#the good news is that by the time I've finished the first chapter I might have figured out a title
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
onlymollygibson · 3 days ago
Text
You're opening yourself up to bias against longer stories. If a story is 20 chapters long and I read every chapter once, that's 20 hits. And I can leave only one kudos. That doesn't even account for rereads.
I prefer using AO3's filters.
Tumblr media
This sidebar pops up when you click Filters
I use the Exclude part the most. Once I'm in a fandom or pairing I like, I exclude anything I don't want to see. Ships that aren't to my taste, warnings for stuff I don't want to see, even tropes I'm not in the mood for.
Now I've got it to the point where each fic might be something I like. Time to read it if it seems good. Doesn't mean you have to finish it if it's not going in a direction you like.
FYI, don't just click on a link, open it as a new tab so you don't lose your now awesome search.
Optional: change the sort option. Default gives you newest first. Sorting by Kudos will give you great fics with no bias for length. Sorting by comments gives you more long fics than short. Sorting by hits usually gets a lot of smut. Sort by bookmarks and you'll get a lot of good fics, but many will be unfinished.
Another AO3 thing I’m curious about, how do yall decide if something is good enough to read? Usually I follow a rule of 1 kudos for every 10 hits. One because it’s easy math and two it’s yet to fail me. Thoughts? Do you just go for it and pray it’s good?
59K notes · View notes
comfortlesshurt · 2 months ago
Text
OKAY, IT'S FINALLY HITTING
(will you guys hate me if I post this longfic a month later than planned?)
10 notes · View notes
hexcitrine · 10 months ago
Text
randomly looked at this account to update my age and holy shit it's been a while since i posted here..........i have a small pile of art i have yet to post but hbhbshdbshbd too lazy
#part of it is that i haven't posted any of my recent art but in addition#i haven't made new art in a WHILE (abt 3 months) which is highly unusual for me but the reason for that is#3 months ago i suddenly remembered that i tried learning mandarin for three (3) days before forgetting about it for 9 months#(amusingly the reason why is not because of danmei......i did not even know danmei existed when i first decided to learn it)#anyways i have been insanely fixated on learning it for the past 3 months#however since art is primarily a way for me to process my interests and that only really be done when i'm fixated on media........well#let's just say i have not been making art at all#that might change soon tho#rn i'm reading 撒野 (saye) in chinese bc it's at a level i can read and i fucking love it so far#idk why i picked a book longer than svsss (which took me a week to read in english)...u would think there's no chance of me finishing it#or even reading it#especially when the only novel i've read before this is a chinese translation of the fucking magic finger by roald dahl LMFAO#but it's been a week and i'm a fifth of the way into it which i was not expecting at all#it was initially an exercise of “i will get as far as i can and try my best to read a chapter a day” but i've been zipping through chapters#last night i was up until 3 AM reading it and i was so tempted to read more but had to stop myself#of course this is all aided by pleco which lets me quickly look up words that i don't know yet. pleco ily#that being said...this all does mean i know words like 收銀台 before i even know the word for “orange” (the color) which is pretty funny#but idk considering that the sum of my time spent learning chinese is just 3 months..........i think i am doing pretty damn good#i thought it would be a LOT longer before i could finally start enjoying some interesting things#god but it really has been a while since i last read a high school romance...but i am quite fond of the leads and their respective baggage#sorry for the whole tag ramble.........i haven't really had anyone to talk abt this stuff with#oh also it's my birthday#that is why i am even here to update my age in the first place#happy lan wangji birthday#actually the only reason i realized it was gonna be my birthday soon is because i saw chinese artists posting lan wangji birthday fanart#and then remembered that we share the same birthday#also re: the art i haven't posted yet.........a good chunk of it is misvil fanart...song qingshi my beloved#and there's also a luo binghe drawn on an art app i PROGRAMMED MYSELF (!!!!!!!!!) in there#actually that piece is the main reason i haven't posted the art i HAVE made. how the fuck do i explain that i drew it on an app that i made#sorry this is genuinely the most off the rails tag ramble i've ever done. okay i'm done
7 notes · View notes
giantkillerjack · 2 years ago
Text
Tumblr media
This is how I organize my story notes. I thought the scene titles looked pretty good today
#original#I'm sorry I took an edible and I can't do an image description right now but hopefully I will remember to come back to this#the blacksmith#the title of the arc is 'the amazing armadillo woman'#I have been stuck on this arc for a thousand years but I'm finally making progress!#the chapter snippet I posted earlier today is like the first part of that I've fully finished#but the good news is that a lot of other parts of the story are more written than I thought they were#that's a weird way to word that. whatever. this is a graphic novel not a novel! my logic is flawless!#if anyone's curious I label them like that so they show up in exact order when sorted alphabetically.#S1.P3.C4.a = season 1 Part 3 chapter 4 - first scene or scene segment#I manage my ADHD partially by breaking things down into manageable pieces.#and I MISmanage my ADHD partially by overcommitting to basically everything bc i have NO CHILL#but like. if this project stops bringing me joy/fulfillment i will quit. but right now it feeds my soul and it has for a couple years now!#i have discovered that if i want a creative project to actually get completed it has to be a true labor of fun and love#FUCK YOU CAPITALISM#i have MUNCHIES TO ATTEND TOO#be careful when you take edibles y'all! because if I didn't know what was a big or small dose of THC I easily#could have missed that I am in possession of some of the highest dosing gummies I've ever had#and I might have just eaten a whole one instead of painstakingly cutting one in half with a knife!#there is no consistency to what is a standard gummy dose and nowadays a lot of the time things are labeled which is awesome#but if you don't understand the significance of the labels then you might assume that a single gummy is a small amount.#I got to tell you being too high is a horrible horrible experience for most people#anyway if you're not sure just start with 5 mg and then work up in 5 mg increments if you spend an evening without that dose affecting you#anyway I think it's important to note that the villainous lair is in fact their childhood treehouse. they are rooming there as adults.#one of the reasons they stop doing crimes at the end is because they are given access to proper housing#it's kind of grouped in with a number of other reasons but it likely not going to surprise anyone when future chapters are like#🔥no longer even attempting to be subtle. this chapter is about homelessness and how cops are pigs.🔥#ahem. but this chapter is just a fun romp! like for real. it is an example of the warmth and happiness possible in this story's world.
2 notes · View notes
rui-drawsbox · 10 months ago
Text
remembering the most memorable mc's (with canon appearences) from the otomes i played
Tumblr media
all of them are phone games btw. and looong rambling about the games after the cut!
Mystic messenger has been in my radar since i was in elementary school but i played it for the first time after the spanish traslation came out (2017 i think?) Seven shaped my type in such a specific way that im not really sure why loved him so much (it was the whole "he loves you in every route" stuff). I like a lot the default mc, most of the fandom did and that was enough to won me over
Rosa is top tier protagonist tbh, Tears of Themis has really good story and characters (as far i played, not a lot but i enjoyed it) The reason i'm not that much of a fan is bc the game is expensive asf and not very free to play friendly. You're either lucky or have a big wallet with the gacha
i miss my wife man(Marius)
Ephemeral has to be one of the best free to play otomes i've played tbh (if my memories aren't tricking me, it's been years) Good artwork, good storyline, good characters and as far i remember you can unlock one chapter of the character route per day (mabye two days, idk) and the mc's background has an important role in every route (she's a zombie! she's pretty now but eventually will fall apart, aaaaand her story gets expanded in one of the routes!) ((shes also adorable)) There's also a sequel, if you wanted more of the boys! never finished it but i'd recommend it
Honorable mentions! Huellitas Mágicas is a great game! has a really good cast with well fleshed arcs for all the characters, even the scondary ones! The game shines more for the development of *all* the characters rather than just the protagonist/ml. The main theme is overcoming insecurities! Each love interest has a different way of helping our (very insecure) protagonist and helping different characters with their own struggles :DD
10/10 i recommend this game if you want something cute and can be finished in a few hours, if i remember right. It also has a sequel! with like- 12 new love interests, also never finished it bc i didnt found a guide that worked for me but ñek
A3! is my canon event as a gacha player. Discovered the english/global server, tried it and got bored, left it for a few months, tried it again and fell in love, noticed the game was going to shut down bc low sales -HAHA :(-. This is not a otome btw, this is here bc Izumi has to be one of my favorite protagonists in gacha games ever
last but not least! Obey me! Shall we date? oh dear, what have they done to you :(. The original had intense powercreep to force you to pull cards -multiple times bc that makes them stronger- and even now, the company showed a lot of favoritism to some characters, leaving others to dust bc they don't make the same money. Not to say, they released a new game with the same cast and new main story (ignoring all what happend before). And let me say: THEY LITERALLY WANTED TO KILL THE ORIGINAL GAME.
Nightbringer might be a decent game but i don't trust the devs anymore, i still remember what happend with Asmo's birthday right after the release, and honestly i don't want to sit there watching how they disrespect my favorite characters again and again and again. Loved the characters hated the devs. 5/10 you can play it if you want but i don't recommend spending money on it, it's not worth it, just search #obey me here in tumblr and enjoy the amazing fanworks that i can assure you have a lot more love than the game itself
i miss my wife man (mammon and levi)
1K notes · View notes
buckets-and-trees · 3 months ago
Text
Obsidian Stain and Sin
Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Ari Levinson x Female!Reader, soft!dark Curtis Everett x Female!Reader, Ari x Reader x Curtis Word Count: 8.1k Summary: You've thought of getting your first tattoo for a long time. When you walk into Obsidian Stain Studio, you experience services beyond what you bargained for.
Content/Warnings: tattooing/needles, DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit smut, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, anal play/rimming (female receiving), eating it from behind, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink, manhandling, fade to black/abrupt ending
Author Notes: I've had this idea all summer. I've been eager to write it, but literally the muse only kept teasing me with it until literally about six hours ago when she said, WE'RE DOING THIS, AND WE'RE DOING THIS NOW, so it's almost late/maybe it's still you're birthday week for a hot minute in some time zone, but I'm slipping this to you @stargazingfangirl18 for your Birthday Bonenanza! Literally, when I tell you that when you originally tagged me in the announcement, and I read over the myriad of prompts, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is so tattoo Curtis and Ari coded, it HAS TO happen for Siri's birthday..." that's really how my brain thought it was finally going to get the jump on working on this. But then no. Then that other Steve story happened, and I was stoked about that. Then the new chapter for Nomad Steve, and I thought, ah well, still fun stuff, maybe someday this, and then AT THE LAST MOMENT, Muse pulled a plot twist. So here's some ruinous hoe shit. Multiple dialogue prompts from the challenge are used here, and you'll find them in bold.
A/N 2: Shout out to @vonalyn for a few convos hashing out some of this concept!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
You are surprised by the tinkling of a classic bell hanging over the door that rings pleasantly as you enter the tattoo parlor.
A man behind the reception desk immediately looks up to greet you. He doesn’t shoot you a phony, business-y smile, but his demeanor is still warm and approachable. “Welcome,” he greets you. “Walk-in or appointment?” he asks.
“Um, walk-in,” you manage. In a black t-shirt with shoulders that are nearly bursting through the fabric, lush hair and beard, and striking blue eyes, he’s more than an impressive specimen. “If you’ve got an opening?” you quickly add.
“Sure, we can take you,” he says. His gaze flicks to a scheduling book in front of him on the counter. “A couple of the boys are on break or about to finish up with other clients. Your first time here, yes?”
You nod. “First tattoo ever.”
“Oh,” he says, and his eyes brighten. “Even better. Let’s get you booked in.”
He takes your name, email, and phone number to set up a profile for you in their system. There are some electronic consent forms that he takes you through and has you agree to and sign on an iPad, and then he takes asks a few questions about what you’re interested in.
“Based off what you have in mind, Curtis might be the best artist, but he won’t be finished for maybe an hour.”
“Ah,” you look at your watch. It was a bit of an impromptu idea for you to drop in to get the tattoo this afternoon, and you had time, but you had probably been foolish thinking a walk-in was any sort of good idea.
“But,” he interjects, “I’ve got two other guys who are excellent, and either one of them should be ready to take you pretty soon. Take a seat just over there, and I’ll go check in with them and get a call on time for you. I’ll also grab you a drink. Pick your poison - we’ve got water or Coke products.”
You give him your preference, and he nods and smiles.
“Right then, sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
He disappears around the corner, and you do as you’ve been told and take a seat on one of the black leather couches in the lobby.
Now you have time to really take in your surroundings. The walls are black with white moldings at the floor and ceiling, and the hardwood floors are a warm walnut. Everything is dark but clean. Classic but clearly in line with current trends. On the wall behind the desk, there’s a gorgeous, white-lettered feature with shop name - Obsidian Stain Studio - that’s sleek and impressive. On the wall next to you, there are ten framed pieces of art on the wall in a mix of sizes, some of them hand-drawn artwork, and the rest photos of finished tattoos on skin.
You’re nervous but determined not to be, so you cross your legs and try to keep your anxious energy limited to just running your fingers back and forth over the edge of your phone. Looking at the different designs on the wall does serve to capture your attention, though, and quell your nerves slightly.
The man working reception returns and hands you the drink. “We should have you back there in a chair in ten or fifteen minutes.”
“Great,” you respond, and the nerves kick up a notch, but it’s with a surge of excitement.
This is happening.
You take a sip of your drink, grateful for something to occupy your hands. The cool liquid helps soothe your nerves a bit. As you wait, you observe a few other clients entering and leaving the shop checking in or paying as they leave. Some sport fresh bandages, while others are clearly here for consultations, clutching sketches or reference photos.
The buzzing of tattoo machines creates a constant backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by muffled laughter or conversation from the back rooms. The atmosphere is more relaxed than you expected, nineties music underscoring it all.
As you wait, a couple emerges from behind the partition separating the lobby from the work area. They're both grinning, the woman cradling her forearm gently. Her companion is animatedly discussing something with her, gesturing excitedly. You catch a glimpse of fresh ink on her skin as they pass – a vibrant butterfly with intricate, colorful wings.
The sight makes your heart race a little faster. Soon, that'll be you walking out with fresh art on your body. The thought is both thrilling and slightly terrifying.
But you won’t be walking out with a friend or partner.
Your gaze wanders back to the artwork on the walls. One piece in particular catches your eye – an intricate mandala design with flowing lines and delicate detail. You find yourself drawn to its symmetry and complexity.
"Which one’s got your attention?" a voice asks, startling you from your reverie. You look up to see someone you can only describe as a lion of a man standing before you. All of his attention is focused on you like you’re his next prey. He towers over you with a mane of golden brown hair that’s grown out to tuck nicely behind his ears and curls out at his neck. He’s got a broad chest and shoulders covered in a denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can see peeks of ink mingled with some chest hair as well as intricate designs over his forearms. His dark blue eyes are zeroed in on you in a way that both unsettles and steadies you at the same time.
You point at the mandala, and the man smiles. “That’s one of Steve’s. He says you’re here for your first tattoo.”
“He… wait, is that Steve?” You nod and glance over at the man at the front desk who’s now consulting with an older man and showing him a few designs.
“Yep, he owns the place and loves to work the front almost as much as the back with the rest of us. I’m Ari, by the way.” He puts his hand out, inviting you to shake hands.
You push up from the couch, stand, and offer your hand for the shake. It’s engulfed easily by his big, warm, calloused hand.
“I’m the one who’s going to make your first time special.”
Your heart stutters and your face flushes. He didn’t just… your mind races. Did he?
He chuckles and drops your hand quickly. “Follow me,” he says and turns and begins striding into the back.
You fall into step behind Ari, your eyes inevitably drawn to his broad shoulders and the confident swagger in his step. The back area is an open space divided into several stations with partial walls, each with its own tattoo chair and equipment, creating semi-private booths. Ari leads you to one in the back corner.
"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair.
You perch on the edge, your nerves returning full force. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink.
He pulls up a rolling stool and sits, leaning in close. "So, tell me about this tattoo you want."
You explain your idea - a simple constellation of stars for your zodiac sign - watching as his blue eyes light up with interest. He nods along, occasionally asking questions or offering suggestions. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing despite the butterflies in your stomach.
"Alright, I think I know what you're after," Ari says, reaching for a sketchpad. "Let me rough out a design for you."
You watch, mesmerized, as Ari's hand moves swiftly across the paper. His brow furrows in concentration, and you find yourself studying the angles of his face, the way his beard accentuates his strong jaw. Within minutes, he presents you with a design that takes your breath away.
"What do you think?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.
The constellation is there, just as you imagined, but Ari has added subtle details that elevate it beyond your expectations. Delicate lines connect the stars, and a hint of shadowing gives the piece depth and movement.
"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the sketch.
Ari grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Great. Now, let's talk placement."
You indicate the spot you've chosen - your inner wrist. Ari nods approvingly. "Good choice. Nice and visible, but easy to cover if needed. Mind if I take a look?"
You extend your arm, and Ari gently takes your wrist in his large hands. His touch is surprisingly soft as he examines the area, his fingers tracing the spot where your tattoo will soon be. You can't help but notice the contrast between his rough, inked skin and your own unmarked flesh.
"Nice canvas," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Skin's good here. This'll work well." He looks up, catching your eye. "Ready to get started?"
You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.
“You’re a sweet, innocent thing, aren’t you?”
You open your mouth but shut it again, unsure how to respond, and he brushes his thumb over the pulse on your inner wrist, and you think you see his eyes darken.
He releases your wrist and turns to prepare his equipment. You’re frozen in place, but luckily that’s fine as it’s not necessary for you to move. You watch as he efficiently sets up his station, laying out ink caps, adjusting his machine, and pulling on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. The buzz of the tattoo machine as he tests it sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you.
"Alright, I'm going to clean the area now," he says, swabbing your wrist.
His touch is clinical now, professional, as he prepares your skin. The cool antiseptic makes you shiver slightly.
"Cold?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.
"A little," you admit.
"Don't worry, I’ll have you warm soon enough," he says with a wink that makes your cheeks flush.
Ari places the stencil on your wrist, pressing it gently to transfer the design. When he peels it away, you see the outline of your constellation on your skin for the first time. It sends a thrill through you - this is really happening.
"Make sure you’re happy with the placement before we start," he instructs. "This is your last chance to change your mind."
You focus to examine the design on your skin more closely, heart racing. It looks even better than you imagined.
"It's perfect," you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.
Ari grins. "Alright then, let's make it permanent. You ready?"
You nod, settling back into the chair and extending your arm.
Ari takes your arm gently, positioning it just so on the armrest. "Now, I need you to stay as still as possible," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's going to hurt a bit, especially at first. But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."
The buzz of the machine fills your ears as Ari brings the needle to your skin. You hold your breath, bracing for the pain.
The first touch of the needle is a sharp, burning sensation that makes you wince. Ari pauses, his eyes flicking to your face. "You okay?"
You nod, determined. "I'm fine. Keep going."
“Move an inch, and you’ll be sorry.”
You open your mouth wordlessly again, and he laughs.
“Only joking. I know you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”
You bite your lip and nod, something fluttering in your stomach, mixing wickedly with your nerves and the uncertainty around this man who skirts between being casual, soothing your nerves, concentration on his craft, and making these comments that insinuate and evoke wholly inappropriate thoughts.
He smiles, then concentrates back on your wrist and resumes his work. Gradually, the initial shock of pain fades into a more manageable discomfort. You find yourself relaxing, mesmerized by the steady movement of Ari's hand and the way the muscles in his biceps move and flex.
As Ari continues, your eyes shift to his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his blue eyes focused intently on your skin. There's something mesmerizing about watching him work, seeing the care and precision he puts into every line. The buzz of the machine becomes almost soothing, a constant backdrop to the occasional murmur of voices from other stations.
"So," Ari says after a while, breaking the silence without looking up from his work, "what made you decide to get your first tattoo today?"
You hesitate, unsure how much to share. "It's… kind of a long story."
Ari glances up, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."
You take a deep breath, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But today… today felt like it was finally the day to take the leap."
"Spontaneous decision, huh? Those can be the best kind."
You nod, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something permanent.”
Ari nods thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on your wrist. "Sometimes we need a physical reminder of the changes we're making inside," he says softly. "Something to look at and think, 'Yeah, I did that. I made that choice.'"
His words resonate with you, and you find yourself relaxing further. The pain has faded to a dull, almost pleasant sensation.
"So, what's your story?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "How did you get into tattooing?"
Ari chuckles, pausing to wipe away excess ink. "Now that's definitely a long story. But the short version? I was a troubled kid, got into some bad stuff. Tattooing saved me, gave me a purpose."
He glances up, meeting your eyes. "There's something powerful about creating permanent art on someone's body.”
The words send another thrill through your body and you nod, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his intense gaze. "I can see that," you manage to say.
Ari returns his attention to your wrist, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's intimate, you know? Creating something that becomes a part of someone forever."
The word 'intimate' hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure as he works.
“You’re the one Steve says I nearly got to mark for the first time,” a new voice startles you, and you jump slightly in your chair.
Ari tsks, but his left hand had been holding your arm down firmly.
The other man chuckles. “Sorry, sugar.”
He steps closer, coming into Ari’s booth. He looks to be slightly taller than Ari, and a shade leaner, but he’s still built with more muscles than the common man. His hair is dark, shorn close to his head, and a dark beard covers his angular jaw. Ice blue eyes pierce into you, and you fight hard to suppress an actual shiver running down your spine.
"Curtis," Ari says without looking up, his tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"
Curtis leans against the partition, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement draws your attention to the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He’s got more ink than Ari.
"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Steve said we had a noteworthy first-timer."
You feel your face flush, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Curtis's gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he looks you over.
"Well, now you've seen," Ari says, his voice tight. "Don't you have your own client to attend to?"
Curtis huffs. "Just finished up. Thought I'd come say hello." He turns his attention back to you. "How're you holding up, sweetheart? Ari treating you right?"
You nod, finding your voice. "He's been great," you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "It doesn't hurt as much as I expected."
Curtis grins, a glint in his eye. "Oh, Ari knows how to make it feel good, doesn't he?"
You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the innuendo. Ari's hand tightens slightly on your wrist, and you see his jaw clench.
"Curtis," Ari says, his tone a clear warning.
Curtis holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint." He fixes his gaze once again on your face. "Maybe next time you'll let me be the one to mark you up. Lot more skin still to explore."
With that, he stalks away, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake. You can feel the tension radiating off Ari as he resumes his work on your tattoo, his jaw clenched.
“Sorry about that,” Ari says after a moment, his voice low. "Curtis can be… intense."
You nod, still feeling flustered from the encounter. "It's okay," you manage to say, trying to calm your racing heart.
Ari looks up at you, his blue eyes searching your face. "You alright? Need a break?"
You shake your head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."
He nods, returning his attention to your wrist. The buzz of the machine fills the silence between you once more. You try to focus on the sensation, the slight sting as the needle moves across your skin, rather than the lingering tension in the air.
After a few minutes, Ari speaks again. "You know, you don't have to let anyone pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not here, not anywhere."
His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. There's a protective glint in his eye, but he quickly returns his attention to your wrist. Ari's movements become more deliberate, almost possessive, as he continues working on your tattoo. The tension in the air is palpable, and you find yourself hyper-aware of every point of contact between your skin and his.
"Almost done," he murmurs after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Just a few more touches."
You watch as he adds the final details, marveling at how the constellation seems to come to life on your skin. When he finally sits back, setting down the machine, you can't help but gasp.
"It's beautiful," you breathe.
Ari's eyes meet yours, a mixture of pride and something deeper in his gaze. “It suits you perfectly."
You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. Ari gently wipes away the last traces of excess ink, revealing the full beauty of your new tattoo. The stars seem to shimmer on your skin, the delicate lines connecting them creating a sense of movement and depth.
"Now, let's get this wrapped up and I'll go over the aftercare instructions with you," Ari says, reaching for a roll of clear film.
As he carefully covers your new tattoo, his fingers brush against your skin, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You can't help but notice how his large hands handle your wrist with such care and precision.
"There," he says, smoothing down the edges of the wrap. "All protected."
Ari walks you to the front, and your heart races when you see Steve and Curtis speaking quietly with their heads together. Ari clears his throat, and at the sight of you, Curtis nods, rakes his gaze over you once more. “Come back soon, sugar.”
You feel a shiver run down your spine at Curtis's words, but Ari's steady presence beside you helps ground you. Steve steps forward, a warm smile on his face.
"How did it go?" he asks, his eyes flickering to your wrapped wrist.
"It was amazing," you reply, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Ari did an incredible job." You extend your wrist, showing off your new tattoo.
Steve nods approvingly. "Beautiful work. Ari’s one of our best. Let's get you checked out."
