#the entire premise is just me going 'you know what would be fucked up?' and then writing it into the plot
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"Your worth is determined by your sacrifices."
#my art#my ocs#os: the ugly things you say#oc: murphy darrow#oc: astrid godhunter#oc: ambrose winther#blood tw#i keep flipping back and forth between#'im so proud of these designs!!' and 'actually i dont like this outfit/hair still :/'#gonna rattle these three around until i can figure out how i feel about them#at least im happy w their personalities lmao#also like#okay all of my stories are happy/romancey or heavy but with a happy ending yeah?#too much angst makes my hyperempathy wig out so ive spent like 5 years now avoiding depressing stories#but uh#yeah this story popped in my head and it wont leave me alone#the entire premise is just me going 'you know what would be fucked up?' and then writing it into the plot#ig sometimes you just gotta write a tragedy from the POV of 3 irredeemable villains where no one makes it out alive#(or well. the good guys who eventually STOP said villains likely make it out. but not the POV characters)
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hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry!
premise. in which you manage to make neuvillette feel better at the expense of your dignity. (a fair trade, really.)
word count. 1.5k
note. do umbrellas exist at teyvat. i really don't know.
You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to dramatically brood in the rain when he gets sad, but to be fair, you don't know much about him at all.
You clutch onto your umbrella, contemplating. So, uh... Are you supposed to approach him now? Shield him from the rain with your umbrella? That doesn't sound too bad, actually. But then what? Ask him if his pet fish died and now he's mourning his loss? That's hardly appropriate to say to the Chief of Justice... But it would be creepier to just stand there without saying anything, right?
You could leave and pretend you didn't see anything. Of course, that's an option too. It's possible he prefers to be left alone when he's unhappy.
But sulking while standing in the rain just gives “I want someone's attention” vibes, doesn't it?!
With a fit of reckless courage and a “fuck it” mindset, you advance your way forward to where he stands.
Regretting something as soon as you do it is on-brand for you, you realize as you soon come to learn you have to be on the tip of your toes to have the umbrella barely raising over his head instead of hanging from him. You must make a pathetic sight, attempting to shield both yourself and this hulking tower of a man from the rain with a tiny umbrella.
“...What are you doing?” Neuvillette turns around, taken aback when you're in much closer proximity than he expected. Panic flares in his eyes, and like the gentleman that he is, he steps back to create some distance. His head presses against the edge of the umbrella.
“Hey, you shouldn't move away!” You follow his movements, closing the gap. His head is now safely within the umbrella's reach, but you're an inch away from being pressed up against his chest. “I miscalculated. This thing's too small for us.”
When the initial shock wears off, his shoulders slump, a sign of him lowering his guard. “If you know that much, you should use it for yourself and go home.”
That doesn't sound like a bad idea. Appealing, even. You've never felt so silly in your entire life and the option to run away is looking more enticing with each second that ticks by.
Still.
“It's dangerous to walk alone at this hour. Won't you accompany me, sir?”
...Not the best excuse you could've come up with, but your mouth runs faster than your brain. Neuvillette, being the considerate person he is, actually takes some time to think about it, and you hurry to say, “If you leave me alone now, you could have another disappearance case in your hands tomorrow. Would you really like more work on your desk rather than some company tonight?”
He gives you a long, suffering stare that looks suspiciously like the one he gives to Lady Furina when she disappoints him, but he doesn't say no. His hand wraps around the umbrella handle, overlapping with your fingers. It takes another two seconds of that stare before you get the message and you let go, finally able to rest the balls of your feet on the ground as you stand on normal footing.
“I hope you don't make a hobby of coercion,” he hums as you walk together, your shoulders brushing every so often. “Or else I'd see you as a criminal suspect tomorrow instead of a victim.”
“I see that jokes aren't your strong suit, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You laugh awkwardly, your nervousness spiking to an all-time high throughout your entire interaction with him. It's been barely ten minutes.
Silence ensues.
“Do you like showers, sir?”
You should've just kept your mouth shut, damn it.
“I like them the same amount as the average person, I suppose.” The ridiculous question doesn't phase him, and you don't know how he's able to keep a straight face while saying that.
You decide to push your luck. “...Do you prefer bathing with cold or hot water?”
Finally, you draw out a light chuckle from him, the sound deep and pleased. It almost makes playing the fool worth it. “I've been told I'm not the best with small talk, but you seem to be worse than I am.”
Your head snaps up to look at him, affronted. “It wasn't a bad question!”
“Certainly not as bad as talking about the weather. Do you want me to praise you?”
Was the Chief Justice always this sassy? “You're making fun of me,” you point out the obvious, turning away and crossing your arms. “I asked about showers because you were standing in the rain.”
“You thought I liked showers because I was in the rain?”
“Well, I didn't know for sure. That's why I asked.” Even you can tell you're sounding more and more ridiculous by the minute. Was your house always this far? You can't wait to dive to your bed and pretend this encounter never happened. “I think I'll just shut up now.”
“Really, now?”
“Every time I open my mouth around you, I embarrass myself further. I think it's for the best.”
You hear another chuckle as heat crawls up to your cheeks, spreading to your ears. “For what it's worth, you did put me out of my terrible mood. You're quite funny.”
“That's a nice way to say you think I'm being strange.” You hide your face with your hands, peeking at Neuvillette's expression between your fingers. Bathed in the silvery moonlight, he looks straight out of a painting, even with wet hair and drenched clothes.
You've never seen him up close, never even dreamed of standing next to him. Now, you're exchanging jabs at each other like it's the most normal thing in the world, like you weren't just thinking he was someone out of reach when you watched his court trial in amazement. Now, he's so close that you can almost feel the heat from his body, so much more tangible than just a figure you admired from afar.
“But I do have your strangeness to thank,” he admits, looking off into the distance. The stars shine bright in his eyes. “Had it not been for you squeezing me under your umbrella and forcing me to walk you home, I'd surely still be under the rain.”
“...Couldn't you have phrased that better?”
“In court, I only state facts.”
You laugh dryly. “You could spare me some dignity by embellishing the story a bit... Oh, we're here.” You were so occupied defending yourself from his witty comments that you didn't realize you had already arrived home until your door was right at your face. You glance at Neuvillette, who then nods towards the door. If he's disappointed to have the stroll cut short, he doesn't show it.
“Go in. It is rather late.” He closes the umbrella and offers it back to you, a gentle smile on his face. The sight is almost like a reward for your efforts; the small upturn of the corners of his lips makes all the difference, his sharp, cold gaze softening into something more affectionate. The rainbow after the storm. The gratitude for a small kindness.
“You have to get home, too,” you utter, pushing it back to him.
“The rain stopped a few minutes ago,” he insists, gesturing behind him. You blink owlishly, observing the still pools of rainwater. You didn't even notice. Why didn't he say so? You didn't have to squeeze together under such a tiny umbrella, then.
“You should still keep it.”
He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive. “Why?”
You unlock your door, stepping inside, but still not closing it shut. “Well, it gives you an incentive to see me again.” You grin at him mischievously, like you thought of a genius plan. “I work at the cafe in the main street. I'm sure we have some tea that will strike your fancy. Make sure you're not moping next time we meet, yeah?”
Not for the first time, he seems taken aback. But his gaze softens once more, his expression molding into something pleased. “Very well.”
And so, he leaves with a small umbrella in his hand, a smile on his lips, and the clear skies over his head.
The next time you see Neuvillette, the sun is high in the sky. Compared to that night, you can see him a little better now.
That's how you notice he looks unusually shy with a bouquet of flowers in his arms and a pink blush high on his cheeks. “...Good afternoon,” he starts, his lips curving to a beginning of a smile. “The weather is great today, isn't it?”
You stare. You stare some more. And when the sight finally processes in your mind, your twinkling laughter rings in the air, as sweet as the aroma of freshly baked muffins. “And who stooped so low to talk about the weather this time, huh?”
Neuvillette can't even pretend to feel bad about it, not when you're jumping off the seat in the counter to show him a table for two. “Your silliness is infectious, it seems.”
“Hey!”
(You've never taken Monsieur Neuvillette as the type to be smart-mouthed, the type to be indulgent to your whims, the type to be romantic towards the person he's interested in—
But now you have all the time in the world to get to know him better.)
#neuvillette x reader#genshin impact#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin x reader#genshin impact scenarios#neuvillette#neuvillette fluff#neuvillette x you#genshin impact x you
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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 11)
*Series taglist is closed.
angst, fluff, smut
Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.
Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.
Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12
General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property (Minors DNI, 18+ content)
Specific Warnings: trauma from past SA (vaguely hinted at this time, not explicit), jealousy, ambiguity around fidelity in hybrid pack dynamics, internalized prejudice (against wolf hybrids), mentions of drugs
____
Namjoon stills, his breath caught in his throat at the sight of Yoongi’s lips on yours. Discomfort has him wriggling in his skin, but he battles the feeling long enough to discreetly retreat—finding the nearest guest room before the two of you can pick up on his presence. The wolf shuts his eyes, trying to gather his thoughts.
This is ridiculous. I shouldn’t be jealous. She doesn’t owe me anything.
But all the rationale in the world can’t shake off the of jealousy. It’s not a strong, world-shattering type of feeling—but it’s there and it irks him nonetheless. He can’t help but feel like an absolute idiot for mistaking your offering of friendship as anything more. Was he the only one feeling a pull?
Of course she doesn’t feel anything for me. She wouldn’t think of a hybrid in that way.
As much as you talk of equality, Namjoon isn’t dumb. It’s one thing to support hybrid equality, but it’s an entirely different matter to see him equal enough to be a romantic option.
How could she ever think that way about someone she has to put a fucking leash on to be seen outside with? It’s impossible.
He doesn’t know why he let himself feel this way in the first place. He’s only known you for a couple of days—not to mention he already has a loving pack. Guilt stiffens his features, not wanting to think of what his pack would say at his pathetic little crush. Would they feel betrayed?
Relationships aren’t exactly as black-and-white as “open” or “closed” in hybrid packs. On one hand, a pack is always “open” to accept new packmates to form strong bonds with; however, their pack hasn’t had a new member in years…so were they “closed” now?
He doesn’t know why he’s thinking so deeply about it—you’re not even a hybrid. There’s no wolf in you for them to form a pack-bond with.
You should be with a human, someone who can actually build a future with you. Someone like Yoongi.
You should be happy with a human like Yoongi, and he should be happy with his amazing pack. It should be this simple. So why isn’t it?
___
“Yoongi…”
His heart beats hard against his ribcage, drumming loud in his ears. He waits patiently as you gather your thoughts, but every millisecond feels like a year. Some part of him hopes you’ll pull him back in for a second kiss, but it’s clear that’s not where your head is. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath until you start talking again.
“Was that…was that because I was teasing you?” Your voice is soft, almost a whisper, but the closeness between your bodies guarantees he hears every word.
Shaking his head, his mouth answers before his mind has any time to think.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”
He doesn’t realize what he’s done until the words spill out.
There’s no going back now.
There’s a moment of regret. You literally gave him an out on a silver platter—just brushing the whole thing off as an answer to your teasing, fueled by wine. But he doesn’t think his response through, and now the entire friendship he’s built with you could easily go down the drain. His heart—which he’s kept guarded for so long—is fully on his sleeve, vulnerable to whatever you decide to do to it.
The confession lingers heavy in the air, sobering any slight buzz out of both of you.
“I’ve liked you for a while. I don’t know when it started…maybe a few months after I was hired? I don’t remember. I just—I like you. A lot. And I know it might be really stupid to say this and ruin what we have,” his voice barely holds it together to get the rest of the sentence out, “but if you tell me you don’t have any feelings for me then I’ll never act on it again, I promise. That’s all I need to know.”
