#the entire painting is a meter by a meter

[pien-art]

thought id share today's progress on this traditional painting i am working on (oils on canvas) hehe

[all-pacas]

I finished my Rome book and have now begun one about Pompeii. I’m 65 pages in and I already love it: yes, it covers the volcano, but most of the book is about “this is what the town and daily life of it would have been like, actually.” Fascinating stuff. Things I’ve learned so far:

- The streets in Pompeii have sidewalks sometimes a meter higher than the road, with stepping stones to hop across as “crosswalks.” I’d seen some photos before. The book points out that, duh, Pompeii had no underground drainage, was built on a fairly steep incline, and the roads were more or less drainage systems and water channels in the rain.

- Unlike today, where “dining out” is expensive and considered wasteful on a budget, most people in Pompeii straight up didn’t have kitchens. You had to eat out if you were poor; only the wealthy could afford to eat at home.

- Most importantly, and I can’t believe in all the pop culture of Pompeii this had never clicked for me: Pompeii had a population between 6-35,000 people. Perhaps 2,000 died in the volcano. Contemporary sources talk about the bay being full of fleeing ships. Most people got the hell out when the eruption started. The number who died are still a lot, and it’s still gruesome and morbid, but it’s not “an entire town and everyone in it.” This also makes it difficult for archeologists, apparently (and logically): those who remained weren’t acting “normally,” they were sheltering or fleeing a volcano. One famous example is a wealthy woman covered in jewelry found in the bedroom in the glaridator barracks. Scandal! She must have been having an affair and had it immortalized in ash! The book points out that 17 other people and several dogs were also crowded in that one small room: far more likely, they were all trying to shelter together. Another example: Houses are weirdly devoid of furniture, and archeologists find objects in odd places. (Gardening supplies in a formal dining room, for example.) But then you remember that there were several hours of people evacuating, packing their belongings, loading up carts and getting out… maybe the gardening supplies were brought to the dining room to be packed and abandoned, instead of some deeper esoteric meaning. The book argues that this all makes it much harder to get an accurate read on normal life in a Roman town, because while Pompeii is a brilliant snapshot, it’s actually a snapshot of a town undergoing major evacuation and disaster, not an average day.

- Oh, another great one. Outside of a random laundry place in Pompeii, someone painted a mural with two scenes. One of them referenced Virgil’s Aeneid. Underneath that scene, someone graffiti’d a reference to a famous line from that play, except tweaked it to be about laundry. This is really cool, the book points out, because it implies that a) literacy and education was high enough that one could paint a reference and have it recognized, and b) that someone else could recognize it and make a dumb play on words about it and c) the whole thing, again, means that there’s a certain amount of literacy and familiarity with “Roman pop culture” even among fairly normal people at the time.

[sttm99]

Content warnings: swearing, making out, unedited

Prohero!Dynamight falls for the live wedding painter at his best friend's wedding

Dynamight is explosive in more ways than just his quirk.

When you see him in person for the first time whilst doing the live painting for Red Riot's wedding ceremony, he's all you see for a moment or two, and you're thankful you didn't mess up a chord at the sight of him.

His presence is overwhelming, taking up the space around him, sucking people in whilst simultaneously pushing them away.

He walks down the aisle with another pro-hero bridesmaid on his side before taking his place on the dais with the rest of the groomsmen, meters away from where you're standing before your easel.

Dynamight stands next to Chargebolt, his signature frown softer than usual as he watches his friend get married. You stare at him, eyes tracing the contours of his face as best as you can despite the distance as you work to capture his face in the painting.

He's a handsome man, you think, as you press quick strokes to his hair. When you look up again, he's staring at you, and the eye contact has your stomach dropping in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

He looks away immediately Red Riot comes up, lightly patting his best friend's back in encouragement.

Once the music starts and the bride enters the hall, Dynamight is the last thing on your mind as you work to capture her. As you do so, you fail to notice the way he goes back to looking at you.

You set your things down at the corner of the large reception hall, beginning the second painting of the evening.

You smile softly at guests as they come to admire your work, trying your best to capture the bride's extravagant reception dress as she prances around the place gleefully.

You're focused as your work on her skirt piece, squinting as you paint across it delicately, so much so you don't notice the presence just behind you.

"You're good at this shit." You hear suddenly behind you. The voice is startling enough to draw your focus away, but not so much that you mess it up.

You glance behind you at the tall blonde male, fairly shocked at his presence. You'd assumed he wasn't the type for social interactions judging by how cold and aloof he was to most of the other guests.

"It is my job," You say as you turn back to your painting.

"I know." He walks forward, so he's beside you now, his gaze on the scene on you've done so far. "But this-" He pauses, glances at you then back ay the easel, "This is really fucking good. And you're fast. I saw the one you did at the ceremony."

You hum, a nice warmth coursing through you at the praise.

"Thank you, Dynamight." You turn to give him a small smile. Then you hold out your brush to him, "You wanna try?"

His eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his head. "Nah. I'll do a shit job, I promise you."

You laugh softly at how hesitant he was, but you could see the way he was eyeing the brush. "It's fine. You'll just make some strokes on the gown." You insist. "I'll guide you."

He pauses, looking straight at you as he mulls it over.

"Fine. Gimme that." He huffs as he takes the brush from you and stands closer, holding it over the board.

"Okay, so..." You hold his enclosed palm and bring the brush closer to the painting, making light strokes on the white gown of the bride.

Your eyes are on the painting, but his are on you, your face as you focus, your hand as it holds his, and a warmth begins to pool at his stomach.

"See?" You murmur with a small smile as you look back at him. Your cheeks redden just slightly when you see how he's already looking at you.

"Um... are you-"

"You should call me Bakugo," He says as he looks away from you and back at the painting. His voice is lower than before, and his disposition is less stiff.

"Oh." You just say quietly as he hands the brush back to you, unsure of what to say next.

"Now's when you tell me your name in return." He's quieter, and he's refusing to look at you.

You assume it's to hide the red you can see dusting his face.

"YN." You say to him as you take the brush back, a small smile on your face. He nods once and repeats it under his breath in a voice that almost makes you squirm.

"Is that me?" He asks quietly as he squints at a figure in one corner.

You look at it and nod. "Yep."

He hums, "And that's Soy Sauce face." He points at another figure you're sure is Cellophane. "Then Earphone Jack and the idiot. Deku, Half and Half-"

He goes on listing pro heroes by strangely accurate but offensive nicknames, and you can't help but find it incredibly funny.

He spends most of the reception with you as you paint, ignoring the weird way people look at him as he refuses to leave your side, even going as far as bringing you a plate of cake after it's been cut, and some other foods and drinks.

As the night ends and the guests leave, he's the last by your side before the newlyweds and their closer friends and family come over to see how far you've gone.

"It looks practically done," Mina says in awe.

You smile as you pack the rest of your things. "Almost. I'll have to do some finishing touches at the studio first, though. You should get them back in about a week."

They hum as they take some more looks.

Kirishima looks at Bakugo as he stands right next to your side. "You gonna follow her to the studio too?" He snorts at his friend, "Seeing as you couldn't leave her side, you might as well."

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair."

You laugh as you pack up the painting, "Anyways, I hope you guys had fun, and congratulations on getting married." You say as you begin to leave.

"I'll help you," Bakugo grumbles as he carries your large box of paints and brushes.

The look he gives you lets you know that he's not taking 'no' for an answer, which is how you found yourself outside the hall with him next to the car.

"Thank you, Bakugo, for the help." You say as you look up at him with a grin.

He stares you down with his regularly furrowed brows, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he thinks of what to say to keep you longer.

"Would it be inappropriate if I asked for your number?" He's so close you can smell him and it makes you feel fuzzy.

You grin. "Not at all."

He hands you his phone for you to out your number in, and as he watches you do it with your hands slightly stained with paint, he can't help but want to kiss you.

Would that be inappropriate? He's sure it will. You two just met. But still, he can't help but want to try.

Bakugo stuffs his phone back into his pockets the moment you hand it back, and he steps closer to you. His palms are sweaty, and he's trying to inconspicuously wipe them as they're stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Would it also be inappropriate if I kissed you here?" His voice is husky as he asks and you can see the blush on his face.

He's so much different than the media paints him out to be, more awkward than mean, more aloof than nasty. But you think that maybe this persona, this Bakugo, is just for you.

You smile up at him shyly, your hands tightly clasped behind your back as you nod.

He doesn't hold your face because his palms are too sweaty. He doesn't think he can get them dry enough on time because he wants to kiss you now.

He leans forward, and you do too, and when his mouth meets yours, you're lightheaded. His lips are soft as he kisses you, and he moves them in a way that shows experience.

You smile into it, satisfied and still wanting more, and before you know it, his palms are on your waist, pulling you flush against his body and pressing his lips harder against your own.

When you pull away, his eyes are half lidded, but you can see how blown his pupils are.

"Good night, Bakugo." You whisper to him.

He pecks your cheek once before letting go, "Good night."

[dragonheart2497]

so im working on a painting of Scarland atm based on one of Scar's screenshots, and there was something bothering me about this bench

i was struggling to draw it because it wasn't aligning with the minecraft logic within my brain!! and i suddenly realized what was wrong- why was a TRAPDOOR, which can only be at the top or bottom of a block, IN THE MIDDLE??

(reference vs my 4th attempt, oh my god it wasnt going well i even gave up and made them full blocks)

and then it hit me. the entire sidewalk is raised one slab, and the sides of the bench are not upside down stairs but rather a NORMAL stair with a SLAB ON TOP!!

which allows scar to place the trapdoors at a PERFECT height, not on the ground, not an entire meter up, but a perfect 3/4 of a meter up where it ACTUALLY LOOKS COMFORTABLE TO SIT ON???? and also making the sides of the bench stick up without sticking OUT from its height??????

Goodtimeswithscar is an absolute master of his craft i swear to god this is just ONE DETAIL that he somehow made work SO PERFECTLY GOOD AAAAAAAAAARGH

[nrdmssgs]

Kissing Ghost on the forehead

Masterlist Kissing König on the forehead Kissing Price on the forehead

Simon tried to protect you from Ghost, he really did. It was not that Ghost would hurt you in any way, no. And of course, it was not a disease or mental disorder of any kind - it's a coping mechanism. But once the mask was on - Ghost appeared softly and silently. And Ghost could do things, that Simon couldn't. Things, he wouldn't ever want you to witness.

He never made a huge mystery of his work - he just didn't give away too many details. Simon didn't even hide his masks - he just asked you to not touch him, when he's wearing one of them.

"It's dusty, I wouldn't want your hands to get dirty." When in reality, he wouldn't want your entire being to get corrupted.

Ghost was to be kept out of your house and Simon made sure, you never saw each other. Little did he know, you had your ways not only around people, but around symbols as well.

His last day at home was coming to an end: in the morning he had to leave for a long deployment. Simon packed his things, leaving the mask atop of his open bag.

The rays of the setting sun painted the rooms with large windows in shades of red and gold. He absorbed every moment, breathed in and tried to remember barely distinguishable smells and sounds that filled your house, walked aimlessly through the rooms when he saw this. You sat on the edge of your bed, next to his bag, holding his mask in front of you. Your eyes were screwed shut as you pressed your forehead against the cracked, grayish surface of the mask. It was as if Ghost was kneeling in front of you, letting you touch his forehead with yours. Simon froze, part of him wanted to end this scene right there, but he hesitated, not wanting to scare you.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked deep into the empty holes in the mask. Your lips parted and you spoke almost inaudibly.

"Protect him and bring him back to me alive."

Simons' heart skipped a beat, when he understood, you were speaking not to him, but to the Ghost behind his mask.

And then, when he thought, this strange conversation was over - you brought the mask to your lips and kissed its forehead. Simon was standing in good 10–15 meters from you, but he could swear, he almost felt your soft and tender touch. Anything he ever knew, anything both he and Ghost were capable of, crumbled and slowly disappeared before your wish. Anything, that still kept meaning both to Simon and Ghost from this very moment, was that wish.

"Bring him back alive."

[the-monkeies-girl]

Girl when I tell you I absolutely NEED part 3 to Customary or I might die!! Omggg that yearning shit had me covering the smile on my mouth and licking my feet. 🤭 It’s too good! It’s too cute! You might actually be a wizard. I’m bowing down to you, slow-burn queen 🙌

My fingers.... They are burning.... with dESIRE.

Title: Wounded Pride. Fandom: ( Kindgom of the ) Planet of the Apes. Rating: T. ( Mentions of violence, blood, injury and mating. ) Words: 6K ( Someone stop me jk don't. ) Pairing: Implied! Noa x Human!Reader. Summary: You were ignoring each other, that much was clear. How long was it going to last? Noa felt like he was bursting at the seams and you felt like you had lost all sense of reasoning. ** Does Contain Spoilers for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes. **

READ THE SERIES HERE. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・●・○・ “Noa!” That was a frantic tone and lured the Chimp to raise his head in question. His ears moved to focus on where it was coming from. Off to his left, maybe 10 or so meters away. Not too far if he needed to run. He made a barking sound in response. Hearing his name was not enough.  His vision caught a few things. Leaves tangling against the ruins of a past structure. Echo in nature, through and through and hideously ugly. Nothing like what Apes built he beamed with decent pride at that. His body swung at the sound of his name vibrating along the walls encapsulating him like a barren playground. His set of feet and hands were pressed into the ground now. He was braced, ready to take off. Respond, Noa’s mind felt like it was melting, waiting for his fellow friends to communicate. He traced his gaze right along the trees that were bursting through the sturdy concrete, determined to grow in such ludacris circumstances. His chest rose and fell rapidly, faster than he had felt in quite some time, at least since his encounter with Proximus Caesar.  “Noa! You need to come quick!” The fur along his spine pricked at that, standing on edge. A sensation not often felt with him. It screamed ‘danger ahead!’ His nerves yelled at him, muscles feeling tense. The voice was very much Soona’s, tangling with Anaya’s as they began yelling over each other. Well, it couldn’t have been that serious if they were both taking time to yell, some tanglement of arguing with each other hitting Noa’s ears as he finally picked his pace up to a gallop. Coming to what could only be described as a skirting stop, Noa’s hands and feet dug into the earth below him to stop him from tumbling over, making quite crazed eye contact with Soona and Anaya as his mind caught up with his body. Both unharmed, he sighed from relief at that. Anaya was breathing heavily - Nervous? Noa questioned silently and looked at Soona again, shoulders fraught. He stared at her, expecting an explanation without having to ask for one. She was quick to oblige but didn't bother with words. Merely stepping aside, her entire self bumped into Anaya’s and they both shuffled to the side on all fours looking between Noa and what was behind them in the long grass that grew without care. Noa came forward, keeping his senses on guard in case there was danger with what Soona and Anaya had found. His friends were fast to follow right behind him. Noa never had it in him to advise that he was just as scared as they were at times like this. He swallowed it down and did what he needed. Soona and Anaya needed him to be brave and that was often his gift to them. Their gift back? Their unwavering friendship and support through the years. Green eyes scaled the grassy area in front of him to observe before he got too close. Some blades were painted red. Noa hesitated briefly. It had to be blood, Noa roughly vocalized to Soona and Anaya to stand back, stay back. They did just that, stopping their movements as Noa bridged the gap of two feet between himself and the patch. 

“Still… Alive?” Soona asked quietly. Noa glanced back at her, watching as she dipped her head precariously. Anaya was standing close to her, holding onto her arm out of fear. Noa looked back at the grass, or rather, what was in it. Between the long entanglements of weeds and vines he could make out the striking notions of blood splatter. Fresh, it still looked wet. Swallowing back something that was resting in his throat, Noa stood. If there was danger, he needed to appear as large as he could. One of the many tactics a Chimpanzee had when faced with the unknown. The extra height he got going from all fours to bi-pedal was all he needed to see clearly what was in that busted patch of grass. ‘Echo!’ He signed at Anaya and Soona. 

‘Has to still be alive!’ Anaya was fast to respond to his best friend, his hands finding it a bit difficult to move so quickly. The next set of words were jumbled but Noa understood. It had made a sound when Soona and Anaya probed it, which prompted them to call Noa in return. 

‘What…’ Soona’s signing was slow compared to Anaya’s. She was always more thoughtful and Noa savored that in this moment, trying so hard to keep himself from going straight into panic. ‘What… do.. We do?’

‘Put out of misery.’ Anaya wasn’t joking. 

Noa held his hand up, fingers twisted into a hard fist. Soona and Anaya both fell deathly quiet. He was not about to mercy kill. What was in front of him would die on its own once the cold of the night came around. There was evident damage to their legs, close to the ankles, blood pooling there and trickling down the smooth nature of the skin into the dirt below. He made a fast sign to his friends telling them. He heard them both gasp under their breath as Noa made a move closer, crouching to get more detail, his hands and feet tangling in on themselves with the spaced movement of Noa’s broad body. Cut around the temple, hit by rock maybe, or fell on face, burns around wrists, most likely from being bound. Noa was making quick notes of what he was seeing. He looked right. Nothing. He looked to the left and noticed blood droplets and traced their trajectory mindfully. It was coming from the direction of the cave that kept the Eagle Clan secluded from other Apes in the area. That was all Noa needed to know. The Echo in front of him must have been hunted, nearly to the brink of death.  ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

‘How?’ Anaya signed at Noa, huffing deeply at his friend who was pacing, very distraught. The sounds from the Ape in front of him told Noa to stop moving and to focus, pay attention to the conversation at hand but it was apparent with the shoulder movements of aggravation that that was not going to happen. Noa was an obsessive creature, and Anaya knew that. Once he was locked and entranced by something, by any force of nature, Noa would tear it open and figure it out to satisfy his need to fix, his need to deduce. That’s what made him so good at tinkering, at resolving. It must have been a secretive thing Noa wanted to talk about this time around, eager to get Anaya alone. Stalking and biding his time almost all day to get his friend pinned for a conversation. Without Soona, without his mother. ‘Echo got offended?’ The signing of those words were accompanied by a funny face, Anaya very obviously curious how Noa had managed that one. Neither had heard of an Echo being offended, though, from the Elders of the Clan, they had always made the assumption that they were quick to anger. Maybe the same thing, Anaya bargained with Noa, but Noa felt this was different than simple anger and told his friend that sternly.

Noa had put everything incredibly broad, unsure of how to approach his closest confidant with what had happened between himself and you. Too many details would give away Noa’s primal intent. He gave the gist of it with words a few minutes ago, Anaya intently listening to Noa’s voice waver. Up and down, the placement of his tone unsure and full of self-loathing. He continued, explaining in part the conversation about the human custom of kissing, only the important details, followed by a very cliff-noted version of the hunting endeavor. Anaya must have sensed the urgency, choosing to sign rather than put more effort into it by speaking. Anyway, he justified it further by thinking that signing was more private. Less likely for someone to overhear, or well…. Oversee. Tilting his head to the side, Anaya felt a sigh roll from him as Noa finally stopped pacing, now choosing to sit rather defensively on his hands and feet. ‘How?’ Anaya repeated. 

‘I do not know.’ Shamefully, Noa dropped his hands after admitting that, his jaw clenching tightly for a moment as he grinded his teeth together. They clattered, his canines distracting his train of thought for a split second as he moved his tongue over them. ‘Echo just…’ Signs were not coming to him. Thoughts were not coming to him. Throwing his hands up in vivid frustration, Noa gave up and let a growl fall from his lips, snarling his lips for a second as it became a bit louder before tapering into a hum of sorts. Anaya blinked, hunching forward on all fours and drifted his way very slowly to sit by Noa. 

‘Why… you bothered?’

‘I do not know.’ He repeated this time. 

Anaya nodded, only looking at his friend from the corner of his eye. ‘Maybe… Apology?’ That was definitely an avenue that Noa had considered, in fact it was the first thing that popped into his mind. Chimps were good at apologies. Never with words, often they reached their hands out, palms up and waited for the party getting the concession to accept. It had a great acceptance rate, but Noa doubted you’d want that. Just throw an apology your way and see how it sticks! What could go wrong? You’d never talk to him again…  He grunted out a denial to Anaya at that prospect and turned his shoulders away. Defensive in nature. 

‘You… need tell Anaya…’ He tilted his head in hesitation, knowing what he was about to suggest would be a dangerous path, even though they were friends. “What Noa actually said.” There was confidence in his verbalization, stressing and driving home to Noa that it was a necessity to spill his guts for Anaya to properly gauge the situation and help. “Asked.. about mating.” Noa was fast to speak, hoping that maybe his voice was too weak for Anaya to understand. He underestimated it though and it came out sounding like a sour grape. “Asked if pleasured.” Noa turned his face towards Anaya, giving him a certain look that told him all he needed to know. He got his needed information and now he needed to process. And… It surely brought to light a lot of things. 

A lot. 

Anaya sat back on his butt, displaying a rather surprised expression. Noa didn't bother looking at him, already able to see the emotions on his friend's face just in his mind. That’s what they got for years of being around each other. Each minute move either face or body was known and read right away. 

“Stupid.” He told Noa honestly which resulted in a chortle from the Eagle Clan’s leader. It was the sound of agreement. “Echo like privacy. Stupid to ask. Not like us! Keep many secrets away from Noa, from all Apes.” There was intense scrutiny in Anaya’s voice. There was a reason why the Elders told stories, wary ones, about the Echo’s. About how they were and how they disregarded things that weren’t important to them. Selfish! Anaya chuffed, wanting to pull Noa in physically and beat him into submitting, giving Anaya all the answers he needed to deduce what Noa was already enthralled in. Instead though, he urged, “Why ask?”

Noa dropped his shoulders at the mild scolding and dipped his chin towards his body. He knew what Anaya was saying was right and there was no logical excuse anymore why he asked what he did or why he felt somehow entitled to an answer from you. ‘Curious.’ He didn't have it in him to speak.

Anaya wasn’t seething perse, instead, he was statically quiet which was even worse to Noa. Anaya was a chatterbox, even if it was about nothing of consequence. This… Was out of the norm and it made Noa incredibly uncomfortable. He began shifting his weight from one side to another, swaying out of mere anticipation of being scolded again. And if Anaya got too into it, Noa could just choose to gallop away. He didn't have to take it! He was the leader. He was… He was the Eagle Clan. 