As Steve begins to ring up your work, Ari leans against the counter beside you. His arm brushes against yours, and you're acutely aware of his proximity.
"Remember," he says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear, "take care of it. It's a part of you now."
You nod, shyly meeting his intense gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.
Ari's eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the wrap on your wrist. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.
Steve clears his throat, breaking the moment. "All set," he says, handing you a receipt. "We hope to see you again soon."
You nod, suddenly feeling flustered. "Thank you," you manage to say, gathering your things.
As you turn to leave, Ari's hand catches your elbow gently. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small business card and presses it into your hand. "In case you have any questions about the aftercare. Or anything else."
Your fingers brush as you take the card, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. You look down at the card, noting the personal cell phone number scrawled on it. "Thank you."
Ari's blue eyes lock with yours, intense and filled with unspoken promise.
You barely seem to turn away, but somehow manage to break off from the eye contact, and quickly rush out of Obsidian Stain Studio.
You keep Ari’s business card, but as the weeks go by, you don’t use it.
After a couple of months, you move the card from the spot next to where you keep your keys where you see it every day, into the top drawer of your desk. Out of frequent sight, but not out of mind completely.
It’s a solid six months before you return to Obsidian Stain again, but ultimately you do. The bell jingles above your head as you step inside.
The tattoo on your wrist had healed beautifully, and you loved seeing it on your skin. You had decided fairly soon afterwards that you wanted another tattoo, but even after saving up for your next one, it had taken you longer to decide whether to return Obsidian or not, the experience with Ari and encounters with Curtis leaving you torn between terrified and desperately curious to go back.
Ultimately the allure was too strong to deny.
But, more logically, although finally going in to get your first tattoo had been on a whim, you had been very thorough in narrowing down and exploring your options for months before. You knew they were one of the best in your area, especially for the style you wanted, and the price point you knew you could afford while still ensuring quality.
Unwilling to make an appointment, though, you were going to gamble on a walk-in again.
No one was immediately at the front desk, but at the sound of the bell, Steve quickly appears. “Welcome back,” he said, a broad grin on his face.
“Walk-in?” you ask, and remind him of your name.
“Oh, I remember you.” Steve beckons you forward. “Let me see that wrist,” he says.
You offer your arm with pride, and he smiles warmly.
“Looks good. You hit us on a slow day, perfect for a walk in. I’ll get you booked in, and then I’ll take you right back.”
You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Steve leads you to the back. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils, bringing back memories of your last visit. Your eyes scan the room, half hoping and half dreading to see a certain tattooist.
"Curtis is free right now," Steve says, guiding you to a station. "He'll take good care of you."
Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Curtis's name. You remember his intense gaze, his bold words from your last visit. Part of you is disappointed it's not Ari, but another part is intrigued.
Curtis looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who's back," he says, his ice blue eyes locking onto yours.
You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under his gaze. "Hi," you manage evenly.
Curtis's eyes rake over you. "I was hoping you'd come back to us," he says, his voice low and smooth. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"
You begin to explain the design you have in mind - a delicate, line art floral piece. As you talk, Curtis listens intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions. His focus is entirely on you, making you feel both nervous and oddly thrilled.
“And where do you want it?” he finally asks.
You trace an area of your other arm - opposite of the one with your inked-up wrist — moving your fingers over the delicate skin between your wrist and up toward the crook of your elbow.
“Hmm,” he hums. “You sure?”
Your eyes shoot to his. “Yes?” an edge of hesitation now in your voice at his query.
He narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. “No.”
“No?”
“No. A piece like this could work well there, but that’s not where you want me to put this.”
“It… isn’t?”
“No, it should go here,” he says, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your ribs instead, causing you to shiver.
He gestures for you to take a seat in the chair. As you settle in, Curtis rolls his stool closer, leaning in. "Now, this is going to be a bit more intense than your other wrist. You sure you're ready for it?"
You nod, trying to project confidence despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "I'm ready."
Curtis grins, a predatory glint in his eye. "That's what I want to hear from that pretty mouth. Now just sit tight and wait for me while I draw something up.”
Your heart races as you lean back in the chair, Curtis's words echoing in your mind, causing heat to pool in your core. You watch, mesmerized by the intensity of his focus. After a few minutes, he turns back to you, holding up the sketch.
"What do you think?" he asks.
Your breath catches in your throat. The design is beautiful - delicate flowers and vines intertwining in a way that would perfectly follow the curve of your ribs.
"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the design.
Curtis smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Alright then, let's get started. I'm going to need you to lift your shirt for me."
Your cheeks flush as you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, exposing your ribs. Curtis's eyes darken as they roam over your skin.
"Beautiful canvas," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.
You feel exposed, knowing your own soft belly and imperfections, but he looks at you in a way that has your head spinning, it’s a hunger that’s almost reverent.
��Better if you take your shirt off for me, sugar,” he says, his tone firm.
Head swirling, you don’t think to refuse, just do as you’re told. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt over your head, feeling incredibly vulnerable as you sit there in just your bra. Curtis's eyes roam over your exposed skin, a look of satisfaction on his face.
"That's better," he says, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's get you positioned just right."
His hands, surprisingly gentle, guide you to lie back and slightly to the side. You shiver as his fingers trail along your ribs, mapping out where the tattoo will go.
"Nervous?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.
He already knows the answer, but you nod, not trusting your voice.
Curtis leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of you."
Your breath catches in your throat at his words. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.
Curtis begins to clean and prepare your skin, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate. You try to steady your breathing, hyperaware of every point of contact between his hands and your body.
"Now, this is going to hurt more than your wrist did," Curtis warns, his voice low. "But I know you can take it. You're tougher than you look, aren't you, sugar?"
You nod, steeling yourself for the pain. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, and then you feel the first bite of the needle against your skin. You gasp, your body tensing.
"Breathe," Curtis instructs, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, grounding you. "That's it, nice and steady."
As he works, Curtis surprisingly stokes and then keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Mostly it’s inquiry after inquiry, forcing you to focus on finding words, but his deep voice also helps to distract you from the pain. He asks about your life, your interests. You find yourself opening up, sharing more than you intended about your life, your dreams, your fears. His voice continues to provide the counterpoint to the buzz of the tattoo machine.
"You're doing so well," Curtis murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work. "Such a good girl for me."
The praise sends a shiver through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a small moan. Curtis notices, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"Sensitive, aren't you?" he says, his voice low. "I like that."
Your cheeks flush, but you can't deny the thrill his words send through you. The pain of the tattoo blends into the sensations he’s evoking as his hands move with practiced precision across your skin.
"So, sugar, what made you come back for more ink?" he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work.
You take a shaky breath before answering. "I loved how the first one turned out. And… I guess I wanted to experience it again."
Curtis chuckles, darkly. "Addictive, isn't it? The pain, the permanence... the intimacy of it all."
His words make your heart race, and you're acutely aware of how close he is, how vulnerable you are beneath his hands.
"Speaking of your first time," Curtis continues, the steadying hand that had been at your waist ghosting just a little lower, "Ari seemed quite taken with you. Did you ever give him a call?"
The question catches you off guard, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. "No, I… I didn't," you admit softly.
Curtis's hand stills for a moment, and he looks up at you, his ice blue eyes intense. "No? Now that's interesting. Why not, sugar?"
You swallow hard, unsure how to answer, yet unable to stop the words from flowing. "I... I guess I was nervous," you finally say.
A slow smile spreads across Curtis's face. "Nervous? Of Ari? Or of what you felt?”
Your cheeks flush at his perceptiveness. "Both, maybe," you whisper.
“Or maybe you were waiting for something else?" His hand resumes its work, but the touch his anchor hand seems more deliberate now, each movement charged with unspoken intent.
"I don't know what you mean.”
Curtis chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think you do, sugar. I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you came back here today."
His words hang in the air between you, charged with tension. You can't bring yourself to deny it, can't even find your voice to respond. Curtis seems to take your silence as confirmation.
"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"
The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the silence as Curtis returns his focus to your ribs. You try to steady your breathing, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and yours. The pain of the tattoo blends with the heat pooling in your core, creating a heady mix of sensations.
"Tattoo nearly done," Curtis says after what feels like hours.
You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over you. The intense experience is coming to an end, but part you that scares you doesn't want it to.
"Just a few more touches," Curtis murmurs, his eyes focused intently on your skin, and the buzz of the machine continues for a few more minutes.
"There we go," Curtis murmurs. He wipes away the excess ink, then sits back to admire his work. His eyes roam over your exposed skin, a mixture of professional pride and something darker in his gaze. "Want to take a look?"
You nod, not trusting your voice. Curtis helps you sit up, steadying you with a hand on your lower back as you move to face the mirror. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the intricate design now adorning your ribs. The delicate flowers and vines seem to bloom across your skin, following the curves of your body perfectly.
"It's perfect," you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the mirror.
Curtis's smile widens, and his eyes darken. "Of course it is. I knew exactly what you needed."
His words send another shiver through you, but then suddenly you feel the heat of him too close, and he’s pressed right up against your back, planting his large hands on your hips and caging you in.
"You're trembling," Curtis murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady against him. "Are you scared, sugar?"
You can't find your voice to answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against your back, his strong hands on your hips, the heat of him seeping through your skin.
"Or maybe," he continues, his voice low and dark, "you're excited."
One of his hands slides up your side, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo, until it comes to rest just below your breast. Your breath hitches, and you see your pupils dilate in the mirror's reflection.
"That's what I thought," Curtis says, satisfaction clear in his tone. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Since the moment you walked in.”
You can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of ink and something uniquely him. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.
"Tell me, sugar," Curtis murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Did you come back here hoping to see Ari? Or were you hoping it would be me?"
You swallow hard, your mind spinning. "I… I don't know," you manage to whisper.
Curtis chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I think you do know. I think you've been thinking about this for months." His hands slide up and down your sides, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "Thinking about what it would be like if you came back. If you let yourself give in."
Your breath hitches. “No.”
“No?” he challenges. His right hand, still gloved, audaciously slips past your waistband and down the front of your panties to cup your pussy. He laughs softly, discovering a growing wetness there. “Yes.”
You gasp as Curtis's hand begins to stroke your most intimate area, your body betraying you with its response. Your mind races, torn between the thrill of his touch and the shock at how quickly things have escalated.
"Wait," you manage to breathe out, your voice shaky. "We shouldn't…"
Curtis pauses, his hand stilling but not withdrawing. "Why not?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your body is telling me a different story, sugar."
You're acutely aware of how exposed you are, standing there in just your bra with Curtis pressed against your back, his hand between your legs. The mirror reflects your flushed face and wide eyes, Curtis's intense gaze locked on you.
"Someone could walk in," you whisper, a weak protest even to your own ears.
Curtis chuckles darkly. "They could.”
Your mind is spinning, caught between the intense sensations and the voice in your head screaming that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this here, now, with him. But your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch.
"Curtis," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky, and tears springing up in your eyes. "We can’t—"
"Shh," he soothes, his free hand coming up to gently grip your throat. Not choking, just holding. "Don't overthink it, sugar. Just feel."
His fingers continue their exploration, finding your clit and circling it slowly. You bite back a moan, plant your hands on the mirror, and your hips rock back against him.
“Fuck, knew you wanted this,” he speaks directly into your ear.
You whimper and shake your head, but then his hand moves up to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep more quiet than that unless you want someone else to join us, sugar.”
Your eyes desperately seek his in the mirror, fear flashing in them, and the tears begin to spill over. There’s a predatory glint in his icy blue gaze.
His fingers continue their skilled ministrations, drawing forth sensations you've never experienced before. Your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch despite your mind's protests. You're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, shame, and an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure.
"Look at yourself," Curtis commands softly, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "See how beautiful you are like this."
You force yourself to look, to really see yourself - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Curtis behind you, his large frame dwarfing yours, his hand between your legs, the other still gently but firmly covering your mouth.
Curtis's eyes meet yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and predatory. The fear in your eyes seems to excite him further, his grip on you tightening slightly.
"Don't worry, sugar," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew all those pretty tears were just for show, you want this just as badly as I do, and I've got you."
His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. And yet, there's a part of you that thrills at the danger, at the forbidden nature of what's happening.
Curtis's fingers continue their skilled exploration, drawing involuntary gasps and moans from you that are muffled by his hand. Each deliberate movement sends waves of sensation coursing through your body, igniting a fire that you never expected to feel. Your body continues to betray you, responding to his touch despite your mind's protests, creating a tumultuous conflict within you. The thrill of the moment is undeniable, yet a flicker of apprehension lingers in the background, whispering the dangers of being caught in such an intimate entanglement, making it impossible to pull away.
"Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” a familiar voice jolts you nearly out of your skin, and you whip your head around to see Ari looming in the entry.
Curtis stops only for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the other man. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"
Ari shrugs, all nonchalance, and palms the large bulge pressing at the front of his jeans.
Your heart races, caught between exhilaration and apprehension. The sight of Ari standing there, a blend of curiosity, mischief, and lust in his eyes, adds an element of unpredictability that excites and terrifies you.
Curtis grunts, then says, “I’m not stopping, but I’ll share.”
Your jaw would have dropped to the floor in that moment had Curtis’s hand not been holding it in place, securing your response and anchoring you to the present. The idea of a threesome, tantalizing yet fraught with risk, swirls in your mind. How did this escalate so quickly? The thought of being discovered sends a shiver down your spine, but the allure of the forbidden is intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the moment.
You sob, overwhelmed and afraid, but it’s muffled as Curtis turns your body around with him, his grip firm yet reassuring His fingers are still moving, relentless and sure, and you can hardly focus on anything else. Your mind races through the possibilities, the dangerous thrill of being discovered adding an exhilarating layer to the encounter. Would Ari join in, or would he simply stand by and watch, adding to the intensity of the moment? The idea of indulging in such a forbidden experience fills you with a mix of dread and excitement, as if you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.
Ari pulls a privacy curtain you had failed to notice across the opening to the booth before taking the few short steps to close the distance between you. This sudden shield from prying eyes heightens the anticipation, transforming the atmosphere into one charged with desire and unspoken possibilities. Ari traces the back of his forefinger down the column of your throat, down your sternum, between your breasts, and then circles around the expanse of your new tattoo, eyes roaming over the beautiful design.
Not to be forgotten, Curtis tweaks your clit, cracking the pleasure that had been mounting like a whip, demanding an orgasm from your body, and you tremble in his arms as you cling to him. Each flick of his fingers sends shivers through you, igniting a fiery response that leaves you gasping for more.
“Knew you were such a good girl,” Ari praises, and your chest surges from his praise, his low, sultry voice invading your mind. Then, he unzips his jeans, the sound echoing in the booth like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He goes to sit on the black leather chair, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, revealing the enticing sight of his big, throbbing cock.
Curtis lifts you with ease and places you in Ari's lap. The transition is seamless, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of Ari's embrace. His hands instinctively find their way to your hips, grounding you as you settle in. With Curtis standing close, the dynamic continues to shift and evolve. You can feel the heat radiating from both men, each one eager to exact pleasure, and you hope the fire doesn’t consume you completely.
“Take off your bra,” Ari directs you.
Your eyes widen over his immediate demands, but, nervous as you still are, you don’t hesitate to do as he says. His hands on your hips hold you steady while you reach around to unclasp, and then you let it drop and fall away, biting your lip. Ari groans appreciatively, and grinds your core against his cock. You let out a shuddering breath at the friction, but it’s a singular sensation for only a moment, because then Ari dips his head and takes one of your breasts into his hot, wet mouth, and you gasp. Your fingers tangle immediately into his hair, looking for some kind of anchor.
Vaguely you hear the rustle of fabric from Curtis close behind you, and then you feel the heat of his now naked chest press against your back. He nips lightly at your neck, but then pulls back slightly. He rucks your loose skirt up over your hips, but then he rips the fabric of your panties right off, and you yelp in surprise.
Ari’s quick to muffle your sound by shifting his lips from your breast to your mouth, but his lips and tongue are no less eager, and the kiss is delicious and demanding, and you’re easily almost completely lost in him again. But Curtis has also discarded his gloves, and now his warm, calloused hands move slowly up your thighs before squeezing your hips, then start to knead the flesh of your round ass.
Curtis places a hand between your shoulders and pushes you forward, coaxing you against Ari’s chest. Ari takes the hint and leans back in the reclined chair, pulling you with him. This exposes your most intimate parts to Curtis, and he spreads you open, then presses his tongue flat against your cunt, eliciting a moan that, luckily, is swallowed up by Ari, who’s still eagerly kissing you, and now kneading your breasts in his large hands. Curtis continues to lick and lap at your cunt, but then his tongue begins to move up, and then suddenly he’s tonguing the tight rosebud of your ass, and you whimper and freeze.
Ari stops when you stop, pulling away to look at your face and assess the situation.
Curtis teases you with his tongue for another moment before pausing to pull away as well.
“Not a virgin,” he guesses, “but never had anyone play with your ass, have you, sugar?”
You close your eyes and try to take a steadying breath, your, “no,” soft and barely audible.
“Do you want him to stop?” Ari asks, and you can feel him studying your face.
Your mind is racing, but you remain frozen, unsure of what to say.
Ari brings one hand up to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch and open your eyes again, but still don’t speak.
“Keep going,” he says to Curtis, and Curtis does.
While Curtis works your tightest hole with his tongue, still splaying your cheeks open, Ari reaches down to slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you eagerly rock your hips for more. Ari smiles, then brings you down with his other hand to kiss you again.
When you’re positively humping his hand, Ari pulls back from kissing you again with a darker laugh than you expected, but you’re so far gone between them, you think of stopping or slowing at all now.
“Open your eyes,” he commands.
But it doesn’t register.
He withdraws your fingers and slaps your pussy, making you gasp and groan, and your eyes whip open.
His dark blue irises are barely visible, pupils blown wide with lust, and it just cause another surge of electricity to run through you to your core.
“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”
And then it’s his cock nudging at your entrance.
“Ari,” you groan.
“Since that first fucking minute I saw you in the lobby,” he says. He taps his cock aggressively against your swollen clit, and you keen for him. “Knew you were an innocent little thing, and I wanted to absolutely ruin you.”
You bite your lip, unable to look away from him, and think of that day, too.
“We both wanted to ruin you,” Curtis adds. And his finger takes over where his tongue had been, working gently but insistently into your ass.
You moan softly, but the two men hear it and exchange a glance over your shoulder. Ari looks pleased.
“I didn’t touch you that day, only teased you, enticed you. I knew you’d be back,” he growls. “Shame I didn’t have you on my chair again, but that wasn’t going to stop me.”
He pushes your lips back to his for another devouring kiss, but it’s brief.
“You’re desperate to be filled up, aren’t you?” he asks.
Closing your eyes again, you whimper and drop your forehead to his, but your answer is undeniable. “Yes.”
“You didn’t have to wait this long, but we won’t punish you for that. We’re patient men.”
“It only gave us more time to think of all the ways we’ll take you apart, sugar,” Curtis murmurs against your shoulder, then presses open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin there.
And then Ari is slipping his cock inside of your cunt, slow, insistent, and doesn’t stop until he’s into the hilt, pushing all the air out of your lungs. He’s so big it feels like he’s everywhere, and it takes you concentrating on making your lungs work again to suck in deep breaths, impossibly full of him.
But as full as you feel, it wasn’t everything. Because while Ari was slipping his cock inside you, Curtis had removed his fingers, and now his thick cock was splitting you open and finding room in a hole that had never been filled before, and it was unfamiliar pain, but already pressing into impossible pleasure, and really, you had to press your palms to the leather on either side of Ari’s head and focus on breathing and only breathing if you were going to survive this.
And then they both began to move.
In and out and in and out and inandout.
And you were sure you were going to black out or bliss out from how full you were and all the sensations surging through your body and –
Tumblr media
read the next part: TAKING YOU HOME
I make no apologies for this. Send me your medical bills as needed.
↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest
I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!
642 notes · View notes
ja3hwa · 1 year ago
Text
♡ 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐔𝐬, 𝐄𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐎𝐮𝐫𝐬 ♡
Tumblr media
Day 31 : Trick Or Teat
【Synopsis】 : The dead of night, creatures hide. In the light of a fire, those same creatures can become more.
『Word count』 :  7.01k
-> Genre: Supernatural. Smut. Angst. Fluff.
Paring: Yungi x Reader | Seonghwa x Reader [Eventual ot8 x Reader] 
[Warnings] : Self hatred. Abusive family. toxic family. Cult-like religon. Myths and supernatural concepts. The reader is giving off Genderfluid in some parts [not me projecting whoops]. hints of sexual abuse. Blood. Gore. Dark themes. Blood drinking. Kissing. Swearing. All the boys have a corruption kink cause why not. Fingering. Seonghw has a bit of a superiority complex. Details of torture and killing people. Unprotected sex. Yunho and Mingi are little shits. Eheh
HAPPY HALLOWEEN! Surprise!! This is the very first chapter and introduction to my new mini series I'll be writing. I know a lot of you have been wanting Vampire Ateez ot8x reader for a while, and I've been trying to find a good story, and i finally got one, hehe. Also, I wanted to make this fic extra long as well to say thank you for 4k followers. I still want to do an event, but I'm taking a little break first, so I hope this is okay for now.
I LOVE YOU ALL ♡♡♡
Check out the mini series masterlist -> [Here]
Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List | Part Two
Tumblr media Tumblr media
The Destiny Castle was filled with darkness and death. Guard dogs, the size of cows and strange beastly noises echoing in the forest surrounding. And warnings to anyone that enters the ground will never be seen again. Well, that's what the priest of your village says over time and time again. Blabbering about how god left the family that lived in the castle many centuries ago when they invited night-crawling creatures inside. Ones that drink blood and care little for the human race.
Vampires.
You sighed under your breath for the fifth or sixth time this evening as the sermon read on the large dusted book in front of him. Your hands were beginning to ache from having them clasped together for so long. Why were you even praying? It's not like you believe any of this bullshit. Yes, granted, some of it might sound true, and you had doubts on multiple occasions whether this man in the sky was, in fact, real or not. But did you really want to stick around and find out? When you die and you go to hell, so be it. You weren't scared of where you ended up. You were more scared of wasting your life away. Not finding the adventure you so desperately craved. But your picture-perfect parents with their picture-perfect kids shall have no such dreams. No such idea of living other than to tend to the market stall and be married to yet another picture-perfect family.
You felt your mother's god-awful stare as she clearly heard you sigh yet again. You hated her the most. Always finding new and improved ways to punish you for "your sins." Like rolling your eyes or talking back to a man. Or worse, not showing any signs of being a good future housewife so when she's finally ready to sell you off—oh I'm sorry, give you away—to some rich Christian suitor to be your husband. You could be the perfect version of yourself for her.
Perfect. Perfect. Perfect.
You hated that fucking word. A loud bell chime caught your attention, signalling that Sept was finished with his blabberings for the evening. So you stood up straight, your annoyingly over-layered dress before turning on your heels to leave.
"Oh wait, Dove. Come here, please." Your mother's overfaked and sugary sweet tone rattled in your ears. The use of the nickname Dove also annoyed you. Dove, meaning white pure bird that is trapped in a golden cage. Everyone had called you that since you were born, most people in the village not even knowing your real name, only know this nickname.
Why, you may ask?
Simple, your mother hated your name. You were named after your father's mother, who she hated. But it was tradition to name your firstborn after the father's mother, so here you were. Not only were you a disappointment to your mother, but you also bore a name that resembles hatred. Lucky you.
"This is Lucas Wheeler. He's Mary and Robert's Eldest son." Your mother's voice buttered up the introduction, leaning in with an absolutely disturbingly fake smile that everyone seemed to fall for. You turned your lip slightly, making a poor attempt to smile, which your mother did not approve of. "Luca, darling, this is my daughter."
His grin was wide and overexaggerated. His tunic was buttoned all the way up to his Adams apple, looking as if it was constricting his airflow. And his hair was perfectly brushed back. He was the definition of a good pure religious boy. A book nerd. You couldn't hide your disgust as he licked his lips, eyeing you like some piece of flesh. You knew what he was hiding. That filthy lust that men seemed to only be forgiven for. He has probably dreamed about shoving his cock in every woman that passes him and he was definitely only thinking about his needs while staring at you. Not marriage, not husband duty. No, the sole idea of finally getting his little dick wet was driving him crazy. And it made you want to chuck your guts up all over his clean shoes.