The strain in his voice prompts you to find your own quickly.
“I…I have feelings for you too.”
Yoongi’s shoulders finally fall down, a mix of relief and elation washing over the second your words soak in.
“Thank fucking God” is all he can manage to get out before pulling you into a tight, cathartic hug.
___
Bacon sizzles on the stovetop, edges turning crisp as Jimin watches over. The fresh aroma of Yoongi’s favorite dark roast fills the kitchen, luring the man in as he’s getting ready to go to work. Jimin signals for him to sit, singing an unfamiliar song as he’s plating the bacon next to a stack of pancakes. The surprise on Yoongi’s face is evident, as Jimin hasn’t cooked him breakfast since the morning of the incident. He'll never say it out loud, but the site does endear him.
“You look happier than usual.” The wolf remarks, noticing the smile Yoongi can’t seem to suppress. It’s hard not to smile when all that’s going through his head are your words from yesterday.
“So do you.”
Jimin puffs out his chest in pride, “Because I just finished baking these” he gestures proudly to a tray of freshly baked muffins. They look mouthwatering, and Yoongi’s hand is reaching out before he even realizes it. But the wandering hand is quickly swatted away.
“Hands off. These are exclusively for Taehyung.”
“Not even one?”
Jimin almost gives in at seeing the pout creep on the man’s lips, but regardless, he stays firm, “Nope. This is step one in fixing our relationship. I need every muffin here if I’m going to make it up to him.”
Curiosity takes over Yoongi’s features, wondering what exactly a guy as sweet as Jimin could do to land himself in such hot water.
“You must’ve messed up really bad.”
Jimin shakes his head, sliding over a fixed plate and coffee. “Funnily enough, I still don’t think I did. It’s the drugs that messed up both of our minds.”
“Why are you making it up to him if you don’t think it was your fault?”
“Because love isn’t always about who’s right and who’s wrong. Sometimes you just have to do what you can to make things work.”
The man raises a brow, taken aback at the wise words coming from such a naïve face, which Jimin notices and starts laughing at immediately.
“I sounded so smart, didn’t I?” His eyes shut into happy crescents, “Namjoon hyung says that to us a lot. It sounds a lot cooler coming from him.”
Yoongi shakes his head in amusement, small chuckle leaving from his lips as he digs into the neatly decorated plate in front of him. Not even the mention of Namjoon could throw off his good mood this morning.
___
As much as you want to celebrate your recent developments with Yoongi, the current mood in the car has you (and everyone else) stiff with unease. The cause of said unease is looking out the window, paying no mind as he stares blankly at all the cars passing. It’s not lost on anyone how distant Jungkook is becoming towards you, refusing to acknowledge any of your attempts at conversation.
That isn’t the only cold front you’re experiencing.
The wolf in your passenger seat is also visibly off. Normally, he’d be the one trying to get Jungkook to get along with you, but it’s clear that Namjoon is lost in his own world at that moment. You steal glances throughout the drive, trying to decipher his expression: it doesn’t look like he’s mad…but it also doesn’t look like he’s comfortable? His responses are short and the smile he flashes is contrived at best, but you hold off on asking him why.
Hoseok’s also lost in his own thoughts, fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt and trying to keep the bad memories away. His anxiety’s been spiking up as the synthetic hormone levels decrease, mind now unable to create a haze to block all the bad. There are moments, like right now, when he wants to scratch off his skin until he breaks flesh—grasping for any way to reclaim his body. His claws almost peek out, tempted to follow through with his intrusive thoughts, but he’s pulled out of it when he feels Jimin’s fingers interlock with his own.
The younger one leans in, car radio loud enough to allow them their own moment, “Is it the memories?”
Hoseok nods, eyes down on the interlocking hands, trying to focus on the welcomed touch instead of thinking about all the unwelcomed ones.
“Try tuning into your hybrid hearing when it gets really bad. Maybe that can help block them.”
Hoseok’s willing to try anything at this point, so he zones out on the back of the driver’s seat and lets his ears do their thing. It’s been far too long since he’s tuned into his heightened senses, and it feels disorienting at first, as if he’s no longer in the same place as his body. But natural instincts kick in and have him adjusting quickly, letting him filter through various conversations and noises until he’s focused on one moment. It’s a child begging his mother for ice cream, a sweet exchange. He follows their journey throughout the ice cream aisle, listening in as the mother finally gives in and the two discuss what flavor. Surprisingly, Hoseok doesn’t realize arriving at the doctor’s until Jimin’s unbuckling his belt for him.
Hoseok smiles, “That actually helped.”
Jimin simply responds with a peck on the cheek.
___
Dr. Gong notices Jungkook’s changed demeanor instantly, as he’s not acknowledging her either. The youngest simply sticks behind his pack, hands holding onto the bottom of Jin’s sweatshirt. She looks back and forth between Jungkook and you, and you don’t know what else to do but sigh.
“Good to see you all again. I hope all is well.”
You bow before ushering three of the hybrids to take the empty seats while you and the others huddle around her desk.
“We’re getting there” you say, half-heartedly smiling.
She nods, “I assume you all are familiar with the process of heat shots. We’ll do the rut suppressant first. Namjoon, please follow the nurse into that room.”
The rest follow one by one, coming out with band aids on their arm. Dr. Gong pulls out a pile of lollipops onto her desk for their return, scattering various flavors on the desk. Taehyung looks at them with curiosity, eyes telling Jimin he’ll take one if he does as well. Jungkook shoves a strawberry one into his jacket, not bothering to thank the doctor the way his hyungs do.
“I was actually with the authorities yesterday, going over the hybrids’ medical results for them. They’re collecting evidence for Kang’s trial. I expect they'll call me to act as a witness soon.”
Just the mention of Kang’s name has every hybrid in the room flinch.
You nod, "I’m waiting for that call as well. Even a life sentence seems too kind for him though.”
“Plans to distribute fevocaine should land him at least thirty years. But realistically, with his status, I won't be surprised if it's fifteen max.”
A low growl comes from Jungkook, startling everyone in the room.
“All the shit he did to us and he’s only tried for the drugs? You must be fucking kidding me.” The only thing that keeps his rage from boiling over is Jin’s firm tone telling him to settle. The raise in voice has Dr. Gong pulling back, fear creeping in at seeing a fired-up wolf.
“He won’t hurt you” Jin assures, snaking a hand around the youngest’s waist to keep him still.
The doctor gives an unconvincing smile, trying to regain composure.
You give an apologetic look, bowing on his behalf. “Sorry Doc.”
“It’s understandable. I also agree with Jungkook. The laws are ridiculous. The only real good news I can give you is that the synthetic hormones seem to lose most of their effectiveness without the fevocaine. There’s no chance of the collars entering the market anytime soon—hopefully ever.”
The information, although positive, has you baffled, “I knew it was a dangerous drug, but such small amounts really made that much of a difference?”
“It’s the base needed for everything else to work. Only fevocaine can subdue a hybrid’s nervous system enough for the other hormones to instill specific behavioral changes. Simply put, without getting the hybrids in a hazy enough headspace, the rest of the hormones just don’t work.”
You suppose it makes sense, as the Kang you know wouldn’t risk involving fevocaine into his plans unless it was absolutely necessary.
“You’re all set for this month. The receptionist out front can set you up for next month’s appointment. I remember you were hesitant about continuing them on the suppressants, though.”
You nod, “We don’t need further appointments. I’m sure they’ve had enough of synthetic drugs messing up their hormones to last a lifetime. Right guys?”
Namjoon’s eyes go wide, “Are you sure? It’s not safe for you to be around us in heat. We don’t mind getting the shots.”
Jungkook rolls his eyes, “I mind.” Jin’s grasp on him becomes tighter, an unspoken command to behave.
“It’s alright Joon, Yoongi said I could crash at his whenever you’re in your heats—or rut for you.”
Namjoon’s jaw ticks slightly at the mention of Yoongi, before he reminds himself that this is how things should be. Humans with humans and hybrids with hybrids. He reluctantly nods at your plan, thinking for the greater good of his pack.
“If that’s alright with you then yes, we would prefer not to be on them. Except for Hoseok.”
Your eyes go wide at the realization, of course Hoseok wouldn’t want to go through his heat. You curse under your breath for not catching that.
Hoseok, on the other hand, looks relieved that it was brought up before he had to bring it up himself. He thanks the heavens he has a good Alpha during situations like this.
___
“You’re back early” you muse, quirking an eyebrow at the figure standing at the door of your home office. Yoongi smiles, making his way to your desk before bending down to kiss your cheek.
“I told Minhyun I had to leave early for an urgent appointment.”
“So you lied to get out of work early? I could fire you for that, you know.” He tilts your head up, kissing the teasing grin off of your face.
“I didn’t lie. I had to come here and kiss you urgently.”
Another kiss.
“Well, this is a side of you I’ve never seen. Can’t say I don’t like it.”
“I have to make up for all the lost time. Besides, this is one step closer to my househusband dream, so I can’t afford to mess it up.”
You roll your eyes, “Am I just a means to an end?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
You pinch his arm and he fakes a hurt face, causing both of you to laugh.
Yoongi traps you in your chair, one hand on each arm rest as he bends to eye level, taking in every second of the moment.
“It feels surreal. Getting to kiss you like this. It’s not something I ever thought would be possible.”
You snake your hands around his neck, pulling his face even closer. “I’ve liked you for a while too. I was just scared…the idea of losing what we already have by trying to be more is terrifying,”
You’ve been scared about the same things as him. This whole time.
“but nothing’s ever felt more right than that kiss. Made me realize that high risk and high return isn’t just for the next business deal.”
“Only you can figure out a way to make this into a business analogy” he chuckles.
“Well my gut instincts have gotten me this far with investments, so no use trying to fight them for everything else in my life.” You’re the one who leans in for the kiss this time, hands cupping his face as you chase after his lips.
“This is going to be the best investment of your life.”
“Those are big claims, Assistant Min.”
“I’m very confident, Miss Shin.”
___
Namjoon’s fork hits the table, slipping out of his hand and forgotten the moment Yoongi announces your relationship at dinner.
“We want to try and see where things go” you say, bringing your free hand to rest on top of Yoongi’s for everyone to see.
“You don’t have to make a big deal out of it. We don’t care.”
“Jungkook.” Jin admonishes, but the youngest pushes back this time.
“What? It’s true. Whatever they do has nothing to do with us. Unless you want us gone so you can be all lovey dovey. I’m sure he” Jungkook glares in Yoongi’s direction, “wouldn’t want his precious girlfriend sharing a space with us. I mean, we’re wolves after all.”
Yoongi cringes at the mention of his ignorant remark.
“Once again, I’m sorry for saying that. I wish I could take it back.”
You squeeze his hand, “Yoongi’s not like that Jungkook. Nothing about this changes the fact that you all have a permanent home here.”
Yoongi nods.
“I’m happy for you guys” Jimin beams, breaking the tension and making you extremely grateful.
“Me too!” Taehyung follows.
You look over at Namjoon, who sends a tight-lipped smile, “You two look good together.”
“Thank you Joon,” his stand-offish demeanor still isn’t lost on you.
Hoseok barely reacts, only half present at the dining table. Jimin assures everyone to just let him be, explaining that turning up his hearing is helping him. He doesn’t need to elaborate, as everyone is highly aware of what goes on in Hoseok’s mind most of the time now. You’re just glad something’s helping.
It’s the sound of a record this time, playing maybe two houses down. A nice, soft melody that makes him want to hum along.
Namjoon volunteers to do the dishes this time, until Jin assigns the task to Taehyung and pulls the Alpha to the side, “What’s going on with you?”
“What?”
“You’ve been in your head all day. I could use a little help reigning Jungkook in, you know. It feels like I’ve been keeping him in check all alone since morning.”