“Stupid.” Anaya muttered again, picking himself up and moving. He couldn’t be next to Noa as he processed. 

“Told me they only mate out of survival, hardly… the other reasons..” Anaya’s mouth popped open. Noa got further into the conversation than he led his friend to believe. Previously, the assumption was made that you didn't respond and merely began ignoring him out of offense. 

Anaya exploded. “Echo not stupid, Noa is. Should have left it to die in the woods when found. Then, Noa wouldn’t be here telling Anaya stupid things!”

Noa lurched at that. Not at Anaya, but unquestionably at the implications of his words. At least, that was what Noa was going to tell himself later when the guilt set in that he drew his aggression at his best friend. The animalistic movement was taken the wrong way, made evident as Anaya billowed as Noa approached him, drawing into himself to appear smaller, more weak, more favorable. Raising his hand up, Noa was chaste to brush his fingertips against Anaya’s open palm. Apology. Simple and clean. Anaya submitted to his friend and watched as he turned, leaving the Chimp still as dumbfounded as before. Though, with a bit more insight. 

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

You could smell dried blood but you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your heavy eyelids. Warmth was collapsing over you, wave after wave. Each one brought another one of your senses with it. There was a mild tingling in your right ear, prickling at your hearing as you tried to adjust it enough to figure out your surroundings. Last thing you remembered was stumbling… Hands pacing over a bricked wall in the dark, trying too hard to find a place where you didn't need to run for your life. Your hand pressing to your forehead, bloodied from a cut on the side near your temple, vision blurring in and out of focus. Your knees buckled from exhaustion, crashing onto grass that definitely appeared softer than it felt… It was hot for a second but then it was awfully cold, your body taking a plunge into an invisible ocean of sheer ice. Then, it all went black. Maybe, if you were lucky, you were dead. Whirling endlessly in limbo somewhere between the Earth and the Heavens, searching for the next place to go. Maybe you were asleep, dreaming up violent situations from your subconscious. After all, it did what it wanted to in your dreams; you had no control over that. Would you be aware if you were dreaming though? That idea spurred you to cross it off the list of possibilities. Hm… Or maybe you were dead, you repeated. Your eyes did not want to open. You were so warm… Another wave hit you all of a sudden and you became aware of the smothering sensation of animal fur against your back. Against your arms. Against your legs. Against your entire body. Voices without bodies were floating around you. They sounded human enough and that put you at some ease. You jumped the gun there. Thinking you had been caught by a bunch of ravenous Apes. Ha. Ha. Ha…

Jolting, you were abruptly conscious. 

Not conscious enough, you decided. Drawing a deep breath into your lungs to accommodate for the lack of air you got while passed out, you found your eyes peering into green ones directly above you. Not just regular green, you tilted your head and tried desperately to ignore the throb coming from your temple. Entrancing, grappling for dominance with flecks of outstanding gold against a canvas of darkened pupils. Oh yeah, you were dead. You were definitely looking into the eyes of God, you said sarcastically in your wounded trance and shut your eyes again. “Awake! Echo is awake!” You heard that clear as day and it did nothing to help the already soundless nature of the drumming in your head. It was followed up but a few soft hoots of acknowledgement which caused the hair on your arms to stick up in defense and your eyes to fly open without reserve. Ape. Ape. Ape. You counted them with wide eyes. Three. Maybe? Maybe more? You had a hard time telling as your eyes were adjusting back to some sort of normalcy after being drenched and flooded with blood. Wherever you were was not very bright save for a fire in the corner that drifted up what appeared to be wooden planks that were tilted inwards. No natural light came in and it beckoned your internal clock to assume that it was night time. You were in a structure of some type; that was easy to figure out regardless of lighting. With Apes. Not just Apes, you squinted and raised yourself on your forearms. Chimpanzees. Three sets of eyes, similarly colored to the ones you woke up peering into. You had no idea nor interest in knowing which one was observing you so closely. If you weren’t dead before, you may as well have been at that moment as you sprinted backwards, almost face first and staggered to your feet. Automatically, you were in a defensive position, trying to ignore the feeling of twisted pain in your ankles. Racing your hands everywhere, you tried to find something to grab. Something to defend yourself with. You needed to! There was nothing in the vicinity. You couldn’t even tell where the door was and your eyes were frantic to find some sort of escape. Shoulders rising and falling quickly, you turned and looked at the Apes again. Your heart was going to jump out of your chest. Your head was pounding and you felt like if you moved your feet anywhere, you were going to tumble. What did they want?

Your mind was flying at a faster speed than you were able to process any cognitive thought. Words were blaring in your ears without anyone yelling. Your group of fellow Humans were all hunted, their chanting still wild in your head. Apes were dangerous. Apes showed no compassion. They liked the kill, they liked the satisfaction. The deeply ingrained instinct to be afraid of them because you didn't understand them, the wild weaned fear of what they could do to you. What they were planning to do! Were they… Oh god, they were going to kill you and then skin you and then eat your insides--- you scrambled again, no regard for how you must have looked as you dropped to your knees, muttering under your breath as you flew around on all fours. You needed to find a way out. There had to be a way out. They were going to attack, they were moving!

Wait.

You paused, hunching on your hands and knees, feeble attempts made to catch your breath but you still found yourself panting like a wild animal. Mouth agape, you looked at the Apes in the room with you before letting your gaze fall down to their hands. Were they… Using sign language?Your back came into crushing contact with the wooden wall behind you, earning a tiny flinch from you as your right shoulder blade radiated. You must have been bruised there, you thought. Despite the grinding pain you were in, you tried to push further back as one of them, only slightly bigger in stature compared to the other two dropped to all fours, now eye level with you, and languidly moved towards you. First a hand, followed by a foot and then repeated until they were right in front of you. Your breath caught in your throat as they leaned in, deathly close to your face that you were able to smell them in your nostrils, mixing now with that previously noted taste of dried blood. Oh, they were going to rip your face off.

“Alive.” They said to you, taking a brash step back when you moved. No shit, you wanted to say but you couldn’t find your voice. Your eyes widened at the movement of them and the sound of their voice. Not aggressive or mean, but it was pensive and quiet. Observant, and you wondered if they were even talking to you or just verbally acknowledging to the other two Apes that you were, well… Alive. Whoever this Ape was… Was courageous enough to face you, to be near you but obviously held some reservations. There was absolutely no way they were just as afraid as you were. 

“Injured.” That was directed towards you, eye contact frantically being made when the smell of fresh blood became more abundantly noticed. Almost afraid to look down, you felt a small gush coming from your right calf. It slipped down the curve of your muscle, mixed with something… A paste of some sort that in itself, in your cloudy disposition, was rather fragrant if you focused on it. Something like a root, pulled and crushed from deep in the Earth. How did that… Get there? You looked at your injury, nothing more than a gash, deeper than it appeared though and it ached if you moved your foot in any awkward positions. “Wh…” Your voice came out ridiculously hoarse, hand reaching up to touch the outside of your throat. The Ape in front of you was watching it all. The inquest on your face, your fingers holding along your throat and focusing on your heart beat. How long have you been out? A day? Two? A week? Swallowing hard, you lubricated your vocal cords just enough to force out a question, “Wh-- What did you… do..t’me?” That was definitely slurred.

“Did nothing!” Another Ape finally spoke, their voice frantic and distraught.Not from nerves…. Right? You looked at them, then at the one adjacent, who was just a touch smaller than the other two, before your gaze fell on the one closest to you, wrought breathing causing your lungs to feel rather tight. Shifting, you tried to relax but found that it only brought discomfort. 

“Injured.” The one in front of you said again, this time with a bit more confidence. Whether it was true or faux, you had no idea but it was difficult to sort anything through your thought process at the moment. You were barely processing the fact that there was quite literally a hole in your calf let alone that an Ape was communicating with you so… Civilly. “Found in… ruins. Dying.” Your lips parted, suddenly becoming aware that you were thirsty. The severity of the words spoken hit you like a feathered ton of bricks. Softly at first, it was initially hazed by the idea that they were capable of saving you instead of killing you. Then, it sank in and it felt like your body was tied to a chair, someone banging on your chest over and over again to just drive the point home that all your preconceptions about these Apes might have been wrong. No! It couldn’t have been wrong! You lived your entire life afraid of them, being told from your childhood to be afraid and to always run away. It was only solidified when each of those Humans you were around were hunted, killed and their bodies dragged around in a triumphant show-boat by a group of Apes on the back of their horses. Squeezing your eyes shut at that visual, often the cause of nightmares for you, you shook your head vehemently. There was no way. 

“We…” They continued on, “saved.” There was a gesture towards the two Apes across the room. “Brought Echo back here… Spear head in leg,” Huh, that explained that, you bargained for some sort of reality. “Took out, stopped bleeding then…” They came to a slow stop and signed something over at the other two. You had no idea what they were saying now. Sign language was not your forte. Maybe, if you could push aside the vibration in your head, you’d be able to read them from body language but that was thrown out the window when you opened your eyes, tears forming at the edges and ultimately blurring your vision. 

“Echo then wake up.”

You snapped, “Wha… What the hell is an Echo?”One of the two behind lurched ever so slightly at the apparent aggression you put into your words, but the one crouched in front of you put a hand up to tell them to stop. 

It gestured at you. 

You rolled your eyes. That must have been their name for Humans. Each clan called them something different, you had figured that out over the years. Instead of having individual names, the human race was deduced down to a word such as ‘Echo’ or ‘Nova’, which you had heard in passing, speckled usually in more secluded clans and only talked about in detail when you were around the fire late at night with other humans. It was lore, it was ghost stories. It was reality now. “I--- Have a name…” You whispered. “(Name).” Hm… With a tilted head to the side, a response came. “Noa.” Finally giving you a bit more clarity. He pointed at the two Apes behind him accordingly, “That Soona,” She looked at you, terrified obviously, but seemingly confident in her friend's ability to talk to you. “Anaya.” Even more terrified, and not as obviously convinced in this Noa Ape to be as outrageously courageous as he was appearing.

“Are…” You quivered in on yourself and looked at him. A string of tears hit your cheeks, hurting at your temple even more than before and profusely lit the flame that caused the beating in your head to intensify rapidly. “Are you going to kill me?” Noa looked at you, draping you in some sort of melancholic state as you realized just how… human his eyes were. How they observed every morsel of your face, taking in the details and probably thinking just how hideous you were compared to Apes. How he’d scrutinize your scent, your well being, your entire self. But, he said nothing, gaze flickering between your eyes before he moved attention to your calf again. You followed suit. It looked worse than it felt, at least you had that. If he were going to kill you, wouldn’t he have already done it? There was a fleeing moment where he felt offended at your accusation, feeling the same coming from Soona and Anaya - primarily the latter. But, he had to remind himself, you were Echo. You did not know any other ways.

“Not all Apes are that way. We do not kill… Echo’s here.” You stiffened watching as he drew himself onto his hands and feet again from his default crouching stance. That was a complete and full sentence. You tried to not bark at him with confusion, not impressed by any means… Well… No! Not impressed. You knew they could talk. It was well---You knew… they could… Your eyes blurred and you felt your head fall to the side before you urged yourself into a more aware state. It lasted only moments before you lulled into an awkward dance with unconsciousness and invested fear. Coldness rocketed right through your leg at the application of more of the root smelling paste to your wound. It didn't sting perse, instead, it felt numbing. Were you so out of it that you didn't see Noa grabbing what appeared to be a clay jar of sorts? Fingers pushing into it and then smearing its contents on your body? You so desperately wanted to ask him what the hell he was doing, putting on you but you were shot with another wave of black. You passed out. ●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・

Almost sickly aware of the pair of green eyes on you at all times, intricately staring at your movements down to the minute shift of your shoulders as you breathed, you did everything you could to ignore them. Your hands were busy; helping Soona untangle some twine that had gotten itself into a mess of very intricate knots. She had praised you for your help, explaining that ‘Echo hand… smaller than Ape..’ It was a simple and gentle compliment from her, you being grateful to be of some use to someone else in the Clan and not just Noa. With your hands working, your mind fell into a leisurely state as you tried so desperately to convince yourself that Noa wasn’t foolish enough to pull you away from a social situation with Soona. It would seem suspicious and ultimately, Soona would tell Anaya who would then in turn absolutely panic and tell Noa to back off, leave you be and that the only purpose you served here was to please Noa’s curiosity about the Teachings of Caesar. Thinking those things did nothing to help you feel calm. In fact, it was very much the opposite. Your mind did not stop at that though, enticing you to look up. You swept the entire village with your gaze. He had to be there somewhere, he rarely chose to drift off by himself without either of his friends, or even you on occasions but that was only when you served a purpose to him, you convinced yourself that at the moment the agreement was made that you would help Noa understand about human culture. You were still actively trying to convince yourself of that after the last two conversations that abhorrently played in your head in excruciating detail. The absolute devastation on his face when he realized that he had asked you the wrong thing and your petty response was the top of the list for your mental replays. It was your pettiness and inability to say anything positive in response to him that got you the most worked up despite your answer to him being that of pure truth. Humans didn't mate, in Noa’s words, for pleasure. They mated for survival. Setting your twine down now that it was a straight line, you looked over your shoulder once more before glancing down to pick up another knotted piece to work on. Well… What were you supposed to tell him? Looking at it now in a less offended state, you should have just told him that you didn't want to answer. There were a few times in the past that Noa attempted to push a question on you, soon coming to embrace acceptance that you weren’t willing to give him any response and he’d drop it. The two of you never fought about it, never went days upon days without talking or seeing each about them. Were you even fighting? Tilting your head, you shuffled on the ground and spread your legs out instead of sitting cross-legged like you had been for at least the last half hour. Then you began bargaining. He had asked you before if you had mated. If you had someone before you found your way to the Eagle Clan. You never answered him, even then. It was left alone for a long time, Noa not wanting to pry into obviously human privacy. So he was consciously aware of the status of the question he begged you to answer only a few days ago.  You fixated on the way he had signed that word. Pleasure. It was a slow signing, his two hands in front of his chest with a perpendicular circular motion. It was a flurry of intensity. The question. Your chaste answer. Noa falling silent next to you, no doubt self-reflecting at the idiocy of the question. And then… Oh… You had the absolute torture of being silent for the rest of the hunting trip. Noa ignored you, you could sense the coldness coming off of him in waves due to his inner thoughts taking over. You wanted nothing more than to ask him when he inquired about pleasure. How he even knew that it was a pleasurable experience for a human. Was it for Apes? Chimpanzees? You had no idea, choosing to linger in your ignorance and figure that it was not an element to their mating standards.

Huffing, you sat your twine back down and told Soona in a soft tone of voice as to not alarm her, “I need to go pee.” She let you go with silence, figuring your rather fast pace was due to really needing to relieve yourself.

A quick excuse to get you on your legs, pacing towards the right and through the entire embankment of the village to the very edge. Kicking a rock under your foot as you approached the small creek, the very sight of the first incident with Noa, you felt like doing nothing more than grabbing your hair and screaming to the high heavens. What was wrong with you!? Now you were the foolish one, asking questions that shouldn’t need to be asked, that didn't need an answer because what fruit would come from knowing if Apes mated at all for pleasure?

Coming around the small creek embankment, your fast feet came to an almost stumbling stop. Your mind didn't process as quickly as you halted harder than anticipated and almost felt yourself go face first into the shallow water in front of you from the sheer momentum you had. A set of broad shoulders, lined delicately with thinning fur in preparation for the summer, were facing you. Sun peeked across the west as it began its gentle descent into night, flushing the sky now with a light hue of pink and orange. Ah yes… That oh so familiar body in front of you, hand dipped in water in quite solace was none other than the Chimp you were ignored by for days. Well, not just ignored by. You did your fair share of skipping around the stone to not run into him.

Tightly wrapping your fingers into fists at your side, you contemplated going back. It appeared he hadn’t heard you, hadn’t sensed you coming or at the very least, you weren’t worth turning around or acknowledging. Your heart sank at that thought. You were just another tool he used to get his way into fixing a problem that wasn’t his to fix. He… Looked so small… You brought your bottom lip in and chewed it out of deliberation, eyes scaping up his back, broad by nature, but from his posture now, it was brought in on itself and he looked reminiscent of a little kid who had just gotten into big trouble. Maybe, you muttered inside of your own head and trailed your way towards him. You were still contemplating if you wanted to talk to him, but the very least you could do was to appear next to him and give the chance.

‘Know you are there.’ There went your element of surprise as Noa brought his hand back in and rested it against his chest in a coiled position. He wasn’t just crouching, he was holding himself.

“I---” You stumbled backwards, feet shifting to move your weight but your mind was telling you not to run. To confront. You didn't want to! You wanted to leave it alone, you didn't want to… To… Have to see his face. “I’m sorry, I didn't know you’d be up here, I just needed to---”

“Think.”

Swallowing softly, you planted yourself behind him, only a few feet and looked at the water that was so enviously caressing his hand. Looking down at your own palm, you felt it tingle with want… You wanted to be that water and freely float yourself against him in some bid to calm, ease… Love… “Yeah…” That was spit from your mouth so softly, almost afraid that Noa wouldn’t be able to hear. He didn't turn to face you so you figured that he did in fact hear and was either waiting for silence to fall over the two of you again or for you to say something else. He waited.

●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・○・●・ Tag List: @ohwaitimthewriter @saturnnie-03 @hera-annwn @filliandkili @hadesbabygurl @supergoat12 @callsignwindow @moonchild1433 @kaenalsha @whamsworld @yummyfant @unsteady-bitch @twinspineout

( Sorry if tumblr is a jerk and doesn't tag properly. It does that sometimes I've noticed. )

[kooktrash]

the art of obsession | kim taehyung

summary: in a world of painters and poets, there were two college students looking for the right sort of inspiration. through devotion in your craft, you find yourself drawn to kim taehyung—a grad student painter who’s everything you’ve ever looked for in a character. his walk, his form of speech, his art, it all captivated you to the point where you wanted to recreate him in words and you begin to realize how similar the two of you really are. you share a sort of obsession in your work that seems like only each other could understand and he invites you into his world of oil paints and charcoals in hopes of drawing you on paper.

✎ genre/au: dark academia. college au. painter!taehyung x writer!y/n [afab. she/her]

✎ 17.4K words

“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” — Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë

warnings: smut. slight obsession with their work. prestigious college. tae literally takes oc to a graveyard. oc and tae dont take criticism well. unprotected intercourse. oral [f and m]. oc slobs on his knob and tae eats like it’s the last supper. missionary. side position. lowkey passionate sex. fireplace crackling. namjoon and oc used to be fwb. hints that oc and Jimin used to be fwb too. jungkook is tae’s sculpture artist bestie. jimin is oc’s ballerina bestie. namjoon is oc’s writer bestie.

The smell of cigarettes was something you were fairly used to being around where you resided. You’re not sure what makes it so popular among young academics and sometimes you wonder if it’s not the need of nicotine but more so the aesthetic of it that they all seem to enjoy. It seemed to always linger in the air around campus where all the grad students would walk with their heads down and bags under their eyes as stress took over their entire being. You understand the stress but being an undergrad student yourself, you’re not sure you could understand the extent of it that they must feel. All you could really do is watch the way it slowly deteriorates their body every time they step into the library.

Maybe it’s the Literature major in you, but you never fail to try and assess each person that walks in as if you could see their entire character design and what makes them who they are. Today you got a bit lucky because despite how slow your homework had been going, your favorite case of study had just walked in wearing his usual black turtleneck tucked into a pair of loose corduroy pants. He wore a pair of rounded wire glasses that you love getting to see him in and they did wonders to conceal the eye bags you knew were there.

With this smallest hint of entertainment you’ve found through your long and boring study session with only one friend to confide in, you shut your copy of — excuse the pretentiousness — The Pictures of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, and lowered the volume on your headphones enough to be more aware of the cause of his visit today. You rarely saw him in the library and if he did happen to come by it was to check out or check in a single book on Michaelangelo or Davinci.

You were surprised by how close he seemed to have gotten to you today. The table you studied at was only a couple feet away from a book aisle he had currently walked down and now he was just a meter or so away with his head down in his book. The usual smell of smoke surrounded him and despite scrunching your nose at the smell, you chose to ignore it and study him a little further. You even went as far as to lower your headphones until they curled around your neck giving him your attention even if he didn’t know he had it.

As much of an observer as you were, you never seemed to catch on to the way his gaze would shift to you any time you weren’t looking, eyes scanning your features rather quickly as he made his own assessment. You dressed warmly today, probably due to the fact that there’s been a light rain that has been casted over the city, always seeming to linger longer where the buildings were older and all signs of urban life seemed to dissipate. You were dressed in neutral tones today that placed you perfectly with your own surroundings and if this was a painting he’s sure you would be the focal point—or maybe the single spec of bright color you wore which was in this case your powder blue headphones. He’s not sure he’s ever used that specific shade of blue in a single one of his works before but maybe he’ll look into it.

He rarely visited the library but when he did it was always a pleasant surprise to see you there. He didn’t care much to get to know you, he just found the aesthetic of it all captivating. The library was beautiful, truthfully, with its dark wood shelves and polished tile floors that echoed with each step. It was eerily quiet and it always smelled of old books and always reminded him of a cathedral. There were large stained glass windows of poets, painters, dancers, etc. the clear glass windows overlooked the large pond that covered the back of the small campus where the woods began to take over and student life decreased aside from the occasional late night college party hosted there between trees and bonfires.

“He always comes into my work for paints. I wonder why he always pays in cash.” Your friend said, suddenly appearing next to you and not messing with the printer anymore. He must’ve caught sight of Taehyung before he left and considering he worked at a supply store, it was no surprise he recognized him.

“Maybe he hates banks,” you joked, turning to Jimin with a smile. Jimin pursed his lips staring down the aisle where Taehyung had disappeared once he had his book, “Maybe cash is more aesthetically pleasing. He’s an art major, isn’t he? I say he’s too pretentious to use a plastic card—or even worse, Tap to Pay.”

At that you laughed, deciding to continue the teasing of a man you barely knew while also trying to defend him, “Do people ever get tired of throwing words around?”

