a reflection of the wild spirit that has always defined your relationship. It's a shared affinity for dancing on the edge, reveling in the allure of danger, and delighting in the thrill of engaging in activities that should, by all accounts, remain private. It's a facet of your relationship that has always been magnetic, drawing you both into a world where the risk of being caught only adds to the intoxicating excitement.
In the blink of an eye, your hand deftly maneuvers beneath the fabric of his boxers, sending a shiver down his spine. A hiss escapes his lips as your long, slender fingers confidently envelop his cock. The warmth of your touch is both a balm and an inferno, and he instinctively tilts his head back in the chair, a silent plea for discretion. 
As he surrenders to the delicious sensation, he can't help but cast a furtive glance around, fervently hoping that the clandestine ballet unfolding beneath the table remains a tantalizing secret shared only between you.
Despite the uproarious laughter echoing through the room in response to Taehyung's speech, Jungkook remains oblivious to its contents, ensnared the choreography of your hand beneath the table. 
The mirthful ambiance only fuels his curiosity, surmising that Taehyung must have delivered a punchline or shared a humorous anecdote. Meanwhile, beneath the table's concealment, your hand skillfully traces a tantalizing path along his hardened cock, drawing a hushed hiss from Jungkook's lips. 
With a steely resolve, he masks any trace of emotion, locking his features in a stoic facade and maintaining an impressive silence. His determined effort is not just to conceal the electrifying sensations your actions are evoking, but also to safeguard the clandestine intimacy you both share from the prying eyes of the unsuspecting guests. 
Every fiber of his being is a coiled spring, resisting the urge to yield to the pleasure that threatens to unravel beneath the veneer of his restrained expression. 
As his gaze shifts towards you, he's met with an unexpected sight—there you sit, an image of demure elegance in your exquisite white gown. 
The fabric caresses your curves in all the right places, accentuating the allure of your figure. The daringly low neckline teases a glimpse of the captivating silhouette of your bosom, leaving him momentarily breathless. The off-the-shoulder design unveils a generous expanse of your soft, tender skin, a tantalizing sight that aligns perfectly with his preferences. 
Despite the provocative allure of your attire, your outward appearance betrays no hint of the illicit affair transpiring beneath the table. If he didn't intimately know the secret you were concealing—your hand discreetly exploring the realm beneath his pants—he'd be fooled by the serene facade you present, seemingly absorbed in the captivating rhythm of Taehyung's speech.
In a silent plea of gratitude, Jungkook revels in the fact that the attention of the guests is fixed on Taehyung's speech, sparing him the scrutiny of prying eyes. 
Little do they know, the real spectacle unfolds beneath the table, where your touch becomes an exquisite torment. 
Every movement of your hand is a tantalizing dance, a blend of ecstasy and torture that threatens to unravel him. With a teasing finesse, your soft fingers caress his frenulum, tracing a path towards the depths of pleasure. The deliberate slide over his slit elicits a shiver of pure ecstasy, leaving Jungkook teetering on the precipice of desire that you expertly navigate.
Your hand envelops him, a cocoon of warmth that intensifies with each skillful stroke. The pleasure coursing through him is undeniably exquisite, a testament to the mastery of your touch. Yet, a lingering awareness tugs at the edges of his consciousness—an impending climax that threatens to unravel the careful threads of restraint. The exquisite sensations you evoke compel him to desperately anchor his thoughts, to redirect the intoxicating focus from the captivating dance beneath the table to Taehyung's speech.
The challenge lies not just in resisting the magnetic pull of pleasure but in maintaining a semblance of composure, navigating the delicate balance between the ecstasy you're orchestrating beneath the table and the public façade demanded by the occasion.
“We’ve been friends for so long, how many years is it now, Gguk?” As Taehyung poses the question, a hushed anticipation envelops the room, and all eyes converge on Jungkook. 
Fuck. 
All eyes are on him and he can’t think— he’s mind is clouded with thoughts of you. 
Taehyung– Fuck. How long have they been friends? 
In a sudden stumble of recollection, he breathes out, “17 years,” the weight of the shared history resonating in the room. Yet, the gravity of the moment is unexpectedly intensified as you administer an assertive squeeze around cock. Fuck.
With a chuckle that slices through the tension, Taehyung seamlessly continues his discourse, effortlessly reclaiming the attention of the room and redirecting every wandering gaze back to him. A collective exhale echoes in Jungkook's mind, a silent gratitude for the timely diversion that spares the clandestine spectacle beneath the table from becoming the unwitting center of attention. 