Namjoon looks at the eldest with remorse, “I’m sorry hyung. My thoughts have just been all over the place lately. I should be paying more attention.”
“What is it that’s bothering you? Anything I can help with?”
He shakes his head, “No don’t worry about it. I have it under control.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah.”
___
The Alpha hangs by Yoongi’s door awkwardly, clearing his throat to make his presence known to both of you. You sit up from your cuddling position upon seeing him.
“Hey Joon, you need to talk to Yoongi about something?”
The wolf nods, “I can come by later if it’s not a good time.”
You shake your head and get out of the covers, much to Yoongi’s reluctance.
“I need to go look over some documents anyways. You guys talk.”
It’s when you’re right in front of him do you ask what’s on your mind, “Hey, are you okay? You don’t seem like yourself lately…unless this is another instance of the hormones wearing off?”
“No, this isn’t that. I’ve just been feeling a little under the weather today. It’s nothing serious.”
Your hand is on his forehead in an instant, “It’s not a fever, thankfully. You sure you’re good? Need any cold meds?”
“No it’s fine, really. I’ll let you know if I need anything.”
The wolf waits a second after you leave, making sure you’re far away from the door before speaking. Yoongi watches carefully, not in the mood for whatever “Alpha claim” he’s about to stake on you.
But Namjoon isn’t that kind of Alpha.
“I wanted to talk about y/n.”
“Go on.”
“Now that you two are…together” the word is bitter on his tongue, “we should get along. For her sake.”
Yoongi can’t say he’s not caught off-guard. He always thought a jealous Alpha would be one throwing temper tantrums and bearing teeth. Namjoon’s words don’t help make him any less wary, though.
“That’s hard to do when I see the way you look at her. I’ve wanted this for so long, and I’m not going to let a stranger walk into our lives and take it away.”
The word “stranger” has an unsettling feeling rise up in Namjoon’s chest, wanting to protest and that he and you are not strangers. That he understands you in ways Yoongi never will. But he stops himself. Because none of it matters if he can’t be the one thing you need: human.
That’s something Yoongi will always have over him.
“It’s just a crush, nothing serious. I’ll get over it without her ever knowing.”
“How can I believe that? How do I know this crush won’t turn into something serious in the future?”
“Because it can’t. She likes you. Not me. I’m not stupid enough to make a move and risk her kicking out the entire pack. I know you don’t trust me, but you can trust that I won’t risk the future of my pack over this.”
It’s the one statement that does placate Yoongi, because he’s right. The one thing he—and anyone who’s known Namjoon for longer than two seconds—knows is that his every decision revolves around his packmates’ wellbeing.
“Okay. I can believe that.”
____
A/N: Took a bit longer to get out this week, but I'm always grateful that you guys stick around and interact. Have a great day!
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Do you have any tips for writing Obi Wan or any meta in mind with his characterizarion?
hmmm sure why not! i'll give a few tips on how i'd write obi-wan. mind you this is how i interpret the character, so ymmv.
i truly do not like it when fics have obi-wan voluntarily leaving the order. like it's so out-of-character for me in my head that the premise of the story + the writing would have to work triple-time to get me to stick around. now if he's been removed from it by an EXTERNAL SOURCE (not the order. i cannot stress this enough: the jedi kicking obi-wan out is so jarring to me i'll leave the fic in an instant) or somehow unable to return to the order for whatever reason, all is well.
not a prodigy, but a genius. obi-wan is an incredibly intelligent person with an absolutely staggering knowledge base in a wide variety of topics, but all that knowledge was earned through blood, sweat, tears, and time. he sat down with his game face on and put in the work. that's also why he makes an excellent teacher: he knows what most students will struggle with because he struggled too, and knows through experience how best to overcome them. i headcanon that it contributes to why he's such a good negotiator: he's really good at stripping down information to the essentials and communicating that information effectively and efficiently to others because of his intense study habits.
humble, but not ignorant of his skills. it's pretty impossible to fully divorce yourself from pride in your achievements, and i don't think it's healthy to not feel any pride at all, so i think obi-wan has a very clear understanding of his skillset and how best to use it. i don't think he'd be ignorant of how good he is at something, especially since the direct consequence of his aptitude led him to being a member of the jedi council. pretty hard to be blind to your strengths when you're being asked for your input on topics that directly draw from that knowledge.
averse to healthcare. listen i enjoy obi-wan whump just as much as the next obi-wan stan (the desire to put him in the cosmic salad spinner comes with the territory, i fear) but as a character who grew up in an environment that deeply cares for the well-being of all, and knowing that you cannot help others unless you yourself first have the ability to do so, i can't really see him ignoring injuries outside of combat scenarios. like on the battlefield he's got more pressing concerns than a pesky little shrapnel wound or five, but once the battle's over?? he might not be first in line to the medics but i can't see him avoiding them entirely. an army without a general is working at a sharp disadvantage and i don't think he'd risk his men by neglecting his physical health in that manner. note that i said 'physical'. make of that what you will :)
duty. obi-wan is the definition of a paladin. he takes an oath and by the force he's going to keep it. train the boy? absolutely, qui-gon. whether or not anakin chooses to respect that training is another matter, but he did definitively get knighted! refuse to kill anakin? listen he's handed vader his own ass to him twice post order 66 and each time he did it he did it nonlethally. that takes skill. that takes dedication. exile yourself to tatooine for 19 years and then decide fuck it, we ball, and die after Once Again Deciding Not To Kill Anakin Skywalker? step aside casper, there's a new friendly ghost in town. every time obi-wan commits to something the man COMMITS. you GOTTA respect that grind.
flirty but in the sense that he's going to match the energy someone brings to the table. like he's a negotiator. he knows how to read people and figure out the Vibes. if he thinks the other person will be 1) 100% receptive and 2) will respond with a delightful wit, why the hell not? obi-wan's highest stat is charisma and he's got expertise in persuasion. whether they're allies or not does not factor into this equation. he can have a little flirtation with morally dubious and potentially hostile characters. as a treat.
this has nothing to do with his character but i firmly believe that he and quinlan vos had at LEAST a fling when they were padawans. there is zero evidence to back this up aside from a few comics where they were being goofy teenagers together but i stand by this. it is an unshakeable aspect of obi-wan to me that has only gotten worse with the kenobi show.
no matter what, no matter how terrible or devastating or downright apocalyptic it gets, obi-wan kenobi will never fall to the dark side. never. it won't be easy, but that is a line he has never, and will never cross. i will not hear any "obi-wan touched the dark side during the theed generator fight" slander. if that was true tell me why the force theme was playing during his moment of triumph!!! Would John Williams Lie To Us Like That?? to our face?????
anyways i could go on forever about obi-wan because he is My Ultimate Blorbo but this post is getting super long so i'll leave it there. hope this helped even a little or at the very least was entertaining for you to read <3
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some examples i can think of brotherhood crimes of doing riza(and royai) dirty in my opinion that's the absolute truth in the universe. consciously excluding stuff i think are minor but annoy me just as bad or else this post would be too exhausting:
being ugly in general
not including her time travel joke from when they learn that the elrics are kids and not adults on their way to recruiting them
not including the scene where roy meets her after she calls him when she meets barry the chopper and threatens to burn him out of jealousy
changing the dialogue after roy saves her from gluttony from:
to:
LIKE...... if brotherhood has the habit of cutting off scenes to make it shorter then WHY they would change this scene to become BIGGER AND WORSE. the dialogue in manga is a clear example of their trust and wordless care for each other. while in broho it's just ?????? roy being an asshole????? to his wife?????? whom he just left his post running for bc he sensed she was in danger???? whoever chose to change this dialogue. kill yourself
riza being nice to alphonse when they are at 3rd laboratory:
not including the only time in the whole series roy calls her by her first name only:
the WHOLE ishval arc. riza telling ed about ishval lasts a whole ass volume while it's barely an entire episode in anime like... hm.. for starters the way roy and riza meet again there is different. in manga she saves roy and hughes from a surprise attack, and only realizes it's roy when she sees him through the scope. then hughes tells roy that they brought a talented sniper from the academy and goes after her to thank her for saving them. in anime riza suddenly shows up to roy when he was talking to hughes and like... not necessarily a bad thing i guess but...... yeah.... also this whole conversation is cut off if i remember right.. among a lot of other things LOL i hate how ishval arc is played down in BH
riza being funny and cute not being included again
this scene when they reach 3rd lab again in promised day and roy jokes about wanting to see her honest tears again and riza replies saying water makes him useless BUT in manga she's all cute and blushy while in anime they make her be all # girlbaws about it because that's all brotherhood riza is about lmao they took away her moeness...crime
in manga, after roy gives up killing envy upon realizing it would lead to riza shooting him then killing herself, it shows him lowering her gun without the glove he previously had on. symbolizing that he lowered his weapon before he could lower hers. in anime he still has his gloves on
EDIT I FORGOT THE MOST IMPORTANT PANEL OF THEM ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
RIZA BEING INSUBORDINATE AND A BRAT SHE'S SO CUTE THIS PANEL IS WHAT INSPIRED MY USERNAME... SHE'S SO CUTE...... brotherhood is so scared of letting riza be cute and moe because she would be too powerful if they let her
EDIT 222222 BECAUSE I WOKE UP IN COLD SWEAT AT REMEMBERING I FORGOT THIS TOO
roy visits madame christmas' bar looking down and she asks him why doesn't he and elizabeth go someplace fun... we all know who elizabeth is right... and he says miserably that another man took elizabeth away from him(referring to riza being kept hostage by bradley) and at that the other girl asks if that means she has a chance with him now. everyone knows that roy is so wifepilled he won't look any other way if riza is in the picture lmao also how embarrassing it is that even your mom knows you're fucking your subordinate
i'm convinced somebody at BH staff hated riza's ass because of how often riza and royai scenes are changed or ignored... i know it's common for anime adaptations to cut off moments from manga but for an anime that whole premise is to be The Better Adaptation, doing it so often makes it bad to me. if you repeatedly exclude scenes that tell more about the characters because they're "not relevant to the plot", eventually there will be no actual personality left, only characters that are plot props
THERE'S A LOT MORE i wanted to include but this is already long enough and i got tired LMFAO a lot of things(most not included) are non issues because are mostly about riza being a bit silly, or showing more expression than she does in anime in a scene that otherwise doesn't change anything. but they still annoy me because by repeatedly excluding and changing these moments add to the view people have of her being nagging and stoic, at an attempt to make her a cool flawless Good Woman Character. what for.
#tecotalk#fma#riza hawkeye#throwing in the tag because fuck it#not hiding anything under the cut everyone will be subjected to this
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That said, the D&D 3.5 Paladin was bad. It was badly designed, it had bad rules, and in conjunction with the other notoriously bad rule, alignment, it could cause havoc.
Now personally, I never had ANY problems with it in my tabletop games. I played paladins and loved it, and I loved it when other people played paladins, and it was great. But that's because, collectively as a group, we took ONE look at that terrible rule where the paladin's code of conduct prevents them from associating with Evil characters or "someone who consistently offends her moral code", and immediately went, "that's stupid, we ain't doing that, it would ruin the game".
We also didn't love the concept of alignment as a cosmic force, and didn't care for Usually Evil Goblins and Always Evil anything. And when a class's signature ability fully depends on whether creatures are capital E Evil, well that affects storytelling, doesn't it? But we all saw it the same way, and we were happily able to change it without any disagreements. In the end we had a Paladin… similar to 5e now that I think of it: completely ignore the Code's association clause, tailor the Code to personal stance or a specific Order, Detect only fiends and undead and the like, Smite anything you want, Fall only if you really fuck up, and never presume that just because you haven't Fallen yet everything you've ever done is justified and correct and anyone who disagrees with you is objectively wrong.