“Are you referring to my use of ‘pretentious’?” Jimin asked as he moved to the other side of the counter, “I used the term correctly, it’s an adjective meaning, ‘attempting to impress by affecting greater importance and culture than is actually possessed’. His refusal to adhere to society’s technological advances is pretentious in itself. I bet he still uses No. 2 pencils as an act of defiance against mechanical pencils—if he was a writer like you he would probably be more drawn to a pen but he’s an artist and artists make mistakes that get covered up or changed.”

You couldn’t help but smirk at that, “Tell me then, Jimin, what does a ballerina use to convey words? An Arabesque?”

Jimin released a loud groan, “I hate this goddamn school.”

You watched him open his newest generation laptop and hide behind it. He knew now how little room he had to talk. You, yourself, couldn’t utter a word to disagree with him either when in your hand was a Montblanc fountain pen that cost your parents a hefty 1,500$ to get to you when you were first accepted into the school. You’re sure when the time comes for you to finish undergrad, they’ll up the price and give you one worth 4,000$—the most profound amount of proof that you did in fact strictly use pens for everything.

You would never dare mention anything revolving around the money Taehyung’s family is rumored to have because you don’t know anything about him to do so.

All you knew were the few things you’ve noticed — a couple that even made it into your journal — like the fact that he specialized in two mediums; charcoal and oil paintings. He’s a known name at the University for his work and dedication and you saw that through one of his works. It was dark and a bit twisted but it told a story and you think that’s what drew you into him before you even knew it was him.

Despite his strong presence that always seemed to draw you in, he had a gift for making himself invisible in a group setting. He never spoke up in class, never caused a fuss, he was in and out like a shadow.

At the start of the semester you were taken by surprise when you found him sitting in one of the back rows of the lecture hall to an advanced anatomy class that you’re sure you took for very different reasons. Taehyung was interested in the study of the body so he could fully understand the way the it works from the inside out. He wanted to understand how each limb moved, how fluid each bone and muscle connected, how they could contort, see where the organs go, imagine the flesh coming to life when he painted.

In literature, anatomy isn’t referring to the human body. It refers to a separation of a topic into smaller parts for detailed analysis of the work. You did not make a mistake when you chose this lecture, you too wanted to study the body for your work. You wanted to learn how fragile it really was, how it could be destroyed, how hard it was to do so. You wanted to know about which bones were weaker, which organ puncture did the most damage. You need visuals and understanding of its healing process, of the way it moved, how the nervous system worked. Once you had a better understanding of the body, you just knew that you would be able to apply all these things to your writing. You would be able to detail how your character’s body deteriorated outside and in. How the body would slowly break down, which nerves were affected, how the heart worked in that moment. It would be gruesome but intriguing enough for your readers.

Maybe you needed to write something not so dark, something that didn’t make you take courses you didn’t really need but wanted in hopes that they’ll help you understand better. You didn’t actually need to go this far to describe a couple grueling scenes but it helped.

The room was silent aside from the obnoxious sound of the clock, Tick… Tock… Tick… Tock…Ticking.

You stood at the front of your professor’s desk in his clustered office filled with classical literature books and awards for writing all over the shelves. His desk took up the majority of the space inside and whenever you were in here you couldn’t help but feel just a little suffocated. There were barely any words shared between the two of you, he only ever decided to truly grace you with his speech when he was critiquing and yet right now he’s been uncomfortably silent.

The silence had grown so long that you found your attention drifting toward the grandfather clock that was tucked away near the overwhelming stained glass window that overlooked the courtyard filled with wet and fallen leaves. The trees were bare and the fountain had a sculpture of a big swan with its wings spread in what looked like a dance. It always reminded you of the Swan Song, but you never knew if that was morbid of you. The idea of your University of Fine Arts decorating the campus in the black and white birds simply for decor always seemed strange to you too.

There was no way they would ever portray anything without meaning, or at least something not up for interpretation and yet every time you looked at one of the swans, you thought about the Swan Song, the way the bird’s wings were open beautifully with each detail chiseled into the stone. It looked like the swan’s final performance before its end. It wasn’t the sort of symbolism you liked to see at a school with such dedicated artists looking for a way to perfect every aspect of their work as if each one was their last.

“I like it,” your professor finally said, drawing your attention back to him in an instant, “Your writing has improved Y/n, I’m starting to really visualize the plot and I think it has a certain rawness to it that I’m not used to seeing from you.”

The corner of your lips turned upward like you wanted to smile but you wouldn’t fully allow yourself to. He hasn’t looked at you yet, his eyes stayed glued to your paper and it was clear he wasn’t done, “But it still feels stiff—well, the main character does. I can’t understand him yet, he’s just a mystery to me and not one I’m interested in unraveling. I can’t understand his depth and it’s becoming a big flaw in your writing. Everything else sounds wonderful, well articulated and with such emotion… that when I think of him all I see a huge lack of substance. He’s being drowned out by the rest and he’s supposed to be the one I follow when I read.”

You didn’t say anything as your jaw slowly clenched shut, eyes unwavering as he went on, “It’s like you have a lack of knowledge for human emotion and psychology, I’m not sure that’s something that can be easily fixed.”

“Does it make my writing bad?” You asked stiffly and he shook his head no.

“No, your writing is captivating but there’s a very huge disconnect I’m feeling from your characters,” he said, looking up at you, “It takes away the beauty of it.”

Your lips felt sewn shut as he handed you back your paper with all of his notes for you to fix and you felt like crying. You couldn’t even utter out a single word as you forced yourself not to react to his words and leave his office with your head held high.

What did he mean by disconnect? What more did he want you to do? What did you not understand about human emotion? You’re a human, what is there not to get? What else did he want from you?

These questions circled your head for what felt like an eternity, only confusing you more and more as you left for your next lecture. You spent the fifteen minute gap with your journal out jotting down every question that came to mind trying to see how you could find answers to these.

You sat alone in your row of seats waiting for other students to arrive and you took the time to brainstorm. He told you your characters lacked substance and implied that they were hard to visualize. He said that he can’t understand them, especially the lead and that he couldn’t be absorbed into a story about a character he doesn’t care for. He basically said that you lacked an understanding of emotional depth for the characters you write and therefore your stories will continue to have a disconnect until something changes. If only something could inspire you, maybe help you analyze these so-called emotions you couldn’t comprehend. You needed to remove some of the mystery around your character and really dive in on his arc, understand how he felt. How could you do that? It's not like you could fully visualize it yourself either unless you really began to study those around you more than you already do.

You sat up straighter in your seat and looked around as the lecture hall began to fill slowly. The room had a sort of ancient feel to it with long hazelnut rows of desks pressed side by side against each other in an amphitheater manner. There were diagrams and models of the human body plastered everywhere but none looked straight off of a doctor’s catalog. They looked like Davinci himself drew every skeleton in the room. It also had a small echo especially when the rain hit the wall or glass windows that sometimes tuned out the sound of talking students entering the hall.

You recognized most of the faces and the one who passed you as he went up a few rows seemed to distract you more than the others. Kim Taehyung didn’t wear glasses today but he wore a wool sweater and linen pants. There was a small splotch of gray paint on his knuckle that he hadn't seemed to notice as he swung his book bag onto the desk with a small thud, uncaring if anyone heard and ignored everyone around him.

He was similar to your character, almost. He always seemed closed off and unapproachable but behind his eyes was an aura of emotion that isn’t easily interpreted. You found yourself beginning to scribble down in your journal, just basic things you noted about him.

The lazy, bored look in his eyes that made him look tired and unamused by everything that happened around him.

Then there was his stance. He had good posture but when he sat down in his seat he leaned all the way back with his arms on the table like he was observing every person in the lecture hall, even you.

You knew this because for a second your eyes met with Taehyung’s and in that measly moment you just took in the sight of each other. Taehyung didn’t hold much expression in face but his fingers seemed to twirl his No. 2 pencil a little more intently now. He ran his gaze down from your eyes to the curve of your nose and curl of your lips. There was something about your facial features that he was delighted in studying. When you looked away and gave him a view of your side profile he leaned toward his desk more and the leather sketchbook that rested over his textbook was flipped open as he began to sketch you.

The drawing didn’t mean much to him, it was just a small doodle to pass time, his hands had to always be sketching and you happened to be his distraction today. Usually he doesn’t really pay attention to you when he’s in class, you sit far enough from each other that you never interact and when he catches you in the library you always seem lost in your own world.

He knows your name, he read your story last semester simply because it intrigued him. It was published on the school forum and won an achievement so he checked it out and it was good, your writing is intricate, or at least that’s what he thinks. He’s able to follow along to every word and not be bored or confused but with a certain degree of understanding that the reader needs to learn. There’s an aura of mystery around it, yet it was not something that he couldn’t comprehend and he thinks that’s why he was able to enjoy it.

At the end of the lecture he had three small drawings of you.

“Come on man, it won’t take long, just one drink,” Jungkook begged him for the third time in a row. Despite his friend’s darker exterior dressed in black jeans, a black tee, and a black leather jacket, he was way more outgoing. He was always trying to get Taehyung to go out for drinks or to party but he just doesn’t have the time.

“Not tonight,” Taehyung said as he opened up his pack of cigarettes and took one out, sliding it to his lips before burning the end with his lighter. He handed the pack to Jungkook who took it without question and did the same.

Jungkook released a sigh in disappointment, shaking his head a little as he said, “Whatever man, you say that every night.”

Taehyung shrugged his shoulders as he took a drag and pulled it out between his index finger and thumb, “Then get the hint.”

His friend wasn’t listening anymore, choosing instead to stare at the building in front of him, dimly lit from all the lamp posts. It was just after sunset and the only students around were probably working on assignments like Jungkook and Taehyung. Taehyung took advantage of the art room to work privately and in a bigger space while Jungkook worked in the warehouse where he could work on his new sculpture. Taehyung couldn’t understand why Jungkook cared about whatever was going on at the library till he casually looked over too.

“She looks familiar,” Jungkook said pointing to you as you walked down the sidewalk toward the bus stop. Taehyung looked too, you had a tote bag like most students around here and there was a butterfly clip in your hair but it still looked messy. Your hair was down earlier and at some point you decided to put it up and he realized now that he didn’t have a preference on how hair looks on someone. He likes the style you had earlier and the one you have now too because they enhance your features more.

“That’s Y/n,” Taehyung said casually as they went to the parking lot. Jungkook looked at him curiously before glancing back at you, “You know her?”

Taehyung didn’t have an answer for that so he didn’t give one, he just walked ahead wondering the same thing. “Let’s get a drink,” Taehyung finally gave in and Jungkook immediately cheered. “Yes! Okay, don’t worry, just one.”

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder… that is what every artist has ever been taught. Taehyung has never been able to disagree with a statement more than that one. There is not beauty everywhere, it is not as inclusive as one might think and to truly understand art in the many forms it could take, one needs to understand the meaning of genuine beauty.

It’s quite terrifying in a sense, for one to be able to lose control and fall for the Dionysian seduction and view beauty for what it truly is. It is a raw and exhilarating topic that cannot be defined by just looks or words but more the freedom of life, life is beautiful in its own twisted way and to accept that definition is to be able to portray that in what you do. That’s why Taehyung’s art tends to lean toward a more dark and twisted form. When he creates art he’s not just looking at creating something nice to look at or something with a hidden meaning that no one would ever truly understand. When he creates, he wishes to express human emotion through his work—he wishes to make others feel things they’ve never felt before and that is the beauty he is chasing after.

Beauty is not a person but a feeling and when he looks at you he seems to understand that better.

It’s not just your outward attractiveness that draws him in. It’s the terrifying beauty that you radiate in your gaze, in your mannerisms, in your writing. It intrigues him and if he could put you on a canvas and unravel everything inside you — your fears, your joys, your tears — he would but till then you’re nothing but a familiar stranger that invades his mind when he least expects it.

“Taehyung, your work is beautiful,” his professor said, “Everything you create is effortlessly perfect but…”

He waited with a bated breath, already not liking where this was getting. He watched closely to the way she tilted her head in curiosity, “It’s rather dark, don’t you think? Maybe hard for interpretation an—“

“It’s not made to be interpreted by anything but the way it is,” Taehyung said boldly, “Once art is set for others to create a new meaning for it, is it ever truly art?”

“I guess I am not understanding what you mean,” she said leaning forward against her desk.

Taehyung released a sigh like this conversation with his senior was tedious, “When you look at Picasso’s work, do you think he created it for others to understand? Or was that something that people began to believe? He created art that was unconstraining to himself and his life.”

“Yes but look at Salvador Dali, the entire aspect of surrealism that he used was to unleash the power of imagination and creativity. You can’t just shut your art into a small box for the sake of aesthetic,” she said and that made him scoff, his lip curled in distaste, “And let’s look at Monet? He’s practically what started the entire idea of Impressionism.”

“What it meant to him, how he viewed it at that moment, that was all,” Taehyung said, which made the advisor release a sign, “Claude Monet once said, everyone pretends to understand his art, as if it were necessary to understand when it is only necessary to love.”

“I’m afraid this conversation will go back and forth if we continue,” she said with a huff, already irritated by the way things are going, “The exhibition is in three months, in a month I’ll connect with you on how everything is looking and give you the rundown as well is there anything else you need from me, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung shook his head and without a goodbye he was getting up from his seat and storming out. Not even a second after the chestnut double doors shut, did he find himself reaching into the pocket of his jeans to get his pack out. The cigarette sat perfectly between his lips as he blocked one side with the hand so the wind didn’t blow his lighter out and he lit the tip, ignoring the ‘No Smoking’ sign just a couple feet away. He couldn’t help but mumble, “Stupid bitch,” under his breath once he finally left the building.

As he rounded the corner, something hit his chest and his free hand immediately the person steady in front of him.

Your hand was on his chest to keep from hitting him and as you looked up, your eyes widened just slightly. Taehyung didn’t say anything as he let you go, brushing against your side and moving around you to leave feeling your eyes on him. You watched him head the way you just came from and finally snapped out of it when you heard your friend call for you.

He turned to look for you seeing you already walking over to some tall and muscular guy. The guy gave you a dimpled smile as he followed after you, no longer in Taehyung’s peripheral.

“Maybe he has a point, Y/n,” Namjoon said as he walked with you to the bus stop, “If you’re struggling then maybe you should think about altering the character more.”

You shook your head in displeasure, “No, I’m not going to change him, I just need to be able to visualize his characteristics.”

Namjoon released a sigh as he pondered over what advice to give you, but came up blank, “I mean… maybe you just need some real inspiration from those around you. ”

The both of you went silent trying to find a solution and you looked up at him curiously. Namjoon would be an amazing reference for a character but he doesn’t fit the image you want him to. He was like light, he was kind hearted and charming and so unbelievably smart but that’s not how you envisioned the main character in your story. The kind of character you had in mind was supposed to act similar to… well, Taehyung. He’s supposed to be a bit mysterious, cold, not necessarily a likable character but someone they can’t help but be curious about.

“Namjoon,” you called his name and for a moment he grew hopeful to the idea that maybe you were thinking of studying him the way you do with others—even if he knew that would never happen. Instead, you came to a stop and looked up at him, “I forgot my laptop in the ffice, I’ve gotta go get it.”

His brows furrowed, looking down at your tote bag, “I’ll come wit—“

“No, you have to work, right?” You asked, already backing away from him, “I don’t want to make you late, I’ll just catch the next bus.”

Before he could argue, you were already taking off in a hurry back down the way the two of you came from. With a sigh he watched you leave wondering why he always seemed to be a couple steps behind you and never beside you. All he’s done since he met you was follow your lead in friendship and outside of it.

Even when the two of you had sex months ago it was always when you wanted and never when he did. If he even thought to ask, all you did was blow him off and then question him on if he’s seeing anyone at the moment. In the same second you would press your lips to his cheek and remind him how much you adored him even when you blew him off he always found the act of it a bit poetic.

He loved you, but it’s a love unreturned and if he wants to stay by you, it has to be with him at the back of your mind and never at the forefront.

With that understanding, he had no choice but to let you go back toward campus walking across fallen leaves and dead branches while he went to the bus alone.

Your legs had taken off before you could even decide where to go and in the end you found yourself heading back the way in which you met with Namjoon—and also the way you bumped into Taehyung. You were never much of the shy type even if it appeared that way, your friends always said you were the selective type—only choosing who to be outgoing with and even then it was rare and required a lot of work to get to you.

They had it easy, Jimin was a childhood friend and Namjoon was in the same writing department as you but that’s as far as your circle went. Well, no, there’s Yoongi too but he’s a pianist and these days he’s so busy with lessons and trips to the orchestra, you barely see him.

Like stated, you were selectively social and right now, you were choosing to find Taehyung so you could formally talk to him. It took you about ten minutes of mindlessly walking through the courtyard to locate him and when you did, you came to a halt. He was just a few feet away now, cigarette between his lips, crouched down against the wall of some historic looking building with castle-like elements and you know he saw you coming when he turned his head and looked right at you.

That was the push that had you walking toward him and saying, “Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes?” He asked, looking you up and down, eyes unable to help themselves as he looked up from your legs to your face. You wore a black fitted turtleneck underneath a brown sweater vest tucked into a black skirt. You wore long 70s style brown boots and mesh tights too. Your hair was pinned back with a hair clip and pins and your ears were lined with simple yet pretty earrings. When his gaze finally met yours, he couldn’t help but take in the sight of you once more.

“My name is—“

“I know your name,” he said with a small glint in his eye, “Obviously.”

You didn’t pull away from his intense stare and watched him bring the cigarette back to his lips, “I thought it would be more appropriate to introduce myself.”

“Mm,” he exhaled looking down at the cement below his feet, flicking the end of the cigarette to let ash fall, “So what could I do for you, Y/n?”

He looked up once more and you bit your lip in thought, “If you are free, I wanted to see if you’d like to get a coffee with me.”

“I don’t like coffee,” he said, finally putting the thing out and standing up, “And it’s almost sunset.”

You blinked in surprise as he stood in front of you now but you didn’t back away, “Then we’ll just have dinner.”

“Thanks,” Taehyung swung his bag over his shoulder, “But I’m kind of busy, I’ve got somewhere to get to.”

He was already walking away to hide his look of surprise. He didn’t expect the two of you to ever really talk and he didn’t really know what to do. He ended up rejecting before he could even truly think it over. He imagined you as just a fantasy — nothing he could ever explore but that he could dream about. He just wanted to look and think about you but never know anything beyond what was on the surface—like a painting.

“And you can’t have a plus one?” You asked in your final effort to get closer to him completely unaware of what he thought of you. You watched him come to a stop, and for a moment you tried to imagine him contemplating. Taehyung turned to face you, “I’m not going anywhere fun.”

You stayed quiet as he went on, “And some might find it scary.”

It seemed like he was trying to warn you as if to let you back out of your own proposal but he wasn’t saying no and that was hopeful. You tilted your chin higher, “As long as you don’t plan on murdering me, I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

That made the corners of his lips turn upward in an arrogant smirk, “Okay, Y/n, follow me.”

The walk wasn’t too far from the college but the college was already a bit on the outskirts of the city. All you saw were green, dying hills as autumn threatened to take over and it took you a second to understand where he was taking you until he was leading the way down a steep hill toward an empty and cold graveyard. It was a straight line of jagged tombstones and overgrown plant life entwined around them. There were clear dirt paths leading down row after row of old graves and a few Angel statues but nothing too bad, at least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

“I told you, you might be scared,” Taehyung said as he walked parallel to the graveyard toward a tree that stood tall along the sloping hill, “But this is the best view of twilight, if you want, I could walk you back to campus.”

“No, it’s fine,” you cleared your throat deciding to walk ahead of him so you could be the one sitting upright against the tree. Taehyung dropped his backpack a few feet away from you and began getting his things out.

You didn’t question him, only observed the way he carried on like you weren’t even there. It’s not like you minded, you didn’t have any real agenda to get him to spend time with you and frankly, you felt a bit relieved to see that he wasn’t trying to figure out what you wanted. It was unspoken the way the two of you seemed to think similarly and brought out your tools.

Taehyung didn’t say anything when he flipped his sketchbook open and found a charcoal he could use as he began to sketch without much thought into it. He even made himself comfortable by lying back, using the angle of the hill to help him not lay horizontally and he bent a knee up as a sort of flat surface he could rest his book on. There was a small breeze that carried through his linen shirt and brown trousers but he wasn’t much worried about himself.

He was more worried about you, who had asked to spend time with him but had no real plan to do so. He’ll admit, when he said no it was just on reflex from all the other times he’s out right rejected others before but he only thought it over because he’s been curious of you two. When you told him you would join him for a moment he debated saying no again because this was his favorite place to be to watch the sunset but it wasn’t all that normal. He even tried to warn you and offer to take you back when you saw the graveyard but you didn’t even seem to care when you sat down. Now that he’s looking at you up close, he can see the way your brows furrowed in concentration as you scribbled in your journal, already feeling inspiration.

It’s now that Taehyung is realizing why he’s been so curious. He finds you beautiful, he’s sure he’s mentioned that before, but he finds you beautiful in an unsettling way. Just looking at you seemed to send him into a wave of emotion like you’re exactly what he’s wished to create on canvas. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands were working away to make another sketch, eyes on you as he worked.

“What are you writing in that little journal of yours?” He found himself asking after some time. The sketch was rough and yet it was so refined that there was no mistaking what it could be. It was a monochromatic sketch of you with your back against the tree, legs straight before you and your hair covering your face with the howl of the wind. Your hands looked delicate when you wrote and you looked so lost in your own work that managed to capture that same essence in his drawing.

When you first looked at him, your eyes went down to the pack of cigarettes he was now messing with and out of curiosity he raised it to you as if asking if you wanted one. Moving to sit forward, you took one and held it between your lips as he dug into his pocket for his zippo lighter, flipping it open and bringing it toward your face to light the cigarette. He watched curiously as you leaned back a little, took an inhale/exhale, and said, “I’ll tell you if you show me what you’ve been doing in that little sketchbook of yours.”

For some reason a small smile came to his face as he laid on his side using his elbow for support and reached over to hand you the sketchbook. You took it with a sense of excitement that quickly turned into disbelief as you looked at it. The back of your index finger hovered over it but never touched for fear that you would smudge it or worse—ash, and when you finally handed it back to him, wordlessly, his cold fingers brushing against sending a warm current down your arm.