Relentless, you maintain the rhythm on his dick, displaying an unwavering determination that hints at an intention to push him to the brink, right under the unsuspecting gaze of the gathered guests. 
As the divine caress of your hand propels him perilously close to the edge, a surge of urgency overtakes him. Desperate, he turns his face towards you, eyes silently pleading for respite, but your gaze remains steadfastly elsewhere. 
Frustration wells within him, and he attempts to use his hands to guide yours away, only to find your grip tightening in response. The conflicting forces of pleasure and restraint collide within him, his muscles tensing as a hitch in his breath betrays the precarious precipice upon which he teeters.
Leaning in, you bring with you a halo of your natural sweet scent, an intoxicating allure that wraps around him, overwhelming his senses and leaving him slightly dizzy. 
Your lips, soft and plush, delicately find his cheek in what appears to be a tender gesture to the outside world. To the unsuspecting onlookers, it's a simple, sweet kiss on the cheek. 
Little do they know, in that same moment, your daring move involves not just the gentle press of your lips but the subtle exploration of your other hand slipping under his boxers to fondle his balls.
Fucking hell he’s gonna come.
Ecstasy courses through him like a wildfire, an imminent eruption fueled by the intoxicating cocktail of your skillful touch on his balls, warm breath teasing his ear, and the relentless grip on his pulsating desire. The threshold between pleasure and release narrows to a perilous edge, and he finds himself teetering on the brink, held captive by the maddening symphony of sensations you've orchestrated. 
Despite his valiant efforts to remain attentive to his friend's speech, the sheer mastery of your pleasure-inducing touch proves insurmountable. Every deliberate stroke, every strategic squeeze of his balls, propels him further into the abyss of ecstasy. In a moment of surrender, he can no longer contain the torrent of desire, and ropes of his essence surge forth from his throbbing dick. His lips bear the weight of a stifled moan, as you keep stroking him through his orgasm.
Beside him, your chuckle is a symphony of sweetness interwoven with a hint of mischief, a melodic backdrop to the ongoing crescendo of pleasure you expertly administer through his orgasm. 
As he traverses the realm of oversensitivity, a low, guttural grunt escapes him, drawing the curious gaze of Taehyung, engrossed in his ongoing speech. Though momentarily caught in a gaze of questioning inquiry, Taehyung forges ahead, resuming his speech with a peculiar stare, unwittingly oblivious to the spectacle unfolding beside him.
Thank fuck both of your parents aren’t seated right next to you. That would have been utterly mortifying and embarrassing.
With a deliberate finesse, you retract your hand from his crotch, guiding it gracefully over the table, where you nonchalantly employ a napkin to erase any lingering evidence. Seated there, you adopt an innocent facade, a picture of angelic composure that conceals the fact that, mere seconds ago, your hand delved into the forbidden realm beneath his pants. 
With an audible exhale, he reaches for a napkin, hastily attending to the aftermath on his pants. The damage is fortunately minimal, thanks to your deft intervention that efficiently captured most of his release. Smart girl.
But a mischievous spark ignites in his eyes, a silent vow echoing beneath the surface - oh, he's going to get back at you for that, you little minx. 
As the notes of the classic wedding waltz envelop the room, Jungkook marvels at the surreal reality—he gets to call you his wife now. The ethereal glow surrounding you transcends the physical, a radiant aura that has always defined you. Despite your humble protestations about your own beauty, he's captivated by the undeniable truth: you've always been, and continue to be, an enchanting vision. Countless times you've confessed to feeling otherwise, but in his eyes, you're a masterpiece. In this moment, as you dance together, you're not just a part of his world; you are his entire universe.
Gazing into the pools of your sweet, doe-like eyes, their exquisite almond shape captivates him, holding his attention in an unbreakable trance. He contemplates the nuances of your beauty, from the enchanting curvature of your slightly upturned nose to the endearing moments when he can't resist playfully poking it during your teasing exchanges. Every inch of you, in his eyes, is a masterpiece, and he pledges to vocalize his admiration every day, a ritual aimed at etching your beauty into your own consciousness. 
He dreams that with each affirming word, he'll weave a tapestry of self-love around you, until the day you see yourself as he does—undeniably, breathtakingly beautiful.
As you dance, your eyes ablaze with an unmistakable love, he luxuriates in the intensity of your gaze. A daring current of desire propels his hand, gliding with deliberate intent down your body until it boldly claims your ass. 