"You seem to have such a um, polite daughter here, Christine. She seems shy?" Lucas's mother, Mary spoke up trying to take a look at you but you kept your face pointed to the ground. You didn’t want to be there and you weren't about to fake a smile for a family you did not need to know. you wanted nothing more than to slip away and become invisible like you always did in these types of situations. But turning twenty has now made you in the public eye. Twenty and without a husband was rare. Normally women in your village were betrothed at sixteen and married at eighteen. But you have managed to wheezle your way out of it from your parents being too worried about your younger sisters. But you’ll be twenty-one soon and your mother, Christine was becoming impatient.
“She is a shy one. Sweet too. Micheal and I have been trying to find the perfect man for her, but her shyness seems to not be a lucky charm.” Your mother battered, throwing a sweet chuckle making Lucas’s parents laugh.
“Well, how about you both come over? Bring all your kids, for dinner. I’m sure my Luca would love to get to know her.” Mary pinched Lucas’s cheek making him push away slightly.
“Yes. I’d love to know more about your daughter. I’m sure we will be able to entertain one another while you get dinner ready.” his dark words made your stomach turn and flip. Now you were definitely going to be sick.
“It’s settled then. We will see you at sundown.” Your mother bid goodbye tugging you away by your arm out of the church, not letting you go for a second. Knowing you’d just run off the first chance you got.
-
Night came quicker than you would have liked and no matter how hard to tried to slip away your mother made sure that one of your sisters was always with you, ready to shout if you tried to bail. What was this some type of house imprisonment? You didn’t want to go, that was more than clear. But your mother couldn’t care less and your father well it was ‘whatever mother says goes’. so you were alone in the more honest terms. Your brothers were too young to know any different, your sister who is only two years younger than you was a cutout of your mother. And your little sister was daddy's little girl. She didn’t care about anything but her daddy.
What a perfect family you seem to have. Everyone fitted in somewhere but you. You were the experiment. The first batch of cookies to come out of the oven that no one touches cause they were too burned or not fully cooked.
“Come on we are going to be late.” Your mother's voice rang through the house, your sister's eyes not leaving you. She had muttered something before heading for the door. You had told her you just needed to put on some garments before meeting her downstairs. She was hesitant for a moment thinking this was a plan to escape but you had said that there was no time now and what would be the point. Sensing your defeat she left you alone. Finally.
You pull on some pants under your dress, hating having to wear such feminine clothing. It wasn’t that you were against wearing dresses or lace or even frills. It was more that sometimes you wanted pants. Was that so bad? You sighed putting all the clothes your sister had pulled out for you to try on, on the end of your bed. That was later you’s problem. You noticed your book laying on your pillow making you swear under your breath. Tucking it back under the sheets you wonder if your sister saw it. You hopped not, if she saw what you wrote or worse what you drew, she’d be telling the church to burn you at the stake.
You ran down the stairs quickly, not wanting to waste any more time, hoping that if you go over and get this night over with you can come back home and hide away in your room, wishing you were anywhere other than with this family.
-
This night seemed okay as far as talking about our lord and saviour over supper was. Mary was busy finishing up the final dish, letting Lucas and your parents laugh over a blessed bottle of wine. They had sent you and Lucas away to, get to know one another and Lucas had to perfect idea to show you his barn. A place where ‘he could be himself’. God, everything he says annoys you. Climbing the old rusty ladder, you stand in an empty hay loft. Your gut felt strange, like your body was warning you of something but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Until you felt a hand grip your shoulder softly but tight enough to make you freeze.
His breath was so close, pooling on your neck. fingers were ghosting along your corset strings making tears build in your eyes. Even though he was a little boy in your mind. He was much bigger than you and he could easily take advantage of you if you didn’t play your cards right. So you had to act. “And what might we get up to here hmm…”
His chuckle sickened you. “Well, we have some time before mother calls. So I thought we get to know each other. Just like our families wanted.” he pulled away, making a grunting sound behind you. You turned slowly to see he was sitting on a blanket that had been laid out on some hay. Was this disgusting excuse of a man really thinking he could charm you into sleeping with him? God, his ego was bigger than you thought. You giggled, waltzing around the small room pretending to think but in truth, you were looking for an exit. You could go down the ladder but he’d probably grab you before getting that low. Maybe over the side onto the beams. He won't be able to get to you then. But then you’d be trapped until you eventually have to climb back over. And you know he’s the type to wait you out.
A window. Probably leads onto the roof. Not practical but if you recall you did see a bunch of hay bails just outside so if you jump you’d be able to land on them. And a broken ankle or wrist was better than….”Where is your mind wondering, baby? Do I scare you?”
Your head snaps back to him, giving him a small smile. “Oh, no…no…” You step closer, looking him deep in his eyes. “you don’t scare me…baby…” You stood right above his laying figure, his legs spread, enough for you to place a foot in between them. A grim smirk painted his unpleasant features. he went to sit up and you used this as your now or never, kicking him right in the balls without another thought. His groan was loud, knowing if it weren't for how far you were from the house. Everyone would have heard.
“You little bitch!” You ran for the window, crawling out as quickly as you could. The top of your dress got caught on a nail ripping the fabric. But you didn’t waste any time to cry about broken material, looking for the hay bails. It wasn’t as high of a jump as you thought, sliding down the straw, making some of it get caught in your dress. You could hear Lucas groaning in the distance as you started to run. Run fast and run far.
You needed to go home. Quickest route is through the forestry back towards the centre of the village before turning off from the church. Jump Mr Smith's fence and climb the vines into your room. Simple enough. But it's dark, a little too dark and all you could hear was your heartbeat in your ears and rabid footsteps in the distance. The forest was thick. Trees tightly snug together. You almost tripped several times over branches and roots. Your heart was racing now, panting as your mind was becoming hazy. Need to get home. Need to get home.
“Ohhhh Little Dove, where are you.” Lucas’s deep sinister voice echoed through the dark forest. He was too close, you needed to stop. Hide. Maybe he’d go past you or head back. “Come out, baby. We were just having some fun.”
Quiet. Be silent. don’t move. Not a mucsle.
He called your name this time your real one making you gulp. His voice was maybe two or three trees away from where you stood. A twig snaps and you feel tears in the corners of your eyes. He was so close it was like you could still feel his breath. “Come on princess...” His hand wrapped the tree you were standing against and everything stopped. You closed your eyes thinking for a moment, trying to play thousands of scenarios of how you could get away. But nothing would work. He caught you. He danced the bend, slipping right into your view. Before you could run his hand gripped your throat making you freeze. “Don’t worry baby. I don’t bite.”
His words were short... sinister, like he had achieved his ultimate goal of capturing his prey. Your eyes widened going to spit back a comment but your words caught in your throat as you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Lucas. Tall, dark. Red eyes glowing through the night. Everything happened so quickly, the beast grasped Lucas the same way he had you, pulling him back with fright. “But I do…”
The creature's fangs pierced the disgusting man's neck making him scream out a noise that would make your blood curdle. His grip dropped from you, trying to scratch and fight off the larger figure. You took this moment to run, not even caring if the creature was going to kill him or not. All you knew was you needed to run. But you couldn’t run home anymore. There’s blood on your hands literally, Lucas’s blood splattered on you. If this wasn’t a perfect situation the priest was looking for to burn you at the stake you don’t know what is. “Hey, this way.”
You physically jump hearing a high-pitched voice cooe at you through the wind. It was a hooded figure, and normally you would of not gone with a stranger but in this case it seemed fair. You followed the person who seemed to be always a few steps ahead of you at all times no matter how hard you tried to catch up. It was only then, when you stopped focusing on the person to look around you noticed they were leading you to the castle grounds. Where myth reads vampires inhabit. That must have been what got Lucas.
A blood sucking vampire.
You stopped in your tracks not knowing to go back or forward. It’s not like vampires scared you per se. It was just. You were human and they are beasts. They would certainly eat you before you could plead your case. But one of them saved you right? That’s what it was doing? Not just finding two humans and deciding to have a late-night snack right….
“Hey over here.” The figure called for you again but when you looked up everything suddenly went black.
-
Your head was ringing. Heartbeat thumping slowly in your ears. Black splotches clouded your vision as you tried to look around. You were in a room. A Billiard room, to be exact. You have never seen a room of such a size. The bottom of your house most definitely fitting in this room alone. The leather under your fingers felt expensive, seeing the brown with bubbled texture. It was lavish, elegant—
"Beautiful, isn't it." A smooth voice swayed your attention, having caught you admiring the fine fabrics of the furniture. Your eyes locked with deep crimson ones. He was like nothing you've ever seen before. He was stunning, tall, and broad. You had to gulp at the sheer beauty of the man. But you knew he wasn't just a man. From his eyes, you knew he was a beast, a night crawler.
"Are you going to respond? Or are you more of a staring type?" Another voice scared you slightly. Looking to your left, you see another man, but he was sitting on the couch next to you. His black undercut fitted his features perfectly. He kind of sounded like the hooded figure that was helping you get away before...
"Definitely the quiet, staring type." A cheeky tone to your right. He was leaning on the pool table, his Cheshire cat grin painting his features smugly.
So there's three of them that live here?
"Now now, Woo, San. She's probably just scared." A shorter but beefier male suddenly stood next to the first one that spoke. He wasn't even looking at you, mostly paying attention to the two he called Woo and San. You were now sitting straight up, moving your gaze from each of them. As they were all in their own worlds arguing about why you might not be talking.
"You're bleeding, Tiny?" A voice growled behind you, startling you. You turned to see two very big men standing behind the couch. "When did you cut yourself?" He dragged his two fingers through your wound, making you hiss, pulling away from him.
He put one of his fingers in his mouth, closing his eyes as if he were savouring the taste. Once he was done, he placed his other bloody finger in the male next to him, mouth. The other man groaned his eyes, glowing a harsher red as he stared you down. "You taste delicious, Sugar."
You went to stand, trying to get away from them, but your legs gave out, making you fall forward in front of the high-pitched boy who still sat on the other couch. "Be careful, Dollface. Don’t want ya gettin hurt."
"Okay, let's give her some space. Wooyoung, take San down to the kitchens and see if dinner is ready yet. Mingi and Yunho can go set the table." The one that stood at the door, the first man directed all the men with ease. They will followed without another word, heading for the door. "And for the love of Lillith, Jongho, can you please find your lover and Hongjoong. I think they were still cleaning up from..." He looked at you briefly. "Dealing with that disgusting human."
You knew he was talking about Lucas, and that meant this Lover boy or Hongjoong had been the one you saw ripping through Lucas's neck. They all left soon after, leaving you alone with the dominant man. You managed to sit back on the couch, but you wanted, needed to stand. So you tried your luck again, and your knees buckled, making you slip forward, but instead of making an impact with the ground, two large arms were wrapped around your waist. Your hands gripped the creature's biceps, feeling his muscles taught and tense. "You do need to be careful, Darling."
Unlike Lucas's or any man, you've ever met really. These creatures don't seem to set off any of your alarms. You didn’t know if that was a bad thing or not, but you chose to brush it off, ‘cause in the end, you had never felt such kindness from anyone in the village. You were out-casted, unloved. You might as well be the witch they all wanted you to be. The kind smile that painted his features made your heart skip. He was indeed handsome. You finally spoke up saying who you were and the man looked at you with surprise before laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry. My name is Seonghwa. It’s nice to meet you…”
Your name rolled off his tongue so beautifully. No one had ever used it to address you before. It was almost strange, foreign even. “Honestly you could call me anything. I was never called that name sadly.”
Seonghwa hummed in response, still holding tight on you. In truth, he knows much more about you than he leads on. When he and the others go on hunts he had found you a year ago. Ironically you were having your nineteenth birthday. On your own of course. He remembers the way you spoke to yourself, wishing yourself a happy birthday while you drew in your book. Your feet were in the cool water of the watering hole in the forestry just outside the village. You went there almost every second day. And so did he.
There was something about you that caught his eye. Caught all of the boy's eyes. You were special but none of them could put their finger on it. So of course when they found you running for your life from a disgusting man. They couldn’t stand by and let anything happen to their precious little human.
-
Dinner was quick as you just sat there and ate in silence. The others were loud though, making it seem almost normal. Like everything that was happening was something you all were used to already. Seonghwa had told you about all the boys and what all their names were. It took you a moment to put names to faces but once you got it. It was easy. Seonghwa never left your side. Making sure you were safe and comfortable. You appreciated it, understanding it must have been weird to have a human walking around. But you quickly learnt that all the maids and butlers were human. They got paid and some even lived on the estate.
Everything the village said about vampires and creatures in general was so wrong. And secretly you always wanted it to be wrong. So you were glad they weren't purely just bloodsucking beasts. But every now and then that face you saw popped into your head. You still didn’t know which one killed Lucas. And on top of it, this Hongjoong and Yeosang—Seonghwa had told you his name—were nowhere to be found.
“Okay well, sun will be up soon. Let’s get ready for bed.” Seonghwa again spoke up, dying down the chatter. It was like he took on a motherly role in the house. It was cute.
“Come Sugarcube. Yunho and I will show you to your room.” The one named Mingi flashed you a smile making you smile in response. Bidding Seonghwa goodnight or would It be morning now? Mental note to look out for a clock. The halls were lavish and carpeted, matching all the rooms you’ve seen thus far. Everything was perfect, vintage and beautiful. Yunho and Mingi had caught onto your mind wandering and had stopped for a moment, seeing how far you’d walk without them near you. You were very cute to them. Like a clueless bunny, with wide innocent eyes.
“Hey, Tiny. Your room is over here.” Yunho’s far voice snapped you out of your thoughts making you turn around to see both large men. Their arms crossed, with big grins. Your face was redder than a tomato in seconds making them both groan at how you waddle back quickly. Cute. Too cute. “This is where you’ll be saying. We’ll try and get some of your personal things tomorrow.”
“Yeah, Hongjoong had said something about grabbing some stuff while your family are out tomorrow.” Mingi rubbed the back of his neck as you slipped past both men to look into the huge spacious room. Only hours ago you were about to be married off to some pig and live on his farm until your death to now staying with not one but eight vampires.
And what was worse. You couldn’t go back. Not that you’d want to that is. But still, all your life you’ve known one thing and now… “You okay Tiny? Not the style you like? We have like ten other rooms if you want to-No it’s okay it’s just…” You cut Yunho off before taking a seat on the olive green and black silk sheets that lay on the large king bed.
“Did…Did Lucas die?” You don’t understand why you were asking about that pig but you needed to know. You needed to know would your parents found his mangled body and thought the beast that did that also killed you. Or would they think you did it? Yunho sat on his knees in front of you, placing his large hands on your thighs in a comforting manner. His smile was soft and his fingers grazing on your exposed skin was gentle.
“No. Yeosang left him alive. But he won't be wanting to live with the way he looks now.” You don’t know if Yunho’s words made you feel better or worse.
“Hongjoong helped him drag him back to that barn. His parents found him and they are looking for you at the moment.” Mingi revealed, knowing you’ll just keep asking questions so there was no reason to hide anything from you.
“Do my parents think I’m dead?” Deep down you knew they’d be happy either way. Dead, alive. Murderer or innocent. Your family would plead their sob story about the monster you were regardless of the truth.
“No…Lucas told them you ran. They think you were a part of it. Luring him out there for your vampire lover to have a meal.” Yunho felt disgusted with himself for repeating what Hongjoong had told them your parents said. But what else should they do?
“Vampire lover….hmm.” You smiled, starting to laugh. That’s what they probably thought you were sneaking off to at random hours of the day or night. Both of the men looked at one another with confusion, letting Mingi sit down next to you.
“Something funny with that Sugarcube?” Mingi’s voice was so deep, velvety. It made your core tingle and heart race. You looked up at him with tears in your eyes, but still giving him a smile.
“My mother has wanted nothing but to pin some devilish thing on me and now she gets it. Something that said I did not serve the lord. Argh…” Tears ran down your cheeks “Fuck the lord. Why should I have to care what an old man did for humanity?! I just wanted to paint. Find adventure. Not marry and be a baby maker for some lowlife pig.” All your pent-up anger. All your disappointment. Every single thing you wished to say to your mother was pouring out, in front of two vampires you had only met hours ago now. It felt like a weight being pushed off your chest and you were no longer drowning. Mingi’s hand rubbed circles on your lower back making you fall into his embrace, letting him hold you while Yunho straightened up so he could hold you as well. They were beasts that could drain you in seconds yet they held you like they’ve known you for years. They listened as if they cared. They spoke as if you were the most important person in the world. why?
“There, there baby. It’s okay. You’re free now. You can do anything you want.” Yunho’s voice was quiet almost barely above a whisper. But still still heard him. You pulled away letting them still hold you but you could wipe your face. You can do anything? No one has ever said that to you.
“Well...I guess since this my first time of freedom…” You had both the vampire's attention now with your words. “I want a bath. One with lots of bubbles.” You’ve never had such a thing in your life only settling for quick showers or sharing bathing pools with your siblings. Not something lavish. Mingi laughed a deep hearty laugh. As if you couldn't get any more cute, there you went.
“I think that’s a perfect idea Sugar. We’ll get one of the maids to fix one up for you. And…” He placed his hands on either shoulder pushing you towards Yunho. Your face inches from him. Mingi inspected the wound of your shoulder blade noticing it was already closing but blood was still pooling out of it slowly. “Get this wound cleaned up…”
His tongue licked a strip upwards, following the wound. You hiccuped feeling a slight sting from him. Yunho however distracted you by giving you a kiss. Your eyes were wide and confused. He… he was kissing you. His soft lips moved slowly against yours. His tongue dipped around your bottom lip, testing the waters. Perfectly distracting you from Mingi cleaning your cut with his mouth. Your blood tasted unlike anything he had ever tasted before.
“You taste amazing… fuck.” Mingi mumbled against you while Yunho’s tongue slipped into your mouth as you groaned. Your mind was spinning like crazy, your hand finding place on Yunho biceps, digging your nails in his cold flesh.
“Y…Yuyu..” You tried to speak, finally making both men pull away, leaving you to gasp for air.
“Sorry tiny. Your lips were just too kissable not to.” Yunho chuckled licking his lips of the saliva you left behind on them. Your heart was pounding, feeling such excitement but also a tinge of fear…
“Tha… that was my first kiss..” You felt embarrassed to say so but you felt compelled to tell them. Which made both of them growl. Mingi’s fingers wrapped in your tattered dress hem while Yunho rubbed his hand over his face.
“Fuck. I was your first kiss baby?” Yunho felt so proud of himself.
“Damn Yunho the others aren't gonna be happy when they find out,” Mingi spoke as if you were no longer there.
“Wait why would the others care?” You suddenly felt small, seeing hunger in both their eyes. You had no idea what these men were planning, nor what they all wanted from you. It frightened you. But not as much as it excited you.
-
The bath was filled with bubbles, vanilla scent soap and soft music from a vinyl. You could have stayed in there for hours but when one of the maids came in to help you dress your wound you knew it was time to get out. The nice maid named Minnie had brought you some sleepwear, soft silk sleep shorts and a singlet. You have never felt such soft fabric before always getting hand-me-downs or second/third hand clothing.
“You look cute.” A gentle voice echoed from the door of your room. You hummed, blush burning your cheeks. Turning you see Seonghwa leaning against the door frame, bottom lip between his teeth as he eyed you, not even trying to hide that he was checking you out.
“Thanks…” You played with your fingers, standing there awkwardly as you watched Seonghwa close the door, slowly moving towards you. Like he was stalking you. No doubt Yunho and Mingi had run off bragging what they had done when you were busy bathing. God, if this was going to become a new normal you were going to develop a headache from your head spinning.
“I wanted to check on you.” For every step he took, you took one back, like a little dance until your back was firmly against the wall and his body almost flushed against you. “I heard Min and Yun had some fun with you.”
“I-..Yunho kissed me…Mingi he uh…” You felt so flustered, fanatically looking around the room feeling embarrassed about spilling what you had done even though you knew the two giants would have told everyone by now. He put his fingers on your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip, pulling on it slightly.
“I was kinda hoping to be the first to taste you. But then again, none of the boys tend to listen.” His eyes were hooded, looking at you with such hunger. He could feel your heart race against the pad of his thumb. He can hear your blood pumping quicker than normal. And your eyes never left his. His face inched closer, and then some. Seeing just how close he could get to you before you’d pull away but you didn’t, not even flinch. “Have you done anything like this before?”
You shook your head no slightly. “Have you ever touched yourself, Bunny?” his question made your face become redder. This was filthy, dirty, something you were supposed to be sworn away. And man did defying god feel intoxicating. You whispered no, making him close his eyes with a sigh for a moment. So innocent, so cute… So his to taint. “Do you want me to touch you, Bunny?”
“Yes…” You whisper… He tucked a piece of damp hair behind your ear making you shiver as his fingers grazed your skin. His cold tips slide along your cheek, down to your neck, before pushing gently on your man artery feeling your hot blood pump under his digits.
“I could drain you dry right now. Or fuck you full? Maybe both? Hmm?” His lips brushed against yours but not enough to seal his lips on yours. No, he wanted you to do it, he needed you to do the first move. So he knows you do in fact want it. And you gave him exactly what he wanted, leaning up to lock your lips to his. His one hand cupped your face to deepen the kiss while his other, snaked down to play with the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread instinctively, giving him access to do whatever he pleases. His wet tongue danced with you making you feel all kinds of filthy.
You had almost gotten a man killed, ran away from home. Most likely been shunned for life from your village and on top of that kissed two men that both happened to be undead creatures you only just met, while another drank from one of your open wounds. If was indeed sins, you might as well be sent down to Lillith herself on a golden platter.
“Come on Bunny, let’s get you comfortable.” He pulled away picking you up by your thighs before walking over to your bed and laying you down on the plump mattress. His lips trail down your cheeks, then your jaw until he stops at your neck for a moment rubbing his nose along your jugular. “God I can smell your blood through your soft skin.” he sighs, drawing his fangs out.
“H-Hwa p-please…” You bucked your hips against his hardening length, spreading your legs further so he could get closer if that was possible. He chuckled, darkly. Fang pressing just hard enough to pierce your skin a little bit so a few drops of blood would spill out. He licked your blood up, trying not to get any on the bed sheets. Your whimpers were music to his ears, and your taste was heavenly. Now he’s wondering how else you taste in other places. “Fuuckk.”
The feeling of his fangs and the was his fingers play with your short made your head cloudy. His hand slipped into your shorts cupping your core making you suddenly aware what was happening. His mouth finally left your neck, kissing down the exposed parts of your chest. He was worshiping every part of your body sending your skin on fire. “Such a pretty bunny. I can feel heat pooling out of you. Do you find my devilish charms that intoxicating bunny?”
You squirmed, needed more. His index finger slide along your slit making your mouth open into an ‘o’ shape. Your eyes shut tightly, finally feeling some kind of relief that you were searching for. The pleasure was new, and strange, making you feel like you were in a whole another world. Seonghwa kept whispering sweet nothings to you as he slowly pushes a finger inside your drenched cunt. It was steady at first until he found a rhythm, inching yet another finger inside making your brows knot together. His name fell from your lips on repeat like some kind of broken vinyl, he knew he could get you close to your high without much effort given you have never felt such a feeling before. And with only a few more moments you were clenching around his digits, coming underdone while he stared at you intensely, watching every one of your features move and contort in the pure ecstasy he was gifting you. “Did that feel good baby? I can make you feel even better, all you got to do is say yes.”
“Yes, please Seonghwa. Please. Make me feel like that again. I wanna feel good.” You don’t know why your mouth started spilling such filth but you couldn’t care, not when you were so close to feeling a pleasure you have only wondered about in those lewd novels Miss Smith had down the path. She had let you borrow one and it had changed your life forever. Seonghwa got to work, pulling your shirt off above your head and tugging down the rest until it slipped off your ankles in one swoop of his wrists. You were completely bare for him. He could see all the sun-kissed spots. All the scars, and beauty marks. He could see the bruises of a handprint on your collarbone and other smaller ones littering your legs and arms.
Pathetic human. Digusting pig.
Fuck, does he wish that Yeosang and Hongjoong hadn’t kept him alive now. But then again giving him a swift death would have been too merciful. No, Seonghwa would want to keep Lucas in a cell, locked away for weeks. No food, barely any water. Watching him starve. Watch him beg for death. But Seonghwa would never give it to him. Lucas would welter away in the dungeon, cold, scared, and alone. Just as you felt when you were being chased by him. Just as you felt when he had put his hands on you. Seonghwa would make him pay.
“H-Hwa…” You sat on your elbows having seen the vampire's mind wander. Was he okay? Was he second-guessing his actions? Seonghwa was quick to disregard any of your fears as he shed himself off his shirt, before sliding off the bed to pull his pants down. They dropped to the floor with an audible ‘oof’. You didn't mean for your eyes to immediately gaze down at his fully grown erection but its angry red tip had caught your attention. Seonghwa didn’t mind one bit though, he admired your body in the meantime, letting you get a good look at him while he did the same to you. “That can’t fit inside me….”