At this exchange, Taehyung moved to sit up, not bothering to brush off any loose grass blades off his linen shirt and read over a short passage.

A certain coolness in his gaze that made him appear cruel.

A charming aura that seemed timeless, not modern but ancient like he was created from every classic literature known to man.

His gaze, his smile, his voice—all deep like red velvet.

The list went on, each short sentence followed by another in what one could assume was meant to describe him. He didn’t say anything either as he handed it back to you the same way you had done with his sketchbook. Neither of you were looking for critique or praise, more so acknowledgement of what the other had been doing and once you had it, it was enough.

Taehyung stared forward as the line of bright Orange finally vanished from the sky and a cool blue clouded it. The atmosphere shifted now as darkness began to swim across the sky and you both knew it was time to go. Nothing was said as you both stood up with your things and even less was brought up on your walk back to campus.

It wasn’t until you stood at the bus stop that Taehyung decided to ask, “Are you busy tomorrow?”

“No.”

He pulled out a piece of paper from the pocket in his trousers followed by a pen as he scribbled something down before handing it to you, “Meet me here at 8:00pm.”

You didn’t have to say anything for Taehyung to know you would show and he left without much of a goodbye.

The place you arrived to at 8:00pm on the dot wasn’t exactly what you had in mind but it wasn’t much of a surprise either—it was a warm record bar. The one thing that did seem to surprise you was Taehyung’s choice in music where he preferred jazz over classical. The bar was dimly lit only by shaded, vintage lamps and the small yellow candles near all the booze. The walls were lined with vinyls and the deep mahogany trimming gave the record bar a sort of dark academic charm to it.

When you found Taehyung he was sitting at a small round table fit for two and he had a book in hand—The Picture of Dorian Gray. He wore his usual metal wiring rounded glasses and his dirty blonde hair seemed quite soft and full of life. The dark brown sweater he wore matched well with his tan slacks and you didn’t miss the way eyes would fall on him. It was this charming, educated college boy with a rich father sort of energy that radiates off him, but also the clear look of disinterest written all over his face and it made people curious.

You debated calling his name to let him know you were here but when he looked up in time to catch you walking his way, you were aware that he had been waiting for you and checking the door every couple seconds. Taehyung didn’t shy away from taking in the sight of you in an olive green maxi dress paired with a thin white cardigan tied together at the top of your breasts and below your collarbone. You wore black boot heels this time and when you sat down in front of him he couldn’t help but look at your face now.

“You’re late,” he said as he closed his book and set it to the side. You didn’t even bother to look at the Swiss watch on your wrist as you said, “It’s 8:00, like you said.”

“Yes but what I meant was 7:55 which should have translated to 7:45,” he said annoyingly arrogant as he slid a menu toward you, “As per the rules of a first date.”

His tone was serious as was his body language and yet you could see the hint of amusement in his attempt to hide a smile. You smiled softly, setting your bag down next to you, “I was unaware this was a first date.”

“So you assumed this was the second?” Taehyung had a teasing tone now, “I, personally, would not call an evening together at the cemetery a first date.”

“I do say, I’m a bit surprised to even know you consider this a date after we barely talked at all yesterday,” you said as a waitress came over with a customer service smile. Conversation floated between you two with ease.

“Are we ready to order?”

Taehyung looked at you but you weren’t all that hungry so he ordered a single slice of pastry for the two of you to share, “Yesterday was just to enjoy and accept the presence of one another, tonight is to communicate and learn.”

Taehyung never cared much for investing time into someone he was with, usually if he ever showed any interest in someone or was short lived. He’s not sure what would happen exactly but once the excitement of pining for someone romantically wore off… he just did not care anymore. There was too much to handle and he didn’t have time for any of it—not the clinginess, the crying, the whining. God, the whining got to him.

Why do you ignore me so much?

You’re always too busy painting to notice me?

Taehyung, I just want you to spend time with me.

It was the constant whining that he hated because they just did not get that he was completely devoted to his art and nothing else mattered as much as it did. Yes… maybe the small ounce of excitement he felt helped inspire him but… well he does not need whoever he slept with anymore.

The infatuation had worn off and he’s back to being alone again but now he’s a little too curious about you. Hence, why he asked you out first and in such a haste.

“Alright,” you said, “So then tell me something small, for instance, what time did you arrive? 7:45?”

“7:30 actually,” Taehyung said as he lifted his mug of hot tea to his lips, “I had business to take care of around campus and I didn’t want to make the trip back home.”

“Well if you asked for my number I would’ve arrived sooner.”

“It takes away the romantic aspect of waiting for the other to arrive without hearing from them—maybe I’ll write you a letter instead,” he teased. You just laughed softly and asked, “I didn’t peg you as much of a romantic. And what business?”

“Nothing too important.” Taehyung said vaguely and despite your curiosity you didn’t push him to answer. The corner of his lips raised as he looked at you, looked at him and found himself saying, “But as for being a romantic? It depends on who you ask.”

You focused on what he said about that instead of what his business was and that made him happy. What he did was not that important but it was necessary after what had happened with his advisor. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around what she had told him and in the end he made and impulsive decision to gift her something that might make her see things from his point of view. Of course it was slightly biased but he believed his piece really explained his views on beauty enough for her to understand.

Taehyung delivered two paintings to her inbox earlier. The first one was a more finished painting of you, still slightly distorted and a bit dark but there was no hiding the romantic element that radiated off of it. He called it ‘Genuine Beauty’. The second painting was a distorted and bright picture of his professor with exaggerated features that weren’t pleasing to the eye and he called it, ‘Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder’.

A true sentient on what he thought of her words. He wanted to know how she would twist the grotesque image of herself into something beautiful.

“What have you been up to aside from writing me?” Taehyung asked, looking at you with interest.

“Aside from that, I’m afraid not much else,” you confessed, “I’ve been in a sort of dry spell trying to understand my character.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Well, it’s a him and he’s similar to you.”

He listened closely to each word you said, taking in the curve of your mouth when you talked and the way you gestured with your hands. He’ll admit, the character did seem very similar to him so he can understand your curiosity in him and the fact that you seemed to lose yourself in your craft didn’t go unnoticed by him. He simply nodded his head and replied with short answers when asked.

In the end, he offered the only thing he could, “Let me be your case of study then, and in return you’ll be mine.”

You smiled this time, a small arrogant smile as you said, “Will you paint me like one of your French girls?”

He understood the reference and found himself saying, “If you write me like one of the lovers in your poems.”

By the end of the night you found yourself in the back of a taxi driving straight to his place under the pretense of another drink. Conversation seemed to flow with ease between you and it ranged from Davinci to Monet, Shakespeare to Milton and whatever was in between. Even when Taehyung asked such a heavy question, you didn’t seem to struggle to find an answer.

“Do you believe in love?” He had asked as the cab stopped in front of a house similar to an upstate New York townhome. He had you by the hand helping you out of the car and held onto you as he led you up the stone path.

“I have to, I’m a writer,” you told him and he seemed to pull you into him more.

“But what is it that you believe it to be?”

The question did make you think a little bit. It’s not that you thought Taehyung had an ulterior motive in asking you such a thing; it’s not like the two of you were seriously into the idea of it but you wanted to give him the right answer—one that truly described you and your ideals.

You didn’t answer his question right away as he let you into his home which was no different than what you imagined it to be. His apartment was in an old building turned into luxury Victorian styled apartments with modern eclectic touches. It was a put-together mess of sketches and canvases littered around the place. The floor was made of a dark, polished hardwood and his furniture all seemed worn through with velvet cushions and engraved wooden trimmings. He had floor-to-ceiling bay windows with twine hanging across them and papers clipped on with laundry pins to dry. There was a warm feel to the place and it had everything to do with his dedication to earthy tones and shades of Morocco red.

There were painting supplies everywhere from scattered charcoals and cans of linseed oil for his paints. There were stacks of literature books and various art ones piled high on nearly every surface and yet it all seemed to be organized to what you could assume only he could understand. Taehyung didn’t even seem to mind the clutter as he chose instead to ask, “Red or White?”

“Red.” You responded quite simply before resuming your studying of his place, the fireplace on one wall was surrounded by canvases and books—same as the vintage bookshelf and for a moment you wondered if his bedroom looked any similar. The thought vanished quickly when you got the smallest hint of which room that might be from the open door down the hall. He had plain gray sheets on an unmade bed and the furniture in there was scarce, like he barely spent any time there and if he did it wasn’t to sleep—the bags under his eyes told you so.

“Have you thought of an answer to my question yet?” Taehyung asked, reminding you yet again of what he asked earlier. He handed you a wine glass and you took it with a nod in gratitude as he left you to find a record to play.

“I’ve had an answer all along, I just wasn’t sure how you would feel about it,” you said and you could see him smile as he moved the needle over the start of the vinyl, Nocturnes, Op 9 began to play.

“I’m not looking for anything in particular, just an insight on what you think,” he said honestly and with a small sigh you decided to tell him.

“I think love is more so… a choice than an emotion?” You finally said as you watched him take a seat on the floor near his coffee table instead of the velvet couch behind him. He motioned for you to join him, “How so?”

“Anyone can feel love at any given moment but it is fleeting,” you sat down, knees nearly touching his, “Tell me, have you ever felt in love before?”

Your question seemed to catch him off guard yet he answered as bluntly as he would regarding anything else, “Only with my paintings.”

“And that had been a choice, to continue, right?” You asked, “Love like every emotion is temporary and inconsistent. Yes, doing certain things or being with certain people might invoke these feelings but once that has dwindled it is your choice to remain in that constant state of loving something—or someone. I love writing, I always have because it is my choice. I choose to subject myself to the hardships that come with my work even at times where I think I hate it. Even at times when I choose to give up I think about the joy it brings me, the emotions that pour out of me and onto every letter and word I put down on paper. I choose to love writing, I choose to devote myself to it and I choose to put it above anything else in the world, even my own relationships.”

Taehyung could see it in your eyes how strongly you felt about it. Your answer had gone slightly off topic but he understood your reference to it in every word you spew, “So when I say I believe in love… I don’t mean it in regards to a feeling that transpires throughout inconsistently, but I mean it as a choice to continue to feel that way even when it hurts and I can’t take it any more.”

A silence seemed to drag on between you and for a moment you wondered if you said too much and sounded too stupid. Taehyung seemed to inhale and exhale at once, “Well, I do say, we have very similar ideals. I don’t think I could’ve put it into better words than a writer even if I tried.”

You couldn’t help but smile, hiding it behind your wine glass, “Maybe you’ll paint them instead.”

“Maybe, I’ll paint you instead,” Taehyung said with a pale yet serene expression like he was scared to speak his words and exhilarated by them all the same.

How could someone seem to get lost and sound so dazed when talking about writing? Did writing mean as much to you as his art did to him? Is that why there was never a need for many words to be spoken between you? Was that why he was able to enjoy your presence so long and so quickly when before you would never even speak? Was there always this underlying connection between your minds and how you viewed art and your world?

You rested your glass on the table as you took in his living room again and all its character, there was a set of paintbrushes just laying on his table and you reached for one. The wood was smooth between your fingertips as you twisted it before looking up at him with a curious gaze, “With one of these?”

Taehyung simply nodded his head watching you lift your skirt up just enough to expose a bit of leg and you brushed the art tool against your calf, “It’s soft.”

His tongue ran over his lips and he leaned forward to gently take the brush back. You were nearing an apology for taking it without asking him first but he simply scooted closer to you on the blanket he laid beneath you and placed your legs over his, skirt of your dress rising even further until he was running the brush over the curve of your knee, “I use it to blend shadows, like this.”

The brush felt soft against your skin, sending tingles down your spine as he ran it over you in circular motions, eyes on yours.

“I tried painting once,” you said as his finger slowly traded with the brush until he was softly touching you, “I wasn’t that good, I couldn’t portray the right picture.”

Taehyung just smiled as he felt you hand go over his while taking the brush back until you were tracing the curve of his wrist, “Paint with your words, and show me you’d write me, like your character.”

“He is very similar to you,” you said, “In almost every aspect and I didn’t realize that until today.”

“Mm,” Taehyung hummed in content when you lifted the brush toward the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, teasing him without realizing it. You seemed to use the brush against him without much thought of what you were doing and how it affected him. You should know, though, that the feel of his art tool against his skin would feel good to him. The soft bristles tickled his collarbone, “How would he make love?”

That seemed to catch you by surprise as you slowed your touch to look up at him. He just bit his lip, hand on your leg caressing it as he waited for your response. Without missing a beat, you said, “Slowly, starting with a sweet kiss.”

A small smirk came to his face, one that only he could pull off without looking cocky. He looked smart and pretty with his glasses and blonde hair, when he spoke he made it sound poetic and when he looked at you it felt like he was focused on whatever was beneath the surface. You watched him push his glasses up the slope of his nose and before you knew it, he was leaning closer, lithe fingers coming up to touch your chin and tilt your jaw.

Although you knew what was coming, there was no denying the small second of hesitation that coursed through you when his lips so tenderly pressed against yours, his voice low as he asked, “Like this?”

You licked your lips despite the extremely small space between yours and his and without the ounce of hesitation from earlier, your hand came up to his neck where you pulled him into you for a real kiss. It started off slowly just like the two of you knew it would but there was no denying the desire that laced throughout it. At first all that happened was your mouths moving against each other, getting used to the idea of kissing — something neither of you have done in a while. Then, it became more feverish. If possible, you seemed to move closer with your hand on his thigh to support yourself. You were on your knees leaning into him and he had a single hand against the floor to support his sitting position while the other was cupping your chin for the best angle. There was a growing intensity between your mouths, lips moving more forcefully now, saliva gradually increasing when you felt his tongue make a swiping motion against your lips.

“Or like this?” His voice had become more hoarse with need. He enjoyed feeling the way your body seemed to lean toward his and he seemed to ask, “What would he do next?”

“It’s not what he would do next,” you said as you moved without your own violation and trailed your lips along the curve of his jaw, “But what would happen to him next.”

Taehyung’s head seemed to tip back as he used both of his hands to keep him upright while you moved between his patted legs to kiss down his neck. He licked at his lips, slowly blinking at the first feel of your tongue licking his ear lobe before you sucked it into your mouth making a tingle run down his spine. Your warm breath tickling his ear made his breath bitch and it didn’t take you long to realize that you had found his weak spot. Unable to help yourself you brought your mouth back to his for a kiss that was much needier than any of the ones prior.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s throat was dry and it made his voice raspier than usual, “Touch me more.”

The words surprised you. You didn’t take him for much of a womanizer but you didn’t think he would seem this touch starved. The last person you had slept with had been your dear friend, Namjoon, and when you realized feelings were beg bring to get involved you were to end the rendezvous that had transpired between you two in an effort to save the friendship and his feelings. You couldn’t explain why you could never see him as more than a friend—and you couldn’t explain why it was so easy to view Taehyung as something more. Your mind had been drawn to him before your body and yet it all felt the same.

You began to crawl away from him and in an effort to keep this going, he went after you with another kiss before your hand touched his chest to keep him in place. It got to the point where Taehyung wasn’t sure if it was the cashmere brown sweater he wore that made his body heat up, or if it was being too close to the fireplace but he felt himself begin to break into a sweat.

He stretched his legs out before him when he got the hint of what you wanted to do watching you shimmy down until you were nearly eye level with his pants and the evident bulge becoming more prominent with each passing second. Taehyung was not ashamed of how quickly you seemed to get to him and his body’s reaction to you. Sex was a normal thing, it was poetic and passionate if done with the right person and he hasn’t done it in a while—a long while. It was completely normal for him to release a light gasp when your hand grazed his inner thigh just inching toward his growing erection.

The two of you made eye contact once more, his lip caught between his teeth and his eyelids low in a lustful gaze that matched your own. There was a strong attraction toward each other — infatuation if you will — and you can’t say there’s romantic feelings between you but there’s no denying that there has been the underlying sexual tension that rose from a clear understanding of each other’s devotion to your work. It turns you on to know he seems to connect with your ideals.

You didn’t even realize Taehyung had moved a hand behind you until he was pulling on the back of your head to drag you back into a needy kiss. Your hands had already gone toward his slacks and you had been unzipping the front as the two of you made out once more. Taehyung’s hand fell back to the ground with a groan as you yanked at his underwear making him lift his hips enough for them to come down with his pants. A small hissing sound left his lips as his hard dick finally made its appearance, springing free of its right confines, hard enough to already angle toward his navel.

Taehyung was not ashamed by the way his stomach caved in with a deep breath at the first feel of your hand wrapping around his tip spreading the beads of precum that had already dribbled out the slit. His tongue was in your mouth, sliding against yours with you swallowing each groan he let out when you began to stroke his length slowly from base to tip. Like earlier, when you tried pulling away from the kiss to catch your breath, he was following after you to stop you from breaking apart from him.

A thin line of drool connected your mouth to his as you finally pulled back, biting down on your lip. He watched you look down at his exposed member, leaning down until you were face to face with it. His long fingers curled around your hair, slowly pushing your head down just a middle until he felt the first tender lick of your tongue along his tip. Taehyung’s entire body reacted to the way you tentatively licked his head teasingly making a small shudder travel right through him.

You have to say, Taehyung has one of the prettiest dicks you’ve ever seen and you just couldn’t help but want to savor it. It was just so pretty and you found yourself wanting to play with it some more. Your hand held onto him at his base as you ran your tongue down the side of his length lathering it in drool to aid your closed fist.

His brows scrunched together as he attempted to watch what you were doing. He could feel your hand jerking him off as you teasingly kissed up his side and tip, tongue swirling around his slit that leaked precum. He just couldn’t see you over the bulk of his sweater.

With an annoyed huffed, he released your hair to pull at his sweater with one arm as he brought it up toward his chest and tucked it under his jaw. Just as he had it fixed, a low and deep sound vibrating in his chest feeling your lips finally surround his tip, sucking gently before relaxing and taking more of him inside. You made yourself relax so you could loosen your jaw enough to accommodate his length as you began to suck him off, tongue licking along the bottom side everytime you bobbed your head up and down.

You had a firm hand on his upper thigh as the other was at his base against his pelvic bone to hold his hips down and let your mouth do all the work. His sweater slipped from under his chin making him groan as he threw his head back, “So good.”

He kept his gaze on the ceiling taking in the feel of your warm and tight mouth taking his cock so deeply. You looked up at his stomach trying to see his face but with the way his head was tilted back, you just couldn’t. All you could see was his chest rise and lower with each breathy sigh he let out, ducking his cock deeper down your throat.

Unable to help yourself, you moved your hand to his navel, feeling his breathing better and he needed to see what you looked like with his dick in your mouth.

He held the end of his sweater between his teeth as he stared down the expanse of his torso to where you laid between his legs swallowing around his cock with a dark look in your eyes that had him muffling a moan.

His hips bucked helplessly into you making you swallow more and more of his length till you couldn’t breathe properly anymore and needed to get off. The hand you still had on his dick began to stroke him, wrist flicking on each upward stroke to make your palm run along his slit while you caught your breath. You watched him in complete awe, he was so hard and his balls tightened against that you couldn’t help but lick between them.

"Fuck," the sweater made it hard to hear him as hw sank his teeth into it feeling it begin to moisten annoyingly so bur he was not going to miss the sight of you kissing below his cock to his balls.

When you finally decided to take him back in your mouth there was no slow build up, it was quick and sudden as you took him down your throat to the point where you gagged around him. The way he bit into the sweater looked like a restraint and he looked so pretty with the fire reflecting off his tan, bare chest and his blonde hair was just a knotted mess from how often he shook it.

“Y/n, you feel so good,” You were never much of a talker during sex, especially if it wasn’t genuine and just superficial dirty talk but he sounded so good moaning your name even if you couldn’t hear him properly.

There wasn’t much warning aside from the incessant moaning that fell from his lips and was swallowed in cashmere for you to know he was close. His hips bucked messily into your mouth, cock twitching with the need to just let go and when you met your mouth with your fist jerking off the rest of him… he just couldn’t take anymore.

Taehyung’s head fell back with a dry moan as the urge to cum got the best of him and he let go in your mouth. You didn’t seem to mind either, once the surprise of the suddenness had worn off, you didn’t hesitate but to try and swallow as much of the thick semen as you could, not at all bothered by the taste of it. Taehyung had to let his sweater go to breathe heavily through his parted lips as he used his elbows to sit himself up in the blanket, trying to understand what had just happened.

“Mm,” you hummed, proud of yourself for making him cum down your throat and you sat up to look at him. Taehyung met your eyes with his feeling heavy with need as he licked his dry lips before forcing himself to sit up properly so he could drag you into a deep kiss. You released a light mewl in surprise, kissing him back eagerly with his hand below your ear on your neck guiding you to angle your head one way while he went the other.

There was not a single part of him that felt bothered at the taste of himself on your tongue, if anything it only made him want you more so he could repay you for treating him so well. Once you had gotten lost in your little makeout, it was easy for you to follow his lead as he moved over you to get you to lie down in his place. The only time he pulled away from you was to finally free himself from the confines of his stupid sweaters and kick off his pants the rest of the way. It didn’t take you long to get what he wanted and you hurried to remove your cardigan feeling the straps of your dress begin to slip off your shoulders. Taehyung dragged you to him, kissing along the exposed skin of your collarbone and shoulder, hands sliding down your back till they could inch the dress down and off of you, making you take it off through the bottom so he wouldn’t have to pull away again.

Your bra and underwear were made of a thin crème colored lace that looked pretty against your complexion and soft between his fingertips as he ran his hands over your covered breasts that had been taunting him all night.

A quiet gasp left your lips due to the way his lips kissed down the valley of your breaths, soft hair tickling your neck. Taehyung’s hands held onto your sides, sliding them up to the end of your bra, feeling you arch your back into his affections until he was able to move them under your to grab at the clasp. Once he was able to unhook it, he tugged it off your arms letting you throw it to the side and dragged him into another kiss when he cupped your bare tits in his warm hands, using his thumbs to rub over your hardening nipples.

“Taehyung,” you whined softly against him, eyes on the ceiling when he began to leave love bites along your neck, traveling his wet mouth lower and lower down your stomach.