Uninhibited, he seizes it with audacious confidence, the bold move oblivious to the watchful eyes surrounding you. A soft, mischievous squeeze elicits a sweet chuckle from you, a harmonious note in the symphony of shared amusement that reverberates through the party, as the crowd collectively succumbs to the captivating allure of your uninhibited dance.
As the soft strains of the music envelop you both in a waltz, your heads draw nearer, the enchanting melody echoing the tender dance of your hearts. With the song nearing its end, he seizes the moment, leaning in intimately close to your ear. The hushed promise that escapes his lips carries a tantalizing undercurrent, his warm breath grazing your skin as he vows, “I'm going to get you back for earlier, babe.”
He senses the subtle shiver coursing through you as his touch lingers, a silent testament to the shared electricity between you. As the final notes of the song fade into the applause and cheers of the crowd, seizing the perfect moment, he leans in, embracing you in a sweet and passionate kiss. 
As the rhythm of a more upbeat song invigorates the dance floor, he seizes the opportunity to whisk you away from the lively crowd. Amidst the pulsating beats and the vivacious laughter of the guests, he guides you outside the building, their merriment gradually fading into the background.
In the crisp night air, he asserts a sudden dominance, pressing you against the sturdy wall. His gaze, infused with an unmistakable hunger and need, locks onto your beautiful eyes, creating a magnetic tension that reverberates between you. 
“You are a little minx, you know that?” His words, not laced with anger but rather a dangerous undercurrent of arousal, hang in the charged air. Your chuckle, a sweet symphony that further stirs the tempest within him, prompts a hiss as he succumbs to the magnetic pull, diving fervently into the captivating abyss of your mouth.
The kiss intensifies, a collision of passion that is both hard and rough, fueled by an undeniable need. In the urgency of the moment, he can't afford to wait, the impatience palpable in every fervent press of lips. 
You envelop him in the embrace of your arms, fingers intertwining at the nape of his neck, while your gaze rises to meet his. In the depths of his eyes, once warm brown orbs now transformed into pools of near-black intensity, a reflection of the potent arousal coursing through his veins. 
Your hand embarks on a daring journey, descending to the front of his pants once more, and the response is instantaneous – hardness reignites, a testament to the insatiable flame you kindle within him. Desire for you pulses like a constant current, an almost permanent state of arousal that defies logical explanation. Whatever enchantment you cast upon him, it's an irresistible force that weaves a tantalizing spell, leaving him perpetually captivated by the mystique of your touch.
Breaking away from the embrace of your soft lips, he wears a smirk laden with both warning and allure. “You're playing with fire, babe,” he remarks, the subtle edge in his voice echoing the intoxicating dance of danger and desire that swirls between you.
In a hushed whisper that flutters against your ear, he breathes, “You've been a naughty girl.” 
The words, laden with an undercurrent of sultry authority, send a shiver down your spine, awakening a cascade of tingles that traverse the landscape of your entire body. 
Descending to the delicate expanse of your neck, he peppers it with soft, almost teasing kisses, each touch a prelude to the symphony of sensations. Then, in an abrupt shift from gentle caresses, he bites down, coaxing from you a loud moan that resonates through the air—an intoxicating sound that echoes in the depths of his desire, a melody he'll never tire of hearing. 
Continuing his explorative journey, he ventures further south, his lips descending to the curve of your breasts. With a deliberate tenderness, he places a kiss atop the soft expanse of your tender tits.
Gracefully sinking to his knees, he gazes up at you with a mischievous smirk, the air thick with a heady mixture of desire and anticipation. His tongue darts out, grazing his lips in a provocative dance of anticipation, signaling the imminent exploration of pleasures yet to unfold. 
With an assertive grip, he seizes the front of your dress, drawing it away in a swift, purposeful motion. Despite the abundance of fabric, he deftly bunches it up with ease. “Hold your dress, please,” he directs, handing you the end of the gathered fabric. 
“Hmm. Nice lace stockings, and that girdle—what are you doing to me?” he murmurs, his voice a tantalizing blend of desire and fascination. His gaze lingers appreciatively on your beautiful thighs encased in nude stockings adorned with lace at the top, fastened to a concealed girdle on your waist.
His eyes widen with a mix of surprise and arousal as they land on your wet and glistening pussy, the evidence of desire trickling down your thigh. “Oh my god. You're not wearing panties?” he breathes out, his voice carrying the weight of both revelation and anticipation. A subtle lick of his lips betrays the intensity of his reaction.
A playful chuckle escapes your lips as you hover above him, and without a moment's hesitation, he immerses himself in the intoxicating warmth of your desire. His lips eagerly find their destination, tracing a decadent path from the delicate folds to the pulsating essence of your clit. 