Basically, there were 2 options in 3.5. You either houseruled and/or handwaved things, and in matters of alignment interpretations erred on the side of "what makes the game go",
OR, you played with Rules As Written, and filled the forums with questions like "should the paladin fall?" (one such thread per week, conservatively), "we got into a fight over the Paladin, what to do?", "is it Evil to pick pockets? because we have a Paladin in the party", "the Assassin uses poison, shouldn't that offend my moral code?", and shit like that. Just... pointless strife, all the time. Again, never happened to me, but I was appalled to read about it, over and over and over.
People got intense with 3.5 Paladins (both pro and against) because it was BADLY DESIGNED and had BAD RULES. Its mechanics forced narrative choices on the entire table, and the only way to make it frictionless was having a party where no one wishes to explore a character's bad side ever, no one does things that aren't bad but WotC branded Evil™ in this or that splatbook, and everyone magically agrees all the time on "what is right and what is wrong" and "what is Lawful and what is Chaotic", which is simply impossible. The most subjective thing in the world (ethics!) was presented as an objective cosmic force, and how you interpreted it would determine how much damage the Paladin deals in combat, and whether the Paladin could keep associating with the party, and if the Paladin is still a Paladin. And all that in a game, let's not forget, whose basic, fundamental premise is "kill things and take their stuff". I'm sorry, this is tremendously stupid. It's the WORST design.
I know that for some people it worked as written, and good for them, but for the many many people it didn't work, well it's obvious why.
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The Scariest Movie I Ever Saw in a Theater: The Ring
I'll tell you up front that the story I'm going to tell you is about "The Ring (2002)," in the sense that it is about The Ring in the year 2002.
See, I don't know what The Scariest Movie Ever is. A quick google says that the consensus is The Exorcist (I haven't seen it, because I never felt like scheduling a day to freak myself the entire fuck out). But horror is specific, and not just to a person, but to a time and place, even. When I saw The Shining as a teenager in a well-lit living room with other people, I didn't even really flinch, but I bet it would play very differently to me now. I don’t think The Ring is at the top of anyone’s list, but twenty years ago, I had a personal interest in it—at the time, I was running a dinky little Geocities site devoted to movie news. Links curated and compiled from all the other, bigger sites I followed—basically, it was the linkspam format I have used on multiple platforms, including here on Sundays. And so, as someone who followed theatrical releases pretty closely for two or three years, I saw the trailer for The Ring, and I immediately knew it was going to be huge.
To locate you in time, this was just after three self-satirizing Scream movies and the Overcomplicated Serial Killer films of the '90s. The Ring was something completely different: chill aqua-blue color grading a good 5-6 years before Twilight; a mournful Hans Zimmer score; no jokes, no quips; and a slow, inexorable sense of doom. Grief, even, given that the movie begins with the death of the main character's niece. What immediately struck me about the first trailer was 1) the melancholy of it, and 2) how much it doesn't explain. Onscreen, you get the title cards,
THERE IS A VIDEOTAPE
IF YOU WATCH IT
SEVEN DAYS LATER
YOU DIE
youtube
Concise! Understandable! A woman (Naomi Watts) is freaking out upon discovering that her young son has just watched it! Admirable job setting up the premise and the stakes of this entire movie in thirty seconds flat, without even any dialogue. That's all you need to know, and thus, the remaining minute of the trailer can do whatever it wants, and what it wants to do is be fucking weird. Echoing voices, TV static, a closeup of a horse's eye, ladders, a girl with dark hair, people reacting to things we don't see, drippy doorknobs, rain. Characters don't give us the whole plot in convenient soundbites of dialogue (like they do in a later trailer); we just hear lines, overlapping, murmured out of context—
did you see it in your head? she talks to you... leading you somewhere... showing you the horses... you saw it. did you see it in your head? she shows me things. Everyone suffers.
That you saw it has lived in my head ever since, and not once have I charged it rent. But the "best" part is Naomi Watts screaming at the end, because you don't hear her voice; you only hear this heartless telephonic beeeeeeep. It's 2002 and I'm watching this trailer, thinking, I have no idea what the fuck I just saw. This is going to be huge.
And it was, to the tune of $249 million on a $48M budget.
At risk of recapping what you might already know, Ringu, aka Ring, is a media franchise that spiraled out from a trio of Koji Suzuki novels into Hideo Nakata's film Ringu (1998), a landmark of Japanese horror, plus several other movies, some TV series, many comics, and even a couple of video games. The overarching story is about a murdered girl/vengeful ghost named Sadako Yamamura whose rage and pain have created a cursed video tape, you watch it and you die unless you pass the tape around like a virus, seven daaaaays, etc.
The "ring" in question is the rim of a well. Keep that well in mind.
The movie I saw is the U.S. remake, which itself had two sequels. (The iconic Sadako is now named Samara Morgan. Keep her in mind, too.) Director Gore Verbinski moved from The Ring to Pirates of the the Caribbean (!), and so Hideo Nakata himself would direct The Ring Two. I... honestly have only seen the first one. And I was right, it was huge, and it kicked off the American J-Horror Remake genre, for better or worse. But what gets forgotten about The Ring is its marketing campaign, which I followed pretty closely for my doofy little news site.
It was inspired.
The story of The Ring is partly the story of the sea change in the media landscape—how we watch movies. And the story of its marketing is a picture of the very last years before social media changed the wilderness of the internet into something that feels so big, like a billion people could see anything we say, and yet so small—only a tame handful of places to say it, owned by three or four companies, and corraled by algorithms.
Back around 1997-1998 or so, I worked at a video store (Movie Gallery, where the hits were there then, guaranteed) for about a year and a half. By the time I left, we had started adding DVDs to the VHS tapes on the shelves, but we hadn't replaced the entire stock. Video stores might have transitioned fully to DVD by 2002, I'm not sure, but people still commonly had both VCRs and DVD players in their homes. And I remember that The Ring was sold in both formats when it eventually hit home video. Which is to say—you know the analog horror genre today? Marble Hornets, Local 58, The Mandela Catalogue?
Analog horror is commonly characterized by low-fidelity graphics, cryptic messages, and visual styles reminiscent of late 20th-century television and analog recordings. This is done to match the setting, as analog horror works are typically set between the 1960s and 1990s. The name "analog horror" comes from the genre's aesthetic incorporation of elements related to analog electronics, such as analog television and VHS, the latter being an analog method of recording video.
Okay, but this is just what home media was like, and 2002 was at the very tail end of that—boxy black VHS tapes that degraded with time and reuse were just how we lived. At the same time, I'd been using CDs for music since about 1991, and all our software installs came on CD-ROM discs; a "mixtape" by that time had shifted to mean a rewriteable CD rather than a cassette tape. In college, I—well, I'll plead the Fifth as to whether I downloaded mp3s via Napster, but I was also taping Mystery Science Theater 3000 on VHS over the weekends. It was Every Format Everywhere, All At Once, and we kept half a dozen kinds of players around for them. Here in 2023, we stream and download everything invisibly, unless we choose to engage in format nostalgia. (I've already run into the problem of Apple Music deleting songs I really liked, due to this or that licensing issue, because I was really only renting them.) The year The Ring hit theaters was the edge of a last shimmering gasp of physical media where iTunes had only come into being the year before, and iridescent discs were still mostly what we used, but cassettes, both video and audio, were still viable. And so, people did not think it was terribly weird when they started finding unlabeled VHS tapes on their windshields.
Movieweb, quoting TikTok user astro_nina:
"Their marketing strategy was essentially 'let's get this tape viewed by as many people as possible without these people being aware of what this is, sort of raising intrigue," she says.
One way they achieved this was by airing the tape, which allegedly marks its viewers for death within seven days, as a commercial with no context. The video would air between late-night programming "with no words, no mention of a movie, for like a month...so people would run into it and it would just go on to the next thing, and people would be like, 'what the f--k is this?'"
I remember seeing the Cursed Video as an unexplained ad at least twice, by the way. That TikTok also indicates that DreamWorks straight-up sent copies of the tape to Hot Topic stores, as well as planting them under actual movie theater seats. While running my movie site, I heard at least one story of someone finding a tape on the sink counter of a restroom at a club. Did the marketing department actually plant tapes in bathrooms—or did a freaked-out recipient leave it there, hoping to dodge the "curse"?
(I haven't embedded the Cursed Video here, by the way—but I could have. If you'd like to see the American take on it, you can watch both the full version and the shorter variant that appeared in the movie itself. A text description of what the fuck you're even looking at is here [content note for both: blood, insects, animal death, body horror, and suicide by falling]. The original version from the Japanese film is shorter, and it's eerie rather than gruesome.)
BUT WAIT, THERE WAS MORE: DreamWorks had something of an alternate-reality campaign going with a handful of in-character websites. This was only a year after Warner Bros. ran the groundbreaking "The Beast" ARG for A.I.: Artificial Intelligence: "Ultimately, fifty websites with a total of about one thousand pages were created for the [A.I.] game." (I lurked in the Cloudmakers Yahoo group.) Marketing for The Ring did not go anywhere that in depth, nor did it need to; it was both a smaller film and a smaller story. I saw at least two “personal” websites (seemingly amateur and a little tacky, like my own), but the one I particularly remember was about someone who owned/trained horses? I'm not sure if it was meant to be the actual Anna Morgan character—Samara's mother—or maybe someone who had noticed that the Morgans' horses were disturbed? I'm not even sure anyone even remembers this but me. Reddit users dug up a few other archived websites, but they're about Sadako, the curse and/or videotape; they aren't as subtle or character-oriented as the site I remember. (Honestly, I wonder if weird shit like "What Scares Me" or "SEVEN DAYS TO LIVE" were made by fans rather than a marketing department, but who knows.)
[The “About” page from Seven Days to Live on the Internet Archive.]
[The entirety of An Open Letter on the Internet Archive. “UPDATE” is a now-blank pop-up. I would bet $5 that it was originally a pop-up of the cursed video.]
I need to point out here that Facebook did not exist in 2002. It would not exist for another two years, and Twitter wouldn't exist until 2006. Even MySpace was not a thing until the next year. I didn't start my Livejournal until October of 2003. What we had, for the most part, were independent forums and blogs. We also had Creepy Internet Fiction like "The Dionaea House" and "Ted the Caver"; their use of the blog format, of people out there seemingly living their lives until something fucked up went down, gave the stories the shape of reality. And it helped that these blogs had comment sections, sure—sometimes more story unfolded there—but for the most part, an author could "abandon" a blog, and you'd just find the story there via word of mouth. Like the Ring blogs I remember, it wouldn't seem strange if no one replied to you, whereas today, you'd have to hire a writer to sit on Twitter, or Reddit, or even Tumblr, and interact with people in character. Could you do something like The Ring's mysterious, weird-ass blogs today? Would anyone even notice?
So: It's 2002, my head is full of Alternate Reality and eerie images and you saw it, and I'm hype as hell to go out and see The Ring. I'm perfectly happy to go see movies by myself, so I went in the early afternoon (best time to get a good seat). The movie ended up being a sleeper hit, and the first weekend, the public was still sleeping on it, so there were only 7-8 other people in that theater, grouped in maybe two clusters. I was off in my own little pool of darkness in the upper right quadrant. Functionally, once the lights went down, I was alone.
Despite some middling reviews at the time, The Ring is something of a horror classic nowadays. If you want a scary movie this Spooky Season, check out The Ring. Or don't, because it nearly killed me.