“Hm,” he hummed in acknowledgement, making his way between your legs while his hands groped your chest loving the softness of your skin under his rough painter’s hands.

As Taehyung slipped further between your legs till his face was near your spread legs, he looked down. The lace underwear was transparent enough for him to see just a bit underneath and he could see a small shadow of slick over where your cunt should be. He tried to look up at you through his blonde fringe and you sat forward enough to brush it back, smiling as he pressed a teasing kiss against the hood of your clit over your underwear. You lied back down letting yourself relax feeling his fingers hook under the hem of your panties till he was tugging it off and move your thighs over his shoulders so he four fit snugly against you.

Taehyung didn’t waste time teasing you, he had already been so turned on that not even cumming down your throat was able to calm his raging hormones. He just wanted to have you as soon as he could, any way he could, and that meant with his tongue stiffening as he parted your folds around him before licking flatly toward your clit. A light moan left your lips as your clit immediately reacted to stimulation, a small gush of slick pushing out of your pussy with arousal. Taehyung was not inexperienced in the art of making someone cum undone on his to hue and that was becoming more and more evident with the way he made out with your cunt like it was your mouth.

“Oh my god,” you threw your head back, out of breath, as his tongue began to flick messily at your clit while hands slid further down your inner thighs until he was using his thumbs to pull your folds apart for him. You could feel your wetness begin to drip further down but he was quick to leave your clit and lap his tongue against your wet entrance where your arousal seemed to form a puddle at. With the way his thumbs kept you open, you felt everything.

Every now and then his thumb would teasingly push in just a little more than before, acting like he didn’t even notice he was doing it while he hungrily sucked on your clit, tugging it between his lips. His thumb was rubbing against your labia, pressing into it, teasing your entrance every now and then by pushing into it until he felt your legs begin to tremble around him. Unable to help himself, he got a big more rough, tonguing your clit with such effort that his head shook with eagerness, swallowing your slick and pressing his face into your cunt to taste all that you had to offer.

“Oh,” you breathed out shakily, hand sinking into his hair when he nosed at your clit, tongue joining his finger as he thrusted it into you, “I-I, oh god.”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nodded, urging you to let go of him and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Your thighs tried shutting but his head didn’t let you and instead you pressed them against him making him groan with need, eyes nearly rolling as he doubled his efforts.

Your throat became dry as you planted heavily, hips bucking against his mouth until finally you felt the knot in your stomach come undone. His motions did not miss a beat in licking everything you had to offer as your orgasm came in a wave.

“S-so, good,” you breathed out tiredly feeling your pussy walls clenching around nothing and as much as you wanted to just be done, you needed him inside you. When he came up to kiss you, you wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him flush against you so his hard cock rutted against your wet pussy. The taste of each other on your tongues was what made it easy for you two to want to keep going without the thought of repercussions. His hand slid between your sweaty bodies to hold his cock, lining it up with your entrance, bumping into your clue as he refused to break away from the kiss.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as the two of you looked at each other with such need, such want that your lips didn’t spend too long apart from each other.

Your tongue met his just as his cock met the inside of your pussy, taking it slowly as he stroked himself with your slick to ease himself in better. His dick was rock hard, and your pussy was so fucking wet he couldn’t help but moan into your mouth as you took him in.

Taehyung has to hold onto you with a hand on your waist to keep you from sliding away from him too much as the blanket wrinkles on his wooden floor. He had his other tucked by the side of your head looking down at you lovingly as he finally began to thrust, “Tell me if it’s too much, love.”

“Mhm,” you said softly, legs falling apart even more to accommodate his as he dug his knees into the floor so he use his hips to fuck you better. A groan left his lips at the expert roll of your pelvis against his taking more and more of his length inside your tight walls.

“You make me feel so full,” you moaned gently into his ear as he dropped his head down against your neck to try and ignore the fact that your pussy around his dick without any protective layer between them felt so fucking good. You were already so close and he’s barely started. He fucked you slowly but firmly, getting himself used to being inside you and sucking on your neck, his hand left your hip to cup your breast once more and you gasped when he pinched your nipple.

“So tight,” Taehyung breathed out heavily with a single touch thrust that had your walls tightening around him, “So good for me.”

He did it again, and once again drew another moan out of you, repeating his thrusts more roughly than before until you were moaning out a string of his name.

Taehyung was well endowed and you never doubted that for even a second. He knew how to have sex, not just to fuck, but to have sex. It wasn’t just loud groans and rough thrusts. He was sensual, he kissed your neck, whispered sweet words of praise in your ear, touch your body as he fucked you almost passionately—unlike the usual guys you hook up with.

“It’s like you were made for me,” Taehyung groaned, brows scrunched together in concentration as he pulled back to sit and swing your right leg over him to press against your left until you were nearly lying on your side. He laid down next to you, curving his body against yours and lifting your leg back and held it up with his knee as he fucked you from the side. His lips were against your ear, whispering, “Just for me, like my own creation.”

“Mhm,” you hummed, “Just for you, please Taehyung, I’m so close.”

You looked straight out of a vintage erotica film. His apartment was warm due to the fireplace and comforting because of the classical music playing. The moon looked over you as you had sex, nearly love making, lying on your sides with his body cuddled into yours, fucking you with his cock while groping your breasts in his hands. You had to angle your head back and then your neck to kiss him and he swallowed your mouth with his, thrusts getting tougher as he curled around you, “Me too, love, all for you.”

“So paint me,” you moaned, fucking back against him.

For a moment he wondered if you meant on a canvas, or with his cock in your pussy, but he realized he would gladly do both if you let him. Your hand slid back to guide his hips into yours, “Cum, Taehyung, inside me, please.”

“Oh god,” a low growl left his lips as he dug his face into your hair, “Fuck, Y/n, d-don’t tempt me.”

“Do it,” your hand came up to his hair now, dragging his head toward yours until your lips met in a messy kiss, “I’m going to cum, Tae, please.”

It wasn’t a good idea. You were on the pill but he didn’t know that, all he knew was that he wasn’t wearing a condom and he wanted to fill you with so much cum that he painted you white.

“Mhm,” he moaned when you tugged on his bottom lip between your teeth and his hand pinched your hips, “Cum, Y/n, please—oh fuck.”

The only thing that came from you two was the sound of skin slapping as the urge to cum overtook you both and you were fucking like rabbits in heat. Nothing but animalistic grunts left him as he finally felt the flood of release you let go around with him with a whine of his name and before he knew it, he was cumming.

You immediately felt full with his release as it joined yours, cock pulsing inside you as he waited a moment to reel his emotions back in, sweaty forehead pressed against yours, “So good.” He hugged you closely, breathing heavily into your neck, softly kissing your skin affectionately.

It took you both some time to regain awareness of what had just happened and you lied on the fur blanket he had tossed on the floor. The fire sizzled behind you and some classical song [you were ashamed to admit you didn’t know] was playing. Taehyung seemed to be more in control of himself now and reached up to his small table in search of his pack. Once he had a cigarette between his lips, he lay back down next to you to catch his breath, pressing it to yours next.

There was a sort of glow to your skin, your eyes shined with the night sky reflecting through the windows. Light came from the fire not far behind and a small dim lamp in the corner yet the moon was still casted over you two.

His eyes traced your features once more and before he knew it, he was saying something unexpected, “She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen.”

Despite the way your heart seemed to stop, your brows furrowed, “What?”

Taehyung took another drag of his cigarette, “Who wrote that? ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen’ I read it somewhere… ‘With stars in her eyes’.”

Your eyes seemed to widen as you thought it over for a second. A sense of realization flooded you but even knowing you might be right, you still shyly asked, “Virgina Woolf?”

“Yes, I believe so, ‘She was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, with stars in her eyes and veils in her hair.’ I read it years ago,” Taehyung stared out at the moon through the bay windows, “Anyways, it just came to mind, and reminded me of you.”

There was a cloud of smoke drifting into nothing like they were his words being absorbed all around you. After that a silence seemed to fill the room and it was so calming in fact that you found yourself lulled to sleep against his chest.

It wasn’t until hours later when you had woken to loud noises, did you realize that he had not had the luxury of peaceful post-sex sleep.

The first thing you had noticed in your haze of sleep was the sky still blue out and the fire still crackling behind you. The second was that you still slept on the floor and Taehyung was not beside you anymore. It took you some time to realize all the noise that had woken you up was coming from him and his quick brush strokes.

Taehyung had a pair of jeans on and a smock. He didn’t even bother with a shirt, just slipped the smock over his bare chest and he sat on the floor with a pallet full of paint in his hands as he did soft strokes on his canvas. He was so focused that he didn’t seem to mind his glasses which had slipped down to the tip of his nose, lips slightly parted in concentration and eyes bouncing around his painting.

You wondered what this meant for you. You didn’t know what time it was but the way he worked so diligently didn’t even make you want to stay, what if it would bother him? You don’t want to do that and he seems to have already forgotten you were there and what you had just done. With a small sigh you looked around for all of your things, finishing getting dressed and in search of your shoes and bag.

Taehyung’s strokes were fast and agile, he didn’t even have to think of how he was painting, he was just moving mindlessly and mixing all the right colors and blending in all the right places. You took a seat on the sofa trying to put your boots back on.

“What are you doing?” Taehyung asked but his eyes never left the canvas. You could barely hear him over the sound of the record player still playing and it took you a second to know he was even talking to you.

You looked up curiously, “Um… it’s late, I should probably go, I don’t want to disturb your work.”

You were very understanding actually. There are many times you’ve woken up in the middle of the night to write and you didn’t waste time on thinking of anything else while doing it so if Taehyung was the same about his painting then you didn’t want to bother him.

Taehyung pushed his glasses up with the tip of his brush as he finally looked at you, “You won’t disturb me. Stay.”

He watched as you brought your lower lip between your teeth in thought before saying, “Seriously Tae, I don’t mind leaving. You’re working, I understand.”

“But I mind,” Taehyung said in his deep voice that sounded even deeper this late with the fire in the fireplace still crackling and Beethoven’s String Quartet No. 14 playing in the background. You didn’t say anything for a moment and he ran a hand through his messy hair, a small paint streak coating a strand, “Won’t you stay, Y/n? I’ve been in a slump and right now it just hit me all at once and I think it’s because of you. Please, won’t you stay?”

“Can I watch?”

Taehyung did not hesitate to nod his head and motion for you to sit on the floor next to him so you moved quickly to do so.

By the end of the night you watched him paint until dawn with your head resting against his back adoringly. His brush strokes were hypnotizing and the way he captured the light perfectly had you in awe, especially when you realized it was a painting of you.

It inspired you the way he was so devoted to his work and it reminded you of yourself.

Your days carried on as usual after that night with Taehyung. The only differences being ones that involved him. For instance, he has called you a couple times —he’s completely against the act of texting. It’s never anything major, usually to ask how your day has been or to get coffee. There was no sign of an actual relationship but it was close to it.

Today you had your shared anatomy class and he sat next to you instead of behind you like he normally would.

You’re not very fond of the fact that he’s distracting you more than you would like him to but it’s something you can’t explain. Your pen scribbled away in your yellow page notebook with word after word just piecing together effortlessly. Taehyung was utterly fascinated by it all, sometimes you wouldn’t even look down but your pen seemed to never fully lift off the page. You filled page after page in the three hour class, eyes on the professor but nothing you wrote down had to do with what he was teaching.

Every now and then you would look over at him and your eyes would meet, he would raise a brow and you would give him a smile, before looking down to write.

“I don’t think you heard a single thing he said today,” Taehyung said once the two of you made your way out of the lecture hall side by side. From the way you stared off into space, lips moving every now and then as if mouthing silent words, he knew you weren’t listening. He doubts you meant to ignore him but clearly you seemed to be in your own world right now, just thinking about writing and writing and he gets it.

You weren’t thinking of anything else, and he knows this because he had to grab onto your waist and pull you back to keep you from walking right into the pouring rain just outside. You seemed to snap back into reality and looked around, “Did you say something?”

Taehyung was opening his umbrella for you, pulling you under it beside him, “I’ve written notes for you, you seemed a bit distracted to take them yourself today.”

Your eyes slowly widened in surprise as it finally dawned on you that you had spent the last three hours doing nothing but writing about him. You came to a sudden stop and he waited there beside you with the rain pounding on his umbrella. With a small sigh, he let go of you to rummage through his bag with his free hand and took out his notebook, “I wrote two of everything.”

“Taehyung,” you said, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” he said with a shrug, “But you were so lost in your writing I didn’t want anything disturbing you. I had no problem with it, I’m a fast writer and a good listener.”

“Thank you,” you finally began to walk again now that you couldn’t bear the cold standing in one place, “I am bad at focusing on anything else when I write.”

“I understand,” he had to speak up so you could hear him over the rain, “And if you do not think I would be a bother, maybe you’ll let me watch you write more?”

“You’ll get bored,” you said as the two of you walked toward his car, a vintage Chevrolet Corvette that belonged to his grandfather.

“Watching you?” He asked, holding the door open for you, “Never.”

Your apartment was how he pictured it—books and papers scattered everywhere. You were still much neater than him but not by much, clearly the two of you focused too much on your craft that it’s completely taken over everything.

Your place was small yet spacious and well furnished with vintage chairs and mahogany bookshelves. There was a slight clutter of books upon books and dead plants that didn’t get enough sun with the curtains closed. It was warm and had your lovely scent. There was a stack of papers on a desk next to a laptop and an expensive looking typewriter.

There wasn’t much of a conversation going on between you, the last time you said something to him was when you asked him if he needed a drink. Your back was to him and he spent about an hour or so sitting alone on the daybed as he drew in his sketchbook.

After some time when you finally decided to join him, you were exhausted and physically drained. You lied down with your head on his lap looking up at him when his hand began to caress your cheek. “Taehyung.”

“Yes, my love?” He asked with his gaze meeting yours. The name just slipped and he didn’t care to take it back, only watched you curiously still waiting to hear what you would say. You blinked once, “I think I’m beginning to understand better.”

You had been writing nonstop for a long time but for the first time it felt like you finally understood your work.

There was no way to explain it but these interactions with Taehyung—your living reverie—have opened your eyes to his character and the way you wanted to write him in the first place. He was everything you had been searching for.

He leaned back, startled by the sudden way you sat up, hand around his looking at him, “You.”

“Me?” Taehyung asked with his hands on your waist, shifting you more on his lap, “You understand me?”

All it took was one nod of your head for him to be pulling you into a kiss meeting you halfway. He had a hand on your chin, angling your head opposite of his letting the kiss deepen, soon he was tracing the curve of your neck with his jaw. Every ounce of lust and greed poured out in his fingers when he touched you.

It didn’t take Jungkook long to realize something about his friend seemed different. He was used to Taehyung isolating himself when he had a wave of creativity. There would be days on end where Jungkook would call only for every call to be ignored. He would even write his friend letters but he never answered him. When he was back to normal, Taehyung would look tired like he hadn't eaten or slept in days.

Right now, Jungkook sees Taehyung but he doesn’t think Taehyung sees him. Despite sitting across from him, he wouldn’t look his way. Instead he was staring out the large windows that overlooked the courtyard

“Have you eaten?” Jungkook asked, looking up from his sketchbook. The two had been on the second floor of the library this evening studying classical art techniques. Jungkook had gotten bored and began to sketch up an idea for another sculpture while Taehyung drew someone he couldn’t recognize. His friend didn’t even so much as flinch and give any sign that he was listening.

A small scoff left his lips, “Taehyung.” With an annoyed huff, he reached for his sketchbook and watched with a confused expression, “Who is this?”

It was quite detailed despite how little time he had to draw this and Jungkook was in awe. For a second he wondered if this was original work from Taehyung, all created from his mind but as he followed Taehyung’s gaze out the window, he realized it wasn’t.

It was you.

You sat on a wooden bench facing the swan fountain and there was a book in your hands. Jungkook couldn’t make out the book but seemed to have all your attention because you stopped every now and then to highlight something then jot it down in a notebook. There were powder blue headphones on your head and you were in a red lace long sleeve top with roses embroidered on and under was a white shirt. The black skirt you wore reached below your knees with a slit on the side that exposed your boots and over it all, you had on a black coat. He’ll admit, you did look rather captivating against the dead green of the lawn and trees paired with the foggy sky from days on end of rain.

Taehyung seemed to have found his newest muse and it was all he could think about.

“Are you still interested in her?” Jungkook finally asked, catching the way a small smile seemed to fall on Taehyung’s face—something he rarely got to see despite how easily he gave them to you. Jungkook did recognize you in the drawing better once he got a good look at you. He had almost forgotten seeing you weeks ago when he was with Taehyung, but he had certainly forgotten his friend’s knowledge and curiosity of you.

“Only a little,” Taehyung said, ignoring the way Jungkook looked at him with disbelief. He was used to his friend having a sudden infatuation with a certain person but they were short lived and always ended with the poor girl crying about how cold he was—Jungkook knows because he was always there to pick up their broken pieces with a night in his bed [Taehyung never cared].

“She’s hot,” Jungkook said, half teasingly to read how his friend would feel. Taehyung merely gave him a side glance in acknowledgment but the smile he had for you had tightened as he looked back outside.

“It’s that guy again,” Jungkook pointed out as they both watched outside, “What’s his name?”

Kim Namjoon.

Taehyung was used to seeing him around throughout the years but he never had a need to pay attention to him before. Like most of those who he sees in passing they never become more than that—just a passing blur that he doesn’t care to know a single thing about. Namjoon used to be one of the ones he ignored until he heard you mention him once or twice.

“Who knows,” Taehyung said, shifting his gaze down to his sketch pad avoiding the sight of Namjoon and you now standing like you had somewhere to go.

Jungkook, the ever curious and procrastinating, kept watching you just out of sheer boredom. The library had gone dark aside from the few kerosene lamps scattered across tables but it was already getting hard to see his sketches properly so now he’s just waiting for Taehyung to finish.

Suddenly, all too suddenly that it made him jump in his seat, Taehyung was standing, shoving his things in his bag loud enough to create an echo in the cold library. Jungkook looked up at him, pencil laying limp in his hand now, “Are we done?”

Taehyung pushed his chair into the wooden table, not bothering to look back at his friend as he stormed off, “Yes.”

Not long after he watched his friend make his abrupt leave from the library… he saw him now approaching you and Namjoon.

You were blissfully unaware that you had been watching through the windows of a library as much as you were unaware of Taehyung coming up behind you as Namjoon talked. “I was thinking maybe we could go catch that new movie that just came out.”

“Oh, I was going to do some writing—You won’t believe it Joonie,” your tone changed so suddenly as you grabbed him by the arm, jerking him toward you excitedly carrying on like he hadn’t said anything, “It’s like I can’t stop writing, you wouldn’t believe how easily the words are flowing like… I don’t know, I’ve never felt this way before, Joonie.”

“That’s good, Y/n but,” Namjoon’s words slowed down as he looked behind you at the looming figure standing a few feet away. He’s never spoken a word to Kim Taehyung despite both being grad students, he only knows of him from what others have spoken and he’s very… cold. Since when did you and him begin to talk? Namjoon took your hands in his as he pulled you closer to have your attention knowing you still didn’t know who was behind you, “But it’s nice to get a break, you don’t want to overwork yourself.”

“You don’t get it, Namjoon,” you said his name instead of the affectionate nickname you’ve always called him, he couldn’t help but look at Taehyung who pretended like he wasn’t watching closely with a cigarette dangling between his fingers, “I can’t stop. I cannot stop. If I-I do, I don’t know.”

His gaze shifted behind you making you turn to look too and your eyes seemed to soften as you made eye contact with the dirty blonde you’ve been spending time with lately.

“Y/n,” Taehyung’s deep voice spoke as he stared at you two, “I thought you would be busy writing”

“I’m on my way to right now,” you said, taking a step toward him with your back to your friend, “Would you join me?”

A smile came to his face as he pushed his glasses up, “If I could paint you again.”

You stood still in thought. The first time he painted you was after you had sex for the first time when it felt warm, passionate and hungry. He never slept that night, he stayed up the entire time getting the right blends of pigment on your body as it lay on the flue blanket completely nude. You’re not sure if he knew what saying that would make you think but from the way his brow raised questioning made you think he did.

Namjoon felt his jaw clench, eyes glaring at Taehyung who didn’t even bat an eye in his direction. You looked back to Namjoon now who waited for you with a bated breath. You walked up to him making his heart face as you pressed your lips against his cheek with your softly brushing against his jaw. The kiss was tender on his face and when he looked down at you, you gave him an apologetic smile, “Will you call me?”

“Will you answer?” Namjoon asked but you weren’t beside him anymore. You were next to Taehyung who took your book bag off your shoulders and put it over his, a hand grazing your back as he talked to you but too far out of your friend’s ear shot.

“What did your friend want?” Taehyung asked.

“To see a movie but I have to finish what I’m writing before it slips my mind,” You said moving your hand to his bent arm walking alongside him, “I’ll have to catch up with him another day.”

He didn’t have anything to say to that but you could still feel his eyes on you. A part of you wanted to ignore his gaze because you find yourself at a loss for words any time he looks at you that way. It’s like he sees through you not at you and sometimes you don’t know which one is better.

There’s no denying that he likes the look of you, he finds you attractive and not just physically. You know that. You just can’t tell what he’s thinking that makes him look at you that way.

“Namjoon.”

He stood alone where you once had been beside him, just watching you leave with the art major he had no idea you were even involved with. Since when did you begin to talk to him and how did Namjoon never notice? Did you just decide that you would not be open with him anymore?

“Jimin,” Namjoon looked at his friend, a bit stunned, “Hey.”

The ballerina watched after you alongside him now as he asked, “Y/n is leaving with Taehyung?”

“Are they together?” Namjoon asked suddenly, “Did you know?”

Jimin shook his head no, “Not exactly, I mean, Y/n never hid the fact that she had a thing for Taehyung, I’m just surprised to see them leave together. Y/n never told me they began to talk.”

Namjoon bit his lip nervously, “You don’t think they’ll date or anything, do you? This just seems sudden.”

He looked to his friend for some comfort but all Jimin did was shrug his shoulders and say, “I don’t know, you know Y/n doesn’t really date and neither does he, they’re always too focused on writing or painting to think about anything else. Who knows, they might just work out because of how similar they are.”