The sensation ripples through your body, igniting a shiver that becomes an involuntary response to the electrifying dance between tongues, pleasure, and the shared yearning that binds you together.
He embarks on a tantalizing journey of tongue and suction, starting with teasing caresses that send tremors of anticipation through your body. His hands, strong and purposeful, find purchase on your thighs, holding you in a firm grip as he orchestrates a symphony of pleasure with his skillful tongue, creating an intoxicating dance that blurs the lines between sensation and desire.
A throaty moan escapes your lips as his nose delicately brushes against your pulsating cl*t, his tongue delving as deep as its voracious hunger allows. The exquisite sensation of his exploration elicits an involuntary clenching around him, a testament to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.
Your thighs, unable to withstand the intensity, succumb to a tremor, trembling beneath the intoxicating caress of pleasure that consumes you.
His dexterous fingers ascend to your throbbing clit, and with a skillful touch, he sets in motion a rapid dance of pleasure, causing your entire body to quiver with newfound intensity. The quickened rhythm of your breath becomes a symphony of desire, a telltale sign for him that you're teetering on the precipice of ecstasy.
Eager to reciprocate the pleasure you bestowed upon him within the confines of the reception, he fervently laps at your tender folds. Simultaneously, his fingers engage in a deft dance around your throbbing clit, orchestrating a symphony of sensations that echoes the pulsating rhythm of desire between you.
With the harmonious fusion of his skilled tongue and nimble fingers, he orchestrates the unraveling of your senses. As ecstasy courses through you, your body convulses in euphoria, your walls clenching around his tongue, and the pulsating rhythm of your clit intensifying under the spell of his fingers. 
Waves of pleasure surge through you, causing your body to quake, and in the throes of ecstasy, you release a high-pitched, strained moan that bears his name—an intimate symphony of pleasure that lingers in the air.
Breathless and overwhelmed, you gasp out his name, a plea woven into the words, “Fuck, Jungkook. I can't stand up anymore.” As he gracefully withdraws from your core, his gaze rises to meet yours, locking in a shared moment of intensity.
He chuckles, the rich timbre of his laughter lingering in the charged air. “I know, babe. Do you want me to fuck you against the wall?”
You draw in a sharp breath, and he keenly observes the subtle clench of your hand, the fabric of the dress tightly gathered within your grasp. 
“Fuck yeah,” An unbridled affirmation escapes your lips, a primal declaration of desire. As he rises to his feet, a surge of urgency propels him to capture your mouth in a hungry kiss. The taste of your own release lingers on his lips, creating an intimate communion of shared pleasure that binds you together in the aftermath of passion.
As he engulfs you in a fervent kiss, the symphony of desire playing out between you, his hands deftly navigate the zipper of his dress pants. With a purposeful movement, he unveils his throbbing cock, stroking it in rhythmic cadence. 
His hands, driven by a primal urgency, seek out the contours of your a*s with a possessive intent. “Jump up, babe,” he commands, the resonance of his voice weaving a spell of anticipation. As you obediently jump, he effortlessly lifts you, cocooning you against the wall. 
In a brief struggle against the bulk of your dress, both of you grapple with the fabric, pushing it away from the front of your entwined bodies. A shared chuckle hangs in the air, a lighthearted interlude in the midst of fervor. But as the fabric yields to your efforts, Jungkook seizes the opportunity, moving in with an insatiable hunger to bite at your neck once more. 
With a sultry whisper, he breathes, “I'm gonna fuck a baby into you, would you like that, hmm?” 
The words, pregnant with promise, glide against your ear, and the responsive clench of your legs around his waist speaks volumes. A knowing chuckle escapes him as you endeavor to pull him even closer, the shared desire resonating between you in the charged space.
“Please,” your plea, a desperate yet fervent entreaty, escapes your lips, a poignant melody of desire that resonates in the charged air. The subtle smirk that graces his lips is both a testament to your undeniable need for him and an acknowledgment of the power he holds over your cravings.
With a deliberate touch, he locates his throbbing cock with one hand and skillfully aligns it with your dripping entrance. The tantalizing dance begins as he teases your slick folds with the head of his pulsating dick, creating an electrifying friction that amplifies the anticipation between you two. 
“Gguk, please,” you plead with a mixture of desire and frustration, your voice echoing the urgent need for him to bridge the gap between anticipation and fulfillment. However, he remains steadfast, skillfully teasing your slick folds without granting the entry your body craves. 