We're at the last, I don't know, third of the movie? And Our Heroine has tracked down the origin of the Cursed Videotape to some creepy mountain motel or whatever. SPOILER, it turns out that it was built over the Cursed Well (everything in this movie is cursed) that Our Villain was thrown into—that's why Sadako/Samara is a vengeful wet murder ghost crawling out of TVs now. While investigating this decrepit hotel room, intrepid journalist Rachel and her, who is it, her ex-husband? her kid's dad, idk, discover the well under the creaky old floorboards. And then, wouldn't you know it,
NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE WELL
NAOMI WATTS FALLS INTO THE FUCKING WELL
THAT'S WHERE SAMARA'S BODY IS
youtube
[The rather slapstick moment when Rachel falls into the well. Does not include what actually happens next.]
I go absolutely rigid in my seat. Naomi Watts is splashing around this dark-ass death swamp of a well and I know, with as much certainty as I have ever known anything in my life, that Samara is about to pop up in all her pasty, waterlogged glory. All the sad creepy dread, all the desperation to figure out what the fuck all that shit on the tape was and stop Samara from killing Rachel's son, all the horrible contorted victim faces, all the alternate reality I’ve been soaking in, it has all come to this. I have to leave the theater. I cannot be having with this. I have to be gone from this place. My legs do not work. I cannot feel them. I am frozen. I want nothing more in this life or any other to get up and leave this cavernous pitch-black room, and I cannot. I start praying for death. I want you to understand that I am not trying to be flippant or humorous. This is genuinely what went through my head. I was too scared to even think, "You know, you could just pray to pass out or for motion to return to your limbs or something." No, I sat there in The Ring thinking, Please for the love of all mercy just let me cease being.
You know that scene in Mulholland Drive (also starring Naomi Watts)? Winkie's diner and the EXCRUCIATING tension? It was a little like that, except I wasn't watching it, I was experiencing it, and Samara was my dirt monster out behind the diner.
Except that the jump scare didn't actually happen. I mean, yes, Rachel finds Samara's body down there, but—I don't remember exactly, please don't make me go watch it again to tell you what actually happens. It's played more sympathetically on Rachel's part, as I recall, and she and her ex get Samara's body out so that she (Samara) can have a proper burial.
And then it turns out that this is not the end of the movie. It turns out that Rachel has Fucked Up.
I think I was relatively okay through the rest of it, although the climax is Samara emerging from a TV in her full glitching swampy glory to scare [SPOILER] to death. I don't recall praying for death twice. There's a point when you're so exhausted from fear chemicals that you're like, yeah, this might as well happen. Bring it, Soggy. I did have a hard time prying myself out of that seat afterwards, though, and my mom says that when I got home, I had the classic thousand-yard stare. How was the movie?
"It was great," I said, and I meant it.
I've seen things that were objectively scarier (I watched much of The Haunting of Hill House from behind a pillow, to be honest), and it's not like I've never experienced fear in real life. But I respect when a movie that can make me feel so intensely, and there's something weirdly precious about the way horror is a safe roller coaster, as it's often been said. So I love telling the story about The Time The Ring Nearly Killed Me—a movie that actually made my body stop working—and I love thinking of how embedded in a specific time and place that movie was for me. The last gasp of VHS when the Cursed Videotape still seemed plausible; the way the internet was still wild and weird and free; where I was in my life, keeping up so avidly with all the movie news, and finding myself in such a little pool of darkness early one afternoon. It's the scariest movie I saw in a theater; that's the alchemy of circumstance.
#the ring#ringu#horror#first look on patreon#movies#long post#spooky season#halloween everyday#long post is long#gifs
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be that guy | bc (m)
summary: running into you at a club months after the breakup could just be a stroke of pure, dumb luck. or maybe it's the push he needs to try and reconcile with you. whatever happens, chan is up for anything you want tonight.
pairing: bang chan x fem reader
genre: angst, smut
word count: 7k
rating: mature (18+)
warnings & features: ex-boyfriend!chan; profanity; alcohol consumption; graphic sexual content; some angst-y/emotional moments in the smut; pet names; dirty talk including some degradation and praising; vaginal fingering; mentions of squirting; breast & nipple play; clothed sex; protected sex; oral (f receiving); finger sucking; some hair pulling; multiple orgasms; aftercare; no definitive ending oops
author's note: i started to take a fic from my old blog and just rewrite chan into it, but i ended up only keeping the base premise of two exes hooking up again and rewriting the entire thing from scratch. it turned into this. hope you enjoy!
( click here to read on AO3 instead )
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“Isn’t that Y/N?”
Chan’s head snaps in the direction Minho nods, and his heart skips a beat when he sees you. When did you get here? How could he have possibly missed you? There might as well be a spotlight shining down for the way his attention locks onto you now.
“She looks great,” Minho goes on, lips on the rim of his vodka soda.
Of all the people to run into tonight.
Of all the fucking people.
He sounds accusatory, but Chan has to know: “Did you know she was going to be here?”
Minho shakes his head innocently. He’s right, though. You look great. As gorgeous as ever. The smile on your face is large and radiant, but deep down, Chan knows it will drop like a lead balloon if you spot him.
And of course you do. Of course you fucking do.
One minute you’re laughing with your friend; the next minute, it’s as if you can sense his heavy stare halfway across the club. Your eyebrows tighten and you turn your head to look straight at him.
The spark is instant, the same as the very first time he saw you years ago. A smile blooms across his face before he even knows it’s happening - it’s just an automatic reaction to you. Subconsciously, he’s still happy to see you.
But then reality comes crashing down, and he remembers he’s not living in that wonderful world where you smile back at him every day anymore. He’s living in the aftermath of breaking your heart. So he waits for your lip to curl in disgust, or for you to roll your eyes and look away, but you do neither. He can’t read your expression, but at least you maintain eye contact with him.
Minho looks to Chan as well, then pats him on the shoulder. He doesn’t have to say anything; his support is felt all the same.
Chan downs the rest of his whiskey, takes a deep breath, and starts pushing through the crowd. By the time he reaches you at the bar, your friend is gone.
“I didn’t mean to scare your friend off,” he says, then winces internally. His first words to you in months and he couldn’t start with a simple ‘hello’ or an honest ‘you look amazing’? Or perhaps a heartfelt ‘I’m sorry’ down on his knees would have been the most appropriate greeting. What the fuck is wrong with him?
A smile returns to your lips, tiny this time. “You give yourself too much credit. I told her to give me a few minutes.”
A few minutes is probably more than he deserves. He has to make the most of them. No more stupid statements.
“I’m-” he starts, but the rest of his words are suffocated. He gulps through the sudden tightness in his throat and tries again. “You’re- You look… so beautiful, Y/N.”
You tilt your head in a gesture he can’t decipher and set your empty glass down on the bar counter.
“Chan…”
When you look at him again, his eyes lock back onto yours. It’s clear you’re also struggling to find words. It’s been months of heartbreak between now and the last time you saw each other, but before that, there were years of laughs, sweet words, daily routines, and gentle touches. He wonders if you’re remembering those times right now, too.
You purse your lips and reach out for his bicep. He unconsciously flexes it under your touch.
“You look great, too.”
“Th-thank you.”
“Want to get out of here?”
---
Getting into his apartment is a messy affair of feet stumbling over each other’s, hands tangled in hair, and lips and teeth clashing repeatedly.
Chan has half a mind to tear your dress apart at the seams to get it off your body, but that train of thought is entirely derailed when you reach beneath it yourself to slip your panties off. When the skimpy fabric drops to your feet, you sling it across his kitchen floor with the toe of your shoe.
He helps you up onto the counter, then slips his hand between your legs to check how wet you are. Surprisingly, your outer lips feel pretty soaked already, but he’s not going to rush to stick his dick inside you and risk hurting you. You seem eager enough to take him right now, but he wants you properly prepped.
If this is truly the last time he gets to be with you like this, he wants everything to go perfectly.
Your walls immediately clamp around the finger he pushes through them. You’re so fucking warm and silky inside, he just has to add another finger right away. You gasp as the intrusion thickens, lips falling apart ever so slightly. Chan slots his mouth over yours to catch the incoming moan. You taste like sugary cocktails. You smell delicious. You sound so fucking horny.
His wrist flexes as he searches for that spot he mapped out inside you long ago. He’s going straight for it because he has no intention of teasing you to an orgasm tonight. He wants you to come just as many times as you want tonight. Anything you want tonight, he’ll do it for you.
G-spot easily located, he rubs fast against it. You’re starting to drip all over his hand and down to the counter below, but he’s not upset about the sticky mess; he’s hard beyond belief over it. His zipper is scraping against his dick, but he ignores the discomfort. It’s tolerable when you’re moaning between his lips like this.
“Chan, please,” you whimper, finally speaking.
He pauses a moment because it’s been a while since he’s done this and his hand is already cramping. It would be a grave mistake to stop like this if you were close to coming, but he still has some time for now.
“I know, Y/N, I’ve got you,” he murmurs against your lips, withdrawing his tongue from your mouth only long enough to get the words out.
He stretches his thumb to flick it across your swollen clit. Your knees twitch at the contact, closing inward for a split second before opening wider, your dress riding higher up your thighs with the motion.
The way you’re giving him such open access to your body is making Chan’s head spin. Maybe his whole world has been turned upside down tonight. The feeling of your cunt around his fingers is keeping him grounded in the lewdest possible way.
He should be grateful to have this much, but he wants to get greedy and pull your tits out over the top of your dress so he can nip and suck on your nipples. The entire garment would probably have to come off first, though, and he’s not about to ruin your current positions to do that yet. Maybe he can give your breasts some due attention during round two. God he hopes you’ll stay for round two.
You’re barely focused on kissing him back anymore, too caught up with your imminent climax. Chan pulls his face away from yours to examine the state of you: shivering, spread open, starting to sweat, panting.
You’re gorgeous, and tonight, he’s all yours again.
“Chan,” you breathe again, hips bucking off the counter, bare skin squeaking on the surface. “Please keep going- fuck…”
“I’m not stopping ‘til you come on my fingers, angel,” he promises. The old pet name slips out before he knows it.
You must really be lost in your pleasure because you don’t call him on it and remind him he lost his right to call you that or any pet name anymore.
Tossing your head back, you moan, “More, please… f-faster…”
He wouldn’t dream of denying you, so he leans in and releases a ball of spit onto your clit. It quickly seeps down around his thumb, over your slit and over the fingers he has inside you, making his work more slippery. He wants you nice and wet and fucked open for his cock, so he drives his fingers faster, just as you asked.
It’s difficult to keep his thumb rotating in steady circles, so he vibrates it back and forth as best he can instead. He’s sure it will work - it has before, at least. He just has to keep his pace consistent. Keep the pressure just right. Maybe you’ll even squirt for him and really soak his hand, for old times’ sake.
Even if he couldn’t feel your pussy constricting tighter and tighter, the way you suddenly grab his flexing wrist is another telltale sign that you’re close to the edge. Your head is still tipped backward, throat exposed and gleaming with sweat.
Chan braces his unoccupied hand against your back, then leans forward and licks a stripe up the column of your neck. The taste of your sweat and the perfume you applied is an addicting mix of salty and sweet on his tongue.
“Oh fuck!” you cry out. “Right there, right there… so fucking close…shit, shit!”
“I know, I know, I can feel it,” he whispers, trailing his words up from your neck and into your ear. He licks the shell of it with the tip of his tongue, and you shiver in his arms. “Let go for me.”
Not only does your pussy close in tighter, but your fingers on his wrist do, too. Your chest is heaving, tits still begging him for attention. He finally gives in and bites one of the mounds through your dress. The fabric probably dulls the sensation a little, but he’s still gentle with his teeth.
When you moan louder, he sucks as much of your clothed breast into his mouth as he can. He can just barely feel your nipple raised against the fabric, but it’s still noticeable enough for him to know where to start flicking his tongue. The sensation seems to trigger your orgasm. Or maybe it’s the desperate act itself that does it for you.
“Oh my god, Chan, fuck!”