“Yeah but…” Namjoon was trying to find words to say but nothing came to mind. Maybe he was just being bitter… he’s been your friend for years. He’s always been there for you anytime you needed him without question. You were attracted to him enough to sleep with him but was that all it was ever going to be? You won’t see him as more than just a friend but then Kim Taehyung comes along and suddenly you have no problem walking away from Namjoon to go with him?

Jimin looked at his friend apologetically, he sympathized with him. He’s known you for longer than Namjoon has and he’s been through this exact same thing before too. There was a time when he thought you and him were the closest until Namjoon came along and suddenly you spent all your time with him instead. Now Namjoon is experiencing what Jimin did but this time because of Taehyung and he feels bad for that.

“Look, I’m going to be honest,” Jimin tried to work out what he was going to say so it didn’t come off badly, “I think, Y/n loves the idea of Taehyung on paper… how she can write or create him like she’s done with you and I in the past. I think maybe it’s nothing past something superficial but at the same time…”

“At the same time,” Jimin repeated himself with a bated breath, “I see a lot of similarities between them especially when it comes to putting their work first and maybe that’s something they seem to understand about each other that we don’t.”

Namjoon didn’t get it.

So was it not that you two had feelings for each other?

Was it not that you might love each other?

Was it just that you two understood each other?

He doesn’t get it. Now, Namjoon might not understand your obsession with perfecting every aspect of your writing… but that didn’t mean he didn’t love you. He loved you a lot—more than he assumes Taehyung could love you.

It’s not like it’s a secret, Namjoon has always been open about the way he felt about you so why did you choose someone else? All because he couldn’t understand you the way Taehyung might? Is it because he can’t just look at you and know what you need the way Taehyung can?

Is it because he doesn’t spend hours missing sleep or eating just so he could obsess over his work too?

How could Taehyung possibly understand you more than he does?

::.

okokok this was kinda long but I’m sorry, blonde Taehyung as an art major was doing it for me 🫶this was a romance but also not necessarily bc the focus isn’t entirely on their relationship 🤒neither one of them are supposed to be super likable so if you hate them and the way oc did Joon and Jimin dirty i get it 🫡but they just genuinely do not think about anything but their craft.

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[jungwondazed]

desperate makeout w jake after a date like the type where he couldn’t even wait until you two got home, barely managing to open the door

some would call it a bit classless, with the way jake's hands were all over you before you two could step through the door of your apartment. he was adamant on keeping this date strictly for emotional purposes, no fingering under the restaurant table or fucking in the backseat of the parking lot. but when he saw the way that dress hugged your body as you were climbing out of the passenger seat, he thought to hell with his promises.

"jake, not out here" you breathe out, back pressed against his car door, his arm snaked around your waist, other hand hiking your leg up in attempt to press his hard on right through your panties.

"hmm?" he tilts his head with a small pout, "why not baby?" he mutters in between kisses and you pull back, shaking your head, walking backwards towards your apartment door which was only a few meters away.

in the process of dragging him back into your home, his lips were still all over you, sucking on your neck and pressing sloppy pecks on your chin. he chuckles in between kisses, eyes heavy as he glances down at you every so often. his smile that upturned perfectly was enough to let himself have at you, but you weren't that flashy enough to do all of this out here.

you fumble with the keys when he presses his entire chest against your back, licking down your shoulder line while groping every inch of you he could. his large hands brush up and down your inner thighs and you swear if the key didn't turn in time you would've collapsed right at that spot. you're only halfway through the door before he turns you around, almost slamming you against the wall. his kisses are so desperate you hear him whining a bit every time you try to come up for air. jake has his own ways when it comes to making out, he acts like it's the last thing he'll ever do with his whimper and how breathy he gets. his tongue circles your own, letting you play with his mouth however you want.

both arms are completely wrapped around your waist, feeling so engulfed by him you can't tell whether his embrace or the making out was making you dizzy, getting lost in the sounds of jake's "mmm"'s and "ah,". he finally lets you off the wall, walking you both around, lips never stopping, holding onto you the entire time. by the end of the night you're sure he's pressed you up against every surface from the fridge to the living room painting and to the bedroom closet. you smile against his lips thinking to yourself that maybe you should get him to keep making these promises, if it ends up like this each time.

[rileysluvr]

simon riley loves his car (and fucking you in it) nsfw!!

Simon had picked you up outside your apartment some hours ago, car parked out front and tapping on the steering wheel in front of him as he waited patiently; he had shown up much earlier than he anticipated, but would rather put a shotgun to his head than leave you waiting. A bouquet of flowers on the passenger seat, and surprise dinner plans that reminded you of your first real date with him, despite going out for almost a year now. He keeps things classical and efficacious.

He’d say it was well worth the wait, being able to watch you walk down the staircase in that flowy, little sundress of yours that hiked up with the wind, much to his viewing pleasure. He got out of his car the moment your front door had opened, looping around to be able to greet you with the flowers and a kiss. He showered you with compliments, as always, in that gruff and hilariously out-sticking Manchester accent you adored so much. Opening the door of his ‘69 Mach for you, ever the gentleman he is, and you were off for the evening.

He took you to your favorite restaurant downtown, the one he made your favorite by hearing you say you wanted to try it once and proceeding to take you the next night. One, ‘that was really good, Si, thank you,’ as you were kissing him goodnight, and suddenly he was taking you almost every weekend he was home. He’s sure to introduce some sort of variety every once in a while, though, for the other free nights of the week.

The man is shameless, truly. He isn’t afraid to whisper something naughty in your ear in public, or outright insult someone for looking at you in any way, malicious or not. These things he whispers: so fucking dirty, and tend to come out as you’re about to head home so he can warm you up and have you all desperate for an extra good fucking. One with your head buried in your mattress as his is between your thighs, chest rising and falling like a madwoman with exactly no worries in the world other than.

The worst is when you’re at previously mentioned restaurant and he doesn’t even bother keeping quiet as he’s signing the check because it’s well enough spaced out and, or at least he argues, nobody has the right to be listening in to his conversation in the first place. Scar themselves, and if they have a problem with it, he’ll add another just above the jugular so they don’t think about doing it again. He smirks when he sees your face has gone all red, hoping that no one had heard his vile promises until your faith is truly tested and you’re forced to just close your eyes and give in.

He drove you to your favorite viewing spot, parking his Mustang a few meters from the cliff’s edge that overhung the entire city. A beautiful sight, like it was straight from a modern painting or film, and the comfort of his car paid towards the surrealness of it all. You’re a pretty sight as well, all dolled up in the passenger seat with your hands folded in your lap, flowers and bag forgotten in the back.

Simon wasn’t ever much for using his words, but he’d do it all day if it meant hearing your sweet voice give him a response. There are times where you’ll both be as chatty as a couple of grandmothers meeting for their annual lunch outing, and then there are moments where it’s time to zero in on the afternoon wine tasting and fewer words just work better than the rundown. Times where you can’t shut up because he wants to hear every single detail about every single thing you’ve done since he saw you last, in the most caring way possible, and moments where it feels like you’ve been happily married and tied at the hip for twenty years and you don’t need to share out because the quietness is just as good.

“That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special, when you can just shut the fuck up for a minute and comfortably share a silence.”

He reached over the center console and put his hand on your bare knee, calloused fingers treading so lightly and yet instantly sending jolts of goosebumps throughout your entire body. You both kept your eyes on his hand as it trailed up your thigh, contrasting skin slipping inward to make you gasp and giggle. It’s big, veiny, and utterly mesmerizing to watch as it moves.

You were silent as you watched, apart from the audible blushing in your breath, then looking up to him through your lashes. The hem of your dress was pushed up and up and he inched closer and closer to your core until you were shuddering and unable to blink.

“Simon…” you breathed, and he straightened his shoulders, eyes meeting your fuck me ones. “Please.”

Well, he couldn’t say no to that, now, could he?

He got you in the backseat of his car, straddling his lap with him shoving his tongue in your mouth so strongly it was almost too overwhelming. His body heat, his muscles; you felt it all.

There wasn’t much time for comfort before his hands were slipping under your dress and groping at the plush fat of your bent hips. He pinched and slapped your ass to pull those cute whines from you, lips quivering right up against his own, and then smoothed small circles over the skin with his thumbs and palms to ease the sting. His hands went further to feel up your waist, just under your tits and stopping there. He wouldn’t dare mess up your pretty outfit just yet, but he loves to see you whining for more.

He pulled barely an inch away from your face, with a great, cocky smirk coating his expression. “No bra?” Your already flustered face had somehow gotten even more heated in front of him; he really knows how to work you up. He chuckled, “You naughty little devil.”

His hand met the back of your head and pulled you right back in as the other was returned to your waist. He nudged and encouraged you to move your hips, so you did, back and forth ever so slightly to start out.

But you both needed more than slightly, and he knew it. His grip didn’t yield and instead pressed you down harder onto his lap, causing your movements to stutter from your depraved and clothed clit getting harshly rubbed up against his firm bulge. Your lips halted in an open form, moaning into his mouth, and he snickered at the fact.

Grinding down on a man his size was no easy feat but you gave it your all nonetheless, makeout turning sloppier and more desperate by the second. But messy has always been his favorite when it comes to you and that body.

You always lose track of time so easily when you’re with him, and same goes for him. You’re dangerous, and he loves it. Neither of you had even noticed the sky turning from a pale blue to pitch darkness in the time between then and when he had brought the car to a stop.

His hand, rough and straightforward as ever, moved to slip between the two of you and into your panties, cupping your cunt. You gasped at the coldness of his touch and he hummed at your warmth, delving two fingers between your folds before you could totalize it all in your head. “That feel alright, honey?”

You nodded with a squeak of a whine, and he took that as his cue to push further.

“So fuckin’ tight…’n wet…all for me, sweetheart?”

He shoved his fingers deeper, and you choked on air. “Y-yes. All yours,” you breathed.

“Yeah?” he razzed on. He knew he was beginning to test your limits, even if you wouldn’t admit it. “Well, I want you to take what you want from me, then, love. Make yourself come ‘nd I can watch.”

You swallowed thickly; it was never a question with him. Your kneedy hands wrapped around the thick arm leading to your cunt and you began to rock your hips back and forth, eyes closed. The friction and the reaction it pulled from you was instantaneous, but you’re no quitter. He adjusted his fingers upwards and curled them a bit, causing you to stutter out a broken and shy moan from your slacken jaw.

“Come on, sweetheart, that’s it…grind that little cunt down on my palm f’me. Fuck yourself on my fingers, make it feel good.”

You increased the pressure with which you grounded yourself down on his palm; you really wanted to make him proud. The heel of his palm dug ferociously at your clit in all the best ways, allowing you to feel up every callous and year of strenuous work on his skin; he’s a skilled man, a provider. The same hand he brought to countless countries to do God knows what to the enemy soldiers, working at your cunt so sweetly you’re sure you’d have actual hearts in your eyes if it were physically possible. You don’t have to worry your pretty, little head about the gritty half of his life, however; he’s reassured you an infinite amount of times, and will continue doing so until he retires.

He fucked you with his fingers just right, like he knew you better than you knew yourself. He’d always have you unraveling and drunk in front of him in mere seconds, doesn’t matter if it’s been weeks or minutes since the last time, on his fingers or tongue or cock. However it be, he always takes care of you.

“Jusst like that…there ya go, honey. Makin’ a proper fuckin’ mess of my hand, aren’t ya? Tirin’ yourself out, now?”

He watched on, witnessing the affects his words had on you; he’d have to be an idiot not to notice them, and he let it fuel his ego freely.

“So fuckin’ stunning… You gonna come f’me, love?”

“Mhm,” you whined, nodding feverishly and nearly busting your lip with how hard you were biting down on it to keep your sanity. It’s so fucking close, you could just barely reach it.

“Mhm?” he mocked. “Pretty pussy must’ve been so needy while I was away, I bet.” Damn him, for even his mean side is still so gratifying. “‘S a good thing I’m here, now…make this cunt feel real fuckin’ loved. Ain’t it right, sweetheart?”

As if on cue, you came on his hand with a broken moan, practically clawing at his thick forearm as he continued to work at you until you were seeing flashes of white with pink roses in your closed off vision. Your eyes shot open, breathing erratic and pupils blown out, and were met with his smug face.

“There’s your answer,” he commented. Fuckin’ meanie. He pulled his fingers from your sensitive pussy and brought them to his mouth, sticking his tongue out wide and to taste that cum of yours he missed so much. You watched on, dumbfounded, and he clearly enjoyed the audience.

Heaven, and you should know it. He’s a kind man; he shares.

Before you could think, he shoved his fingers between your lips and against your hot tongue without a warning, forcing a whine from deep in your throat. Saliva mixed with cum mixed with spit. You took them greedily as he was the one to watch that time, lust and stupefaction and all the feelings bundled up into his observant, anthracite eyes. He taunted once more, “It’s nice, innit?” with an unruly snicker.

You nodded with his fingers still in your mouth, the amount of space they took up utterly inordinate, until they were clean. He pulled them out and praised you for the good cleaning before telling you, “Tell me what you want. Right here, ‘nd now.”

With your hands already at his zipper, palming his erection while you silently begged to take it out of his pants, you told him, “Want your cock-…need you to t’fuck me, please,” through tired and desperate chokes. You were about ready to cry if you had to sit on his lap and be without his cock stuffed deep in your cunt for another minute. “Need it so fucking bad, Si.”

The man leered and chuckled at your cute patheticness, his hand finding yours on his crotch. “Mmh. With pleasure.”

—

Now, as you’re speared open on his cock in the backseat, sitting on his lap with your arms wrapped around his neck, you can’t seem to think much about anything but him. The way his cock fills you so nicely, all big and relentless just like the rest of him. He just makes you so dizzy; it’s as easy as one glance and half the time you don’t even know if he means it or not. It’s like he has you under an unbreakable spell, or whatnot.

“Gotta start movin’ ya now, sweets,” he says, like he’s a man who’s sorry but knows he’s right. And he’s always right.

You lift your head from his shoulder, eyes all glossy and lit up by the car’s interior lights, so fucking desperate for him. You nod in understanding before stationing your hands on his broad shoulders and slowly raising your hips a few inches with the help of his heavy hands on your hips, hissing through your teeth turning into a whimper-esque moan as you sink back down. It burns, stings, yet repairs all with a kiss to your cervix.

Your post-orgasm slick is making it a snug fit, but you fear your legs will seize up seeing how unreliable they are after just coming once. And it’s still one hell of a stretch. Collect yourself, breathe, and you’re doing it all again. Slowly, until you’re eventually riding him so leisurely with his assistance.

“Good girl,” he drags out, impossibly long and sultry. It hits you right in the gut like it always does, and you feel that tingling behind your ear from how close you are to him. “My good fuckin’ girl, made to take this cock. Ain’t that right?”

You’re not going to last long with such a sensitive cunt having finished hard only a moment ago. The fabric of his jeans grinds so wonderfully right up against your nerves in the particular position, and your brain is utterly fried. You know nothing more but to fuck yourself on this cock until you physically can’t anymore and your lungs give out.

He stretches you out and fills you beyond what you can handle, but you’ve always tried your best to make it work for him. He’s just so fucking sweet on you, how could you not make an effort?

You’ve got the hang of it. It’s not often you get to be on top of him, but you’re doing a nice job on proving he should let you more often. Christ, he’d die a very happy man like this if it was up to him. You move to gently push his hands aside and he gives you a surprised, yet still taunting, look. You return with a smirk of your own, for once.

Your hands plant themselves on your thighs to give him a nice show as you very slowly bounce yourself on his cock, careful not to be hitting your head on the ceiling each time like an idiot, with him all leaned back and soaking in the view. Your fingertips curl around the end of your dress and hike it up your lap, teasing his eyesight with what it could reach. You stop just before he gets to see your cunt swallowing him whole, and he groans at both the prospect and what he’s missing out on. He shakes his head. Surprise is quick to turn to disapproval, though all still the same amount of playfulness.

“So pretty like this, darlin’. One of your best looks.” His praise can come with the slightest belittling kick to it more often than not, and you eat it up every time like a starved girl to a feast.

He adjusts to be more comfortably seated which, of course, comes with him just barely jutting his hips upwards. He somehow manages to hit that far-too-sweet of a spot in you with the small movement, and you fall forward onto his chest with hands rushing and mostly failing to catch yourself.

“Silly woman,” he huffs. “Don’t lose your balance, when you’re doin’ so good.” You raise your head to scold him with your eyes but he’s so quick to give you an atypical pout in return, leaving you with mixed emotions running rampant in your mind and heart and gut. He tells you, “Don’t gimme that face, now. C’mon, then. Aren’t ya gonna kiss me?”

You do so in a heartbeat, but not without a roll of your eyes to keep him in check. Suddenly, you’re more interested in chasing your own high than his. But don’t get it wrong; that was his plan from the start; get you riled up so you’ll take what you need from him. He knows what he’s doing, at all times. You push yourself from his chest with your hands back to being planted firmly on his shoulders and you begin riding him again with a newfound, eager energy. Back to grinding, more so.

“There she is,” he laughs. “All mean ‘nd angry, using my cock like the rightful toy she deserves.” And you can’t disagree.

“Come on, keep those pretty eyes on me, now.”

“Fuck, Si—‘m trying.” Your thighs burn and you struggle to reopen your eyes every time you find that they’ve closed on their own.

He takes in the sight and burns it into his memory for good, right next to every other time he’s had you all fucked-out and cockdrunk under him. Having you absolutely struggling to take everything he gives you but oh-so willing every time because he’s just so fucking caring with it. In the backseat of his car, though? That’s a new one.

It doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to spark in your belly, right where he’d see that moving bulge in your stomach he always obsessed over so dearly, and would be now if it weren’t for your dress in the way. His cock twitches inside you at the prospect, even the smallest of groans ghosting his lips. You’re tumbling so fast and so blindly into your orgasm and you can’t even think about how it may be your stamina’s killer for the evening. He offers his hand and you take it. Gentleman.

You lace your fingers with his, using it to ground yourself and level your head. And it makes the entire experience all the more intimate; you fuck like you love each other because the words going unsaid as of now won’t stop them from being true.

“That’s it, sweetheart, just like that. Wanna feel you squeezin’ my hand when you come on my cock. Lemme hear those pretty noises ya like makin’ for me.”

He tends to talk a lot when he’s buried deep inside you; he’s cocky, he can’t help it. Despite his words majorly being muffled in your hearing, the volume of your moans and whines increase like he asked for. Each noise you make comes with a punch of butterflies to his stomach, and he’s never enjoyed the fictitious, creepy-crawlies as much as he does now.

He admires how your face contorts with pleasure, brows gone all low and straight with your jaw hanging slightly open and eyes closed. He feels how close you're getting with your stuttering and uneven movements, and how you’re practically strangling his cock as tension builds up in your gut.

Like he’s nothing but warm flesh for you to use to get off in this moment, and your entire world in others and especially now, even after his relentless teasing. He doesn’t mind being both. Lie; he hopes he’s both. He needs to be everything you need, and what you need now is a small push of worshiping degradation. He knows you, nearly better than you know yourself, and you’re not afraid to say it.

You’d be dead without him, in all honesty. He puts up with you, and you put up with him, in ways no other humans would. You’re better than good for each other, more often than not.

He scoffs with bemuse, “Even prettier when you let me fuck you so hard I ruin your lovely hair ‘nd makeup.” His eyes ricochet between your dilated ones, a nasty smirk on his lips. You’re utterly gone. “Yeahh, that���s right…I know you like it, too, pretty girl…doin’ amazing, takin’ what I give you so well… Like my loyal little fuckin’ whore,” he spits, with love.

You come hard on his cock and it sucks every bit of energy from you, exuded through uncontrolled moans and heavy breathing and the fierce death-grip you have on his hand. He talks you through it until you finish riding it out, and he swaddles you in his arms the second you fall slack against his broad front. He’s here to serve you in your every step.

And he hasn’t gotten anything.

“—‘m sorry, Si…I don’t know if I can keep going yet,” you pant. “…’t’s too good. Need a break.”

Was your mascara really running? You hadn’t even noticed.

He breathily chuckles at your words. Edge him for hours and the sick bastard laughs. Though, you haven’t given him much of a choice, considering you’ve just let him fuck you silly in the steel and leather compartment of his car and now you’re catching your breath as you lean your full weight on him. He never thought he’d find something so caging to be so comforting for him.

“It’s alright, love, I know you’re tired.” His arms wrap tightly around you and savors it. He’d be a dead man if it weren’t for your warmth and hugs. “Y’did such a nice job, as always.”

His teeth will rot if he keeps up with this all. Routine of praise, abandonment of brutality. He’s lucky he was never one for showing teeth whenever you make him smile. Makes the illusional—and hopefully never of his reality—cosmetic change easier on the both of you.

Seriously though, anything but the teeth.

An idea pops into his head; it’s no flashing, spur-of-the-moment idea, but rather one that has been brewing in his mind for a long time, and with no clue on how or when to introduce it to you. Now, however, it feels just right. Still, it comes out in a mumble, partly to comply for the close proximity but mostly because he’s never been good with this kind of stuff.

Vulnerability, ‘nd all that crap.

“Want you to move into my place.”

Best saved for when he’s just fucked you into a near-coma in the backseat of his Mustang.

You amusedly hum into his shoulder, still so drunk on your highs you can barely process exactly what he’s putting out there. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he huffs. “Whaddya think? I like it well enough…imaginin’ waking up to that beautiful face, all wrapped up in my sheets…walkin’ around the kitchen ‘nd wearin’ my clothes after I fuck you real nice every mornin’. Isn’t that a pretty sight?”

His last words bite you right in the sweet spot as they graze past your ear, and you’re suddenly a weak, giggling, and borderline whining mess atop him. “You might break me at that rate,” you warn.

It’s difficult to ignore his hard cock still shoved deep inside you during such a tender moment, especially with the way you’re involuntarily writhing with his and your words.

“Every other mornin’ then,” he reasons, and you can’t help but giggle. “You’re laughin’ but I ain’t joking, sweetheart. That’s another thing, wanna hear that laugh all fuckin’ day when I’m home. I’ll never get tired’ve hearin’ it.”