With a desperate plea escaping your lips once more, he finally relents. The moment stretches with anticipation before he forcefully thrusts his thick cock into your eager pussy. The collision is met with an audible impact as your back forcefully meets the wall.
He forgoes the customary pause for adjustment, intuitively aware that you relish the exquisite stretch when he enters you so abruptly. Without hesitation, he plunges deep into your core, reaching the furthest recesses, his thick length grazing against your cervix. 
“You’re so big, the stretch feels so good!” 
You gasp breathlessly against his body, overwhelmed by the sheer size of him. The intoxicating stretch sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, a visceral reminder of the intensity between you two. Determined to fully immerse yourself in the sensation, you pant against him, actively striving to ride the wave of pleasure, desperate to fuck yourself on him, the relentless pursuit of ecstasy evident in every ardent movement.
He establishes a relentless rhythm, driving into you with a force that resonates against the unyielding wall of the building. The symphony of your combined panting echoes in the air, a melodic accompaniment to the unbridled passion unfolding. Jungkook, captivated by the primal symphony, savors every delightful noise escaping your lips—a harmonious blend of desire and surrender, heightening the intensity of the fervent connection shared between you.
As he thrusts into you, each powerful motion striking your cervix, he elevates the intensity by trailing one hand up to your neck. With a gentle yet possessive touch, he wraps his fingers around your throat.
He knows you like it dirty and rough, and fuck he does too. 
His taunting words, laced with a playful yet provocative tone, cut through the charged air. “Did you enjoy the little game with your fingers down my pants while Tae was making his speech?” The rhetorical question hangs between you, a teasing challenge that elicits a subtle clenching reaction around him. 
In a sultry revelation, he whispers, “'Next to your bridesmaid and your parents. You naughty girl.” The hand steadying against the wall takes a firm hold of your ass, squeezing the soft flesh with deliberate intent. A resonant moan of pleasure escapes your lips, harmonizing with the rhythmic cadence of his thrusts as he skillfully targets your sweet spot. 
“So naughty,” he breathes, punctuating each fervent thrust with a rhythmic intensity that sends shivers down your spine. “You enjoy getting off in front of your friends, huh?” His words, infused with a seductive blend of desire and provocation, become a tantalizing soundtrack to the relentless grind of his dick into you.
“And getting me off too? Whore,” he seethes into your ear, the heated accusation leaving a scorching trail of desire in its wake. Your response, a shiver against his body, fuels the intensity of the moment. 
As he continues to fuck you with an unrestrained force, your breasts bounce in a mesmerizing rhythm that captivates him. So fucking perfect.
“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, his eyes intently fixed on you as you obediently roll out your tongue, anticipating the act you relish. The charged moment lingers, pregnant with expectation. With a deliberate move, he spits on your waiting tongue, and you, the embodiment of submission, dutifully swallow it.
Damn it, he knows he won't last much longer if he continues to be entranced by the rhythmic bounce of your enticing breasts—they possess an almost hypnotic allure over him. And that tongue of yours, oh, it's pure seduction. 
“And you can't even wait until we reach our hotel suite to be fucked. So fucking needy, and I love it,” he declares, a blend of admiration and desire lacing his words. The deliberate clench of his fingers around your throat follows, a subtle yet potent assertion of control. His gaze remains fixed on your eyes, watching with a predatory intensity as they dilate even more.
As he tightens his grip, the sensation of his fingers constricting around your throat elicits a primal response—your walls clenching around his cock. The synchronized symphony of pleasure and control intertwines, and a guttural groan escapes him, an audible testament to the ecstasy coursing through his veins. 
Driven by an insatiable desire, he redoubles his efforts to fuck you even deeper.
“My filthy wife,” he pants into your ear, the possessive term dripping with desire, a declaration that ignites a primal response within you. The sultry proclamation elicits a moan of his name from your lips, a vocal affirmation of the all-encompassing pleasure coursing through your body. His acute awareness of your nearing climax manifests in the rhythmic clenching around his dick, a tangible sign of the intimate dance between you two.
“Fuck, Gguk. I'm so close again. Fuck!” you pant fervently against the curve of his neck, the words laced with desperation and desire. He senses the mounting intensity in your voice, a symphony of passion reaching its crescendo. 
Yet, he's attuned to the nuances, recognizing the subtle signs that your body, though on the brink of ecstasy, bears the weight of fatigue, having navigated the day in those tantalizing heels. 