Your entire body tenses against the intense shockwave that detonates within you, rendering you motionless for just a few seconds before you start trembling hard from the outburst of pleasure.
“Shit, that’s it, Y/N,” Chan coos, drawing back again to take in your orgasm. A string of spit bridges the distance between your dress and his bottom lip. “Holy fuck, you’re coming so hard for me, I love it.”
Chan can barely continue pumping his fingers through your cunt’s vise grip, so he settles for keeping his fingertips kissed against your g-spot, gently easing the pressure as your intense orgasm wanes.
When your knees start wobbling from the overstimulation, he removes his hand from between your slippery walls, and you let go of him, too. His fingers are glistening, a clear testament to how good he just made you feel. Something nasty in him wants to whip his aching cock out right now and slather it in your juices, but his first instinct is to not let the treat go to waste. So instead, he runs his tongue up the length of his sticky middle finger, letting the salty liquid rest on his tastebuds for a few seconds before swallowing it down.
“Jesus fuck,” you pant, watching the erotic scene unfold before your eyes.
Chan smirks, pleased that you’re pleased, and repeats the action with his index finger, a little obsessed with making sure he doesn’t miss a drop. His entire kitchen smells like sex already and he fucking loves it.
More importantly, you look like sex incarnate, propped up on one hand on his counter, still breathless, still spread open. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this hard in his entire life - no offense to all your previous escapades together.
“Taste so fucking good,” he rumbles straight from his chest, lying his palms flat on the counter to cage you between his arms. “Missed this sweet pussy so much.”
Is the confession too much? If so, you don’t call him out on that, either. He’s not sure how he’s getting away with crossing all these lines tonight, but he’s not going to question it.
“Want to fuck it?” you ask. The deeply seductive look in your eyes makes him gulp.
“Y-Yeah? You’d let me fuck you?”
“If you have a condom, yes,” you clarify.
Chan nods a little too eagerly, but it’s nothing compared to the way his dick jumps in his jeans. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his ticket to fucking you. Honestly, he didn’t expect to actually use the condom with anyone tonight - least of all you - but now he’s glad he chose to be prepared.
You raise an eyebrow at how he practically conjured one out of thin air, then lean forward and put your hands on his chest to get him to step back a little. Slipping off the counter, you step over to his kitchen table - still in your heels - and bend over it.
Only when you look over your shoulder and jerk your head does Chan fully get the picture.
“Holy shit,” he whispers, hurrying to follow.
You giggle as he fumbles with his belt and pants. The way you shake your ass side-to-side in front of him is probably supposed to entice him, but he loses focus and drops the condom packet.
“Where’s the dirty talking monster who used to fuck me dumb?” you tease, still giggling.
Chan laughs back and scoops the packet off the floor. “Can’t be that guy right now,” he says, shoving his pants and boxers down to mid-thigh. The open air feels cool on the wet tip of his dick. “The beautiful girl bent over my kitchen table kind of makes me lose my fucking mind, you know.”
You hum and bite your lip, eyes cast down to his thick erection. He opens the foil, gives his cock a few quick pumps, rolls the condom onto it.
As he takes another step to position himself close behind you, you turn to face forward. Your hands reach back to help him bunch your dress over your ass, though, and he gets the overwhelming urge to twine his fingers with yours. The moment is soon gone when you bring your hands forward again to brace them on the table.
Eyes down, Chan takes the base of his cock and steers the tip between your legs. He rubs it up and down through your slit a few times until it catches on your opening and pokes in shallowly. Slowly, he pushes in another inch, then two more, then all the way to the hilt until his balls are pressed against you.
“Fuck,” you groan, knuckles tightening around the edge of the table. “Forgot how well you stretch me out.”
He can’t help but feel proud of that. “Big enough for you?”
“Mhm.” Your walls clench tighter, and he figures you did it on purpose. “Hard enough, too. Shit you’re hard.”
“So fucking hard for you,” he agrees, eyes rolling back in his head. His hands roam aimlessly over your ass while he gives you both a moment to adjust.
Evidently he stalls for too long, though, because you take it upon yourself to start moving your ass back and forth in the limited space between his hips and the table.
“Come on, baby,” you say. “If you missed this pussy so much, fucking take it.”
He wants to give you everything when you talk like that, so without another second to spare, he draws his cock back until the tip is at the very edge of your opening, then pushes forward to split your walls around it again.
It’s a blessing and a curse, but he can still remember how incredible your wet heat used to feel around his raw cock, back when the two of you had love and trust. It’s been a very long time since he’s had to wear a condom with you - or anyone, for that matter - but he won’t complain. He’s all too aware he’s lucky to be inside you at all.
Besides, you still feel incredible. Your pussy sucks him back in when he pulls back too far, gives way easily when he sinks in deep. The more he pumps himself in and out at this slow, steady pace, the harder he finds it to hold back.
Luckily, you’re of the same mindset. “Harder, baby. Please.”
Using the pet name again is a sure-fire way to get what you want. He may have been the one to break up with you, but before that, he could probably count the number of times he denied you on one hand. You were always irresistible, especially when you asked him so nicely for things.
Chan snaps his hips harder, driving his cock as deep as he can get it with every stroke. He only pulls back a few inches at a time, keeping most of himself sheathed inside your warmth at all times, not willing to part from you any more than he has to.
“Like this?” he asks.
You nod and pant, “Yes. S-So fucking good, Chan.”
“Just want your tight little pussy pounded, don’t you?” Chan goes on, gripping your hips for leverage. He practically yanks you back into him with his next thrust, and you cry out in sheer ecstasy. “Just want a nice, thick cock to stretch your little hole open real good, huh? Fuck you open good and proper?”
“Fuck, yes, baby, yes, yes! Oh my god, Chan…”
That dirty talking monster you always loved is starting to rear its head, but Chan’s pleasure threshold is rapidly reaching its limit. Between the moans pouring out of your mouth, the wet smacking of his balls against your cunt, and the intense friction rubbing across his length, he comes much sooner than expected.
“Oh god, fuck- shit, angel, holy shit, I’m gonna- mmmf- fffuck!”
His cock pulses hard as streams of cum jet up its length, shot after shot unloading into the condom.
The guilt is instant. Apologies and excuses start tumbling from his mouth. “I’m s-so sorry, Y/N,” he mutters, struggling to catch his breath because cum is still squirting out of him. “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to come that fast, you just felt so fucking- I mean, you sounded so-”
“It’s fine, Chan,” you laugh, wiggling your ass again. “Consider me flattered.”
He tilts his head and huffs out a breath of laughter himself, then eases his hips backward to pull his cock out of you before it goes too soft. After he’s thrown away the condom, he turns back to you. Part of him fears to find you pulling your panties back on to leave, but he’s excited to find you facing him with your dress still gathered around your hips.
“I can keep going,” he offers straight away, crossing the distance to put his hands on your bare hips. “Let me go down on you, or- or finger you again. Please.”
Instead of answering him right away, you grin and kiss him. When your tongue pokes across the seam of his lips, he happily grants it entry to lick against his own. You can probably taste the remnants of your arousal in his mouth, but you’re not put off by it. In fact, you wind your arms tight around him.
Pulling your face back, you ask, “You want to make me come again, baby?”
Chan nods, eyes flicking up and down between your eyes and lips. He’s more drunk on the taste of you than the whiskey in the club could have ever hoped to achieve.
“You want to eat me out?” you press, studying his face just as intently. “Stick your fingers back inside my pussy?”
He licks his lips. His wilted cock heaves valiantly but isn’t quite ready to rise again.
“Please. Anything.”
He’s prepared to start begging, but you have mercy on him.
Slipping a hand into one of his, you ask him to take you to the bedroom. You start giggling again when he has to practically waddle his way there with his pants falling around his knees. Chan laughs, too, and starts stripping his clothes.
After he yanks his shirt over his head to toss it on the pile on his floor, he catches you checking him out. He resists the urge to make a trite ‘like what you see?’ joke. He made plenty of those when you were together - he knows you like what you see, and he’s flattered it’s still true.
When you peel your eyes off his chest to look at his face again, you cock an eyebrow and smirk. Then, you spin around and ask him to help unzip you. He does so happily, getting just as much of an eyeful of your body after your dress spills to a heap at your feet. You kick it away just like you’d done with your panties earlier, then off go the heels, one after the other. Once you’re entirely nude, you step wordlessly over to his bed and settle yourself on top of it.
“Come here,” you beckon, voice soft.
Chan obeys, coming over to drape his naked body over yours. You pull him into another kiss, and he tries to keep most of his weight off you, but the feeling of your warm, bare skin against his is something he’s missed desperately.
He tilts his face the other way and moans into your mouth. His hand comes up to cup your cheek at almost the same moment you do the same to him. You’re smiling into the kisses now, and his heart aches with the knowledge that this isn’t a daily occurrence anymore.
“Y/N…” he whispers, but he isn’t sure what he wants to say exactly.
Your smile fades, and he knows you can tell there is something more than lust in his head right now; he can see it in your eyes that you understand him. Even so, you refuse to let your walls down, and he can’t say he blames you. He’s probably the reason they’re there to begin with.
“You’re so fucking hot, Chan,” you say out of the blue, steering the conversation to more comfortable territory. “Touch me again.”
He can’t deny you.
If this is all he’s good for tonight, he’s grateful.
Swallowing hard, Chan slides down your body to bring his face level with your chest. One hand goes to pinch your left nipple, the other to cup your right tit and bring that nipple into his wet mouth. You gasp at the first flick of his tongue, so he repeats the motion about a dozen more times before dragging his face tongue-first across to your other tit. When he bites down on the pebbled bud, your back arches off the bed.
“Oh, god,” you whisper, twisting a hand into his hair.
He reciprocates the gesture by slipping an arm behind your back and holding your skin tight. You’re so warm and soft, so sweet-smelling and beautiful…
Focus. Just make her come, as many times as she wants.
Be that guy again.
Even if it's just for tonight.
Do it just for her.
With his mind refocused and his dick beginning to fill out again, he looks up at your face and mutters, “I’ll give you whatever you want, Y/N.” He goes back to your other nipple, traps it between his teeth and chews it with careful nips, enough for you to feel it, but not cause you any pain. “Want to come on my tongue or my cock?”
“Cock, please,” you answer without hesitation.
He’s surprised with your choice given his poor performance earlier. He’s also surprised by how sweetly you say please this time. So sweet and beautiful, truly worthy of your favorite pet name…
Stop it. Get to it already.
“You sure you don’t want both, angel?”
Not waiting for an answer, he scoots further down your body until he’s faced with your sweet pussy. You’re still soaking wet - he can see your arousal shining all along your folds. Reaching down, he gathers your legs and pushes them up, knees toward your chest.
“Chan,” you whine. He can feel your eyes watching him move his face closer between your hips. “Not your mouth.”
He takes the heady scent of your arousal deep into his lungs with a long inhale.
“Why not? You know I could make you come so hard with my tongue. Suck on your clit real slow, take my time licking you clean, hm? Maybe pump my fingers carefully enough to make you squirt?”
Dipping his face even closer, he glides his tongue up the length of your slit. Your arousal tastes even better when he’s licking it straight from your center, so he flattens his tongue to get a wider lick, greedy to smother his tastebuds in your essence.
Total, there are probably entire days of his life that were spent with his face between your legs, learning your ins and outs, all the things that make you shiver uncontrollably and scream his name. He learned how to get you to come twice in a row, and when to ease off to bring your orgasm to a satisfying finish without building too far into another one.
You gave it all back in kind. So often eager to get on your knees for him, swallowing his entire cock down your throat, heeding his advice when he said you could tug his balls even harder, him trusting you to put your hands on his neck and squeeze just tight enough to peak his climax that little bit higher.