You finally manage to pull your flustered face from the crook of his neck, looking at him with a surprised smile like you’ve just discovered the secret meanings to time and space and they all lie within his marked up face. “You’re serious?”

“‘Course I’m bloody serious.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing, while you never thought you’d hear the words.

A step forward. You’ve been waiting, but can’t exactly say you’ve been expecting.

“You’ve stayed the night plenty before, I doubt it’ll be any different. I’ll give you the fuckin’ key right now.”

You grin huge—so bright and lively he thinks he may just catch it like a disease—before leaning down and gently smashing your lips against his. He returns the gesture, a classic smirk fighting its way through.

Gently smashing. It makes sense, between the two of you.

You pull away slowly and barely, muttering to him through your smile, “I accept your key.”

He hums a satisfactory one, rolling his shoulders back against the hard leather seat as if his mind isn’t running rampant with a billion thoughts, all revolving around you and happiness. He realizes he hadn’t ever had the chance or reason to sit in the back before. He definitely belongs up front in the driver's seat. It’s a miracle he even has enough leg room to fit you on his lap.

“Although,” you start with a hint of sarcasm in your voice, though he still furrows his brows urgently. What could possibly be in the way? Who does he have to kill to fix it? “I’m gonna get lonely in a house that big, when you’re off getting deployed in another country.”

Every god-damn terrorist on the planet, apparently. His retirement party better be worthwhile.

A dagger to the heart he’d happily take again simply because it’s got a part of you. In this case, it’s far-too-real words that are laced in your charming voice.

“We’ll get a dog.” His words are said so nonchalantly and it’s a conscious decision, as if they aren’t the most important things in the world for the both of you. So determining for your future together, and so sweet despite his downright rough and gruff drawl. So much emotion in such a seemingly emotionless voice. “Even let you name it.”

You smile impossibly bigger, and it’ll go on to continue growing with every half-sentence he utters. “You’d do that for me?”

“Oh, I’d do anythin’ for you, love.”

You throw your arms around his neck with an excited squeal, practically strangling the man with love. He takes you graciously, big arms tightening around your waist, but tries to calm you like a wild dog by moving a hand up to the back of your head, buried in his shoulder once again, and patting it.

“…s’long as I approve of it. Sound about right?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you mumble, locked onto him. “Does this mean I get to drive this car while you’re away?”

He laughs, chest inflating for a split second and taking you up and down with it. “God, no. Maybe I’ll let you drive the Charger, but this beauty isn’t goin’ anywhere without me behind that wheel.”

“Damn,” you hiss. Obviously. “Was worth a shot.”

“Smart thing,” he murmurs. You sink your slack body into him impossibly closer, every muscle relaxed beyond what you thought they were capable of because he’s just that comfortable. The squishiest chest you’ll find on a man.

“….Gonna be my pretty, li’l housewife.”

“Even though I have a job and we aren’t married?”

“Even though you have a job and we aren’t married,” he repeats, sighing the entire time.

He can change at least one of those things. He’s gonna change one of those things.

He starts again, “Seems like you’ve got your energy back. And you still have a job to do, little miss.”

You groan dramatically into his neck when his hands find your waist, very sadly attempting to pull you off him for only a moment. Groans fluidly turn to whimpers and you’d be stomping your feet in protest if you could, but your stubbornness has always translated to playful arousal.

“Don’t worry, love,” he chuckles. “I’ll help ya out.”

[borninwinter81]

Cyber goth dress + my favourite way to make patches

I thrifted this dress a couple of weeks ago for £1. I believe it started life as some sort of costume, possibly a sexy firefighter, but the fabric is really good quality cotton, and I thought it had some cybergoth potential with the yellow and reflective bits. I also really like the metal fastenings.

I already had a high-viz coat in my wardrobe from when I used to go bicycling more often, so I was able to steal more reflective bits from that. Not yet sure what I'll do with them, probably cut interesting shapes and glue or sew them on. Photos with and without flash.

And then yesterday I got a half meter of cotton fabric for £1 which is an almost exact colour match, so I can make some stencilled patches.

I already had fabric paint at home, so this entire outfit has only cost me £2! Cybergoth clothing is usually super expensive.

There are lots of tutorials for making stencilled patches on YouTube, (@rattusrattus3 has some excellent ones) but I lack patience and don't like cutting out intricate pieces, especially for lettering, so I had the idea to use alphabet stickers. You can pick these up really cheap from your local pound shop or dollar store depending on where you're from. I think mine were 40p a packet.

Stick them to your fabric, use fabric paint and a sponge, then when you peel the stickers off you'll have the words in relief. You can go thicker than I have here to make the surrounding area totally opaque, but I like the edges being messy and faded out. These are both song titles from cyber/industrial bands that I like.

Here are some other examples that I've done in the past. These were all done with pound shop spray paint which isn't ideal for fabric, but it's cheap! You'll also get more of the original fabric colour showing through with this kind of paint, which is nice.

If you're using black fabric, gold or silver paint will generally work better than white. These are all Devin Townsend song lyrics.

The only negative to this method for some people may be that the letters will be very uniform, but I like that. And if you want to you can space them irregularly to break things up a bit. Or you might be able to find more interestingly shaped alphabet stickers than I did!

[letter-from-afar]

✩ Cat-ch Me If You Can !

content warning: long post featuring all 9 villains + bonus. also small spoiler for alfons in the first bullet point, skip if you want to. tags: blatant victor favouritism, slight alfons shade, some elements of crack added with fluff, hc format notes: apologies if the characters seem ooc or if their parts are too short! i still have much to learn about them and i have yet to play harrison's or liam's route. interactions are appreciated <3

𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦:

• If you never met William as a person, you’d think he’s been a cat his entire life

• He still carries that grace and poise in his movements, and it’s especially evident in the way he walks

• Somehow his nails are still painted red (this isn’t up for debate)

• Being a cat didn’t stop him from playing the piano. It even spurred him to try the more difficult pieces

• It’s a good thing his curse doesn’t work in this form... Right?

• Imagine how terrifying it’d be for anyone to just hear him meow, and then all of a sudden their body starts moving uncontrollably

• Cuddle meter: 6/10

𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧:

• You had to hide the bag of treats that you bought for him because he miraculously found a way to open it with his paws

• He acted innocent whenever you asked about the missing treats, so it actually took you a while to figure this out

• You could’ve sworn you saw him sneering at you from time to time

• And recently, you’ve discovered that your books have odd scratch marks on the front cover and pages. Has Harry been reading them?

• Cuddle meter: 6/10

𝐋𝐢𝐚𝐦:

• Resident Cheshire Cat... Has turned into an actual cat? Chaos ensues

• Clingy by nature. He follows you everywhere, even the bathroom! (You had to explain why he shouldn’t do that)

• Has abandonment issues because of his previous owner(s), so make sure you shower him with lots of love

• Everyone loves him, he’s basically the friendly neighbourhood kitty

• Cuddle meter: 9/10

𝐄𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐭:

• You’ve never been this jealous of a cat before — just how could he be this beautiful?

• Popular because of his looks but he actually doesn’t like the attention all that much

• Doesn’t like it when others come too close to your personal space

• The only exception happens to be a certain black cat

• Cuddle meter: 7/10

𝐀𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐬:

• If you take your eyes off him even for a second, he’ll disappear from your sight like how he will from your memory eventually

• You love him, you really do, but why is he this difficult to look after?

• This one time, you caught him with his paws hovering dangerously close to an expensive vase — and he did not hesitate to stare into your eyes as he slowly nudged it off the table

• You don’t know if cats can grin but he’s sure got one wicked smile. He’s more Cheshire Cat than Liam!

• Cuddle meter: 6/10

𝐄𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬:

• Has he gotten cuter?

• Unlike a certain black kitty, he doesn’t cause any trouble for you

• Loves loves loves to be petted by you, will purr contently every time you do it

• Bounces around and tilts his head whenever you smile at him

• Cuddle meter: 8/10

𝐉𝐮𝐝𝐞:

• He bites and scratches you for no reason??

• Grumpy Cat™

• The only time he’s well-behaved is when you’re reading. He’ll (begrudgingly) cuddle up to you as you stroke his fur

• Bonus if you read out loud to him in a gentle voice, like telling a bedtime story. He’ll doze off instantly

• Cuddle meter: 4/10 (6 when he’s docile)

𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫:

• It’s probably because of his own experiments that he got into this situation in the first place

• Please stop him from reaching his paws into more unknown chemical substances. "For science”, he’d probably tell you if he could talk

• His hearing has become more sharper as a cat, practically nothing can escape his ears

• His ears does this cute twitching thing whenever he’s focusing on a sound

• Cuddle meter: 5/10

𝐕𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫:

• Literal ball of energy

• Jumps into your arms the moment you enter the room

• Occasionally makes trouble (on purpose). But with those fluffy ears pressed flat against his head, and that sad wet cat face he’s making— you’ll forgive him, won’t you?

• Does silly things just so you can laugh

• Cuddle meter: 10/10

☆ 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬: 𝐀𝐥𝐥

• Congrats, you’re now officially the parent of 9 adorable but villainous kittens!

• Victor is circling around your feet, perhaps he’s trying to tell you to help the Crown members?

• Alfons and Roger are intensely glaring at eachother — and things just might escalate into a not-so-pretty cat fight if you don’t intervene

• Liam has found a way to climb the highest point within the castle grounds. And he’s going to jump off to see if he can land on his feet (out of curiosity)

• Meanwhile, Harrison is trying to convince Liam why this idea isn’t the best he’s had. Either that or Harry is watching on the side-lines to see if Liam manages to do it

• Elbert’s gaze is fixed greedily on a gorgeous butterfly as he prepares to pounce on it. The only problem? it’s resting precariously on the balcony railing

• Ellis is following Jude around like a lost kitten despite being told to scram

• Jude is trying to figure out a way to open his box of cigarettes, but it seems like he’ll have to call up Ellis to help him after all

• William’s playing a dramatic piano piece as all this unfolds in the background

• At the end of the day, they’ll all cuddle near you as you sleep together

• Let’s just hope you don’t wake up to a rather... Awkward sight the next morning.

[pillow-anime-talk]

12 fluff promt for uta plz

# tags: scenario; current relationship; soulmate!au (tattoos); light romance; fluff; couple goals; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. uta {tokyo ghoul}

author’s note: hope u like it :) have a nice day/night!

12. “But we are not married.” “Then marry me.”

Punk music played at medium volume and spread throughout the building, and you jiggled your right foot to it while keeping your both eyes on the colorful magazine in your hands. From time to time you also glanced at your boyfriend, Uta, who was a few meters away from you, tattooing another client who wanted a huge red dragon across the entire width and length of his back. His concentration was really intriguing, and not even your warm gaze could snap him out of trance.

That’s why, after a few tries, you focused entirely on the thick periodical, reading about the biggest fashion bloopers of this month and dozens of romances in the world of showbiz stars.

{ ･ﾟ✧ }

After another three hours, Uta finished part of the tattoo and thanked his male client for staying in the uncomfortable position for that time. Together with a middle-aged man who had a black beard and dark eyes, they agreed on the last meeting, and thus the last part of the beautiful painting that was to appear on the right shoulder blade. They shook hands, wished each other a nice evening, and then Uta closed the front door to his small tattoo studio, which he had been running for years on his own with no other employees. He turned off all the lights, then returned to a room decorated with a tattoo table, several cabinets, special equipment and a trash bin.

There was also a small, dirty-green leather couch and a table with a glass surface. There was you on the sofa, clutching a magazine in your hands, though your eyes were squeezed tight and your mouth slightly open. The calm face and light movements of the chest spoke loudly about the fact that somewhere in the middle of Uta’s work you fell asleep, and the only thing that appeared in your sleepy thoughts was the desire to drink a cup of coffee without milk and sugar.

For a brief moment, Uta didn’t have the heart to wake you up because he knew your life had been quite stressful in recent days and you had a lot of responsibilities in your private life, but at the same time, he didn’t want your head to hurt after this short nap, or worse, your back and neck.

Before waking you up, however, he glanced at one of the hands that was touching the paper and smiled at the small tattoo adorning your little finger. The drawing showed a full moon; light streaks and lines were made with the utmost precision – the tattoo looked like a real moon that can be found in the sky. After briefly glancing at your finger, he looked automatically at his own left hand and the left corner of his mouth twitched. On his pinky there was a drawing of the same size – the only difference was that there was a tiny sun on his pale skin.

He sighed though, touching your soft cheek covered with gold highlighter.

“... Mgmhm...” You muttered something unintelligible under your breath, which made the man laugh again. “Uta... It’s your turn to... Y-You have to take our kids to school... Mhm...” You said a little more clearly, though your voice was still quiet, muffled by yawns and the desire to stay asleep. It was, after all, close to eleven in the evening.

“Kids?” He raised an eyebrow and the silver earring a bit up. “But we are not married.” He added directly into your ear, and you wiggled your nose, keeping your eyes shut.

“Then marry me.”

Surely you dreamed something nice – there was a slight smile and a huge blush on your face. Uta gave up and decided not to wake you up. Instead, he lifted your body off the couch with no problem. He had placed the magazine on a glass table a moment earlier, next to a small candlestick and a vase of dead roses.

You were already soulmates, and that meant the bonds of marriage. Nevertheless, the vision of you two with a bunch of children and then grandchildren, although too beautiful, did not have to be unattainable.

[nekassvariigs]

I saw someone having a post mentioning if a character from one piece would be certain about age gaps so here i am in a silly goffy mood.

ーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーーー

Idea: Waking up/Walking around not realising youre wearing a shirt saying "Dilf patrol" and going out on the ship/certain places causing some interesting conversations.

Raighley, Shanks, Mihawk, Law, Kid, Doflamingo

Special addition: Bepo for cuteness

I know kid and law arent dilfs but theyre fun to write

Kid

Way too busy to notice it at first until someone points it out.

Hes flabbergasted.

"Into experianced men huh?" he comments brows furrowed in question.

It took you a while to register.

"I know i dont qualify as one but give me a few years."

You couldnt be more embarrassed, not to say anytime he asks you to stand on lookout he'll yell "DILF PARTROL" full blast embarrassing you each time.

If hes into you he'll paint over one of his shirts the words "certified dilf" while working on his gagets. If you catch him in the act give him a sly smirk and run for your goddamn life.

However if you both happen to wear it at the same time again its now your turn to shout over the entire ship "DILF SPOTTED" the moment you see him. You'll distract him so horredusly he wont be able to unhear it for the next week.

At some point you both take a picture, altough the main focus is you zooming in on his tits where the label he drew on was.

"Let me see the photo."

You show it to him proudly and prepare for self defense.

"You little shit." hed scoff ,however his ego was lifted that hed certified dilf material.

Doflamingo

This pink flamingo has been walking around you all morning trying to be subtle.

It was getting on your nerves.

"Can you ATLEAST pretend that your subtle, Youre like 10 meters tall dude you wear a PINK FEATHER COAT."

"So?" He picks his teeth with a toothpick.

"Why are you following me?"

"Your shirt."

"What about it?" you get more annoyed by the second.

"Not your dresscode madamoiselle?" you give him a fake smile with your eyes.

"Ha..Hahaha..HAHAHAHA, i must send this to the navy." He takes a photo.

"Fuck do you mean send it to the navy?!"

"Look, i can already hear "it's the dilf parol woman" with your face plastered all over it."

Oh he really was pushing it huh.

With a loud FWAP the shirt lands flat on his face right on the centered plastered with the writing.

"I think they'd like this one better."

You show him the picutre. There he is this wooden shelf for a man in his pink ridicilous coat with his face covered in a shirt thats says "Dilf patrol" boldly.

"My ass im gonna let you have your way with it."

Onsues a battle between two idiots.

Nearing your defeat you splur out "Y'know if you had a kid you'd qualify for it."

"Huh- Yeah right."

"Im dead serious."

"..."

"Time to take one for the team." He said confidently.

Raighley

Usually you stay over at Shakky's rip-off bar having known the owners well half owner Raighley. You never managed to catch his wife on time however, she was always out so one good day you treated yourself to a hands on barman experiance pouring yourself a drink, mind you its late so its okay.

Whilst mixing your drink you hear the front door open Raigley in sight he catches a seat.

"One whiskey on the rocks ma'am." he gets cozy until seeing you prepare your drink. You shake the mixture the tshirt you wore frurrowing all sorts of ways.

"?" He sees something written on it.. not fully tho, so he'll take a another peek in a bit.

Your drink made, you start his grabbing some ice and whiskey for the foxy man.

"Here ya go~" you happily chirped at him offering his drink.

It wasnt until you were mid drink he said "Say would i qualify as a dilf?"

ah the burning sensation of choking on alcohol.

"What?" you ask him barely able to breathe.

"You know, I mean not to shoot myself in the foot i do happen to look good for my age." he takes a swig of his drink calmly.

"F-First off, where is this coming from? Second off what!?" You stutter, Raighley barely dared being so cocky, and now all of a sudden this!? Did he hit his head?

He doubles the K.O pointing to your shirt at which you stare down, immidiatley embarrased for showing your interest in older men un such a dumb way.

Cheeks blazing you admit defeat, giving him a thumb up weakly.

"You're overqualifed.."

"That so?" He smirks hand on his beard in question.

Now confidently you humm altough your legs were giving out.

Who woulda thought you had one of the hottest man, not to mention the most humble one around teasing you like this when youre compleatley unprepared.

[continuation awaits (￣^￣)ゞ]

Law

Poor guy was hoping to eat his meal in peace when you come in theough blazing the words dilf patrol on your shirt.

He literrally chokes.

"You alright capitan?" you ask him.

He swallows dryly, "Yeah..." he stares at you, then at the writing, then at you,the writing and at you for the last time.

"Y/n-ya, You know our crew mostly has guys around the age of 20, right?"

"Riight.. , point being?" you curiously ask.

"Point is WHO ARE YOU PATROLING FOR?!" Not gonna lie he was determined to know.

"!!?" Shocks sets in as you realize what youre wearing.

"Haha oh this thing, well you know give it a few years everyone will be aprooved, even you Law." you chuckle lips pointing in a whistle like manner.

He mentally stopped until he lowered his cow-print hat lower over his face, continuing eating without furter comments.

Hoo... Oh my.

"C-Capitans blushing!" Bepo alerts everyone in the dining hall. Startling you and Law himself.

"Was not, shut up!"

"I'm sorry!" he bows apologizing.

"Well in anycase we have time dont we?" You chuckle pouring yourself some tea.

Few meters behind you you hear more bickering about "Dont joke about this!" et cetera.

Mihawk

The silent man was trying to enjoy a morning newspaper till perona started babling to him about you.

"Whats the issue?" the blandly replies.

"Have you seen what shes wearing its not cute at all!" she pouts pointing to you , a pastry in your mouth the shirt revealing the writing.

Lightning stuck in his head.

"We all have preferances.."

He didnt want to even think about it.

"Thats right, we all have preferances" you pouted back disagreeing with her.

"Of all things you choose old hot guys seriously!? Pick something cuter next time!"

Bwaaa~ You drop your pastry.

"Who says i like old hot guys?"

"Your shirt says.." He nonchalantly interrupted.

"Ah so it does, WHAT?!" You strech out your shirt noticing the writing 'Dilf patrol'

"As long as she can handle it, i see no issue." He adds in.

Your jaw dropping, how can he be so relaxed about this.

"Stop embarrasing her old man-"

The bell dings in everyones head striking a nerve.

Everyone locks eyes.

Silence follows.

It was the tensest breakfast youve ever had with the two of them.

After breakfast you chose to clean the dishes upon hearing a knock.

"Not my buisness, but good choise." And he leaves just like that.

No dishes were washed for the next 30 minutes out of sheer incapability to understand his approval.

Shanks

All bark all bite he doesnt hold back.

He digs the shirt, calls it trendy,odd but trendy, hes seen worse.

"Y/n, i qualify."

"For what?"

"You can count me as a dilf, no?"

Your brain shortcircuts.

"Well.." You eye him up and down making him wait impatiently.

"I mean sorta? Youre not really the hot DAD material are you? "

"I can be though." he shoots you a grin.

"Caaan you?" you hiss back at him.

"Wanna seee for yourselllf?"

[Continuation awaits (￣^￣)ゞ]

Bepo!

You had just woken up having no actual shirt to wear from your regulars you scramped one from the dryer. You didnt even bother to check which one it was you had agreed to train with bepo.

"Goodmornin'. " Hes as polite as ever.

"Mornin' bepo, lets start some warm ups?"

You both proceed to train along eachother however the longer it lasted the more people gathered around you two.

"Whats this about?" You question wiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt.

"Mm Maybe because youre wearing that today?" ,his fluffy paw points to your shirt.

Every guy in a 10 meter radius was giving you thumbs up making you red as a raindeers nose.

"Y/n, whats a dilf anyways? Some new monester out there?" He innocently asks

"Haha y-no?, Do you wanna know?"

He nodds.

"Well its a preferance for older attractive looking men that have kids or had kids who grew up."

"So.. Do you like ..." he was deep in thought..

He didnt know what to ask.

"Ah mabye Vice capitan Ben?"

Pffttjfjfhdha

"Dont think hes got kids, but hes attractive so i approve." You wipe ur nose at the thought.

Next day Bepo shows around with a shirt labeled

"Shaved ice patrol."

What an innocent creature..

[hwajin]

★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝖈𝖔𝖑𝖉𝖊𝖗

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 005. — 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐉𝐈𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 | 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut, angst

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: ghost!jisung x fem!reader

𝖜𝖈: 1.8k

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: you loved him. desired for him. desired his touch, his closure, his body next to your own — yet he was different, wasn't as much a body as a hue; and his touch meant death.

𝖈𝖜: this fic explores dark themes such as DEATH, THE WISH OF DYING AND CHARACTER DEATH!!!! don't proceed reading if sensitive to said themes. smut warnings: mutual masturabtion

It was torturous. The air in the stuffed room far too cold, dark, blinds half open to let in only a shimmer of the moon, full and white against deepest blue. It was a night starless, mostly, all of them caught within him; he was shining, blueish hues surrounding his figure – you couldn’t much call it a body – his eyes translucent, laid upon you, barely blinking. Stars would never be the same to you. Stars would always equal death after meeting Jisung.