“You crave an audience, don't you? Want people to watch you, to hear you,” he moans into your ear, the words a sultry declaration that fans the flames of desire between you two. The acknowledgment of your shared exhibitionist desires ignites a fresh surge of pleasure, prompting an instinctive clench around him.
“Then scream my name, let everyone in the damn party know how damn good I'm fucking you,” he commands, the intensity of his voice sending shivers down your spine. As your walls clench with even greater fervor, pulsating around his dick, a wave of your liquid envelops him, transforming the intimate connection into a slippery dance of shared pleasure.
You unleash his name with a primal scream, the sheer force of your ecstasy reverberating through the open air outside. Your head drops against the curve of his neck, seeking refuge in the haven of his embrace as the waves of pleasure cascade over you.
He relentlessly thrusts his dick into you, the urgency palpable as he seeks his own release. “I'm gonna give you a baby, just like we've always dreamed of.”
“Ahhh, fuck, yes!” The exclamation bursts from your lips, a little too loud, as an uncontrollable surge of pleasure courses through you. Your teeth instinctively seek refuge on his shoulder, sinking into the firm flesh in an unbridled act of both ecstasy and restraint.
“Fuck, babe, I'm gonna come,” he confesses with a guttural moan, each subsequent thrust punctuated with the desperation of impending release. His rhythm stumbles, an involuntary response to the intensity building within him as he hurtles towards the precipice of his orgasm. And then it hits him.
The rhythmic bounce of your tits in his face, the soft and sweet scent that envelops him, and the melodic cadence of your voice—all converge to cast a spell on his senses. In the midst of your lovely moans, he succumbs to the intoxicating blend of sensations, unleashing a torrent of white-hot semen deep inside your spent pussy. 
Panting and gasping, you both struggle for precious breaths, bodies slick with the sheen of sweat acquired in the throes of passion. Amidst the shared exhaustion, a mutual chuckle reverberates between you, an intimate exchange that encapsulates the postcoital atmosphere.
With your head nestled against his, you gaze into the depth of his eyes and confess, “I love you, Gukkie.” The words, tender and raw, bridge the physical intimacy you've just shared with the emotional vulnerability of a heartfelt declaration.
“I love you too. Every damn inch of you, you're so beautiful,” he pants, a declaration infused with both desire and admiration. As he smiles at you, the post-passion glow accentuates the sincerity in his eyes, turning the exchange into a powerful affirmation.
He'll never tire of professing his boundless love and adoration for you, vowing to weave those sentiments into the fabric of each passing day. The promise to remind you, with unwavering devotion, echoes in his commitment to articulate his love every damn day.
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Please let me know if you liked it with a comment, reblog, and ask or whatever 💜
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soobnny · 10 months
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ten things hwang hyunjin says when he thinks you’re asleep — fluff, established relationship, a twitch of angst
chan | lee know | changbin | HYUNJIN | han | felix | seungmin | jeongin
just released a lee know long fic if you guys are interested to read! :)
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one. it's been exactly a year since i picked up my paint brush again. god, i still remember when i thought i'd forever let go of art. i've learned to trade my dreams for security anyway, there was no point in indulging in something i had no future in. but then i met you, and i will never forget the moment i realized i was in love with you. that night, i painted until the sun was up. thank you for inspiring me again, my muse.
two. you hold light wherever you go, did you know? that same light you see in others lives inside of you too. i will make sure you know that, even if i have to tell you every day.
three. i think you look prettiest when you laugh and you think no one's looking at you. it always fills me with a warmth i've never known.
four. you make life so achingly beautiful for me.
five. ah, i feel so sentimental tonight. i guess, it's just the thought that years ago, i had my heart broken and i thought it could never get better from there. but you helped me make it whole again. maybe all that heartbreak was always meant to point me to where you are. thank you. thank you. thank you.
six. the loud voices in my head are a little quieter now. i think it's because of you.
seven. remember when chan had convinced us to go hiking with him and his significant other? oh my god, that was a disaster. and i know we said we'd never do it again, but some part of me wants to. maybe it's for the view, or the way you looked when we finally reached the top. you looked so beautiful. i really did feel a great deal of comfort being with you where the whole world didn't know. i didn't even think about the exhausting hike back. just that you were there, the only thing that makes sense to me, beside me. you said you hated it because you paled out, but beautiful things pale out—the sunrise, flowers, you. you’re the most beautiful of them all.
eight. i hope you love me as much as i love you.
nine. you will always have me. please don't ever doubt how i feel for you. i will always choose you, over and over and over again, in every lifetime. without doubt, without hesitation, without second thought. i will always choose you. again and again and again.
ten. i can't believe i've finally found the love i've been yearning for all my life. thank you. i love you. i'm a better person because of you. meeting you was the best thing to ever happen to me.