Seonghwa laughed, physically laughed at your abrupt statement. “Oh don’t worry. It will.”  he yanked one of your legs making you gasp. He stood tall at the end of your bed, letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He rubbed the tip of his cock along your slit, gathering up some of your cum to use as lubricant. The whole time his eyes never left yours. He wanted to see the pleasure pooling in your eyes when he entered you inch by inch. And as you bit your bottom lip, you tried your damned hardest to keep your gaze open. “That’s it, baby. Breath…”
The stretch was painful, to say the least. Even though Seonghwa had used his fingers on you, it still wasn’t enough to fully prep you for his girth. He rubbed circles in your hips, trying to settle the pain as much as he could, noticing your fingers had entangled in the silk sheets, with your knuckles turning lightly white.
“Ffuckk, hngmm Seong.” you mumbled, finally feeling him enter you fully, his groin flush against you. He stayed still for a moment, letting you catch your breath but man was it hard. The way you clamped around him, sucked him in for more. It made him want nothing more than to pound the living shit out of you. But patience. He needed patience. And luckily out of all the boys, he owned the most patience.
“Can I move Darling?” His words were a stutter, laying with groans and sighs. You nodded your head before responding with a quick and quiet ‘please’ letting him draw his cock until only the tip was inside you then smashing back in, knocking the wind out of you. You could no longer hold yourself up, falling onto your back. Seonghwa watched as your breasts bounced in time with his thrusts and how your thighs were clamped snugly around him. You felt amazing, looked eternal. And you were finally his.
He dreamed about what your cunt might feel like wrapped around his cock. Or how might your blood taste when you are in the middle of being fucked. Firty thoughts had always seemed to riddle his mind whenever he saw you and now he could finally get the answers. But one thing is for sure. He has no idea how he is possibly going to share you with the others. When he is going to be craving you permanently.
-♥︎
1K notes · View notes
shinysobi · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
pretty u
summary: when joshua, your best friend gets engaged, you can't help but feel as though you're missing out on something important. jihoon, your other best friend, kindly offers to set you up with one of his many friends. chaos ensues, seungkwan is an observer who knows everything, and unfortunately, mingyu is a hapless victim.
pairing: woozi x fem!reader
genre: crack, fluff, angst
word count: 10k~ish
warnings: alcohol consumption, general warnings apply
A/N: uhh..hi? this is the first time i've written rpf, and it makes all the more sense for it to be centred around woozi, my svt bias. this has no plot at all, and i just wrote it for fun and vibes...also unbetaed, so if you see any mistakes, no u did not :)) shout out to my twitter gc for cheering me on as i wrote this hehe u guys are the best
a/n 2: reblogs and comments are much appreciated! please tell me if you're liking this lmao
chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3
Chapter 1
Whoever said that every love story is universal, was not lying, unfortunately. Every good love story is a mix of tropes that unfortunately work well together to form a coherent plot. And the longer you read books, the easier it becomes for you to identify (or avoid) these tropes.
The enemies turn into lovers.
The friends turn into lovers.
The inn only has one available bed.
Your brother’s best friend is somehow smoking hot and doesn’t see you as an annoying little sibling anymore.
Your one-night stand is your new boss, and he is inexplicably obsessed with you.
Your parents have forced you into an arranged marriage, and your partner is a. incredibly hot and b. also obsessed with you. You get the gist, so on, and so forth.
All love stories go for a trope that becomes the central conceit of the story, no matter how unique they try to be. The small-town girl/boy falls for the hotshot city lawyer/businessman/vague marketing executive and shows them the importance of family, and of course, of love, because without it, business is notoriously low. People need romance to feel something other than hatred in their already terrible lives, and books offer escapism. Escapism and on some other level, a sense of belonging. You can identify yourself with the girl who falls in love with her brother’s best friend, or the man who has feelings for his sworn enemy, or the person who has, surprise, fallen in love, with their best friend. Or their best friend’s brother. Take your pick.
And unfortunately, as a critic, reading romance implies wading through the countless reiterations of trope-y goodness on offer at every bookstore, and trying to find something that strikes a chord. It is a given, that one has to kiss some proverbial frogs in the meantime, and of course, any professional mishap has to be accompanied with a gossip session with one’s friends, where any complaints you might have about your work, is unloaded onto the brunch table, for my friends to laugh about.
Because at the end of the day, everyone is a character in their own kind of romance novel. A victim of the tropes, if you will. In my case, I am the perpetual single childhood best friend, who puts up with every single antic of the main character. In of course, an enemies-to-lovers romance. Apparently unrequited love sells too, if its written well. If not, then it just becomes one of many repetitive marketing gimmicks that frankly, don’t sit well with anyone, let alone someone like me, who critiques books for a living.
“It’s your attitude that’s a problem.” Jihoon says, taking a sip of his coffee, “you’ve been writing for the newsdesk for years and I have never seen you actually be satisfied with a book. There’s always something that could have been better. Maybe this is why you are so—”
“I am so?” I say, eyes narrowed, “finish that sentence, Jihoon.”
“You want me to?”
“Do you really have to fight every time we meet?”
Both Jihoon and I turn our head to the third person at the table, Joshua. Dressed impeccably in a freshly ironed pair of shirt and trousers, he looks far better than either me or Jihoon, because both of us look as though we have been through botched murder attempts. I am in a hoodie and sweatpants, and Jihoon is somehow worse than me, wearing a pair of shorts and a black t-shirt. His abandoned khaki bomber jacket hangs on the back of his chair, and I cannot believe I’m saying this, but he actually looks worse when wearing the jacket. Joshua looks as though he has been seated at our table by mistake. I’m slightly annoyed by this, but it seems as though Jihoon is more annoyed than me, “what do you mean we fight every time we meet?”
Joshua makes a vague hand gesture, “really? Look at us. You both are dressed as though you’ve been through a typhoon. I feel horribly overdressed.”
“I had a long night.” I reply, “worked overtime at the desk for the Sunday paper.”
“I came here straight from the studio.” Jihoon says, “I didn’t even go home to shower.”
“See, this, this is what I am talking about.” Joshua groans, “both of you dress like homeless people, and then when you come to brunch, you fight all the time. Do you guys never get tired of fighting?”
“Never.” Both Jihoon and I say in unison.
Joshua sighs, before picking up his knife and fork, “I give up. I can never get you two to agree on anything apart from the fact that you guys, apparently, don’t fight.”
“She needs to quit complaining about her job.” Jihoon points his fork at me, “she’s got the cushiest job imaginable, and she manages to complain about it all the time. Every week, she’s here complaining about something at her job.”
“As if you don’t complain about your job all the time too,” I reply, not one to back down from a fight, “you complain about the people at your job all the time as well. And it’s not as though your job is shitty; you literally work at the biggest music corporation in the country—”
“Guys!” Joshua half-yells, and I stop. Everyone is looking at the three of us, and unlike the two of us, he looks embarrassed. “Guys, if you have to fight every time we meet, maybe I suggest we stop this weekly brunch. Jesus—”
“Oh, he swore,” Jihoon whispers, and I giggle, “we finally made him take the Lord’s name in vain.”
“—it’s like you’re kids all over again. This isn’t freshman year of university, for heaven’s sake,” he takes an elegant sip of his coffee, “and for your information, Jesus isn’t the Lord. I’m not letting you guys get the satisfaction of hearing me fucking swear.”
“Does he hear himself?” Jihoon mutters. “I don’t think he does.” I whisper in response.
“Yes, I’m aware I said ‘fuck’, thank you very much.” Joshua sits back in his chair, “I’m proposing to Eunseo tonight.”
“Tonight?” Jihoon yells, bolting upright from his chair, and everyone in the restaurant looks at us, “you’re proposing to her tonight?”
Joshua grabs his hand to drag him back onto his chair, “yes, tonight. Are you stupid? Everyone is looking at us now.” He looks at me, “what do you think about it?”
Oh. Oh.
Remember when I said that my role in a romance novel is that of the eternally-spurned childhood friend? The one who has loved the main character from a distance, never really daring to express their feelings? Well, I’ve not known Joshua since my childhood, we met at high school, and it hasn’t been that long since I discovered that I might have a tiny, the most miniscule of crushes on him. But I’m that trope. The childhood friend who gets spurned, and the main character turns away to the actual love of their life, leaving only a broken heart behind. Too little, too late.
Well, who wouldn’t?
He’s tall, good-looking, gentlemanly, with just the right amount of unhinged, has a good, stable, get-off-at-the-right-time government job, and above all, he’s unflinchingly kind to everyone. Yes, including me and Jihoon, even though we make his life a living hell on most days. Realistically,  it was only a moment of time before either Jihoon or I had any feelings for him. And I was betting on Jihoon too. Fuck.
“Are you okay?” Joshua’s voice is soft, insisting, and all I can see when I break out of my reverie is the swoop of his collarbones as they disappear under the shirt, and suddenly I feel very dirty. Not just dirty, but also simply awful. Why am I out here thinking about his collarbones when he’s thinking about how to propose to his girlfriend? His very nice, very beautiful girlfriend?
“I’m fine,” I nod my head, “have you picked out a ring for her?”
“Not yet, but I have a kind of ring in mind already.” He says, turning to Jihoon and starting to talk about the different cuts of diamonds that are present at Tiffany’s, and how they suit different kinds of people. Eunseo, I learn, is partial to a pear cut. Jihoon, the idiot,  who can’t shut up when it comes to arguments with me, is unnaturally quiet, only offering comments here and there. It’s very uncharacteristic.
And then he gets that look on his face which is a signal for both me and Jihoon that we are about to hear an hour’s worth of praises of Eunseo, and I step in. Making a vague sign towards my completed plate of fish and chips (not that great, the fish was soggy) I say, “before he begins singing praises of his girlfriend, sorry, fiancé, can we get the check?”
“You keep saying it as though you don’t know how much I love her.” Joshua sounds annoyed  but unfortunately, I can see through his mask of fake annoyance, “I already paid.”
“Thank goodness, I forgot my wallet.” Jihoon smiles, “for a moment, I thought I would have to use my online wallet.”
“Aren’t you ashamed?” I elbow him lightly in the ribs, and he doesn’t even flinch. Apparently, music producers these days have to be certified gym rats, or they won’t let them into the building, “you’ve mooched off of Joshua and me for the past twelve years, maybe it’s time to start paying.”
“Maybe I do pay, but I just don’t like you.” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his tone, “so I don’t want to pay for your meal.”
“You little—” I’m about to commit a murder in broad daylight, but Joshua, the sweet angel that he is, stops both of us, waving his card in between like a bullfighting matador.
“You guys just don’t stop, do you?” He grins, evidently thinking about how he’s going to propose to his loving girlfriend this evening. Nauseating. It makes me want to throw up. Because Joshua is not going to wake up one morning and decide that he wants to throw away his living relationship of five years to—to pursue his unfortunate best friend, who has nursed an unfortunate attraction towards him for the past year. That is never going to happen. So, let’s scratch that. That should not happen.
Because apart from being unfairly gorgeous and rich and beautiful and did I mention gorgeous? Eunseo is also unflinchingly nice, the kind of nice that leaves other people wondering if the person in front of them is real or not, or if they have some kind of hidden intentions that border on murderous or at the very least, fraudulent. She’s the one who took me under her wing when I was a freshman and had no friends except the two weird guys in my required sociology class, and thanks to her, at the end of four years of university, I had friends in the journalism club, people I come into contact on occasion such as weddings and the odd reunion.
Her niceness is also the reason why Joshua fell for her at first sight.
“I’m out.” Jihoon picks up the abomination of a bomber jacket from his chair, “and before you ask, no, hyung, I’m not helping you with picking out a ring for your girlfriend. You can do that yourself. Or ask her for help.”
And before Joshua can look at me and before I make a fool out of myself (yet again), I turn away, rejecting his proposal for looking at pear-cut diamond rings on a Sunday morning, “I’m ideologically against the institution of marriage. Do it yourself.”
Joshua sighs, because of course he has anticipated this. The fucker. “cannot believe you’re still on your Dworkin streak. Fine,” he says, getting up from his chair and walking out of the café, “I’ll get Eunseo’s ring myself. And when she asks, I’ll tell her that none of you helped me.”
“Ooh, threatening your girlfriend on us, I’m shaking in my boots,” Jihoon replies, sarcasm evident in his voice, digging through his pockets to get his car keys, “when are you planning to get the ring?”
“Later, in the afternoon,” Joshua is opening the door to his car, and looking at me, “do you want me to give you a ride? Your house is on the way.”
“She only takes buses and the subway,” Jihoon grins, “don’t you remember the time in university when she kept saying about how much she likes welfare policies and transportation benefits?”
“Shut the fuck up,” I reply, elbowing him, harder this time, and Jihoon flinches, “I’ll just go to the office. Jihoon will give me a ride.”
“When did I say that I’ll give you a ride?” Jihoon looks like he wants to begin an argument with me in front of the café, but he acquiesces, “ugh, fine. I’ll give you a ride. Your office is on the way.”
“I’m still not convinced that you simply wanted to ‘spend time with me’.” Jihoon grumbles an hour later, seated at his studio and fiddling with his computer. “You’ve been lying there and scrolling twitter for hours now.”
“Your couch is much better than my office chair,” I hum a non-committal reply, before making myself further comfortable into the soft plush material of his couch, “and I’m not scrolling on twitter, I’m trying to find another flat to move into.”
“Lease up?” Jihoon asks, “wasn’t your agreement still valid for at least another few months?”
“I’m just trying to get ahead of the curve,” I reply, “if I start looking from now, maybe I’ll get a better flat by the time the lease is up. My current flat is—”
“A shithole.” Jihoon finishes my sentence for me, “seriously, I don’t know how you manage to live there. And you’ve been holding onto that flat for the past seven years. everyone moved out of their university flats, but you managed to hold onto yours for so long.”
“That’s because it’s a good deal,” I mutter, “ugh, I can’t manage to find a single good deal on any of the flats.”
“Because you’re never satisfied with any deal,” Jihoon replies, “your ideal deal is if everything was free.”
“And I still maintain that housing should not be monetised.”
“Why thank you for that insight, comrade.” Jihoon puts a finger to his mouth, “shut up for a while, I’m trying to concentrate on this song.
“Who’s it for?” I sit up, intrigued, “a new artist?”
“The company’s new girl group.” Jihoon says, “I was asked to produce the title track for their debut. I only have four months on hand, and I still haven’t finished the track. The higher-ups are going to have my head for this.”
“No, they won’t,” I reply, “they like you too much. Speaking of—”
“—if you want me to give you an interview, I won’t, I’ve already told you five times,” Jihoon cuts me off, wheeling his chair away from me, “jeez, you’re tenacious.”
“Oh, but come on, it’ll be fun,” with an extra emphasis on come on, I think I’ve got Jihoon’s attention, “people keep speculating on the kind of person you are. I mean, people know Woozi, but do they know what kind of person he is, underneath all that secrecy? You’ve never given an interview, and you keep avoiding any kind of public appearance. One might think you hate the spotlight.”
“Even if I were to give an interview, I wouldn’t be giving it to you. Who knows how you’re going to spin my words.”
“I’m hurt, Lee Jihoon. This has hurt me.”
Jihoon turns around and blows me a raspberry. I roll my eyes. Is he twenty-eight, or just eight? “whatever you say won’t affect the way I think. I still won’t give you an interview.”
“Just so you know, I’m known to be an excellent interviewer.” I say, walking over to his chair, “come on, Jihoon-ah, give me an interview. Please?”
“No.”
“Pretty please?”
“No.”
“Pwease?”
He turns around at that, fixing me with a stare, “don’t you ever fucking do aegyo in front of me. I’m going to kill you if you do that again.”
“See, if you gave me an interview like I’m asking you to, then I would not have a reason to subject you to aegyo, but as things stand, you really give me nothing else to work with.”
“Ask Joshua for an interview then, if you’re so desperate for one,” the words coming out of anyone else’s mouth would have given me enough reason to walk out of the room, but Jihoon made them sound softer, almost romantic. It was funny, how he managed to change the intonations of every word, changing them to his whims. I suppose that’s what I do with words, and that’s what he does with sounds.
“Joshua is not the elusive Woozi,” I flop back onto the sofa as I counter, trying actively to not think about Joshua picking out a ring at Tiffany’s for Eunseo right at that moment, “he’s an adjunct professor. Not the most interview-friendly of all occupations.”
Jihoon looks at me, and for a moment, I think he’s going to ask me a very uncomfortable and difficult question, but at that moment, both our phones buzz simultaneously. I check the phone, and it’s a single message in the shared chatroom. Joshua has sent a message, a single picture of a pear-shaped diamond solitaire ring (don’t ask me how I know the cut of the diamond) with an attached message;
joshuji: picked up her ring! <3
“Damn, an exclamation point, and an emoji,” Jihoon says, typing out a reply in the chatroom, “our joshuji is entirely too far gone, isn’t he?”
I don’t say anything. Its far easier to pretend that you’re typing out a reply and can’t hear anything, especially when it comes to Jihoon. He’ll take anything in stride.
hoon: wow Eunseo has you whipped
big dick (canon): hey I think it’s cute
Jihoon sets his phone down with an audible clack, and fuck, I’ve messed up. Joshua is oblivious and blissfully happy in his own little life, but Jihoon? The Jihoon that I’ve known ever since our seats were beside each other in the sociology class that made me develop an irrational fear of surveyors? He’s single-minded whenever it comes to pursuing anything. One doesn’t become the most sought-after music producer in the industry with just talent, they need to be dogged in their pursuit of success. And unfortunately, when Lee Jihoon turns his mind to something, he accomplishes it, whether it’s producing a Billboard Hot 100 hit, or, judging by the way he’s looking at me right now, getting words out of my mouth.
“Okay, spill, I’ve seen this go on for long enough,” he says, getting up from the chair and walking over to the sofa, where I am currently hiding behind a throw pillow, “you’ve been weird for months now, and we need to talk about it.”
“We, don’t need to do anything,” I reply, “I’m perfectly fine. If something happened, I would tell you. Or Joshua. Or both of you, at the same time.”
“Like you inform us after every breakup of yours?” Jihoon laughs, “you mean to say you’re going to hold another one of your ‘meetings’ to tell me and Joshua about how some poor bastard made the mistake of trying to date you?”
“I’m actually nice when I date, and I can hold down a relationship for more than two weeks, Mr I-don’t-like-commitment. Tell me, how did your last date go? Did she walk out of the date itself, or did you ghost her?”
Jihoon blinks at me, and then, a slow, catlike smile passes over his features. Fuck.
“You’re being combative today,” he grins, and fuck, its infuriating how predictable I am, and how absolutely incapable I am of not taking his bait, “so, there is something that you’re hiding.”
“Ugh, I hate this.”
“Then you shouldn’t have taken the damn bait,” he replies, “do you want to tell me yourself, or do you want me to guess your little secret?”
“I’m not telling you anything, and its nothing you can suss out either.”
“I can just beat it out of you,” he smiles, flexing his arms, and I belatedly remember that Jihoon, to my disadvantage, had decided at the early age of twenty-one, that he was going to make up for his height by being The Broadest Man on Earth, and now carried a protein shake in his bag everywhere he went, that somehow tasted more disgusting than it looked. He could easily beat me to a pulp. And he would do it too, the little shit.
“Jihoon, remember the time I carried you home when you were drunk?” I don’t know how to do the specific variant of the thing they call ‘puppy eyes’, but I try my absolute best to emulate the little I know, “and you threw up all over my clothes? Remember? It was at Mingyu’s birthday party, and you got drunk on an empty stomach—”
“Don’t fucking do that,” he throws a pillow at me, “fuck, that’s creepy. Also, I got drunk and threw up on your clothes in my second year of university, damn, how long are you going to milk it for?”
“As long as I can,” I reply, “please, Jihoon, just this once.”
“Damn, fine, weirdo,” he stands up, going back to his chair, his back now towards me, “isn’t as though you like Joshua or something.”
I freeze, hoping that the intake of breath at that last sentence hasn’t been heard by Jihoon. I know I’m an atheist, I pray fervently, to whichever god that’s listening, God, Allah, Buddha, Jesus, if anyone’s listening, please, please, please, let Jihoon not notice—
“You like Joshua?”
Fuck.
“No.” I lie brightly, “I just—stubbed my toe on the table.”
Jihoon looks at me in a way that screams bitch, I know you’re a liar so don’t even try. “You know you’re a horrible liar, right?”
“I am?”
He nods, “its one of the many endearing things about you. But unfortunately, you’ve given yourself away now. Really, Joshua? The Joshua Hong we know?”
“Really, it isn’t like that,” I’m sweating, and praying Jihoon doesn’t notice that I’m sweating, “its nothing, and besides, I don’t even like him in that kind of way—”
“Do you want to fuck him?”
I choke on a breath and begin coughing. “What?” I manage to say, after I recover enough to breathe properly, “I don’t want to fuck anyone!”
“Great, because if you wanted to fuck him, it would have become massively awkward.” Jihoon shrugs, “since it’s one of those passing feelings, you can take care of it; it happens all the time. I once had a crush on you too. It’s bound to happen.”
“You had a crush on me?” I screech, “what the fuck, Lee Jihoon, you’re supposed to wait before dropping this kind of information on me!”
“Dude, its long gone,” Jihoon places a hand on my shoulder, a touch that’s meant to be reassuring, but it only suffices to make me angrier, “it was during my military service. I remember that you came with my parents to see me off, and it was—nice. So, I had a crush on you. I got over it when I got out of the military, though. Turns out seeing your best friend live in a hovel really does wonders for your lingering feelings.”
“For eighteen months?” I hold my head in my hands, “you had a crush on me for eighteen months? What the fuck kind of information is that? And you got out of the military three years ago!”
“M-hmm, see, that’s what I mean when I say these feelings will go away.” Jihoon looks sage, as if he’s imparting the secret to life and how to be a good Buddhist, and not bombarding my mind with information I would rather not know, “wait, have you masturbated to Joshua?”
“What the fuck?” I stand up, pacing the room at a speed that would closely rival that of an Olympian, “why would I masturbate to Joshua Hong?”
Jihoon shrugs, “people masturbate. You are a person. Hence the question.”
“Of course, I haven’t masturbated to—wait did you masturbate while thinking of me?” I’m yelling now, yelling and pacing the room like a woman possessed, because of course, Jihoon has made me lose my mind, “Lee Jihoon, did you jerk off to my pictures?”
He shrugs. “What are you going to do if I say yes?”
“I’m going to kill you, and then I’m going to kill myself,” I say, grabbing his shoulders, “you know what, Jihoon, lets do that. Let’s both die.”
“Why would I consent to a murder-suicide with you?” he sounds terribly composed, which again, does not bode well for the numerous murderous thoughts I have currently running through my head, “its just a little masturbation. I was twenty-three, I was bored to tears at the military camp, and I had a crush on you, so, I did what I did.”
“Which was apparently, masturbation.” I flop facedown on the couch, “I want to castrate you, you know that, right?”
“Figures. You’ve always been weird about sex.” Jihoon makes a face, “So, you didn’t tell me. do you want to fuck Joshua or not? Because if you do, then it just means that you want sex. If you don’t, then I can’t help you.”
“How can you help me in any way if I say I want to have sex with Joshua?” I ask, “even if I do, which I don’t, just by the way—”
“You want to jump his bones. Right.”
“—how can you even help me, short of getting me a male prostitute.” I pause, horror spreading through my features, “oh fuck. Jihoon, are you going to hire a gigolo?”
To his credit, Jihoon looks appropriately disgusted, “why would I hire a prostitute? No, I would set you up with one of my friends.”
“Who?”
He thinks for a while, then says, “Soonyoung.”
“No offence, but I’m about 90% convinced that Soonyoung is a furry.”
“Jeonghan-hyung, then.”
“He’s too similar to Joshua,” I groan, “why am I going along with this idea? This is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Then do you want to help yourself?”
“Masturbate to thoughts of Joshua? Yeah, like that’s gonna work.” I hold my head in my hands, “fuck, I have to sleep with Soonyoung, don’t I? I’m half-convinced he will do a tiger impression in bed.”
“I’m fairly convinced he mimics a roar when he orgasms.” Jihoon mutters.
“Oh, fuck, now I have to talk about orgasms with you,” I say, face buried in one of the pillows, “I have to sleep with one of your weird friends and then everyone will know about my crush on Joshua and I’ll be shunned from our three-person group forever and ever—”
“Calm down, no one is going to spill your secrets,” Jihoon says, “and I have other friends too, you know. They don’t talk as much as those idiots, but they are good people.”