His lids were hooded, heavy with arousal – you hadn’t known such feelings, bodily sensations bore possibility for someone his kind; ghosts, untouchable by humans though without the ability to pass objects. You wished it was the other way around. You wished Jisung could walk through walls and sink into floors and was unable to hold pencils or books or phones – instead he could eat and sit in chairs and lay in beds, though not touch you. He couldn’t put a hand on your shoulder, couldn’t possibly wrap his arms around your figure – in fact, he had jolted back, scared and face painted in utter fear, when you had approached his body, cold and dead, and had urged him to try. Maybe you were different, maybe his curse would make an exception for you. Though, he’d explained; it was dangerous to even be close to you. That he broke a million rules for even finding himself in the same room as you, let alone at a distance of less than five meters. Though trying to touch you, trying to prove his death right and your desire wrong – it would near kill you. If his hand – blue, cold, glistening veins in brightest blue – would pass through your body, graze your heart and caress your organs, touch your insides, your blood would stop pumping, your heart would stop beating, your lungs would suffer the inability to take breath. You’d freeze to death before your halted heart could cause you damage, your body would experience enough harm at once to never repair – Jisung would, undeniably and simply, kill you.

The coldness Jisung radiated had decreased when he’d sat on the chair by your desk, far enough from the bed where you’d been positioned. His coldness alone wasn’t strong enough to bring you to death – it surely wasn’t comfortable for you, a coldness sharp and stinging you didn’t know another feeling like it, a bodily instinct, making you understand he was something to flee from, not something to be around – not someone to desire. And yet you did, against all rules of nature, against all sense of coherence – and he did too, body ironically burning while he’d watched you, while his eyes had wandered you up and down as your hands had undone the buttons of your shirt, had slid off top and shorts in swift motion, had gotten rid of underwear entirely. He wasn’t supposed to grow erect from the sight; you weren’t supposed to get wet at your actions – unnatural if anything, impossibly otherworldly.

You were sighing his name, legs apart, a frantic hand in between them, fingers eliciting sloppy sounds which filled the entirety of the room. You were sweating, a cold sweat which dripped down your neck, collected in the hollow of your knee, drowned your body in shivers and wet. Jisung watched, attentively, following your every move – your fingers against your clit, disappearing inside of you occasionally only to circle back at your sensitivity; your legs closing in pleasure until you remembered you had a spectator, until you continued putting on a show for him, spreading thighs apart, giving him nothing to imagine, granting him to see your every inch; your head lulling into your neck, glistening, dripping – he wanted to kiss it off you, wanted to lay lips on your skin, on every bead of sweat forming on your electrified body. He urged to be closer to you, his hand palming his erection not half enough, not close to the satisfaction he knew you would grant him. Never before has he longed for a mere human the way he did for you – after all, it wasn’t in his nature, not only dangerous but impossible; the inability to be with you, to touch you, love you the way he wanted it, the way he knew you needed was by far a bigger curse than wandering the earth in loneliness, for the entirety of time.

“Jisung… need to touch you…”

Your words barely a whisper, your body trembling, your legs fighting the urge to clamp down around your hand – and Jisung slapped himself internally at the thoughts wandering his mind at watching the sight of you, at finally wrapping a hand around his erection properly, granting him a fraction of the pleasure he desired; if only you were like him, not alive and yet wandering the earth – infinity wouldn’t feel so lonely, entirety would maybe be enjoyable, with you by his side. He wished you dead in his selfishness, and he knew that continue seeing you after tonight would be irresponsible on his side, surely, if he wished for your death; he’d have to flee, leave you behind if only for your own safety. Yet he didn’t stop in his tracks. Told himself that tonight must be finished, that he couldn’t cause you any more damage than he’s done already. That granting himself a last orgasm in your presence, watching you finish in spasms around your own hand a very last time wouldn’t harm any more than fleeing right the moment – so he kept his hand moving, up and down and around his tip, whimpers leaving his throat in calls of your name. Maybe he was a sucker for pain, for torture, for the sheer impossible – or maybe he didn’t want to let go of you after all, couldn’t in missing self-control.

The fingers against your slit were frantic now, your eyes only half-open and laying on Jisung, taking in the sight before you – his own hand tugged and pulled at his erection, veins along his dick blue and shimmering, like the rest of his body. He didn’t dare to convert his eyes, fighting urges to throw back his neck in bliss, watching you instead, holding eye contact that spoke more than a million of your words ever could. An unsaid pact, a promise written simply in a gaze – you wished for death yourself, if it meant being with him. Didn’t care much for your life if Jisung couldn’t be in it, if as much as a touch was forbidden, deadly. Jisung’s hand along his shaft quickened, collecting precum rolling off his tip and spreading it along his base, hips bucking up from your chair, making it creak under his weight. His breath hitched, stuck in his throat – you were part of the reason, your free hand now toying with your breasts, groping and pulling at your nipple, hips rolling into your hand, heels dug into the softness of the mattress. Siren eyes on him without a break, pulling him into your trance, making him wish for things dangerous for either of you – and none of you could care. Not when release was right around the corner, bubbling and brewing in the pits of your stomachs, hips chasing touch, further friction; hips chasing bodies, another person’s hand, another person's closure.

“Touch me.”

Jisung’s eyes fixated yours at your words, stuttering though not halting in his movements. Hand stroking along his dick, growing harder and wetter, inching closer to finish, closer to the end of him and you. He wouldn’t see you again, couldn’t possibly, not if he was right-minded – yet maybe he was twisted, damaged entirely; because your command set off satisfaction in him, pleasure which he jolted at, thrusting frantic hip into his hand, desperately. You wanted him, badly so, just as much as it was the case the other way around. He kept watching you fingering yourself, proposing a death wish while in a state of utter bliss – maybe you were as twisted as he was, maybe you didn’t quite understand what you’d suggested; though Jisung deemed that to be unlikely.

“I’ll kill you if- if I do.”

Voice caught in his throat, spurting out in stutter. He was unbearably close, dick twitching in his hold, hard and slick against his hand – he needed your touch as well, urged for it in moment of helplessness, on the verge of release, teetering and daring to fall off the edge. Your eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze, fingers quickening on your clit – a whimper soul-wrenching left you, ripping through the room. Your pussy was glistening, growing wetter the more you thought about your own offer, the harder you saw Jisung think about it; you were insane, ready for death if it meant trading it for love.

“Touch me, Ji. I don’t want to live if it’s a life without you.”

He came in spurts of blueish white, strings upon strings of his release coating his hand, making a mess of his clothes. His eyes shut and his neck against the head of the chair, hips still spasming, riding out high, muscles calming. You were crazy, insane. Your offer was; and yet he stood up at your command after his body regained strength, after he looked at you for a moment which spoke agreement and held promise. He moved closer to you, slow steps, cautious, not to scare you. You didn’t stop touching yourself, fingers moving against your clit in fast motions, letting yourself grow colder with every inch he came nearer, towards your body. He stood before you eventually, body right before your own, and you shivered. Tension building up within you and stinging cold spreading through veins and cells, creating a gooses’ flesh on your own. Your nipples hardened, your body trembled – you would die tonight.

He kneeled down to your eye level – the confidence in your words scared him, set him back to reality; you were ready to die if for him, and he would gladly let you. Was too selfish to argue against it, to deny that it, too, was his most desired wish; so he leaned in, closer, far too risqué. Coldness must have paralyzed you by now, must have made you unable to feel body and limbs. He leaned in and you reached out your hand, towards his own. Palms only an inch from each other, not touching but hovering in the air, until he passed through it, through the skin and muscles and bones of your arm and your head threw back, if in pleasure or pain Jisung was unsure. And he came closer yet, if possible – lips hovering above your own, right hand just above your pumping heart; and you arched into him, took him off the decision, made him graze your heart, colden your insides. Made him take you with him, a blessing in disguise, wandering the world together side by side, tonight and forever.

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[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Months had passed when you were finally sent back to the Capital, accompanied by your cousin Prince Oberyn and his beloved paramour Ellaria Sand.

King Joffrey was to marry Princess Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden. It was a month-long preparation for the wedding and you had insisted, against Oberyn's wishes, to arrive earlier than expected. To keep appearances, as you quoted your own father. 

And you knew it wouldn't be too long since you'd get to meet Cersei again. You promised to be on your utmost behavior for the entire duration of the trip. But three days had since passed and you hadn't seen the Queen herself.

Until one small celebration in light of the King's engagement brought you back to her. A tourney was being held as requested by the King himself.

"Your Grace. Lord Tywin," Oberyn greeted the moment you both appeared in front of Cersei and her father, Tywin Lannister of Casterly Rock.

"Prince Oberyn," Tywin said back. Cersei forced an uptight smile, that was until she looked at you, her smile turning into a frown. Her eyes spoke of sudden curiosity.

"I don't believe you have met Y/n," Oberyn went on, chucking some grapes into his mouth as he talked. "This is the Lord Hand, Tywin Lannister, and Cersei Lannister, the Queen Regent."

"My Lord," you said, bowing a little, then you met Cersei's gaze. "Your Grace."

"Charmed," Tywin said.

"Are you a bastard in Dorne? I don't believe we have met before," Cersei answered. And you could not muster back a response.

"Y/n here is my cousin," Oberyn replied. "She is the only daughter of Y/f/n Martell. And we don't despise bastards in Dorne."

Cersei raised her eyebrow. "No? How tolerant of you."

"I expect it is a relief, Queen Cersei," Oberyn continued, "You are about to give up your regal responsibilities. Wearing the crown for so many years must've left your neck a bit crooked."

"I suppose you'll never know, Prince Oberyn," Cersei curtly replied. "It's a shame your older brother won't be able to attend the wedding."

And they went back and forth with their harmless yet sharp banters. All the time your eyes never left Cersei. You just found yourself unable to look away.

Yes, she was vicious and cruel. But you were willing to see her, truly see that there's still kindness underneath.

~~~

You weren't meant to meddle. But you just saw King Joffrey almost killed some squires in training over swordfight in the courtyard. And no one stopped him, not even when Cersei arrived and you thought she'd stopped it.

"That's a Valyrian sword, that is, right, Your Grace?" you began, stopping Joffrey from slicing the arm off the small squire. "I've never seen such steel for a long time. It must be an honor to have held it through the war. You were incredible."

Joffrey was about to strike whoever it was that disrupted him but when he saw a lady like you, especially from house Martell, he controlled himself. "Yes, My Lady," he said, showing off his blade. "A lot of blood has painted and blessed this blade."

You smiled, even when you were internally laughing, knowing he only got the sword from his grandfather a day ago. Then you unsheathed your sword from yours, making him jump and step a foot back from you.

"I've always wanted to fight with you, Your Grace," you said, then added quickly, "that is if you would permit it. To be trained by you would be an honor I'd carry back to me in Dorne."

Joffrey chuckled, as he swung his sword rather arrogantly, knowing a lady like you wouldn't be a threat. "As my lady wishes," he answered, a sneer on his face.

Your eyes darted back behind him where his mother Cersei was staring with a cold look on her face. And you winked her way and smiled.

It didn't even last thirty seconds when you had managed to disarm the King which led him unto the ground, his sword meters away, as he covered his face in fear.

But you only held your hand as you helped him stand. You could only chuckle as he pushed you away and began to head inside, his knights on his feet.

"Thank you for the lesson, My King!" you yelled back as you laughed. Then you turned to meet Cersei's glare at you before she went back inside the castle.

~~~

Oberyn and Ellaria treated you with whores of your choosing at a certain brothel near the Red Keep. To them, it was just a usual day. Oberyn once said that while still young and alive, he'd savor everything that is to love. And that included whores.

"So, who's it gonna be, Y/n?" Oberyn asked, as the brothel's owner presented the naked whores in front of you. "I have carefully chosen some blonde ones for you, given your current liking."

One of the whores slowly stepped towards you as she caressed your cheek and began nibbling your ear. Of course, any human being was weak to its urges.

Then the other two whores walked towards you. One began threading her fingers with your hair, while the other brushing some hair over your ear as her lips made contact unto your jaw.

"Or you could have all of them," Oberyn said, chuckling, as he threw a bag of silver towards the brothel's owner.

"Wait!" You shouted as you stepped forward just to get away from the blonde women. "As much as I find you three lovely, I'm only here to accompany my cousin to seek some sustenance for his paramour."

Oberyn laughed as he went back to the other tent, where you could see Ellaria being eaten out by another whore. "Your loss, Y/n."

You decided to wait by the counter instead, smiling at female whores winking your way.

"Saying goodbye to your old practices, My Lady?" Tyrion said as he greeted you by the door.

You could only laugh. "Well, I think it's time for me to settle, Lord Tyrion. Spending time with whores was nothing but a wonderful experience I'd wish to treasure. Now, I'm old and my father seeks for me to marry someone."

Tyrion hummed in agreement as he poured ale on his mug. "You sound like me. Those days are over now. . . . So tell me about your swordfight with the King. I heard you were quite famous in the Red Keep for standing up to him."

You both laughed as you recounted the story. Tyrion was probably the tenth person you had shared the encounter with Joffrey with.

When the night was over and you went back into your chambers in the Red Keep, you didn't expect to be stopped short by the gate entrance by Jaime Lannister himself, his handless arm held in front of his chest.

"Good evening, My Lady," he said. "The Queen Regent would like to see you in her chambers."

And for what reason, you certainly had no idea. You'd want to ask Jaime but the sound of your own footsteps and the clanking of Jaime's armor as you both headed to her only grew painfully louder each second.

"You called for me, Your Grace?" you greeted the moment you entered Cersei's chambers.

Cersei's back was at you. She was in her white underdress, her golden hair flowing freely on her back. "Yes."

One look from her at Jaime and he left the room. Then she turned to look at you.

"I see you've been enjoying your stay here at the Capital," Cersei began, as she poured herself a cup of wine. "Rather enthusiastically, I must say."

"Yes, Your Grace. It's different back in Dorne, where it's arid and dry. I love Dorne, don't get me wrong? But it's nice to be away from home even just for a short time if you know what I mean."

Cersei smirked. "You certainly had a specific taste like my brother. I believe you've met the Imp."

You stared at the floor before gazing back at her. "Well, Tyrion has showed me how wonderful the Capital is-"

"You meant the whores?"

You flinched. Cersei then offered you a glass of wine, to which you declined.

"I'm afraid I'm indisposed from drinking, Your Grace. Must be all the ale I've consumed."

You could have gotten yourself in danger by denying an offer from the Queen. But Cersei only walked past you as she stopped at the balcony, staring at the houses before her.

"It's unladylike to seek pleasures in brothels," Cersei began. "How could you disgrace yourself. No Lords would attempt to court you if they knew the truth."

You immediately replied, smiling, "I have no interest in men, Your Grace."

She turned to look at you as she sipped from her wine. "But women are merely pawns in this Kingdom. Some day you'd have to marry someone, bed with him and give him a child."

You laughed at the suggestion. But you were only met with a hard gaze. Clearly, Cersei did not find this amusing at all. "Not in Dorne, Your Grace. We are allowed to love and marry who we love."

There was complete silence as she continued to sip her wine while staring at you. You met her gaze just as fierce as she did.

It was then when you noticed how green her eyes were. "Your eyes are beautiful."

You could feel how Cersei tightened her grip around her glass, as if she couldn't believe you'd say such a thing. "Do you wish to be beheaded, Y/n? You're talking to a queen if you need reminding."

"Forgive me, Your Grace, My Queen," you quickly responded. "I didn't mean to offend you. It's just, have you ever been to the North, Your Grace?"

She only raised her eyebrow.

"Well," you went on, "when I was on a trip with my friends to the North during winter, the Northern Lights from the sky were a spectacle to see. And your eyes remind me of that beautiful spectacle."

The crackling of fire against the hearth filled the entire room. Before you could decide whether the redness from her cheeks was caused by your compliment or her drunkenness, Cersei abruptly turned herself back at you.

"See yourself out," she said.

"Your Grace." You bowed before leaving.

And as you were about to open the door, Cersei called out. "Y/n?"

"Yes, Your Grace?"

"The next time I see you shaming my son, I'll see to it myself that you will be beheaded before you can get back to Dorne."

A smirk grew on your face, knowing you had finally caught Cersei's attention. 

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Kind of a dumb request but how about team DEFY + any girls you want with an s/o who somehow managed to build a mech straight out of Armored Core? Insanely maneuverable, loads of guns, can fly, etc and s/o built it in a garage with a box of scraps lol

(GFL/Genshin Impact) Task Force DEFY, Amber, Jean, Fischl, and Yoimiya's S/O building an Armored Core Mech

(Video Source: Pongsifu on YT) Luckily for you, I have been binging Armored Core 6 for the past month, and will hop on ANY request to talk/write about anything Mecha related.

12 stared at the giant 10 meter mechanical behemoth that had suddenly made its home inside Griffin's Hangar.

(AK-12) "...We didn't always have that, right?"

The machine's chest slowly opened and revealed a cockpit containing S/O, waving hello from the seat.

Apparently, they had constructed the mech out of spare parts lying around.

(AK-12) "Impressive...But, why exactly did Griffin have that many parts lying around? And how did you find guns that big?"

On the battlefield, she watches the mech fly around at almost breakneck speed, watching them zip around and eradicate one base after the other.

Kicking tanks and shooting helicopters out of the sky, it was far more effective to watch them fight instead of having to do anything.

(AK-12) "Hm. We'll be out of a job at this rate."

94 knew this was going to happen.

T-Dolls would only last so long on the battlefield before they were replaced by the next best thing.

However, she sure as hell wasn't expecting S/O of all people to surpass her, with a mech constructed out of junk parts no less.

It was honestly awe-inspiring what humans could engineer for the sole purpose of destruction.

And it was also physically impossible. Something that size should not be quad-wielding miniguns and moving that fast.

(AN-94) "...How has your machine not collapsed from the Earth's gravity?"

94 is more confused than anything.

15 was impressed more than anything.

She knew S/O was an engineer, but to construct a mech out of the parts they had was nothing short of a miracle and logic-defying technical prowess.

(AK-15) "How does your machine constantly reload the missiles while on the field? It is the only weapon you seem to have, and no one constructed missiles that large, even during World War 3."

She can't help but wonder why DEFY was even needed if Griffin had engineers like S/O around.

Well, at least S/O was on their side.

(RPK-16) "I wonder if humanity will wipe itself out faster with these new machines."

16 is fascinated by the human desire to make machines to wipe out life faster.

Granted, Griffin usually just fought Sangvis which consisted nothing of machines, but it would only be a matter of time until everyone else had their own version of S/O's mech.

And probably not one constructed out of junk either.

(RPK-16) "I must ask, S/O. How can you be in the cockpit of that thing and not reduce yourself to jelly? Surely the G-Force alone would kill you?"

Well, it's not the first thing that humans have done that confused her.

(Angelia) "Hmph. Why did they even bother calling us if they had you here? And could you have done that this entire time?"

Angelia is impressed and annoyed.

If S/O could create a hulking machine of death before, why did they only decide to do it now?

She both dreads and admired S/O's tenacity. To make such an effective machine out of junk took a hell of a lot of elbow grease.

Angelia doesn't question it, seeing that it's working alright so far, but she definitely wants to look into upgrading it.

(Angelia) "S/O, with me. We're painting DEFY's logo on it."

(Amber) "THAT IS SO COOL!"

Amber could create Baron Bunnies with a lot of yarn, but S/O could make a machine that dwarfed Ruin Guards with some random pieces of metal!

(Amber) "You have got to teach me how to do that! And lemme ride it too!"

Amber demands to fly with S/O, even though she can't go nearly as fast as they can.

She watches as S/O wipes out entire nests of monsters before leaping away with its mantis-like legs to the next location.

Honestly, it made her feel jealous.

(Amber) "Heeey, can I ask one of those for my birthday! I bet it'll make flying around Mondstadt a breeze!"

Though as the outrider, she kindly asks S/O not to park the giant machine weighing presumably hundreds of tons in the city.

For obvious reasons.

The color on Jean's skin fades when she heard Klee helped S/O build a brand new toy.

One that put her bombs to shame.

And seeing it park itself next to the cathedral, waving hello to her as she was standing at the entrance-

She was about ready to faint.

(Jean) "S/O! Get down from there right this instant!"

Jean gives S/O and Klee an earful for making such an absolute monstrosity that could potentially damage the land and city!

But seeing it in action and fast it disposed of a Hilichurl camp, it filled her with pride and dread.

Pride for her S/O's creative ingenuity, but absolute fear for what S/O and Klee could make next.

Especially considering how fast S/O's machine moved, and the weapons it had.

Where did Klee find the gunpowder for quad-cannons mounted on it?!

(Jean) "I pray that it won't blow up the city on accident..."

(Fischl) "...WHAT?!"

Fischl completely breaks character upon seeing the giant machine staring at her.

(Fischl) "How did...Why...?! Get down from there and tell me how this mechanical monstrosity came to be!"

(Oz) "You just want to ride the machine yourself, Mein-"

(Fischl) "SILENCE!"

...But yes, she constantly nags S/O to let their Prinzessin give the machine a try.

She finds it so friggin' cool, and desperately wants one of her own, in purple!

She watches with some kind of morbid satisfaction watching S/O's machine wipe out their enemies in electrical explosions.

(Fischl) "I hereby dub your steel horse…Raven, of the 621th star!"

(Oz) "…Why 621?"

Oh, that's where all of Yoimiya's spare fireworks have been going into.

(Yoimiya) "HOLY CRAP! What on earth did you make, S/O?!"

The machine seemed like it leapt from another world!

Especially with how fast it moved, honestly she was amazed S/O wasn't vomiting their guts out as soon as they exited.

While it seemed like it would do massive damage, instead they used it for something even better.

As the machine soared above the skies of Inazuma, the cannons on the arms and shoulders fired toward the moon, the starry night exploding into hundreds of beautiful colors!

They had transformed their machine into a firework powerhouse!

And with how fast it moved, it was able to provide a show from one island to another!

(Yoimiya) "Next festival, you're letting me ride with you! I want to see the work we've done up close!"