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iceunhie · 3 months
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˗ˏˋ ꒰ ⊹ unexpected development ! ꒱ ˎˊ˗
summary ⁠☆ you get transported into your favorite otome game’s world as a shitty side character with a raging death flag. you try to prevent your inevitable destruction... but it doesn't go according to plan as much as you'd hope.
notes ☆ of course it's another scaramouche fic except this time it's plot is manhwa inspired
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“This trashy game!” you curse, watching the pitch black GAME OVER screen linger in your phone. Happy music plays despite the current cg of your character at the hands of the tyrant character slash love interest Scaramouche. You sigh, tapping on the back button. “I was so close to completing his route… stupid, stupid game, ugh…”
Teyvat’s Seven Stars was a new otome game that you'd tried out for fun, bored out of your mind. The amazing art and soundtrack garnered your interest, not to mention the male leads were totally your type!
It had an array of tropes and spared no expense of flowery scenes and fanservicey excerpts that made you play despite its massive cashgrab feature. Heart fluttering near death scenes! Action packed romantic scenes with the main characters! It was consuming you and you loved it.
Even if the Scaramouche route was testing your patience.
You get that he was the most difficult to conquer out of all of them, but really, one! wrong! move! ….and an immediate gameover. Life sucks when he's your favorite character, and when your favorite character was notoriously known for having a horrid and difficult complete clear route that no one has completed yet, of course you needed to complete it, no matter what!
Damn it, now you've run out of love points to restart another run. Fuck you, system! Stupid trashy money grabbing game! You put down your phone, closing it. An immediate heavy weight settles on your shoulders, making you feel sleepy as you clutch your phone to bed.
Tomorrow… you'll complete his route for sure…
[ TEYVAT’S SEVEN STARS SYSTEM ACTIVATED! RUNNING GAME FILE NOW ]
Ah. You should've known what was coming.
[ CHARACTER FILE: [NAME] [LAST NAME] - CROWN PRINCE KUNIKUZUSHI’S BETROTHED! ]
What the fuck.
You think you've lost feeling in your jaw when the glare of the system shines bright, mocking you.
“[Name], you're awake!” You turn to the sound, and you face probably the most beautiful person you've ever seen. No, what the hell. You've seen him before.
Beautiful silky dark hair, glossy electric indigo eyes, a perpetual aura of ethereal lightness…. the game descriptions weren't lying after all. yes, you weren't dreaming. This was Scaramouche, or should you say at this point in time… Kunikuzushi?
He immediately clings to you. Oh. Oh. Well fuck. “I… uh.”
Scara- ahem, Kunikuzushi’s eyes are littered with tears and oh no you're a weak hearted person for your favorite character. “I'm so glad you're okay! I'm sorry, my mother- I mean, I'm so glad you're okay.”
The rest of the moments is a blur when your… fiance? betrothed? fills you in on what happened. Your mind is fuzzy and you can only piece together just a rough summary of what point in the game you're in.
So, you are currently three years early from the main story. Unfortunately, you are not either of the main protagonists Lumine or Aether. No, the system apparently hates you for being a hater and gave you the most egregious role.
A side character. A side character who barely even appears in the story, left to be trampled on by the story's plot. What's more, you're in the timeline wherein the current Kunikuzushi doesn't take the name Scaramouche because his Mother, the lone Queen Raiden Ei left him when he could not pass the Inazuma kingdom’s test to be worthy of the gnosis.
He took the name Scaramouche after being trained by the shady organization known as the Fatui, the main villainous force in the game and usurped his mother. In other words, a blackened tyrant character!
...And you were the betrothed his mother set for him - executed in the future because he didn't want any trace of Ei’s influence. Amazing.
The future Kunikuzushi would be an arrogant, tsundere and soft-for-only-one-person type of character, but now, he was like a gentle, tucked away from the world young prince.
Wait…. wasn’t he also gullible before?! Very cute, but it's no wonder he blackened so quickly with such a naive personality!
You, well, technically, the character [Name] [Last Name] ended up in this situation after they threatened to leave Kunikuzushi because he was far too fragile for their taste. A side character who’d contributed to Scaramouche’s blackening and paid for it with their life. That was who you were.
Okay, now you pity this boy a lot. He already had a traumatic childhood with Ei not giving him enough love and therefore a plethora of issues, and he'd even end up being a crazy tyrant who stopped at nothing to get the main protagonist in his grasp! For your death flag not to happen, you HAD to do something about that.