“But I don’t want to fuck anyone right now.”
Jihoon stares at me.
“Okay fine, maybe a little bit.” I concede, “but still, not enough to warrant a setting-up. Maybe I’m just sexually frustrated.”
“Then go fuck someone!”
“It isn’t that easy!” I snap, and Jihoon looks surprised, because its so unlike me to be incandescent over something as stupid as this, but I can’t help the shiver of anger running over me, “it isn’t so fucking easy. If it were, I would have gone and slept with a stranger from a bar. Yes, I know it’s dangerous, but I would have done it. But I’m telling you now, its difficult for me to even know if I’m attracted to Joshua, and if my attraction means I want to jump him or whatever.”
“Then what does it mean?” Jihoon, it seems, is also incapable of not reacting to my moods and temper, he gets angry easily sometimes, “What does it mean when you tell me you’re attracted to someone? We’re twenty-eight, for fuck’s sake. What the fuck else do you mean?”
“I don’t know!” I half-yell, half-sob, “I don’t know what I want, and I don’t know if I want to sleep with anyone, least of all Joshua. I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do, and all I want is a little acceptance, not you rattling of a list of people I should sleep with in order to get over my feelings for Joshua—”
“Hey, I’m sorry.”
“—and you can’t even give me that, Jihoon,” I finish lamely, looking at his concerned expression, “yeah fine, I’m leaving.”
The door is loud when I close it behind me. to his credit, Jihoon doesn’t pursue me, because even if he’s abnormally idiotic in matters like these, he’s got some sense.
I deeply regret befriending either of them, because both Joshua and Jihoon have apparently no sense of boundaries between people. Joshua keeps assaulting my inbox with messages along the lines of oh look how much I love my girlfriend and how much I can’t wait to see you guys and celebrate my engagement because I’ve got my life sorted out unlike YOU fuckers, and Jihoon has rewarded me with radio silence ever since I blew up in his face about his idiotic idea regarding me having sex with one of his friends.
And, as a testament to my misfortunes in life, Joshua has decided that his proposal to Eunseo must be followed up with a party thrown in her honour, or at least a dinner as per his last text message; which of course, he has to send to the shared chatroom with a  variety of threatening and non-threatening messages.
joshuji: just saying if you guys aren’t here for the dinner, I’m never talking to you
hoon: aren’t proposals supposed to be an intimate thing? For couples??? Why are you asking us to be there????
joshuji: Eunseo wanted you guys to celebrate, too
joshuji: also, I’m proposing to her in the afternoon. I’m asking you guys to come over for dinner
hoon: maybe we should ask Eunseo about her feelings?
hoon: idk if she would want two others celebrating her engagement. Maybe we should stage an intervention and try to convince her to leave you. Its not too late already
big dick (canon): idk if I can make it guys
joshuji: I told u I wouldn’t be forgiving you if you don’t attend
hoon: you also tell us that every other week, I think we’ll be fine
joshuji: please?
hoon: don’t you fucking dare
big dick (canon): send us the location. Also, you’re paying
hoon: that’s the least he can do, after inflicting all this on us, and on her
joshuji: don’t worry, dinner is on me. [location attached] be there.
Fuck. Fuck my life, and fuck the two other people also in my life, and also, fuck Eunseo for good measure, because if it hadn’t been for her coming over to the mixer in third year, Joshua would never have fallen head over heels with her at first sight, and he wouldn’t have asked her out, and then I wouldn’t have had to deal with my conflicting feelings in the middle of a random Sunday. In the middle of me contemplating whether to clean my flat or not, too. If you look at it, its all her fault. Her fault for being so flawless and lovely and gorgeous that even I cannot bring myself to be jealous. The woman volunteers her free time at an animal shelter, for god’s sake. She’s the kind of person you write rambling horrible love sonnets about, and inflict them on your best friends after getting drunk and vomiting on a sidewalk at three in the morning. I should know, because that was Joshua when he was twenty-five.
Everything seems to go to shit at the same time, so of course, my landlord has to make an appearance when I’m in the middle of a neurotic episode over whether or not to do my laundry and contemplating hurling myself out of the window. His knocks are rhythmic, three seconds apart, which gives me enough time to prepare with a butcher’s knife in my hand. To ensure my safety, of course, in all my good conscience, I could never murder someone.
“Ah, yes, if it isn’t my favourite tenant,” he smiles, wide enough for me to see the gold tooth he had put in four years ago, “don’t worry, I’m only here for a routine check.”
“I bet you say that to all your tenants, Mr Kim.” I mutter, not moving from the doorway. If this man can sell me a glorified hovel posturing as a flat, I can disrespect him as much as I want. “I’ll get back to you on the renewal on my lease as soon as possible.”
The nosy bastard (man) that he is, Mr Kim cranes his neck around me to take a look inside my flat, “don’t worry, you’ve been one of my longest-running tenants for a while, you can take your time.” Then he looks at me, and the gold tooth is again on display. Ugh, I fucking hate it, “Is there a man inside? Boyfriend?”
“I don’t know why I’m saying this to you, Mr Kim, but I don’t have a boyfriend.” I reply, suppressing my urge to bury the knife held in my hand in his chest, “I was cooking, if you want to know that badly.”
“No boyfriend?” he tuts at me as though my dating life (or its lack thereof) is a personal slight against him, “but there are men coming over to your house all the time?”
“Those are my friends, Mr Kim,” I grit out, fake smile getting more brittle by the second, “men and women can be friends, you know.”
“Ah yes, I know, I know,” he nods, before clapping his hands like he’s received some sort of epiphany, “I forgot to tell you, but if you do decide to renew,” here he takes a deep breath, as if he’s bestowing upon me some great honour, “the rent will be raised. By twenty.”
“Twenty percent?” I screech, and the student in the flat next to me has probably heard it, “is that even legal?”
From the smile on his face, I don’t have to hear anything else. It probably is.
Mr Kim goes away from my line of sight (my kitchen knife’s line of attack) with another, equally insufferable, smile, and I close the door with a loud enough bang that the hinges rattle. I lied to Jihoon, because I only have two months left on my contract, and I still have had no luck in finding a new flat to move into. Everywhere I go, its either overpriced, or the facilities are too shitty, or the vibes are off.
Back in the room, I try to busy myself with laundry, when my phone rings. Its Jihoon, who’s apparently decided that making me angry is a full-time job for him. He’s making use of the private chat, which is rare for him, and somehow, equally annoying for me.
hoon: sorry about what happened in the studio this morning
hoon: offer still stands though
big dick (canon): that’s not how you apologise to someone
hoon: what? I’m trying to help my bestie get some
hoon: is that such a scandalous thing to ask for
big dick (canon): yes. Yes, it is
big dick (canon): also, fyi, I’m not sleeping with any of your friends. They’re all too weird for me
hoon: Mingyu? I remember you saying once that you’d motorboat him
big dick (canon): platonically
hoon: not sure how you’d motorboat someone platonically
big dick (canon): he’s too outgoing for me. cannot imagine I’d ever have a moment to myself if I ever dated him
hoon: Wonwoo? Everyone liked him back in university
big dick (canon): unfortunately, all he seems to talk about is gaming. I don’t mind gaming once or twice, but talking about it all the time? That bores me
hoon: Chan? He’s younger than you, but you could be a cougar, for all I know
big dick (canon): I’ve seen Jeonghan beg on his knees for him to go home after a drinking session
hoon: Minghao?
big dick (canon): He once teased me for my curtain bangs for a week straight
hoon: fine then, Cheol?
big dick (canon): Too competitive
hoon: Seungkwan?
big dick (canon): Too athletic. Also, isn’t he joining the culture desk soon?
hoon: Seokmin?
big dick (canon): Too outgoing
hoon: Vernon?
big dick (canon): Too quiet
hoon: Jun?
big dick (canon): Too weird
hoon: Jesus, fuck, woman, what kind of person do you want to date?
big dick (canon): ykw, just set me up with Mingyu. If nothing I can still get to say I motorboated some great pecs
big dick (canon): seriously, his pecs are bigger than my boobs
big dick (canon): how does he do it
big dick (canon): can I hold them
big dick (canon): respectfully
big dick (canon): in a non-sexual way
big dick (canon): please
hoon: I’m sure he’s going to appreciate that
big dick (canon): please ask him
big dick (canon): how does one get that kind of pectoral muscles
big dick (canon): wow
hoon: my pecs are bigger than his
big dick (canon): is this some new sort of dick-measuring contest idk yet
big dick (canon): if it is
big dick (canon): you’re losing
big dick (canon): I need to take a bite from his tits
big dick (canon): One
big dick (canon): Teensy tiny
big dick (canon): Munch
hoon: I’m so close to blocking u
big dick (canon): They hated Jesus because he spoke the truth
hoon: maybe you need to consider that Jesus had very bad vibes
hoon: so, you want to go on a date with Mingyu?
hoon: I feel like I should tell you that he eats the equivalent of three people
hoon: at the same time
big dick (canon): As long as he lets me motorboat him
 big dick (canon): I don’t care
big dick (canon): He can eat as much as he wants
hoon: why must you be so horny over Mingyu of all people
hoon: he’s not even that attractive
hoon: and I’ve got bigger pecs than him
big dick (canon): congratulations on having bigger pecs, but I’m still gonna motorboat Mingyu
big dick (canon): going to gently hold his tits
hoon: between you going feral and Joshua badgering me about his engagement party dinner
hoon: I can’t help but feel as though both of u are out to make me go insane
big dick (canon): are you gonna go to that?
hoon: he’s already made plans at the barbecue place where we go to
hoon: even got a whole discount coupon and everything
hoon: normally I’d be upset that he’s being cheap, but after researching the price of that ring, I’m prepared to forgive him this once
hoon: next time I’m forcing him to take us out to a good dinner place
big dick (canon): are you planning to spend all his salary
big dick (canon): I’m in
big dick (canon): Ugh I haven’t eaten anything since the morning
big dick (canon): Can you ask Mingyu to bring me food
hoon: you’re incorrigible
hoon: have you been able to maintain eye contact with him?
big dick (canon): UNFAIR
big dick (canon): You know I can only do that with you
big dick (canon): Since you’re exactly my height
big dick (canon): Hehe
hoon: I’m blocking u and this number right NEOW
hoon: cannot believe I’m conversing WILLINGLY with someone who slanders my height
big dick (canon): see u at the barbecue place tonight
big dick (canon): have fun on the song
hoon: I’m trying to finish it
hoon: cannot believe I’ve gone into a slump
big dick (canon): you know how this can be cured?
big dick (canon): An INTERVIEW
big dick (canon): With yours truly
big dick (canon): Please
hoon: ask someone else
hoon: Soonyoung
big dick (canon): he’s an idol, yes but  
big dick (canon): I’m terrified he’s going to do at least three tiger impressions
hoon: wrong, he’s going to do at least five
hoon: ugh gotta go
hoon: see u at the dinner
I stare at the dark phone screen for about five minutes after I’ve finished texting Jihoon. His interest in setting me up with one of his friends aside, he’s not wrong. I’m sexually frustrated, which means I’m just projecting my desires onto the closest available person, which in this case, happens to be Joshua.
Okay, fair enough, then why not anyone else? The people at my workplace aren’t that bad, and some of them are fairly good-looking, so why not them?
As soon as that thought comes into my mind, I shake it away violently. To willingly date someone in the workplace is inviting a whole host of problems, HR notwithstanding. And to imagine the fallout when I eventually break up with them, while still having to work with them in the same office—no, I’d rather take a transfer. The only option that remains are Jihoon’s friends, and while they’re all nice, they can also be terrifying, and therefore, not the best options for dating. Or sleeping around, which is what Jihoon wants me to do.
“Ugh, why do I have to have these feelings,” I moan into my pillow. It would have been great if I were born as an amoeba. Or as a plant. No need for my feelings to take centre stage, no need to maintain friendships with annoying people like Jihoon or Joshua. Just peaceful photosynthesis, and being eaten by a random goat on a random Tuesday. I wouldn’t even need to go to university. Nothing required. Just basking in the sun.
And unfortunately, because my mind is a little traitor, it focuses on the one thing that I don’t want to focus on: Jihoon’s offhand comment about his pecs being bigger than Mingyu’s; which, if I know Jihoon as well as I do, is a blatant lie, but even the thought of it is enough to send me into a downward spiral. What the hell does he mean, he has bigger pecs than Mingyu? Its not as if I want to see them, and let this be known, and made into public record, that I’ve never once wanted to see Jihoon’s pecs.
But.
Of course, its not as if I haven’t thought about it. not as far as Jihoon, who apparently masturbated to the thought of me, but of course I have idly wondered, what it would be like. When he came back from the military, its all I could think about for a couple days, before I had to physically slap myself back into reality. Unfortunately for me, his one petty comment about the size of his pectoral muscles, threatens to throw me back into the pits of desperation yet again.
Ugh. I slam my face into the pile of fresh laundry, hoping for it to soothe my nerves. Spoiler alert, it doesn’t.
Its at that moment that the chatroom pings again, this time with a  message from Joshua.
joshuji: SHE SAID YES!!!!
hoon: congratulations!
big dick (canon): Congratulations!!!
The barbecue place is good enough for us, but for a dinner celebrating Joshua’s engagement to Eunseo, it seems a little too shabby. Although given the amount of money he’s spent on an engagement ring (I saw the prices, and I had to stifle a gasp) it can be forgiven. Just this once, as Jihoon said.
I’ve come here late, on purpose. Between the excited texts from Eunseo, who texted me a picture of her ring, and I had to act appropriately surprised, and Joshua’s infamous enthusiasm for a. showing the world how much he loves his girlfriend and b. to torment his friends, I’m feeling drained. I’m dressed for a night of eating greasy food and drinking cheap alcohol: a hoodie borrowed (stolen) from either Jihoon or Joshua, and jeans. I can’t even lie to myself and give myself a reason to dress up, because even I can’t delude myself into doing that. Jihoon once saw me with day-old vomit on my shirt, and Joshua has seen me dress in my sleepwear for exams week.
The place is filled with smoke, emanating from the meat being cooked on the grills, and it takes me a moment to adjust myself to it all, before I look for the other three. They have all arrived, and according to Jihoon, who’s sent a message out of his own accord on the chatroom in a long time, they’re all eating lots of beef.
“You’re late,” Jihoon grumbles as I approach the table, “I had to sit through half an hour of these two being happy and in love.”
“You’re a liar,” I say, sliding into the seat next to him, “you enjoy romance movies.”
“Wow, that’s something I didn’t know about him,” Joshua says, with a twinkle in his eyes that I don’t want to decode, “how come you know everything about Jihoon?”
“Occupational hazard,” I reply, reaching for a piece of meat, “every time you bailed on us to go on a date with Eunseo, Jihoon and I would be forced to hang out together.”
“It was horrible,” Jihoon agrees, “she’d force me to watch all these romance movies.”
“Says the man who cried while watching Love Actually.”
Eunseo giggles at that, almost doubling over herself. I narrow my eyes at Joshua, “have you both been drinking since the afternoon?”
“No, no, I haven’t,” Eunseo wheezes, and it’s unfair how gorgeous she is while laughing, too. She’s wearing an apron to prevent grease falling on her expensive clothes, and she’s still gorgeous. I snort when I laugh, and once Jihoon saw me with mango juice coming out of my nose, “it’s just funny.”
“What is?”
She points at the two of us, “you know, the both of you keep talking about how annoying you find each other, and yet you’re both closer to each other than anyone else. It’s just so funny to me.”
“Joshua,” Jihoon says, very seriously, “I think your fiancée has been taking drugs.”
“At the very least, she’s insane,” I supply helpfully, “no one in their right minds would date Joshua. Not to mention agreeing to marry him.”
Joshua puts an arm around Eunseo, “stop slandering my fiancée.”
Jihoon puts a piece of meat into his mouth, trying to change the topic, “have I mentioned I’m helping her hook up with someone?”
I cough violently, while Eunseo and Joshua wear twin expressions of confusion. “Wait, Jihoon,” Joshua says, “I thought you—”
“I told you not to talk about that!” I wail, a noise that’s fortunately covered by all the meat-grilling around me, “no, I’m not going to hook up with any of your friends. Jihoon has terrible taste in people, not to mention that all your friends aren’t exactly hook-up material.”
“You take that back,” he gasps, “weren’t you talking about how you’d like to motorboat Mingyu?”
“That was platonically!”
“I’m sorry,” Joshua interjects, looking at me as though I’ve sprouted another head, “how can you, and I’m just going off on a limb here, motorboat someone platonically?”
“That’s what I said,” Jihoon grumbles, “she keeps asking me to set them up once.”
“That’s because he’s the hottest out of all your friends.” The soju is bitter as I drink it, “if I have to engage in a night of mindless sex, might as well do it with the hottest guy around.”
“Knew it,” Jihoon wags one of his fingers at me, “knew you only wanted Mingyu for his body. How dare you do that to my friend.”
“You once stole his socks.”
“Once.”
“For a whole semester.”
“Fair enough.”
“Both of you,” Joshua says loud enough for us to stop bickering, “explain it to us properly. What do you mean you’re helping her hook up with one of our friends? And why are you letting him hook you up with one of our friends?”
I shrug, “It’s not a big deal. Besides, you heard us. It’s only going to be one time.”
“Do I need to give you the talk?”
Jihoon  laughs, “you do realise she’s an adult?”
“I’m not saying she can’t do anything; I’m just saying she needs to be careful!
“If I have to be careful around the rest of the guys, then maybe you shouldn’t be friends with them.”
“What do you mean she should be careful around the people who have known her for so long?”
“All of you!” Eunseo claps her hands, and like kindergarten children, we all turn to look at her, sheepish, “Josh,” she turns to the man in question, who looks sufficiently contrite, “let me have a word.”
As they leave, Jihoon pulls a face. “asshole.”
I take another shot of the soju, “he’s just looking out for me.”
“Then he shouldn’t be so overbearing about it.” Jihoon takes a look at me downing another shot, “should you be drinking this fast?”
“Don’t you start.” I say, shaking my head, “I’m going to drink enough to wipe out Joshua’s bank account.”
Jihoon says nothing, just looks at me, and then, after ten seconds, “do you want to do it?”
“Do what?”
“The date. With Mingyu.”
Maybe its just the alcohol getting to my head, or maybe its all this smoke, but his voice seems different. Is he concerned, or is he joking, as per usual? It’s confusing. Should I blame the alcohol? That seems easier, given how it’s getting to my head. “I don’t know.”
“He’s not that bad, you know. He’s a good listener, and if you want him to shut up, he will. He’s great that way.”
I stare at him. Jihoon has a strange look on his face, one that I can’t really place. Alcohol. Yes. Blame it on the alcohol. I take another shot, but before I can form a reply to him, Eunseo and Joshua are walking back to the table, hand-in-hand, identical smiles on their faces. As soon as it had come, the look in Jihoon’s eyes is gone, replaced by the usual, blasé attitude he has perfected.
“Sorry for being late,” Eunseo breezes as she settles into the table, “Joshua needed to be reminded of adult boundaries.”
“I’m sorry.” Joshua offers by way of an apology, “I overstepped.”
“Damn right you did.” Jihoon mutters.
“Apology accepted,” I smile, picking up a piece of meat, “can you order some more?”
Mondays are, unfortunately, the worst. Especially if one spent their Sunday evening drinking enough alcohol to lose half their memories. I slide into my seat at work, yawning as I inspect the things I have to finish working on before the end of the day.
“Morning, sunbae,” a cheery voice says, placing a cup of coffee on my desk, “you look like shit.”
“Not the time, Seungkwan,” I mutter, pressing two fingers to my forehead, “too loud, too loud.”
“Heard you got shitfaced with Jihoon and the others last night,” Seungkwan says louder, “Jihoon texted the chat with the others at two in the morning, saying how he was going to take you home.”
“He did?” thankfully, I have no recollection of this happening, so I just let him fill me in on the details, “all I remember is drinking too much at the barbecue place.”
“Celebrating Joshua’s engagement, right?” Seungkwan’s smile is irritating, and I hate how cheery he is in the morning, “he texted about that, too. The pear-cut diamond was, oof, it was something to see.”
“Why do you know about diamond cuts?”
“I grew up with sisters,” he shrugs, as if growing up with sisters imbued one with all the hidden knowledge of womankind, including, but not limited to, engagement ring diamonds and their specific cuts, “you pick up stuff from listening.”
“Jihoon told you all he took me home?” I ask, “he doesn’t usually say that kind of stuff.”
“You got especially drunk last night, so he made an exception for you.” Seungkwan grins, leaning in, “what do you think about Jihoon?”
“He’s a pain in my ass.” I mutter, switching on my computer, “also, go back to work, Seungkwan. You’re not even supposed to be here until next week!”
“Yoo-min quit, so they asked me to join a week early,” he gives me a grin that again, I try not to decode (what is it with all these men and their mysterious grins?) before settling down into the seat next to me, and promptly jumping up to subject me to a ninety-degree bow, “Boo Seungkwan, at your service!”
“Ugh,” I wince, waving at him, “sit down, for the love of god, no one needs to be that loud in the mornings.”
“You are my senior, as it happens, and I’m very keen on maintaining proper relations.”
“Get me one of those hangover cures.”
“I like the American style.”
To no one’s surprise, Seungkwan is a very competent worker. He’s a social butterfly, which means that he quickly endears himself to everyone at work, and by the time lunch rolls around, I have to hear praises of Seungkwan from everyone. It’s terrifying, how competent he is.
Being one of the associate editors, means I have to mostly edit the articles sent in by the reporters on ground, not to mention I get to pick and choose which issue I want to cover. I maintain as much of my professionalism as I can, while having a raging headache.
“Sunbae,” Seungkwan approaches me right before lunch, “will you be going out to cover an article?”
“I have an interview with an author after lunch, so not yet,” I reply, putting the finishing touches on a report sent in by one of our field staff, on some celebrity’s rash driving case, “I have some time.”
“Do you want to have lunch with the rest of us?” he asks, gesturing the group of five waiting behind him, “we’re going to have naengmyeon at the place down the block.”
“I have enough sense to not butt into the affairs of my juniors, Seungkwan,” I say, standing up from my chair, “here, have the card. Since its your first day here, the office should treat you.”
Seungkwan takes the offered card with a bow, and smiles brightly, “oh, but the editor said we’re having a company dinner tonight? Won’t you be joining us for that?”
“A group dinner?” I ask, and the group behind him nods their head, all in unison. It makes them look like little bobbleheads, for some reason. “Sure, I’ll join in.”
“Yes!” he seems unusually cheerful about the company dinner, which in my own experience is nothing but a pain that I had to accustom myself with when I joined the paper, “see you tonight, sunbae!”
“This kid,” I groan, picking up my coat. The prospect of lunch makes my stomach turn, and now I have to contend with dinner?
I text Jihoon while walking out of the offices. Joshua is busy with his new fiancée, and Jihoon’s building is far closer to mine that it is to Joshua’s place of work.
big dick (canon): Are u free
big dick (canon): For lunch
Unless Jihoon texts first, he takes an hour to respond at best, but as soon as I send the message, he’s typing a reply.
hoon: lunch?
hoon: if it isn’t lunch I’m killing u
hoon: dude I’ve never had a block this bad I think I’m going to go crazy
hoon: not to mention the hangover from last night is crazy
big dick (canon): it is for lunch, you idiot, why would I text u otherwise
big dick (canon): and I can agree on that, my head is killing me
hoon: is hangover soup cool with u
hoon: I know a good place
hoon: meet u at the front of your building in five
hoon: please tell me all the details about Seungkwan
“He took five minutes to get the editor to warm up to him?” Jihoon cackles, as the lady serves us two steaming bowls of seollongtang, “of course, it’s Seungkwan. He can make anyone warm up to him in minutes.”
“I fear he takes it as a challenge.” I say, spooning the milky broth into my mouth, “ah! Its hot!”
“Why can’t you just wait for a while, before eating your food?” Jihoon pours me a glass of water, “did you die of starvation in your previous life?”
“I don’t believe in that.”
“Yes, yes, Miss Atheist. Tell me what else our little dongsaeng get up to in the meantime.”
“He’s not been given a lot of work, given that it’s his first day,” I take another, more tentative sip of the broth, “but unfortunately, I’ve got to attend another company dinner tomorrow night.”
“Another company dinner? Haven’t you gone through enough pain to consider drinking again, what,  barely twenty-four hours later?”