Presently, you writhe against his mattress under the torment of his tongue. He’s still taking his time licking through your folds, swiping half-handedly over your clit, not giving it nearly enough attention to take your next orgasm seriously.
Straightening his back, Chan gazes down at your naked form, once again admiring the sight. You gaze back steadily.
“Still want my cock?” he asks, reaching to take the throbbing appendage in his fist and stroke a few dewy drops of precum out. “Just my cock? You sure?”
You don’t answer him right away. Instead, you push backward out of his hold, get to your knees directly in front of him, and press your palms flat against the wide planes of his chest. He can feel his own heartbeat reverberate from behind his chest plate, off your hand, back to his burning skin.
“You’re not going to make me beg, are you?” you say, not answering him at all.
Chan gulps. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Just want to hear you say it again.”
He’s met with a smirk and a gentle nudge from you this time. Only once he’s sitting flat, legs extended in front of him on his mattress with you straddled across his lap, do you speak again.
“Want your cock, baby,” you say, already reaching for his bedside drawer to fish out another condom. It’s open and on him in no time. “Just your cock.”
“It’s yours,” Chan whispers back.
There’s a split second of hesitation as you’re shifting to guide him back inside you. Perhaps the words crossed another line. He meant them, though.
If you’re bothered by his honesty, you don’t voice it.
With a slight drop of your hips, his cockhead slips smoothly back into your wet warmth, then the rest of his thick length, until your lap is pressed flush against his, pelvises locked tight.
Chan walks his fingertips up your spine until his palms come to rest firmly against your shoulder blades. You oblige his body language and lean in closer. Again, you hesitate for a short moment, letting something unspoken and unfinished hang suspended in the small space between your face and his for just a few broken heartbeats before closing the distance.
Gasps on both sides come when you make that first ascent back up his rigid length only to slam right back down. Running his tongue along yours becomes an afterthought to keeping your hips moving against him.
“That’s it, angel,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Ride it- mmph, fuck- ride it just like that.”
“Chan…”
Two of his fingers come to rest against your lips, dip past your teeth.
“Keep fucking me, Y/N. Don’t stop fucking me,” he urges.
Your lips close around his fingers, tongue swirling a little looser than your hips. Once they’re well lubricated with your spit, Chan draws them back to stuff them down below where he’s joined with you. With a little prodding, he finds your engorged clit and gets to work unraveling you again.
However, you seem to have other plans. Smacking his fingers away, your other hand takes his chin.
“I said I want your cock, not your fingers,” you say, the low pitch of your voice insanely sexy.
You take the offending fingers and watch as he watches you bring them back into your mouth to suck on them more earnestly than before. His jaw drops as much as your grip will allow, and his dick twitches hard between your walls.
“Need to make you come. Can’t do it with just my dick,” Chan reasons.
Your movements are already getting the better of him. The way you’re bouncing in his lap is knocking the breath from his lungs, coiling his muscles into springs. But he can’t tip over the edge without you again. He won’t, god damn it.
Hand closed around his wrist, you drag his fingers off your tongue and out of your mouth.
“Can’t you?” you taunt, eyebrow quirked.
You know damn well he can’t. He never could. Sure, he’s been inside you for plenty of your orgasms, but he always had to enlist the help of his fingers or a vibrator to stimulate your clit at the same time. Grinding your clit into his pelvic bone never yielded the same results, and he couldn’t fuck your g-spot for long enough or consistently enough to get you to come that way, either. Not without coming first.
Chan whimpers and fixes you with a helpless stare which you must find amusing because you chuckle.
“Sorry, baby,” you say, not sounding particularly apologetic. “Didn’t mean to hurt your pride.”
A blush bleeds from the tips of his ears all the way down to his chest.
“Y/N, please…”
Smiling gently, you stop your bouncing and let go of both his wrist and his face to wind your arms behind his neck. His hands instinctively settle on your waist in turn.
“Feel like I could come just looking at you right now.” Your eyes shake back and forth, looking between each of his. “No one has ever made me come the way you always did.”
He starts to respond to your flattery, but his thought evaporates when you lift all the way off his aching cock then sit back down on one of his thighs, instantly smearing it with your arousal.
“You were always a selfless lover, Chan,” you continue, cupping the nape of his neck in both hands, thumbs resting against his throat. Surely you can feel the spike in his heartbeat. “I adored that about you. You always made my pleasure yours. But I’ve told you, my pleasure doesn’t always involve orgasming. Sometimes I just wanted to see you get lost in your own pleasure. Get a little selfish.”
Chastely, you kiss his cheek, then pull back to fix him in your stare again.
“So fuck me again, baby,” you purr. “And don’t worry if you come fast this time.”
With that invitation extended, you turn over onto your hands and knees.
Chan gravitates to you, getting in position behind you within seconds, hands on your hips to yank them a little higher. You hum in approval of his assertive action and spread your knees a little further apart.
Without warning, he takes his cock - the condom thoroughly coated in your juices - in hand and shoves it back into your cunt, all the way up to his balls.
“Always want you to come when you’re with me,” he rasps, not bothering to use past tense. “Want to show you a good time every time. But if you say that means you want me to get a bit selfish, so be it.”
Grip tight on your body, he draws his hips back until his tip nearly falls from your pussy, then yanks you back onto him as he pushes forward again. He must hit the right spot on the first stroke because your back trembles and bows inward.
“Yes, Chan, fuck! Right there- please-”
He smirks. “God, you really do just want my cock, don’t you, sweetheart? It’s right here.” He drags it back, slots it in deep.
Your fingers tighten in his sheets. “Keep fucking me, baby. And k-keep talking.”
He picks up the pace, abandoning his full strokes in favor of shorter, deeper ones again. “Since you want me to be selfish, does that mean you just want me to use you tonight? Want to pretend you’re just my tight little fleshlight? Huh?”
The dirty-talking monster is yawning back to life. The flesh of your ass ripples against the onslaught of his smacking hips. He’d be driving you face-first up his mattress if he wasn’t pulling you back onto him.
“Yes, fuck,” you moan, pussy closing in ever tighter around his pistoning dick.
Chan swears under his breath and licks his lips, eyes fixed to where his rock hard cock disappears just below the jiggling globes of your ass. He can’t believe you’re letting him use you this way. Talk to you this way. It was only because you trusted him so much that you ever let him do something like this in the first place. Evidently you still do. It’s oddly touching.
He wants to assure you you’re way more to him than just a pretty cock sleeve, even now, in the ‘after’ part of your relationship, but that’s not what the dirty talking monster would say.
Still, he has to know you’ll tell him if he goes too far.
“Want to give me a safe word, Y/N?” Chan asks, reaching out to give your shoulder a tender squeeze.
“Shoelace,” you respond quicker than expected.
He hums in approval over your answer, brings his veiny hand to caress your cheek for a fleeting moment, circles that arm under your tits to lift your back into his chest. His cock is still stuffed tight inside you; the pause in his thrusts is only temporary.
Lips to your ear, he whispers, “Okay, angel. Here you go,” and slams himself hard into your cunt. “Just want to sit here on your knees while I drill my fat cock into you over and over? That’s fine. Want me to call you a fucking slut for it? I’ll do that for you.”
Because I fucking love you.
You whimper and writhe in his arms, face swiveling until your nose brushes across his. He gladly lets you recapture his lips, lets your tongue swarm back into his mouth.
He rebuilds his pace, still opting for quick, short ruts into your pussy to keep himself stuffed as deep as possible. Your panting breaths mingle with his as he works up the pleasure. Before long, you’re moaning too loudly on the end of his pumping dick to focus on kissing him anymore, but that just gives him the opportunity to continue talking.
“Do you like the way I’m f-fucking you?” Chan whispers, deep voice cracking. He drags his hand from below your tits and latches onto one, getting a rough handful. When he pinches your nipple, your body responds instantly. “Like the way I’m touching you? Mmm, I think you do, angel. This pussy is clenching me so goddamn tight. You’re such a good little cock sleeve for me.”
He’s not sure if you can hear everything he’s saying over the loud slaps of his pelvis hitting your backside, but you whine in response, head lolling to the side. His eyes rake from your bare neck down to your sweaty cleavage. He twists your nipple one way, then the other, and moves on to the other one.
“Can’t believe you didn’t want me to eat you out.” Chan trails wet kisses along your shoulder, squeezes your breast tight, keeps fucking up into you. “Would’ve treated this sweet pussy so well. Instead, you want me to be selfish. Want me to come without you. But that’s fine. Toys don’t get to come, anyway. Isn’t that right?”
You hiss when he bites down on your shoulder. Some motion below draws his attention - your hand dipping between your legs. He feels your fingertips brush against his moving shaft, the only inch or so of it pushing in and out. When your fingers move away from his cock but your arm remains in place, he figures you’re playing with your clit instead.
“Tsk, tsk.” He smiles. “So you do want to come.”
You groan but don’t say anything. You've told him what you’ll say if he goes too far with his dirty talk, but the word doesn’t leave your lips.
“That’s fine, angel. You can come whenever you want. Just make sure you squeeze my cock extra tight when you do it.”
One hand still clutching your tit, he hugs his other strong arm around your hips, redistributes his weight on his knees, and goes in even faster. Your body rattles in his hold from how hard and fast he’s pounding you, practically vibrating. The sweat on his chest smears against your back.
The fingers not playing with your clit come up to curl in the hair at the nape of Chan’s neck. “Oh my god, I’m so f-fucking close,” you huff, tugging his hair.
“Already?”
No sooner does your head jerk in a shaky nod than your cunt clamps hard on his dick. Chan gasps, the sensation catching him totally off guard for a second, but when he fully registers what’s happening, he chuckles wickedly. Your tense body twitches and shakes in his hold as your orgasm rips through it. He embraces you tighter to keep you steady.
“Shit, baby, where the fuck did that come from, huh?” he laughs, utterly delighted. “Just love this dick so much, don’t you? Couldn’t help but come on it, could you, you little slut? Does it feel good?”
You hum. Or maybe it’s a grunt. Your voice is pinched and strained when you say, “So so fucking good. Please c-come with me, baby, come with me now…”
“Keep squeezing me and I will, angel. Squeeze my cum out, come on.”
As your orgasm drops off, the pulsing of your pussy weakens, but it’s more than enough to draw out Chan’s own orgasm.
“That’s it- oh fuck, angel, that’s it, please- please, please, fuck-fuck-fuck- ungh!”
Only a few more resounding claps of his hips against your ass before he comes hard, groaning loudly at the moment of his brutal second release. The condom catches shot after shot of the translucent cum his throbbing cock is ejaculating. He can vaguely hear you murmuring sweet nothings, your lips ghosting over his cheek, but his heartbeat is so damn loud in his eardrums, his orgasm feels too fucking good.
As soon as his senses return to him, he pulls his cock from your over-sensitive pussy. Your spent body slumps forward against the mattress, too exhausted to remain upright without the help of his arms.
Chan is off the bed to trash the condom and back at your side in mere seconds, gathering your warm, sweaty body against his as he lies beside you, facing you.
“That was so good, Y/N,” he murmurs, fussing over the hair sticking to your face. Your eyes are a bit glazed. He tries not to panic. “Hey, you did so well, sweet angel. Stay with me, baby, please don’t fall asleep. I’m right here. Look at me.”
He takes your hand and places it on his cheek, and to his relief, it doesn’t slip away; you hold his face with your own strength.
“I’m fine, Chan,” you say, a smile dawning over your entire face, eyes already refocused.
He starts reiterating that you’re not just a cock sleeve to him, not a toy, not a slut, at least not in a negative way, but you giggle and silence him with a kiss.