You had no choice.
To survive this horrendous fate, you came up with a plan. And that would be Plan give-kunikuzushi-all-the-love-in-the-word-before-he-meets-the-protagonist-and-turn-into-a-blackened-dark-tyrant!
Okay, lengthy plan, but to plan ahead is to be smart, so you can take care of the name later.
So far so good, this plan of yours. Plan get-kunikuzushi-to-turn-into-a-sparkly-prince character and not his blackened self was going well! (You gave up on thinking of a cool name) Thank god for cliche romance novels.
So far, you've increased your proximity to him, including him to spend time with you, showering him with bouts of affection and care. And so far, it's been paying off. The once secluded Prince has become so cute and so sweet!
You have to pat yourself on the back for this. You were doing the protagonist a huge favor that now they had a wonderful love interest in their sights for future reference.
Although, if there was one nitpick you had on your conduct, it would be the fact that Kunikuzushi didn't take kindly to others aside from you, and would even be panicked, utterly devastated if you even brought up the mere mention of leaving.
“Break… our engagement in the future?” if it weren't for him looking shell-shocked and deathly pale, the furrow on Kunikuzushi’s face would've been cute. “No! I don't want that! You aren't planning to leave me, are you?”
He gives you the most horrendous god kneeling look of a plea, and of course you drop the subject immediately.
“It was a joke, of course. I'd never want to break our engagement!” you hurriedly reassure, gently taking his hands in yours.
Kunikuzushi looks at you, all puppy eyes and pink cheeks. So cute. Who wouldn't want to stay by his side? You reassure him, “Whatever happens, I'll always stay by your side, okay?”
He looks at your intertwined hands with an unreadable expression on his face. “Do you promise?”
You nod. “I promise, Kuni.”
He nods, gripping your hands tighter, and his expression rivals a blazing sun, brimming with conviction as he pulls you in for a huge hug.
And of course, who wouldn't turn down an opportunity to hug their favorite character?
Surely this time, you’ll definitely escape the death flag and horrendous side character ending, right?!
You don't notice the shadow on Kuni’s face when the mere mention of being separated from you comes up.
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In the back of your mind, you wonder what would happen if your Kunikuzushi met the protagonist. Would he immediately fall for them? you wonder, and an uncharacteristic pang of discomfort tugs at your chest. Ah, what would it matter.
You smile at the gentle, pristine and kind Kunikuzushi that's currently excitedly telling you about how Ei praised his sword skills after he beat his younger sister. Even if the main protagonist would come here, you could keep this adorable Kunikuzushi for yourself for just a little longer.
You kiss his cheek, and he heats up. Yes, the future can wait for now.
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How the hell did it come to this?
“You told me you'd always stay by my side, right?” a hand slicked with blood is resting on the side of your face. Electric indigo eyes, these ones now having a ruthless glint to them, stare up at your own. “I've removed everything else that can take you away from me. Now, you have no reason to leave.”
By remove, he meant the man who'd decided to make a move on you after you went to the gardens for some fresh air. Hence the blood on his hands and sword, hence the reason why there's a dead body by your feet.
The once adorable and fair-faced Kunikuzushi still turned into Scaramouche after all, and you failed to prevent his blackening. He was truly, undoubtedly the same game Scaramouche.
But… Why was he acting like this? Wasn't this the exclusive feature only the protagonist should be experiencing?
He presses a kiss to your forehead, then the back of your palm. You blush.
Yes, he is now an extremely dangerous individual capable of executing anyone he deems appropriate to just for the sake of it, and yes, this same man is kneeling before you as you're just about to leave after the main storyline cg act just started. And yes, like the protagonist, you should stay far, far away from him.
But could you really? When he was pleading you with such an expression of longing and yearning? He takes your hand to caress it to the side of his face, eyes haughty and grin unsettling, gosh was he so… so attractive, like that.
“You won't leave, right?” Why was he so…. so sweet? Why was this scene structured as if you were the one he wanted to be with, not the protagonist? “You promised me, after all.”
….And why on earth did your heart leap out of your chest when he said he wanted you to stay?
(It was hard to pretend you didn't know why when the smile on your face said otherwise.)
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1.5k words, only the real ones know that ive been planning a cliche otome game au since day 1 I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HAPPENED TO ME WHEN I WAS WRITING THIS FIC 😭 might turn this into a series if people like this though <3
@ MHIIEEE : do not repost, copy or plagiarize or claim my content or work as your own.
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