“Twenty-fours is pushing it,” I say, wincing at the sound of my own voice, “ugh, this damn hangover. I can’t even function. Let’s just eat in silence.”
“You want a cider?” Jihoon asks, looking around for the owner to ask for two cans of cider, but the owner is faster than him, setting down two cans of soda in front of us with a smile on her face.
“Your boyfriend is very caring.” She tells me, “its so nice to see someone taking care of their girlfriend so well. The sodas are on the house, okay?”
“Oh, but he’s not—” even before I’ve finished my sentence, she’s gone again, tending to her other customers. Jihoon opens one of the cans for me without saying a word.
“We should stop coming here.” I say, accepting the can from him, “why would anyone think that we’re a couple?”
“They can’t accept that men and women can just be friends, that’s why.”
“Too bad the food is great.”
Jihoon pauses for a moment, then a slow, sly smile spreads all over his face. I know that look. That look does not bode well for me, or for anyone else involved. The first time I saw Jihoon have that look on his face, Seungcheol embarrassed himself so badly in front of a group of first-year students, he refused to come out to any events where Jihoon was invited, for almost a month. This look means that he’s got some sort of evil plan in his mind, one that involves another person and their total embarrassment. He takes a look around the restaurant, and sits up straight. The words that come out of his mouth next, however—
“Babe,” Jihoon says, loud enough for half the restaurant to hear, “don’t you think this place is great?”
What the fuck?
“Jihoon, what are you doing?” my voice is a whisper, “they’re all looking at us!”
“That’s the point.” He whispers, before smiling, “you should say something too, you know. Make the whole thing more believable.”
“I don’t want to!”
“They gave us free sodas; they deserve a special performance at least.” He points to the owner, who looks like she’s about to break her face from smiling so damn broad, “sorry, my girlfriend is a very shy.”
“Oh,” the lady waves it away, “anyone can see you are in love!”
In the end, when Jihoon is paying for our lunches, she takes a final look at the two of us, and croons, “you two make a lovely couple!”
“What the fuck was that?” I turn on Jihoon as soon as we are safely out of the restaurant and far enough for anyone to eavesdrop, “Why the hell would you tell her that we’re dating?”
“Thought you needed a pick-me-up,” Jihoon grins, “at least I got you to stop worrying about things so much.”
“There are better ways of going about that than telling unsuspecting diner owners that we are dating!”
“It was funny, you have to admit,” he smiles, and I have to begrudgingly agree, “see, told you we’d make a cute couple.”
I would rather die than tell Jihoon that I agree with him on anything, so I keep quiet. Thing is; it was rather funny. Especially with how the owner reacted to us.
“And later on,” Jihoon says, holding on to my arm as we cross the road, “when you come to this place with someone else, you can just tell her that we broke up.”
“You need to stop talking about how I’m going to start dating other people.” I mutter, “just because I’ve got some frustrations I need to work out, doesn’t mean I’m going to go running into the arms of whoever it is who offers first.”
“Careful with that,” he says, standing at the crossroads where he’s supposed to walk towards his building, “you might end up regretting it.”
And with a single wave, he’s gone. I stand for about five minutes, like an idiot, while the busy crowd walks past me, trying to decode his words. Why would I regret my decision to not date someone just because I need to get over myself? Not to mention Jihoon has been behaving strangely since the previous night.
“Sunbae,” Seungkwan materialises next to me, “penny for your thoughts?”
“Jesus!” I narrowly escape jumping three feet into the air, “give a girl a warning!”
“I did call out,” he pouts. Its disconcerting how adorable he is. “You were pretty engrossed in looking into the distance to even notice my presence.”
“Are you upset?”
Seungkwan smiles, “if you agree to a badminton match with me over the weekend, I’ll overlook this slight.”
I sigh. “You drive a hard bargain,” I say, making my way into the building, “see you at the dinner, then.”
282 notes · View notes
mmogurl · 2 months ago
Text
Dragonseed Chapter 2 : Coveted
Tumblr media
18+ | 3.0k | Daemon Targaryen X Female Reader | dangerous, sex-crazed, raunchy Daemon | hyper possessive behavior, ownership, objectifying, big breast reader, non con, non consensual, P in V, lots of typical Daemon cussing, rough, forceful sex, violence, threats of violence.
Daemon has been feeling a lot better now that he's found you, his Dragonseed. No longer deprived of his carnal appetites, he's been keeping you close by ever since bringing you to work at Dragonstone. You return his generosity by satisfying his every need, although not always in the way you expect to. Daemon is a rather unpredictable man after all. I came up with the idea for this after reading page 914 in Fire and Blood. In the show, they recruit Valyrian blooded bastards to ride the unclaimed dragons from King’s Landing, but in the book there is actually a fishing village at the base of the island where Dragonstone is located. The men of House Targaryen were known to seek pleasure among the commonfolk there quite often, claiming their ‘first night’ rights and sowing ‘dragonseeds.’ Sorry it came out a little late, I've been sick again the past couple of days.. T_T
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 On AO3
Tumblr media
Daemon wet his face in the basin, his fair skin caked with dirt and sweat from a day of training in the yard. He lathered a generous amount of milk soap into his hands and began to wash his face. He’d really prefer to take a bath and clean thoroughly, but he simply didn’t have enough time if he was going to wet his cock in you before supper.
Grinning he began to think of you as he ran a wet cloth under his armpits and then down to his groin. Standing buck arse naked in his chambers, his cock is already growing rigid in his hands at the thought of you, his little bird, his dragonseed, his secret paramour, and how hard he was going to fuck you when he got his hands on you.
Just as promised, he’d proffered you a position within the castle at Dragonstone easily enough, an assistant cook in the kitchen. Given you were so young and fit, the staff didn’t mind having another set of legs to fetch and carry things to and from the pantry. And given his high status, it wasn’t as though any of them would dare deny his request either.
The arrangement has been working out perfectly well for both of them so far. And since Rhaenyra never even bothered to join him in bed as of late, it had been painless enough to bring you into his chamber whenever he wished it. And oh how he had wished for it often, enjoying every moment of breaking in his new lover, and you were always so eager to please him. The biggest challenge was keeping you quiet so that his wife would not hear your screams of pleasure from down the way; he quite often accomplished this by covering your mouth, whether it be by his own hand or a gag of cloth to silence those heated moans.
Fuck, he was already at full mast, his manhood throbbing and twitching at just recalling the image of your full bosom bouncing beneath him as he restrained the sounds coming from your pretty little lips. Oh, how he’d love to let you go and hear every beautiful tune you might sing as he plunged his cock into your depths, but he’d rather not listen to the bitching that would ensue from Rhaenyra’s cantankerous mouth as a result.
Daemon finishes the quick job of freshening up, rinsing his body with more water from the basin and drying off before he gets dressed again. He rushes as he ties up his shirt, not wanting to miss the opportunity to have you sooner, rather than later tonight. His blood is pumping even more than usual today after some exceptionally good sparring with the other knights on the island, and he feels like he has enough seed stored up to take you at least three times, maybe even four.
He wears a knowing grin as he saunters through the halls of the keep, still half hard as he makes his way towards you, his toothsome little firebird. Daemon has a half a mind to take you wherever he finds you, loving the idea of a public fuck. Let one of the servants see him staking his claim on you, for it would make the act even more tantalizing. He wonders where he might take you, that self-satisfied smirk never leaving his countenance. Perhaps in the root cellar where the potatoes and wine were stored- or the pantry, or maybe even the larder? He finds himself further enticed by the idea of fucking you beside a full leg of mutton, after all, you are his piece of meat and he cherishes you for it.
There are a series of narrow hallways in the servants quarters, smaller rooms where they sleep, where you sleep when you are not keeping his bed warm. Daemon navigates them, slipping past other house staff that seem alarmed by his presence, but don’t offer any argument to it. The corridor opens up into the massive kitchen, a long rectangular room with an open stove in the center of one wall. Opposite the fire is a massive table that takes up much of the chamber, and women are busy preparing different elements of food to be served with dinner. Freshly cooked bread is laid out as well as several biscuits all arranged neatly on a silver tiered tray.
It all looks rather delicious, but no delicacy in the castle could compare to the taste of you. And Daemon is starving for you, ravenous with hunger for the sweet cunt between your legs, seemingly unable to get enough of it. He sees you standing at the table, your back towards him and your long silvery tresses glowing from the dancing flame of the fire-pit. He’d hoped to find you somewhere a little more private, but that doesn’t mean he can’t take you to another location to have his way with you.
As Daemon takes a step into the kitchen, he stops in his tracks, pausing in place as a consternated look appears across his furled brow and crinkled nose. A man, broad of chest and dark in his features comes to stand beside you, resting his hand on your shoulder and looking down at you with far too much affection and familiarity.
How dare that piece of shit touch you. You belong to him! He’d already stolen you away from your husband and in fact had the marriage annulled. He’d realized after talking with his maester, that as the lord of Dragonstone, he has the legal authority to deny any wedding among the peasants, and so he did. But, now some upstart ruffian from the kitchen was going to try and steal you away from him? How many men would he have to dispose of before he could be at peace with his claim on you?
It wouldn’t do at all. Daemon would need to make an example of him. Show everyone what happened when they touched what was his.
He strode up proudly, his back straight as his Valyrian Steel longsword, Dark Sister, as he approached the pair and cleared his throat, his hand clenching down on the man’s shoulder viciously. The scamp let out a startled yelp as you turned to see what was happening, a look of concern flashing across your eyes as you saw Daemon standing there. He saw the tremulous fear in your periwinkle eyes as you began to grasp the situation and sneered with a wild look of abandon in his eyes.
“What do you think you’re fucking doing?” Daemon roared out, squeezing even harder into the man’s meaty shoulder.
The fellow sunk under his grip, instantly relinquishing his hold on you as he attempted to turn and face his assailant.
“No, you can stay right there prick,” he said with a scathing venom in his tone.
The kitchen staff had all stopped what they were doing, gazing upon the scene with terror as though they knew blood was likely soon to be spilled.
“LEAVE US!” Daemon roared out loudly, the sound bouncing off the walls in echo as every single servant jumped in fright before rushing to leave the premises.
He reaches past you to pick up a chef’s knife from the table and spins the offender around to face him. “You see this knife, you fuckwit?” he asks with condescension. The man nods stupidly, wearing a veil of abject dread upon his face. “If I ever see you so much as look at her again, I’m going to make you a fucking eunuch. You understand?”
The man simply stared up at Daemon, disbelief rife in his slack jaw. He did not answer immediately and it angered the King-Consort even more.
“DO YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND!? You are not to touch her! EVER!!” he screams and wraps his giant hand around the man’s face, slamming him back against the heavy wooden table.
“Yes! Yes, m’lord!” the whelp finally replies, falling to his knees with his hands clasped up and pleading.
Disgusted, Daemon scowls and shoves him to the side, away from him and towards the exit. “Get out of you filthy mongrel!” he spits derisively. “Before I change my mind…”
The peasant chef or whatever the fuck he was, shambled to his feet, tripping and falling twice before he made it out of the room. The silence was cumbersome as Daemon eyed you, his gaze hard and vicious as he decided how he should punish you.
“Why did you do that?” you are asking, but your voice is so far away, barely noticeable against the ringing of his furious heartbeat in his ears.
“After everything I’ve done for you?” he begins tearing into you, his words savage and his voice hateful. He cups your face in one hand, stroking your cheek almost tenderly, completely juxtapose to the angry expression on his face. A squeak of surprise escapes your lips as he then runs the dull backside of the knife along the opposite side of your face. He is pleased with the fright in your features, after all, he wants you to know how grave an offense this is.
He turns you swiftly, shoving you against the surface of the table and pushing you down with a strong hand to the middle of your back. You try to get up when he tosses the knife with a clatter across the table, but he slams you back down causing the table to groan with the weight of his force. “Stay fucking down,” he hisses with frustration as he unlaces his trousers.
“But I didn’t do anything,” you whine sorrowfully, still trying to play dumb.
“Like fucking hell you didn’t, you little whore!” he spits back, pulling his stiffened cock out from his smallclothes and letting it hang freely. “You let him touch you. I fucking saw it! Saw the way he looked at you. How he wanted you.”
Daemon begins to pull your skirts up, shoving them up and over your waist until he can see your bared cunny before him. “Did you want to fuck him, girl? Did you think he’d have a bigger cock than me? Think he could fill you to the brim and make you ache like I can?”
You’re already whimpering, a soft mewl of tears in your voice as you try to make excuses. As you try to implore him to cease in being so upset. As though anything could calm him down now that he’d seen another man’s hands upon you.
“I will never let another have you, firebird.. You are fucking mine! You belong to me!” he shouted with a gruff and spiteful voice.
He pressed the head of his cock against your wet center, pressing through without warning and sinking all the way in until he thudded roughly against your womb.
“Fuck!,” he roared as you continued to whine against the hard surface of the counter. “I need to remind you, hm?” he asked, one hand coming to your hip and pulling you back roughly onto his member as he thrust into you again and again. “That you are just a little thing, a prized cunt for me to fuck whenever I wish it?”
That actually makes your breath catch with fresh indignant cries of pain. Oh you haven’t cried like this for him since the very first time he had you and he is relishing the way you keep trying to pull your tender core away from his impending wrath. It’s not like you have anywhere to escape to though, not like you can get away from his grip, pinned between him and the table, forced to take him like a good little trollop.
“This tight little hole belongs to me, girl!” he seethed, losing himself completely in your wet heat, his fury unbridled as he pounds into you relentlessly. “Say it. Tell me what you are and who you belong to. Say it now!”
He knows you won’t like that, understand all too well how proud you are, but he has to break your spirit further if he’s going to keep you under his thumb. He has to make you realize that you’re nothing without him. You stay silent besides the sound of your wailing, your dismay at how he is taking you and how low he is trying to bring you apparent.
“Say it, you little fucking slut!” he howls, raising his hand from your hip to slap you viciously on the the round fat of your arse.
You let out an alarmed yelp, followed by a wail of outrage as you finally relent. “I’m…I-I’m your cunny to fuck, Daemon!” you squeal with the sharp sting of embarrassment clear in your tone as your tight core clamps down on him in response.
“Damn fucking right you are,” he leers over you with a primal growl of arousal and conquest. “You like it don’t you? Like being my little whore?” He slaps you on the arse once more, this time hard enough to leave a crimson handprint on your flesh. Daemon can’t help but grin at the sound you make and the way you clench down tightly on his cock each time he slaps your rear. “You really do enjoy it,” he smiles smugly, loving that his filth has this affect on you. “I wonder how much coin I could fetch for you back in the brothels at King’s Landing? I bet you’d be the biggest earner on the Street of Silk… And you’d love every moment of it wouldn’t you?”
The inner lining of your center contracts violently around his length as you peak, causing him to wince in pain as he pushes past the taut muscles. “My dirty little bird,” he pants, grinning from ear to ear as you go limp against the table and he plunges deeply into you, pounding endlessly as he chases his own release.
He spills into you with the heat and thickness of molten lava, his cockhead slamming roughly against your womb as he pulls your hips onto him firmly, pulsing seed inside of you as he groans with the pleasure of subduing you completely.
“Fucking hellls!” he bellows out, falling on top of your back with nothing but his arm to keep from crushing you, holding himself up slightly from the wooden counter.
Daemon stays inside of you, not in a rush to leave the safe and welcoming heat of your cunt. As he steadies himself on his forearm, he reaches up to brush your hair aside, wiping salty tears dotingly from your cheeks as he takes in your expression.
“Are you hurt, little bird?” he asks with a hint of regret in seeing your reddened eyes and cheeks. “Was I too rough?”
You shake your head slightly, still not making eye contact with him as your body shivers beneath him. He smooths your bright locks of hair back against your scalp, still panting as he tries to recover.
Gods, he thinks you look beautiful like this, ravaged and spent, and still impaled on his cock.
“I don’t want him,” you finally say quietly, almost pouting. “He means nothing to me.”
Daemon sighs, feeling a pang of guilt at how decisively you say that, without a hint of doubt. He withdraws his length from you, leaving a slick mess of your combined fluids as he lets your skirts fall down again. He puts his now softening cock back in his brailes and turns you around to face him.
“I know,” he says pressing a kiss against your lips, before pulling back to take a look at you. “I can’t control how I feel about you, my searing firebird,” he says more softly, peppering kisses on your cheeks in between words. “It drives me mad with rage to think of another man so much as touching you.”
There was something about fucking you that always dulled his sharpest edges. It was as though every bit of pent up rage and aggression just fell away once he spent inside you. You were the only one who could sooth his ferocity like this, quell the savage beast that he always became in your absence, or even at the thought of losing you.
“I would never leave you for another, Daemon,” you say reassuringly, brushing your soft hand along the hard line of his jaw. “I don’t want anyone else but you. You must know that by now?”
“One day, I’ll learn,” he offers with a playful little smirk as he snatches your hand in his, and brushes a gentle kiss against the back of your knuckle.
“Well, isn’t that sweet?” an all too familiar voice cuts through the tender moment.
Daemon snaps his head towards the shrill sound, knowing exactly who he’ll see, his wife Rhaenyra. He looks back at you, realizing that he’s been caught and worried about what it could mean for you. He turns back to the would be queen and offers a feigned smile of surprise.
“I’m sorry, wife,” he offers complacently as he lets your hand go and smacks you on the bottom dismissively, signaling for you to leave. “Did we make too much noise?”
You scamper off obediently, retreating into the hallway and out of sight much to his relief. He doesn’t want Rhaenyra getting a good look at you, doesn’t want her getting any ideas concerning retribution against you.
“When the staff is not allowed into the kitchen to prepare supper and we are all made to wait… Well, it certainly sparks one’s curiosity as to what is causing the delay, husband,” she says, her voice cold and distant.
“Oh, that?” he throws his hands out in a disarming gesture, showing that they are empty. “That was just some fun,” he assures her, using as much disregard as possible so Rhaenyra might feel less threatened by you. “A passing dalliance, nothing more,” he offers with a wink as he lowers his hands to his sides and walks past her out towards the dining hall.
303 notes · View notes
whirlybirbs · 3 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
— BURNER CELL ; 2 ; DABI ; 荼毗
summary: after a week of silence, you finally text dabi. pairing: dabi / f!reader ; quirkless word count: 1.3k tag: humor, maladjusted dabi meets normal adult woman, flirting, canon-based world building, cancer mention, texting as a plot device, slight au, univeristy student!reader a/n: this stole all my concentration. siri play emo boy by ayesha erotica ← previous | the tag
It's the kind of week where, aside from class, human interaction isn't really on life's setlist. 
It's also the kind of week where you rediscover making a meal of raw cookie dough straight from the package. Your econ textbook might have a stranglehold on you, but you make enough time to scarf down a few globs between chapters — after all, who needs protein or fiber when you're sure this five-year master's program will kill you first?
Your head hurts.
You slump against the counter, refilling your water bottle. 
It's late now — and you can feel the quiet woes beginning to wane as you blink at the clock. By now, your friends are probably on their second or third drinks. You turned the invite down when they asked yesterday. Nuri tugged on your sweater sleeve and pouted the best pout she could manage, but you didn't budge. 
I've gotta finish this paper, I'm sorry, Nur'. 
You roll your jaw as you shut the faucet off, wandering to your freezer to wrangle some cubes from the tray. You bend it slowly, deep in thought. A few pop out, and you idly drop them into your water bottle with a twang. 
You're staring at your phone. It's by your computer on the counter. 
...You never did text Dabi. 
You told yourself it was for the best — after all, you weren't looking for a catastrophic derailment of your life at the moment. Things are good. You're two semesters away from finishing University, your family's bakery back in Kyoto is doing well, and Dad's chemotherapy seems to be working. Things are good! It's almost fall, you've managed to stick to your monthly budget, and Mizu settled in happily to your new apartment. 
No four-day poop strike like the last time you moved.
The large tuxedo cat in question ambles through the kitchen — brushing against your leg and letting out a long, low mrrooow. 
Things are great! 
You shouldn't text Dabi.
But... even if you did, it's not like it'd be the end of the world, right?
Wait, could he figure out where you lived from your number...?
You could use one of those anonymous texting services. Then, it wouldn't even be your number. Just some fake string of digits that allow you to satiate the bizarre curiosity that's been swirling in your head for the last week. 
You're sure the novelty will wear off. 
He's probably not even going to respond. 
You're telling yourself this is stupid as you begin to set up an account with the service — the app boasts privacy, andunlimited calls and texts... You can't help but feel a little strange as you finalize your account. 
It's done.
You import his contact with two taps and stare at the blank screen. 
...Now what?
Are you really going to do this? I mean — he's a wanted criminal. He's a member of the League of Villains. If anyone ever found out you were in contact with him, you'd be toast. You'd have All Might kicking your door in and demanding to look through your phone and that mental image is enough to make you cringe. Say goodbye to your degree, goodbye toyour future as Sakura Flour's owner, and goodbye to freedom. You're sure the Safety Commission would place you on some watch list for the rest of your life, and frankly, your tweets are already questionable. You don't need more scrutiny. 
...So, there are two options. 
Delete his number and move on... or don't get caught. 
You shouldn't text Dabi.
...But, you do.
Truth be told, he isn't shocked to see that cute Nuri girl hanging on Giran's arm again. The Broker seems pretty into her — the guy even mentioned something about taking her to a nice dinner during the week as a congrats on passing some big test. Dabi can't blame him. She's cute. Looks good in red. Not his type, but he can appreciate it from time to time.
However, Dabi is a little shocked that you're not a part of the group cheering in Giran's VIP section. There's bottle service being ordered, laughter, dancing, and a gaggle of pretty, five college girls — and none of them are you. 
His lips twist into a scowl. 
He decides he's leaving; his piss-poor drink is tossed back, and he dumps a bill down for the bartender before tugging his hood up and sucking his teeth. 
He never liked this club anyway.
He's crossing the threshold of the back door, stepping into the damp and dark alley, when the phone in his back pocket buzzes. Someone's smoking a Marlboro by the dumpster. The familiar smell makes Dabi's fingers twitch. 
He's tryna quit.
He tugs the phone from his pocket, no longer bothered by the splintered glass screen. His battery is at 13%. This fuckin' thing barely holds a charge anymore. 
The number on the screen isn't one he knows.
Dabi's passcode is unnecessarily long. His phone clicks open as he narrows his eyes and shambles towards the opening in the alley. He doesn't know this number. He has everyone's cell memorized that he needs. Shigaraki, Toga, Spinner, Jin, Compress, even Giran. He doesn't keep contacts. Doesn't work when he's ditching phones all the time. He's got his noggin. That's good enough.
The text is one word:
hi.
Dabi's squinting at the text when another buzzes through. 
← 909.999.3399 ;  11:48pm sorry, this is bar girl
→ dabi ; 11:46pm thought u were never gonna txt me ur girlie nuri is here where r u
There's no way.
Your phone buzzes three times from its far place where it sits face down on the counter — you just walked away from it, hellbent on distracting yourself while you waited out the potential reply. You go rigid in your kitchen. 
Did he seriously text you back immediately?
You purse your lips, then slink towards the phone. It buzzes again.
→ dabi ; 11:47pm c'mon don't leave me hangin pretty
Your eyes are wide as you stare at the string of replies. He has read receipts turned on like the psychopath he is. 
You lean back against the counter, chewing your cuticle as you let out a ragged sigh. Nuri is with him? Or... No, they said they were going to that club you hate. 
← 909.999.3399 ;  11:4pam oh, are they at the bar?‎
Dabi's fingers move fast.
→ dabi ; 11:49pm nah in downtown club tropical or whatever the fuck it's called
You snort a little.
← 909.999.3399 ;  11:49pm i hate that place. their drinks suck.
Dabi has started making his way back to their hideout — back to the shit box apartments they're renting above Kurogiri's bar. He's slow, idly texting as he weaves through the crowds of nightlife in Kamino Ward. 
→ dabi ; 11:50pm a girl after my own heart where r u ur dodging my question u on a date or smthng????
He's insistent, you'll give him that. You cross your legs as you lean back against the laminate counter and chew the inside of your lip.
He's typing. It starts, then stops, then starts again. 
When you start typing, the bubble disappears. 
← 909.999.3399 ;  11:50pm nah, got a huge paper to finish uni student, remember? sorry to disappoint 
→ dabi ; 11:51pm ur missin out giran got bottle service  him and nuri looked cozy
← 909.999.3399 ;  11:51pm not shocked she thinks she can fix him
→ dabi ; 11:51pm ooooo love when that happens poor girl
Typing... 
Typing...
→ dabi ; 11:51pm u think u can fix me? :p
The emoji makes your face break into a smile — it's so... not what you expected. 
← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm nah i'm not stupid
→ dabi ; 11:52pm just busy.... really lame of u tbh coulda been fun
← 909.999.3399 ;  11:52pm wasting cash on mid drinks is the opposite of fun
→ dabi ; 11:52pm i meant seeing me
Oh, what the fuck.
Why does that text make your face feel hot? Why does that text make you feel like you're not texting the League of Villain's #1 Arsonist, but some cute boy from class? He's not a cute boy from class. He's a danger to society. 
You're glad you don't have the opportunity to reply. Your phone is buzzing in your hands, the haptic feedback lighting the neurons in your brain on fire.  
→ dabi ; 11:53pm gtg phone is gonna die have fun with ur paper u loser hope u get a good grade or whatever i'll txt u later
You shouldn't have texted Dabi.
But you did. 
300 notes · View notes
oneknightstand-if · 5 months ago
Text
A Completely Normal Rest Stop
Tumblr media
Update 4: Chapter 2 Part 2 - The Rest Stop
Featuring...
Merlin's Guide to Minor Enemies
A bucketload of owed texts & e-mails to the MC
Decisions of great import... just where are you sleeping in that motorhome during this Among Us game?
Shopping? Fleeing? Stalking Merlin? Chapter 2 wedding proposals? ̵S̵a̴b̷o̴t̸a̷g̵e̵ ̵t̷h̴e̶ ̷m̸o̵t̵o̴r̷h̸o̷m̷e̶/̷ Actually having a completely normal time because you sidestepped all the spooky shenanigans? (But what fun would the latter be?)
A ton of branching everywhere in the second part of this update, so try replaying again with a few different choices.
A̴ ̴C̴o̶m̴p̷l̷e̵t̷e̴l̴y̵ ̶N̴o̷r̸m̴a̶l̵ ̵G̴a̴s̸ ̶S̵t̵a̷t̷i̶o̷n̸ ̵S̴t̸o̷p̷
Nothing to see here but a completely normal gas station & convenience store at a completely normal rest stop. Moving along now.
Play the Updated Beta Test
(Since there were bugs & typos reported throughout Chapter 1 & 2, your current saves are probably going to reset to the beginning of each section of the game. If things get too wonky, you might want to try restarting from the beginning.)
*If you're getting error messages or the start screen isn't showing Version 0.22, please clear your browser's cache.
Additional Word Count (Sans Code): 200,000+
Additional Word Count (With Code): 285,000+
New Total Word Count (Sans Code): 815,000+
New Total Word Count (With Code): 1,120,000+
Average Playthrough: ~65,000+ words
Note: You can view the game code on my site the same way you do on Dashingdon just add /scenes to the end of the URL.
Next Update
Merlin's Guide to Minor Neutrals
MC may appear on TV! This might not be a good thing. And they aren't the only one, cameo appearances from a future RO
Get hit with your first mass spell of nondemonic origin
Counteract with participation in your first multiuser spell
Attempt to summon Cthulhu. Dance the macarena. Have the consequences of your own inaction potentially bite you in the arse-- I mean what?
RO #4 finally appears.
Also quick reminder that the Alpha Build of the game on Patreon updates as I complete each section, so is currently on Chapter 2-3.
Link to New Polls on the Update (Which don't auto close in a week like the Tumblr ones)
More (Fiddly) Info on the Update Behind the Spoiler Cut...
The Update Also Includes...
Added section where the devil's mark is found if you change into short sleeve clothes right before packing up to leave
Added more neutral way of deciding not to claim dibs on a past Camelot incarnation
Added more flavor text regarding the vending machine in the fencing club route
Fixed continuity bug regarding your mask while exploring the empty city
Fixed continuity bug with Adrian's text messages in the Fencing Club route (Again!)
Added Fou and Petit Cru as default names for the Arthurian lore references to the default pet names
Fixed reference to nonexistent pet at the start of the book club route (which won't be finished for awhile)
Fixed some behind-the-scenes bugs with variable incrementing
Changed brave_sir_robin & merlin_warn to numerical variable instead of true/false (might cause bugs with prior saves that triggered those flags)
Fixed a bunch of typos and smaller bugs that I've completely lost track of at this point, but pretty much guarantee every section got re-edited
243 notes · View notes
reidsc0nverse · 1 year ago
Text
pov your instagram when dating spencer reid pt 3
OH MY GOD GUYS ILY SM this might be the last one for now bc i've been working on other projects but yeah here you go 🤭
Tumblr media
Liked by hotboylukealvez, princesspennyg and 141 others
(y/n) Snuck into one of his lessons and took this keeper
View all 25 comments
spencerreid1 It wasn't sneaking in when I caught you red handed the minute you sat down.
-> (y/n) stfu and let it the post look cute
-> spencerreid1 I just wanted to let everyone know the truth hun.
jjareau hes in his element
-> emilyprenty and a grandpa sweater
-> derekm But fresh ass shoes
-> emilyprenty @/derekm ehh...
paparossi So you willingly went to listen to him lecture for fun?
-> (y/n) yes 🙄
-> paparossi don't you get enough of that at work??
Tumblr media
Liked by dr.taralewis, AaronHotchner, and 221 others
(y/n) what we decided to do on our off day (he finished it in like half an hour)
View all 17 comments
emilyprenty you guys are such nerds wtf
-> (y/n) i'm your nerd
-> paparossi Not this again
-> spencerreid1 @/paparossi You're telling me.
spencerreid1 You need to learn to read faster, I was sitting there for hours waiting for you to finish.
-> (y/n) i'm never reading with you again
-> derekm seems like trouble in paradise
-> (y/n) you're gonna get blocked derek
Tumblr media
Liked by emilyprenty, AshleySeaver, and 241 others
(y/n) im just leaving this here
View all 26 comments
spencerreid1 I TOLD YOU NOT TO POST THIS
-> (y/n) it looked to good to NOT post
-> princesspennyg This is adorable 🙃
-> spencerreid1 @/princesspennyg Do some hacker thing and take this down please.
-> princesspennyg Not happening
emilyprenty im not so sure his IQ is actually 187 after seeing this
-> (y/n) yeah idk either...
Tumblr media
(ok ik this one doesn't have spencer but i love this pic sm leave me alone)
Liked by hotboylukealvez, Kristy_Simmons and 174 others
(y/n) the best mf gals in the fbi
View all 28 comments
spencerreid1 I wasn't invited.
-> (y/n) girls only 🙄
-> emilyprenty you have cooties
-> dr.taralewis sucks to suck
princesspennyg WE NEED TO DO THIS AGAIN 🥳🥳🥳🥳
-> derekm With me next time
-> (y/n) Youre funny derek
-> derekm I was fr
-> (y/n) i wasnt
Tumblr media
Liked by paparossi, Will_LaMontagne and 174 others
(y/n) Note to self: don't let derek give spence fashion advice
View all 18 comments
derekm You're just a hater it looks good
-> (y/n) yeah if you're blind
-> emilyprenty HAHAHAHAHAHAHA
jjareau yeah I think the sweater vests are the way to go
-> (y/n) id much rather that than whatever THIS is
again tysm for all the love on the last parts i'm so grateful and hopefully the first chapter of a new fic im writing will be out in the next week! love yall
2K notes · View notes
lovelytsunoda · 6 months ago
Text
purple haze // charles leclerc
Tumblr media Tumblr media
summary: writing a novel is a long an arduous process. luckily for y/n, she has a very supportive partner in crime, and when it all works out, he's the only person she would want by her side.
pairing: charles leclerc x author reader
warnings: alcohol consumption, talk of deadlines, book referenced is a good girls guide to murder by holly jackson. gets a lil steamy towards the middle but nothing comes of it. still not sure how i feel about this one, but i havent written for charles in forever and i got an idea i really liked but i don't know if it worked out when i put it on paper.
by the time y/n closed her laptop, she felt like her fingers were going to fall off. she leaned back in her desk chair, gutted to find that the monaco cityscape outside her living room window was now pitch black, as might had fallen on the city.
her first book had been a red-wine and oasis fuelled fever dream, the last three chapters being written to ‘don’t look back in anger’. and now, the final edits were done.
“I’m so proud of you, mon tresor.” charles gushed, bringing her another glass of wine.
“the last three years are finally paying off. a good girls guide to murder is done, and the world is ready to meet pippa and ravi.” she grinned, clinking her glass against her boyfriends.
she had poured three years of her life into that book, and Charles had been by her side for all of it. through numerous rejections, edits and late night idea-vomit, nobody was prouder than charles was so see it work out for her.
and now he knew she needed a break.
taking her hand in his, he gently dragged her out of the desk chair and towards the couch, placing their wineglasses on the coffee table as he urged y/n to sit on the ground between his legs.
his hands were warm as he began to massage her shoulders, attempting to release the tension caused by the last round of edits, which she had worked on almost from sunup to sundown.
“there’s still so much to do.” she whined, tilting her head back to look up at her lover. “now there’s arcs and extra promotions and finding advance reviewers and-“
charles cut her off with a kiss. “none of that right now. right now, you and me are going to finish this bottle of wine and watch something pointless on tv.”
smiling to herself, y/n got up from the floor and moved to the leather couch, slipping seamlessly into charles' lap and nestling against his chest. his body was warm, and his sweater soft. even if his cologne was a little bit too strong, he made her feel safe. treasured.
"that sounds perfect." she hummed, gently turning his face so she could kiss him. "thank you for supporting me."
"always, my love." charles smiled before kissing her again.
SIX MONTHS LATER
it was half past five in the morning when the phone rang. charles could sleep through just about anything, but it was the vibrations of the phone against her side table that woke y/n.
she looked over at her sleeping lover, pressing a gentle kiss to the smooth skin on his shoulder blades before slipping out of bed and creeping into the hallway to answer a call from her agent, cecelia.
"cece, its five in the morning. couldn't this have waited?"
ceclia cleared her throat. "i've just heard from the american office. the preliminary numbers for the new york times list are in."
"fuck. how did we do?" she closed her eyes, holding up her crossed fingers and praying to every god she wasn't sure she believed in.
and when cecelia spoke again, she almost dropped her phone.
"okay. thank you for letting me know, cece."
she slipped back into the bedroom, bare, dry feet sinking into the plush carpet at the end of the bed before she sat down at the end of the bed, gripping the phone so tightly that her knuckles had gone white.
"mon amour." charles rasped, exhaustion in his voice as he rolled over onto his back. "what's wrong?"
"i just got a call from cecelia." she started, trying not to let her emotions show through. "she's just been on the phone with our american agent with the new york times numbers."
charles sat up, one of his warm hands going to rest on her thigh. "and?' he asked hesitantly, his piercing eyes meeting her uncertain ones in the dark.
"i made the top ten." she shouted, grin spreading all across her features.
making the new york times list had made everything worth it. all the sleepless nights when she had woken up with an idea she was scared to lose, all the rewrites, the weeks of writers block. the rejections, the aggravation, the insecurity.
this was it.
she had done it.
"i'm so proud of you." charles beamed, folding her into a hug. "i knew you could do it, my brilliant girl."
she dropped her phone on the bed, red-faced and giggly as she kissed him, allowing her hands to wander across his toned chest. "wanna show me just how much?"
THREE YEARS LATER
the theater was almost silent when the lights came up, the end credits of the final episode fading out on the screen. she held her breath, fingers gripping charles' hand so tightly that she thought she might break the fragile bones in her husband's fingers.
oh, yeah. they had gotten married about a year after her book had come out, while she was in the middle of writing as good as dead, the conclusion to the series.
since a good girls guide to murder had come out, her life had changed for the better. she felt more secure in herself and her talent, and the words had never come easier when she started writing the sequel, eager ton continue the story. she had since written two more books to complete the trilogy, as well as two standalone novels: five survive and the reappearance of rachel price. around the time that rachel price was announced, she had gotten another call from cecelia, asking if she and charles could come to london and meet with representatives from the bbc.
they wanted to turn her first book into a tv series.
she had been hands on from the beginning, throwing herself into her work and doing her best to make sure that the version of the story the readers saw on screen was the version that she had visualized when she'd first explained the storyboard to charles, the driver helping her connect everything on their living room wall with red yarn.
and now was the time. the time to see if it had all paid off. the theater was filled with minor celebrities, influencers, and the tiktokers who had made her book blow up in popularity.
it all came down this night.
"it's okay. whatever happens, you know you did your best." charles whispered in her ear, running one hand up and down her bare back. underneath the flimsy straps of her red dress.
she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath when the roar off applause began to drown her.
she rode the rush of emotions, allowing the tears of gratification and relief to ruin her mascara as she let her body go slack, resting against charles as she watched the room rise in a standing ovation for pippa and ravi.
"we did it. we made it, charles." she laughed, tilting her head up to kiss him.
"no, cherie. you did this. they're all here for you."
she watched as the event's host, a former spice girl that charles knew through his paddock connections, stepped out into the middle of the small stage set up at the front of the theater.
"and now, the moment i'm sure you've all been waiting for, a few words from y/n /y/l/n-leclerc!"
she wiped her eyes and fixed her hair, taking a deep breath before she walked across the stage, taking the microphone from geri halliwell, and turning to face the crowd.
in the front row, there was charles. her one true love. her biggest supporter.
and in that moment, she truly allowed herself to believe that she had made it.
310 notes · View notes
intimidatingpuffinstudios · 2 months ago
Text
Progress Update for Sept 2024
Hey, everyone!
Time to let you know where I'm at~ Like some of you might have heard from Tumblr, I'm DONE with the main plot/Manerkol/Sielthan/Rai/friendship routes for TSSW 3!
The game plays from start to finish on these routes!! And it's taking my breath away!!! 😍
I don't think I've ever been so proud of something I've written before, and I keep rereading the end in particular, cause, GOSH! It's just so…epic and emotional 🥹
With that said, I'm on to the other routes now! I will start with Morkai, then Straasa, Daelynn, Eledwen, and last will come the polys.
I'm already done with 3/4 of Morkai's route, actually!! So it's going FAST! We're down to the last stretch, folks!
And as for BtM! Just like it happened for TSSW 3, the muse is riding me HARD, and I keep adding new and unexpected things that just click.
I have a certain way in mind that the scene will progress? Well, how about I add another 2 variations because IT'S TOO GOOD NOT TO?
I have the bare bones of the story mapped down, but the characters and the setting itself take a life of their own as I write, and it turns out SO much better than I could have imagined!
I'm down to the last three big days/sequences of the game, and I thought I had finished the first one already, but like I said, NEW IDEAS! So, I'm currently beefing it up with some delicious new content.
I'll probably be done with that in the coming couple of weeks, and then it's on to the second day! Things are reaching a crescendo, lemme tell you.
I can't wait for the grand ending, when all cards are on the table and all the masks fall down.
One thing is for certain, though. No matter what else is true about them, Zach and Cy love the MC. Nothing will ever change that. And they will let no harm to come to them.
Exciting times ahead! Aaaand that's about it for this progress update!
Thanks for listening to my rambling 🤣
Cheers!
P.S: Around the 20th of Oct, the early access builds on Ko-Fi and Patreon will be updated, and Morkai's route up to and including Chapter 2 will be added!
Get that sour strawberry fix! 🤣
81 notes · View notes
peggyao3 · 2 months ago
Text
Relic - Pt. 10 "Fettered Flesh"
Tumblr media
PAIRING: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Unnamed Ambiguous FMC
SUMMARY: ✧ Dreams are messages from the deep ✧
A woman from the unknown comes to Feyd in his dreams and his nights become his days as he flees to the dreamscape to escape the nightmares that haunt his waking hours.
TAGS: 18+, smut, she/her AFAB FMC, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, oral sex, Porn with Plot, Feyd-Rautha's black cum and big cock, Praise Kink, Body Worship, angst/hurt and comfort, drama, fluff, Frank Herbert would frown, some politics, implied/referenced (child) abuse❗, Trauma, mentions of suicidal thoughts❗, Healing, Strangers to Lovers, falling in love, Vulnerable/Emotional/Possessive Feyd, Feyd is a sweet baby who did nothing wrong and I WILL pamper him, nurture not nature, Stockholm Syndrome but in a consensual way, lucid dreaming, implied/referenced cannibalism❗, Murder, Female rage, Teaching the Universe about Feminism, Angst with a Happy Ending
WORD COUNT: 5k
A/N: HELLO PRECIOUS PEOPLE 💕 Shit hits the Giedi Prime fan, so get out your umbrellas!! I feel like with every chapter I'm getting more excited 🥹 And everyone who has left a comment is to blame 😭 I appreciate it so greatly 😭 I've recently started an internship thingy (in a manner of baby's first real job experience lmao), so I have a bit less time to write, but chapter 11 and 12 are finished already, so I do have a bit of food in stock 💪
Reposted from my Ao3 💕| Masterlist | Relic Masterlist
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
← Previous Chapter, Next Chapter →
Tumblr media
Day 5
Jealousy is a beast, but loneliness is a monster.
Jealousy ignites with fiery tendrils but loneliness drowns you slowly until you're staring up from the bottom of the pitch black sea, yearning for the light.
All day she's been mulling over the three woman-creatures, Feyd's "pets". What is it that infuriates her the most? The physical violence? The fear of what they might have done to her - Death, torture or worse? Their derogatory status? Their beastliness grafted into female bodies, paired with the fact that Feyd has been bedding them at some point?
Without thinking about it, and perhaps it is tactless, she has been pouring her heart out to Lilia while the attentive handmaid is treating her scabbed injuries from last night. Now it is evident that wound management is a well-needed skill around the Harkonnen palace. The sarcophagus is safely folded up and her new weapon is tucked into one of the compartments.
"Am I overreacting?!" She asks, even though - hell no - she knows she isn't, but a part of her soul yearns for human connection, affirmation, camaraderie, friendship. It feels so good to be talking to someone who is not the man she thought she knew or the belittling Bene Gesserit sisters.
"Hmm," Lilia begins tentatively and the glowglobe light brings out the unusual color of her eyes as she tilts her head, so amber that they almost appear golden. "While I'll say it's never been common for the na-Baron to practice monogamy… I'll also say that I'd be quite furious at my husband if he had three women on the side." Her voice quivers upon women, as if it repels her to describe the three beings as such. The spider in the Baron's throne room may be the most harmless monster to roam these halls.
The engineer's questions chip away and it becomes perfectly clear that it's the jealousy that cuts the deepest, even with her superficial wounds cared for, a blade is wedged inside her guts that will keep on cutting.
"And do these 'pets' have handmaids too?" A self-destructive question to determine where her own status truly lies. What's a bride but another pet to him?
"They used to have handmaids…" Lilia hesitates. "But they always ended up eating them. I'm glad to be assigned to you, my Lady."
Great. There she has another horror to add to the menagerie.
Lilia continues: "If it calms you, I doubt there will be any further incidences with them. The na-Baron has been in an, uhm, unstable mood since last night." The maid's posture turns rigid. She shouldn't be speaking about the na-Baron like that, but the Earth woman's emotions are contagious. Lilia will get herself killed if she's not careful. She's been telling that to herself since she was a little girl.
"Unstable, uh-huh, well so am I."
The Harkonnen woman nods and decides it is best not to elaborate on what it means when Feyd-Rautha is having the worst day of his life.
Tumblr media
Vladimir Harkonnen chuckles with delight at his nephew's distress and the infantile killing spree that has been painting the halls black since last night.
It took even less time than he expected, for the new woman to be disgusted by his poor nephew and he cannot hold it against her. Feyd-Rautha is a raging child in an unfortunately manly body. 
The Baron is well-entertained by the hollow screams that blare down the hallways. First the three harpies. A shame, they had helped keep Feyd settled so nicely and they hadn't been cheap either. It's also a shame that the Bene Tleilax don't offer bulk discount, considering the number of Gholas the Baron saw himself forced to commission for the little game his nephew and he have been playing.
Next on Feyd's blade was the guard at his little witch's door, then anyone who crossed his path in the night, all the while Feyd was chafing with desire to be cut and hurt. But no one outside of the ring is allowed to raise their blades against the Baron's heir apparent, unless instructed by the Harkonnen sovereign himself.
Some fire has returned to his nephew since the woman's arrival and he appreciates that, yes, he does, but he will keep a sharp eye on the two of them. He has no doubt that she's a Bene Gesserit agent who has implanted phantasms in Feyd-Rautha's mind, but Vladimir is willing to play the sisterhood's game, for his nephew's sake, even though he had sworn to never let a witch enter his fortress again. 
Not since Lady Margot Fenring had tried to steal his lovely boy's precious seed. Luckily, Feyd's blade had worked quicker than the thief's vocal chords.
But Valdimir is willing to adapt. The boy had been boring him to death for the past two years and he used to be so entertaining and feisty!
In the evening hours after a night and day of bloodshed, Feyd still has stamina (a trait the Baron cherishes so dearly about his nephew) and comes barging into the guarded dining room, bringing with him the cloying scent of blood that sticks to the tacky soles of his boots. He wears the clothes of yesterday and blood lust in his eyes.
Careful now.
Vladimir gives no sign to the guards, chews without haste and takes a noisy gulp of wine, making sure a bead rolls down the folds of his massive neck. The muscle at his nephew's jaw twitches and his fingers strangulate the blood-slick handle of his blade.
The eight arm-legged arachnid creature shivers in its basket under the table, eager to get to Feyd, partly because his boots smell yummy, but it doesn't dare move away from the Baron's feed. Smart thing.
"Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault that she doesn't like you, boy."
Feyd halts as if struck by one of the bolts of infrared lightning that cook the atmosphere during the summer months. Tension strains his neck, a bull ready to charge at his Matador and for a second the Baron thinks he'll have to switch on his shield ring. But his nephew turns and barges off with bouncing, stomping steps, draining his stamina and wetting his knives on everything that breathes, when the only one he really wants to kill sits fat and mighty on his throne. 
It's almost cute, Vladimir thinks. The boy could kill him so easily now, if he really put his cunning, little mind to it. He's strong enough, smart enough, but his spirit - that's the crux. Feyd's spirit is broken and riddled with fear of the punishments. The last time he tried was at 17 and then never again.
Ah-h-h, yes, the Baron has conditioned him well and he considers it his retirement plan. Age hasn't left the Harkonnen sovereign unscathed and while his mind may still be sharp (or else how would he have come up with such a genius plan!), his morbidly obese body fully relies on the protection of his shield ring, guards, lung machine and poison snoopers. But as long as the boy still fears him, the deadliest threat within these halls remains on a pretty, silver leash.
Tumblr media
The fire of jealousy has dwindled down and now all she does is miss him, sitting lonely in her room, lonely on this planet, lonely in the universe with only inanimate objects and the virtual messages and images of dead people to keep her company. None of this can ever compare to the warm hands of her beloved and his smile, the roundness of his cheeks and his painted teeth. She misses the way his eyes used to crinkle just for her. He had made her believe that only she could make him smile and offer a sliver of peace to his soul.
It's been two years since their last dream. Why wouldn't he have taken other women?
He said he "hasn't touched them". Since when? Since he learned she's alive? Since their first dreams? Ever?
She regrets now that she denied him when he knocked on her door an hour ago. The bitter guilt of disgracing oneself crawls over her when she slowly moves towards the door, but her self-respect has cauterized and become cinders along with her fury. Feeling sick to her stomach, she places her hand on the panel and the heavy door slides open.
Finding herself face to back with a guard in bulky plate armor, she halts. She wouldn't know where exactly to find Feyd's room anyway. The man turns on his heels and salutes briskly before returning his hand to the hilt of his saber.
"Good evening. Ah, wait, are you… New?" She blurts out, not meaning to seem disrespectful. The Harkonnens often do look quite alike to her, but she could have sworn the old guard was a little shorter.
"Yes, my Lady." The man looks right above the crown of her head, avoiding her eyes.
"What happened to the other guard?"
"He was replaced, my Lady."
That does make sense and she's almost a little relieved. She wouldn't want anyone who'd let these bloodthirsty creatures inside to guard her and her most valuable possession. However, she still hopes this incident won't ruin his chances of employment indefinitely.
"I see." She glances cautiously down the austere corridor. Past the windows, there is only blackness and the occasional faraway rumble from the factories. "Do you have to stand here all night? Your feet must be hurting. What about a chair?"
"I'm not allowed such luxuries."
"Says who? You can't excel at your job while being overworked and your feet are aching in those boots." 
The man wonders if the na-Baron's Lady wishes to insult or test him. "I am at full capacity, my Lady!" He salutes again. "I have no complaints about my boots."
"Fine, alright. Could you please point me the way to Feyd's room then? I want to see him. No need to accompany me, I'm sure I'll find it, just make sure no one enters my room, please?"
"Sorry!" The man extends his arm to the side, stopping her advance around him without laying a finger on the Lady. "The na-Baron has ordered this door to be sealed unless he or your handmaid demand entrance."
"Well I don't demand entrance, I want to exit. I want to see Feyd."
The guard grows queasy. That scenario was not included in his instructions. To be fair, the briefing for his new position can be considered rudimental at best but he didn't complain. Up here has been the safest spot in the palace tonight. "The na-Baron doesn't welcome visitors in his private quarters."
"But I'm his…" She swallows uncomfortably. "Betrothed, or am I not?"
"You are, my Lady."
"So, couldn't you perhaps call him?"
The poor guard's expression says 'I'd rather not'. The na-Baron has only just settled, finally, and even the dumbest desert rat knows not to wake a sleeping tiger. All evening long he's been wondering how many of his comrades will be dead come the morning and he doesn't want to be the next one to become fodder for the slaves' food rations. "I'm sorry, my Lady. It is against the protocol to disturb the na-Baron at night unless there is an emergency. Is there an emergency?"
"No…" The woman's expression twists into defeat and she pads backwards with slackened shoulders and somber eyes. "I'm sorry to have bothered you."
The door slides shut and she is too sad to even be angry about her gentle imprisonment. There's nothing out there for her anyway, except for Feyd, and if he doesn't want to see her…
Self-destructive thoughts sprout from the cinders in her chest and grow into the wildest phantasms. The guard was too kind to tell her Feyd has visitors in his room. Perhaps he explicitly decreed that she is not to join him.
To prevent herself from hurtling into a bottomless spiral, she must find a distraction. Nearly choking on bitter tears, she opens up the virtual app drawer that she's most familiar with and selects the 3d-modeling tool. A nice, little task to keep her thoughts from straying is exactly what she needs, and so she settles down on the bed and begins to design a practical, foldable, printable chair for her guard, thoughtfully optimizing stability and the required resources.
The engineer doesn't notice when her tears dry, but they do.
Day 6
She sleeps awfully that night, despite the chip's helpful sleeping program consisting of gentle rain and soothing frequencies. It can't have been much longer than two hours when she is awoken by a knock on the door, followed by another, more insistent one a moment later.
The 3d-modeling interface still overlays reality when her eyes snap open and her sluggish brain activity requires a moment to shut it down. She was almost finished with the printable chair parts last night, but she must have dozed off eventually. 
The knocking persists and she calls: "Lilia?"
A pause. "It's me." An unmistakable, deep and raspy voice comes muffled from the other side. Feyd-Rautha, freshly showered and dressed in a clean, casual suit, leans his forehead against the cool, thick plastic, breathing hard and fast so that his respiration condenses on the door. Waiting, he pleads silently for mercy. He cannot do this anymore, doesn't want to kill anymore just to feel something other than fear.
She freezes, legs half swung off the mattress as anxiety twists her belly. All of her jealousy comes crashing back and a little demon whispers poison in her ear: Go back to your hyenas and toy around with them, not me!
When silence is the answer to Feyd's timid greeting, his stomach drops as if filled with lead. Blood pounds in his ears like the war drums on his birthdays and his breath becomes shallow, so that he no longer even hears the guard's antsy shuffling. What will he do if she never forgives him? 
A harrowing need for violence flashes through him cold and dark and his twitching hand jerks for the blade at his hip but the door rushes open before he can brandish it and his woman faces him with crossed arms, her face puffy from sleep but her eyes are wide and vulnerable.
She beckons him to enter and he follows, eyes racing to the crowns of thorns in the vase, the sarcophagus, the ruffled bed, everything the way it was. How does she deal with pain?!
"Hello," Feyd mumbles, voice reduced to a tiny, grated whisper.
"Hello."
"Can we… talk?"
The relic nods and waits, clammy fingers clutching her sleeves. But then Feyd says… nothing. His eyes are focused on an imaginary point somewhere behind her navel and his jaws strain as if chewing a brick.
So, she begins: "I'm sorry, but I was very upset." She paces, shoulders drawn up. "I know that customs are different around here, I mean, they obviously are," she guffaws quietly and shakes her head. "But where I'm from, it requires consent to have more than one partner and I never gave you that consent. I've never given my consent to anything that's happened to me since I woke up! And then I found out you're alive and I can be with you and I really believed everything would finally be better, but you-" Her voice hiccups. "I'm very upset, okay?" Her lips twist and she lifts a hand to her mouth, sobbing quietly into her palm. "You're so different in real life."
Feyd's frozen limbs regain their agility and he jumps to her side as she tries to turn away, a swift predator despite his anguish. He clutches her by the arms. "Wait! Remind me. H-How was I in our dreams?" 
"I- I don't know, you looked happy." Her arms burn where he's holding onto her with his broad palms and long fingers. "And you were kind."
"Have I not been kind to you?"
"To me, yes. But being kind only to me is not enough." She shakes her head bitterly.
"What do you want me to do?" 
"Be honest with me. Who are these three?! They said you don't play with them anymore like you used to, and they hurt me, Feyd!" She writhes out of his clenched fists and he lets her because when her fingers skim his wrists, all his muscles go weak. She yanks up her shirt, showing off the healing gash on her waist.
Feyd wants to kill his darlings all over again and his sinful mouth twists into anger. "They used to be my pets. Pleasure slaves, if you will. Just some meaningless toys, nothing more, I swear it to you."
"Pleasure slaves!" She blurts out, shaking her head. At least he's being honest but - what the fuck?! "You-" Stumbling over her own words, she backs away from him with disgust. "Who are you? Who the fuck are you?"
More violence waits on her tongue. Does he respect anyone other than himself?
"You know me! You know who I am, where are you going?!" Doesn't she know she knows more about him than anyone else?
"I don't know shit about you!" She yells. "Where were you last night?"
"What?" All color is drained from his face. How could she know?
"Were you with them because I couldn't perform the way you wanted the other day?"
"What are you talking about?!" Feyd tries to grasp her by the arms once more but she twists away. If anything, he is at blame for being unable to make his woman comfortable enough to reach her release. What a pitiful good-for-nothing he is, pathetic down to the last, rotting cell. "I haven't touched my pets since I met you and that's the truth!"
"Oh, yeah? Then why was I not allowed to see you at night?" 
"What makes you say that?" 
"I tried to come to you last night, but the guard at my door said I'm supposed to stay in this room! So, were you with them?!"
Feyd stops his advance and an incredulous shimmer glazes over his blinking eyes. He could have held her last night, against his hurting heart. A dizzying lightness befalls his chest and sorrow becomes anger and anger wings his footsteps when he turns to the door, grinning, then giggling. Feyd slams his veined hand against the panel so hard, the screen cracks and inky blood slips down the valleys of his palm.
"Feyd? Feyd! What are you-"
The baffled guard faces the snickering na-Baron behind the opening door, last night's tiger resurrected like a Ghola for one last kill. A stammered 'my Lord' on diddering lips. Feyd-Rautha looks as bestial as his hyenas with prowling steps and rolling shoulders, searing eyes locked on his unmoving prey.
"You told my woman she couldn't see me last night? S'that right?" A slip of pink peeks out of the ghastly frame of black, gnashing teeth.
"My Lord, I beg your mercy, I didn't wish to distur-"
Metal flashes. The relic screams as the length of Feyd-Rautha's blade carves into the guard's pallid neck, Adam's apple bulging and sitting on the knife like a popped, black cherry. Blood sputters around Feyd's clenched fingers and laughter has faded from his lungs at once. He digs deeper as the guard draws in gurgling breaths, bubbles of air swimming in the blood around the metal.
The relic freezes like a mouse, glued to the spot as if she might turn invisible to the cold eyes of the beast who wears her lover's clothes. He looks nothing like Feyd-Rautha now, his features empty and alien with eyes that don't feel and hands unfazed by the death that stains them in thick, inky streams that roll down his victim's neck. 
This is how the universe sees him.
Feyd's blade slashes sideways, spraying a half moon of blood across the corridor and when the guard stumbles, he falls back into the na-Baron's knife, adding a vertical gash to the horizontal one, tip sinking into the flesh under his jaws, and with a jerk - up into his tongue.
The man grunts, still clinging to his life by a thread, and lurches forwards without drawing his sword. His head falls on Feyd-Rautha's shoulder. Feet shuffle in a grotesque waltz and Feyd's bloody fingers slip around the taller man's neck, holding him there while his blade plunges into his belly between armor plates so deftly, he could find all the weak spots blindfolded. The body slackens, weighing down on Feyd-Rautha whose ichor dripping fingers aren't ready to let go.
Shuk! Shuk! 
Is the sound of his blade sinking into soft flesh and viscera, whipping back out with a spray of blood and entrails.
The Bene Gesserit may have proclaimed her human, but the adrenaline that sets her nerves ablaze is a gift from her ancestors, animals, because that's what humans are at the end or the day when facing a bigger predator.
Fwump.
Feyd looks her way, the dead body dropped, and blood covers his hand like a shiny glove of ink, dripping down the blade tip in a drizzling stream. The light catches on the sharp edges of his alabaster skull and all she sees is a new, terrifying breed of human, birthed by a world of poison and decay. There are millennia between them. They may share the same DNA but that doesn't mean he is not an alien to her. 
In the end, the man from her dreams is not the man of her dreams.
Out the door? - Blocked! Death!
Off the balcony?! - Death!
To the Sarcophagus then. To her gun.
She turns and sprints, feet skidding over the shards of her rose-colored glasses, but Feyd pounces, a beast hungry for carnage, and catches her around the waist, hurling her backwards with the strength of three men. His blade clatters to the ground.
"No, wait. No. NO! NO! You can't go," he howls. "You cannot leave me!"
Wailing, she thrashes in his grasp and slams her elbow into his guts, her foot against his shin, then his crotch and the soft flesh there is squashed by her heel. When his hold slackens, she twists away and bolts, bare toes slipping across icy marble, but blood-smeared fingers find her shoulder, tearing on the fabric. She throws herself away from him so hard, the seam starts coming apart, so his other hand flies to her throat, steel-hard fingers curling around clammy flesh, yanking her around and against the wall.
She can't be looking at him like that, like he's the devil. Like he looks at his uncle.
Desperately, his lips search for hers but she jerks her head to the side, bites, scratches, nails burrowing into his throat. No is the word that Feyd-Rautha raps out between violent kisses that seek her pulse point with his tongue and teeth, no, she can't ever leave him, no, not ever, even if she hates him like everyone else. Her fear poisons the sweat on her neck and her nails don't egg him on, they hurt. He takes a knee to the guts and his lungs pop open for a harrowed cry.
Pain used to be pleasure but everything hurts, she doesn't love him anymore. One more meek and quiet final 'no' as he abandons the assault on her neck and his slackened arms wrap around her middle, hiding his face from rejection in her shoulder's soft flesh. Tears drip hotly, finally. All day and all night he's been waiting for the cathartic downpour, but not even the most pitiful plea could rouse a sliver of empathy in the hollow of his chest. Now he bawls like a baby forgotten in its crib and his blood-soaked hands seek purchase at the back of her shirt.
The woman grows still, nails still wedged inside the bloody crescent indents in his neck. Her lungs ache when she draws a trembling breath and Feyd-Rautha's hard, heavy chest moves with her, no more fight left in him. Quietly, she cries with him and curls her arms around his round shoulders, holding him there as he clings to her like an abandoned child and sheds tears for all the hurt and all the fear.
The man of her dreams is still there, somewhere, under the alien shell, vulnerable, weeping.
"You hate me, don't you?" A broken sob.
Looking over his head, the dead guard's viscera glitters darkly on the hallway and she is surprised to realize that even now, she doesn't hate him.
Feyd continues: "This is why I never wanted you to know who I am. I am awful."
"You're not awful," she whispers, fingers slipping around the back of his head, nails rimmed darkly by Feyd's blood.
"I have to be awful. I was born to be awful." 
"That's not true…" He was groomed to be awful.
But Feyd isn't finished. In a fashion of now or never, confessions spill out of him like poison rain. "I killed my mother when I was four. I don't remember why. I killed my pets. I kill men for sport. I kill people for fun. I kill because it's the only thing I can do. Yesterday, I-" His voice breaks. "I killed anyone I could find and no one fought back. I lo-o-ost count."
A full glass can't get any fuller when pouring more water, so shock and disgust are lost to the acceptance that has smoothed over the crescendo. They're just information to be added into a folder in her head. Feyd killed his mother. Feyd kills people for fun. Still, she holds him, fingers sliding up and down the back of his head as his shaky sobbing turns breathless and ugly.
"Okay," she whispers and rests her cheek on his head, exhaling softly so her warm breath fans his scalp. "For fun?"
"Ye-e-es."
"So, you had fun last night when you-" She swallows. "Killed?"
"No."
She lets out a thoughtful hum and Feyd's grip on the small of her back tightens. Still, he doesn't dare look at her and tears and snot have soaked her shirt. With her emotions currently defective, her ability for logic is still sharp, and so she concludes, it does all make sense.
Her poor Feyd, a current had pulled him under when he was barely a child and then layer after layer, he has been building his armor so as not to drown in the maelstrom of abuse. With every kill, a little boy has been screaming for help in an empty room.
Soft lips press a kiss to the crown of his head and Feyd's breath trembles in her hold, a beast tamed by a loving caress. That's all it takes.
Just because she understands his actions, doesn't mean she endorses them.
"Will you still be my wife?"
"I haven't decided yet." Another kiss so gentle, it taunts the corpses stacked up in the processing hall.
"So, we're no longer engaged?" 
"I don't think we ever were, not to me. But that doesn't mean I don't love you."
Dizzily, Feyd-Rautha raises himself. If not for the fingers twisted into his woman's shirt, he might just topple back into the spinning vortex at whose edge he is teetering now, one foot in heartbreak, the other in salvation. Blue eyes crack open, rimmed with dark blood vessels. She doesn't flinch, doesn't bolt, only her hands slide to the front of his suit and slip under the lapels, thumb rubbing where his heart hammers.
Feyd sees the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks and the shadow of horror tucked away in the corners of her eyes in a way that is all too familiar to him. More than anything, he wants to delete the images from her head and close the door, kick the blade under the bed, pretend it never happened. He tried to do everything right, got her flowers, hid her away in her own room away from state matters, made love to her with all his heart, but at the end of the day he is still who he is when he can't hide within a dream and it'll never be enough.
"Feyd, is… Is Lilia okay?"
"Yes, she is," comes the earnest reply and she exhales shakily, head sinking against Feyd's chest, arms sliding around his waist beneath the suit where his skin is burning hot.
"Thank God." Her voice warbles, the only warning before her knees give out and every other muscle along with them. The pair sink to the cold, hard ground.  "I just want to go home," she sobs and crawls in her beloved's lap which is still the only place in the cold, hard universe that soothes her soul.
Not her sarcophagus, although it is tempting to freeze herself up again and sleep forever. No, it is still him. A new home, not what she had imagined, but a home.
"Me too," Feyd sighs and squishes his cheek against the top of her head, closing his eyes to envision the bedroom of their shared dream, blue pillows, a white bed, a softly rustling fern in a terracotta pot, her in his arms. Home.
How easy it would be to demand of him: 'If you kill one more innocent, I will leave you!' But she might just kill more than she saves that way, and maybe him too, and maybe herself.
"Feyd, can you-" She sniffles. "If you get angry again, please never hurt Lilia. And whoever the new guard will be, don’t hurt him either. Can you do that for me please?"
"I promise." He squeezes her tight, eyes screwed up so tightly that he sees only dizzying stars. "I love you. I'm sorry."
She cannot fix the whole world, but she can start where she can see. It's not a solution, but a sapling, and a sapling can grow.
Mother Father How did I end up here, stone bound? All I feel ist the striking distance to the clouds My flesh is fettered on the skin of the soil But even so I almost reach the sparks in the void Sailing through the vacuum, am I drowned or alive?
- Cepheus by Fewjar
Tumblr media
A/N: Okay, I promise promise this was the angstiest chapter, we're climbing uphill from here!! 🥺🥺🥺 Hand over your guesses, what do you think will happen from here? 😌💕 Thank you so much for all of your time!
TAG LIST:
@nostalgichoya, @forgedfromthestars, @sweetiee-o, @missbingu, @minedofmoria
@sebastianswallows, @charmingballoon, @flower-frog, @welliah, @aoi-targaryen
@coastalcowgirl35, @esolean, @szapizzapanda, @tatertooted
88 notes · View notes
scoonsalicious · 9 months ago
Text
Tumblr media
Unwanted: Chapter 1, Unarmed - Pt. 2
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader
Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.
Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Mild language, Bucky and Reader being Tolkien nerds, light fluff, mention of rabies (it's a super scary disease and we should all be vigilant, okay?!)
Word Count: 1.6k
Previously On...: You just had the pleasure of meeting the very handsome Bucky Barnes. Despite a little bit of awkwardness during your first encounter, you have a feeling your life is about to get a lot more interesting now that he's been introduced into it.
A/N: You know what? I said I wasn't going to do this, but I thought "fuck it!" and decided to post all of Chapter 1: Unarmed. My anxiety is too high to just sit on it. So, please enjoy Ch1. Pt2! Pts 3 & 4 to follow!
Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917
Taglist: (Please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @blackhawkfanatic
The next evening, you were making your way back to your suite after a productive, albeit exhausting, day in your lab. You were working on a crisis prediction real-time monitoring system to anticipate global threats. You were convinced it would allow the Avengers to respond to trouble faster, but perfecting the privacy algorithm had been an absolute pain in the ass, and you still hadn't gotten it quite right. Technically, you could have farmed the project off to a subordinate; hell, even a team of subordinates of a subordinate, but this was one of your pet projects and you insisted on being hands-on in its development.
You had your tablet open as you walked, chewing on your thumb and reviewing the dataset from the run of your latest algorithm model one more time. Closer, but not good enough. If you were going to convince Tony that this was a program worth implementing, especially at its projected cost, everything had to be perfect. "Damn it," you muttered to yourself.
You rounded the corner and ran smack into Bucky's chest, dropping your tablet and causing him to drop the three books he'd been holding under his remaining arm. "Oh, shit-- I'm so sorry," you uttered as you bent down to retrieve the dropped items. Bucky leaned down to assist you, but you waved him off.
"’S my fault; I've got it," you told him, piling up his books for him. "I wasn't paying attention to where I was going. I didn't hurt you, did I?"
Bucky leaned up against the wall and chuckled while you stood up and handed the books back to him. "I doubt you could hurt me," he said, smiling softly. "No offense."
You let out a small laugh. "None taken." He was a super soldier, after all. Stealing a glance at book spines, you couldn't suppress the smile that crossed your face. "Lord of the Rings," you nodded appreciatively. "Have you read them before?"
Bucky looked down at the books tucked under his arm. "No, first time. I read The Hobbit back when it was first published in '37, but these didn't come out until after..." he trailed off, but you knew what he meant. After he'd been abducted and brainwashed, turned into a murderer.
You nodded in understanding. "I'm actually really excited for you," you told him. "What I wouldn't give to be able to read them again for the first time."
"You a Tolkien fan, then?" he asked you. When you nodded, he continued: "When I finish them, maybe we can talk about them sometime? Steve's not really into fantasy."
"Yeah, I'd like that," you said. "If you're interested, we could watch the movies. I'll warn you though; they're long as hell, but their masterpieces. I mean, they didn't need to turn The Hobbit into three separate films, but still, they'll blow your fucking mind."
Bucky ran his tongue over his lower lip and you couldn't help but follow the motion with your eyes. "That sounds like fun," he said, his eyes twinkling with... something. "Your place or mine?" Was he… flirting with you?
"How 'bout you finish the books first, then we'll talk logistics," you teased. "Hey, speaking of, what floor did they end up putting you on?"
"Um, this one, actually," he said, tilting his head toward a nearby door.
"No shit," you remarked, laughingly. "You must have done something to piss Rogers off, because he put you right across the hall from me."
Bucky looked down, scuffing the toe of his boot against the carpeting. "He said it was the quietest floor, thought I'd prefer that."
You pursed your lips, considering. "Yeah, that makes sense; it's just been me on this level for ages. It'll be nice to have some company for a change."
Bucky looked surprised. "Stark's kept you down here all by your lonesome? That doesn't seem very nice."
You shook your head and dismissed his concern with a wave. "Oh, no-- Tony hates that I still live down here, actually. He put in all new living quarters a few years back. Everyone migrated upstairs, but I was the only one who didn't want to move."
"Why's that?" Bucky asked, appearing genuinely interested.
"I've lived here since I graduated college," you admitted, "back when it was still just Stark Tower. When Tony relocated here from Malibu to rebrand it for the Avengers, he wanted to redo everything, which meant fancy new suites for everybody. But I love my rooms, so I asked to stay put. They've been my home for so long now and I guess I just like the stability, you know?"
Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "And Tony thinks highly enough of you that he let the blow to his ego slide?"
You raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I have enough dirt on him that he felt like he didn't have much of a choice." You snorted, not able to keep up the pretense. "No, but seriously, I know you and Tony have a complicated... history, but he's not a bad guy. Ego as tall as this Tower, yes, definitely, but he's also incredibly kind and generous. He paid for my entire college education-- undergrad, post-grad, doctorate. I owe everything I have to him."
Bucky shifted against the wall. "That is pretty generous. And he never expected anything from you in return?" He didn't say the words out loud, but the implication was there. Had you slept with Tony in exchange for your diplomas? The innuendo should have bothered you, but it had been posed to you so many times over the years, you'd stopped being offended by it. Before Pepper, Tony had had quite the  reputation, after all, and an MIT education didn’t exactly come cheap. Most people couldn’t understand why he would offer a full ride to someone who, at the time, had been a complete stranger.
"Tony appreciates talent," you clarified. "When he finds it, he cultivates it, nourishes it, does everything he can to help it grow to its fullest potential. But he does like to get a return on his investments, and my skills have helped him make a lot of money." You shrugged your shoulders with a chuckle. "I love my job, I love the work we do, I love the stupid weirdo family we've built here, so I've always considered meeting Tony to be the best thing that ever happened to me. He's kind of like my own fairy godfather."
"So, what exactly does he have you do around here?" Bucky asked. "I know Steve said you did computer stuff, but you said it was an over-simplification."
You ran a hand up to rub the back of your neck while you considered your answer. How best to explain your position to someone who was born before the invention of the television? "Okay," you exhaled, "so, short answer is that I'm the CTO, the Chief Technology Officer, of Stark Industries and, under that, I run the Avenger’s Technology and Innovation Department. It's sort of our take on Research and Development. I've got a lab where I'm in charge of about 450 scientists, engineers, computer programmers, analysts, et. cetera. And our entire job is coming up with cool new ways of making things easier for the Avengers. Like, new features for suits, developing useful programs, coming up with new defenses and weapons, that kind of thing. And if we've got missions that require heavy computer- or tech-work, I come along for on-site support. I'm combat-trained and good with languages, so that comes in handy in the field. There’s probably a ton of field agents that could go in my place, but for Tony, it’s a matter of trust."
Bucky let out a low, appreciative whistle. "Damn. That's impressive. You're a little intimidating, you know that?"
Laughing, you tucked your tablet under your arm. "Please. I'm about as intimidating as a hamster." You paused to think. "Maybe a hamster with rabies, but still a hamster."
A series of beeps emanated from your tablet. As you pulled it out to check the alert, Bucky moved away from the wall. "I'm so sorry-- you were heading back to your room and I've basically been holding you hostage this entire time."
"Actually," you said, silencing the notification alarm that had distracted you, "That was just a reminder I set for myself to eat. Sometimes I lose track of time in the lab and completely forget to have dinner. Are you hungry? You could join me."
Bucky pulled his head back, regarding you as though he wasn't sure if you were serious.
"Or, if you don't want to, that's cool," you said quickly once you noticed his hesitation. "I mean, you wanted a quiet floor. Annoying neighbor is probably the last--"
"I'd love to," interrupted Bucky with a grin. "I'm just surprised someone like you would want to spend time with someone like me."
"Someone like me? Hey now, for all you know, I could be an absolute trash person," you teased, playfully punching him on the shoulder.
Bucky chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a newfound warmth. "Well, I highly doubt that, but I guess I'll find out soon enough."
"Don't say I didn't warn you when you do." You cocked your head toward the door to your room. "I'm going to change out of my work clothes. While I do, how about you decide what you're in the mood for, and we'll go from there. That sound good?" Bucky nodded as you let yourself into your room. The evening had taken an unexpected turn, but you found you were looking forward to spending more time in the company of Bucky Barnes.
<- Previous Part / Next Part ->
194 notes · View notes