“I know, baby, I know,” you assure him. Your other arm is trapped somewhere between your bodies and the mattress, but you manage to free it so you can cup his face with both hands. “You did great, too. You were perfect. I felt safe with you, don’t worry. I feel safe.”
It’s been so long since he’s had you in his bed recovering from a round of intense sex, he’s not sure what to do next. The ensuing silence doesn’t feel awkward, though. He lets you gently rake your fingernails across his scalp, and he returns the gentle gesture with slow swipes of his thumb back and forth across your cheek.
Eventually, the tranquil moment is broken when you draw in a deep breath and haul yourself to a sitting position at the foot of his bed.
Chan isn’t sure he can stand a goodbye from you right now, temporary or permanent. The thought that he made a mistake by breaking up with you is blaring in neon lights in his head. If there’s anything he can do to at least convince you to stay the night with him, he will.
And if, in the morning, there’s anything he can do to convince you how much of a fool he was for ending a good thing, he’ll do his damnedest.
Worst case scenario, his life will return to the way it was just a few hours ago.
Best case scenario, he could be on his way to being your boyfriend again.
First, he sits up beside you.
Second, he looks into your eyes.
Finally, he opens his mouth.
---
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#bang chan smut#chan smut#christopher bang smut#stray kids smut#skz smut#bang chan x reader#chan x reader#christopher bang x reader#stray kids x reader#skz x reader#be that guy#daizymax
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i have never thought of the bg3 paths as railroaded before but oh my god... i see your vision. i think that, for all that can be picked apart in the writing of dragon age, the worldbuilding in that series is so so interested in complicating all factions that you can envision a character who /makes sense/ while bouncing through various ideologies. and the sort of fantasy writing in (most of) the forgotten realms doesn't really allow for that.
dao is particularly the light of my life because the origins mechanic is specifically intended to let you create a character who has a distinctive perspective on the world that’s grounded in the worldbuilding. one of my favourite aspects of this is several origins having completely different codex entries on their own culture as opposed to those an outsider would get. it’s really good! it’s also a reasonably grounded world (while obviously silly) because, like, the basic fundamental premise of thedas, from which they ikea flatpack built almost every feature, is “how would people react to magical and fantastical diversity? the same way they react to human diversity.” you’re meant to feel like, aside from i guess the darkspawn, people are normal and have real motivations. sure it has to fulfil certain roles in a story, and dragon age was manufactured too quickly and purposefully for everything to land feeling authentic, but evil in dragon age should feel recognisable. and in most of the origins they give you a chance to do something that is bad, but also totally makes sense, because of the context of your character belonging to this world where these things happen
in dnd/the forgotten realms it’s a bit different because capital e Evil exists, so there are people and deities and devils (and, to open another can of worms, races) whose entire goal is to Do Evil. it’s also harder to produce grounded evil because in a world where i’m being given basically no context and just told to make whatever i want, i don’t have an inch of the kind of social information i get from for example a dao origin: what my character has been taught to believe they should do to survive, who they are willing to sacrifice, whatever. bg3 also happens to have a main plot goal that is, at least for the first part of the game, broadly selfish (“i am sick, and i need a cure”) which works really well for getting a bunch of people with vastly differing moral standards to band together for the same goal, and not so good for any kind of “greater good” type blurred morality, so that’s out too
however much the worldbuilding factors into this, bg3 specifically went for quite a clear distinction between the good path and the capital e Evil Path, and i find it pretty hard to vary up the good path. when i say railroaded i mean you either do the specific thing that gets you a quest down the line or not. i was really disappointed actually in my playthrough where i totally fucked up in the druids’ grove and caused a fight to break out, because it immediately instakilled tons of characters i knew i would need down the line. the few it spared needed some of the dead ones to stay alive in later quests, so it’s like... oh. that’s just... over. for both factions. bg3 arguably lets you do basically anything you want but they are able to do that because if you fuck around it just breaks the entire quest line from coming up again, which means playing a character who fucks up is not even really going to get me consequences it’s just going to cut content from the game. does that make sense? and then the Evil Path is just straight up evil, like... there’s no way for me to complicate and empathise, here, especially playing a blank canvas character whose motivations i would have to make up from nothing, and who faces basically no consequences for not doing this. the only neutral/cowardly/self-interested option in act 1 is to do neither path, which gets me the least content because i literally don’t get to play the fucking game
i don’t know, i’m not saying it’s necessarily bad just that it’s hard for me, personally, and how i like to create characters. especially when you have my constant restart disease and you have to do this all over again a dozen times just for a handful of different dialogue. does any of that make sense
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GO TO HELL
[Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader]
➨ Prologue
Next: Chapter One
Premise:
You love your friends. You really do. But sometimes it needs reminding when one of them accidentally sends you to Hell.
Despite falling into the hands of Hell’s loveliest princess, finding a way back to the world of the living proves difficult as you tiptoe around its king.
Warning(s): blood, future nsfw (possibly?)(not in this chapter)
If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:
Otherwise, enjoy!
♡ ♡ ♡
PROLOGUE
You were careful not to puncture the plastic biohazard bag as you struggled to fit it in your backpack. Your friend owed you big time for this one.
You enjoyed your job, but having to stay overtime was not the way you would typically choose to spend the free hours of your day. Unfortunately, one of your overachiever coworkers was closing as well, so you had to wait even longer than expected. She only left after you insisted on taking over her closing duties.
It took some convincing. You had to thoroughly explain how desperate you were to get out of some macho-man movie the guy you were seeing insisted on watching with you. It was a half-truth. You had no plans to spend any amount of time with him that night, but he had been heckling you for the past week about that fucking movie. Regardless, it did the trick since your coworker’s fiancé was obsessed with the same one, and she proceeded to go on a full rant about how much she loathed it.
All that matters is you successfully got her to leave, finished closing in record time, and finally got that damn biohazard bag zipped up safe in your backpack. With that, you were out the door and on your way to help your friend in their “time of need.”
Which basically translated to, “I need materials that are hard to acquire ethically, and if you love me, you’ll help.”
When you asked what on Earth they would ever need such a thing for, they told you they recently decided to dip their toes into the occult. What exactly that meant, you weren’t sure, and you didn’t want to know. You were just eager to drop off the biohazard bag and head home. You could see a nice hot bubble bath in the near future. Maybe a book and a fun little drink as a treat.
The brief walk to your car was surprisingly pleasant. You didn’t feel as though you were heading home in the middle of the night anymore as the days were growing longer. And it was that perfect temperature where you could wear a t-shirt or a sweater and still feel comfortable. Spring was at last beginning to bloom.
The sun was just about to set as you pulled up to your friend’s apartment building, which was thankfully only a short drive away from your workplace. You scaled a few floors until you got to their door. There wasn’t even a chance to knock before it swung open, and you were yanked inside by the collar of your shirt.
The room was dark save for a few dozen pillar candles that were lit around nearly the entire perimeter of the living room. The kitchen countertop was littered with all kinds of spices, some in containers, some in ominous Ziploc baggies, and most just spilled out across the faux granite. Looking closer at the floor in the center of the open room, there was a star with a circle around it drawn out in what looked to be salt or sugar. In the middle of it was a large black candle with a pile of what you assumed were the herbs from the counter surrounding it.
“Do you have it?” Devon asked as they pulled your bag from your hands. “We’re almost out of time. I got as much ready as I could, but this is the longest step.”
“I’m sorry. We? There is no we when you’re trying to sell your soul to the devil or- Look, I don’t know what you’re doing, but I’m not taking part,” you said as you helped them carefully remove the plastic bag, bringing it to the weird seance circle-thing. You dreaded the moment they opened it. Some of its contents were rather fresh, but some were a week or two old.
“Nobody is selling anybody’s soul,” your friend scoffed, tearing open the plastic after failing to undo your rather tight knot. You were not about to have that shit leaking out onto your personal belongings.
They instantly recoiled. You’ve never seen their face so shriveled up before. You wished you had your phone out to take a picture. They sat there for a moment before taking a deep breath and reaching their hand towards the bag’s opening.
You were going to gag.
“Stop! What are you doing?” you shrieked, stepping up to their side to stop them from actually dipping their fingers in. “Don’t you have gloves or something?”
“Did you bring me gloves?”
“You didn’t ask me to bring you gloves.”
“Then no, I don’t have gloves.”
“Can’t you just leave it in the bag?” you asked, shaking your head in disbelief. Sometimes you seriously questioned your taste in friends.
“No, the book says I have to use it to draw these symbols around the pentagram,” they said, sliding you the crustiest, dustiest book you had ever seen in your life. When you picked it up, you were worried it would crumble away from the way it crunched as you gripped the pages. Many of the words were blurred, including a portion of the title, which appeared to be in Latin.
You couldn’t understand it, but you remembered them saying it was something to do with summoning a demon. According to Devon, they can help you out with finances, academics, romance… You couldn’t help but imagine some horned monstrosity threatening your boss into giving you a raise or breaking into your teacher’s office to change your test scores.
“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.” You carefully handed the book back to them and walked over to their desk where you knew they kept some basic art supplies. A paint brush should work fine so long as they sanitize the living hell out of it afterwards.
You sat down beside Devon and watched them slowly dip the white bristles into the biohazard bag. The paint brush came out nearly black, as if they were painting with tar, but as it was pressed to the apartment floor, it left behind streaks of crimson. You had to lean away from the overwhelming stench of it. Iron and rot.
Devon had explained to you that they were initially going to use whatever blood they could squeeze out of a steak from the supermarket. The only problem was the ritual specifically required it be human. Obviously, that only left them with two options: Prick their own finger (though they doubted that would be enough) or murder.
That was, until they remembered what you did for work.
You landed yourself a job in a medical facility testing blood samples for all sorts of diseases. Sometimes you only had to determine the blood type or whether it would be viable for donation. Once the testing was done, the blood would be discarded.
To Devon, this meant you had unlimited access to such a valuable ingredient in their twisted little plan. It took quite a bit of convincing before you finally agreed. You were worried about the possibility of losing your job. Can you believe that?
The final symbol was drawn out, and you were wondering why you were still there. You told yourself you would be in and out. You wanted nothing to do with this. Maybe it was just morbid curiosity? Never in your life, would you have thought you’d be helping your friend with some demonic ritual.
You decided it was finally time to take your leave as Devon began chanting in Latin. That was enough fuckery for one day. God knows you want no part in whatever their little séance results in.
You were barely able to get to your feet when the lines of salt began to glow an ominous red. The floor within the pentagram started to crumble away into what looked like a void as you noticed your shirt being gently tugged in its direction. You backed away, not taking your eyes off of it.
There was a blinding flash, then the room was filled with a shrill, ear-piercing noise. It was as if a thousand souls were screaming out at once. You’re sure you yelled out in alarm, though you couldn’t hear it. Covering your ears did little to dampen the volume.
You were jerked forward suddenly as the soft pull on your shirt grew fierce. Glowing red chains manifested around your waist with matching pairs of shackles around your wrists and ankles. Your eyes followed them as they led back to the pentagram. Whatever they were attached to on the other side was a mystery.
“Devon!”
Your cry went unanswered, and you spared a glance towards your dear friend. Their eyes appeared to have rolled back in their head, still chanting mindlessly.
The chains around you grew tighter, causing you to whine in discomfort. To your horror, they continued to pull you closer to the void. You tried with all your might to fight against it, throwing your weight back, legs stiffly digging into the plastic wood flooring in front of you. It was all for naught as your socks deprived you of any traction.
You only slid closer and closer to that gaping hole.
You screamed. You fell. You clawed at whatever you could get your hands on.
Then the ground beneath you vanished, and the world went silent.
Next Chapter
#lucifer morningstar#lucifer magne#Lucifer Morningstar x reader#Lucifer magne x reader#fem!reader#demon summoning#occult#study your rituals people#there’s no Lucifer this chapter#I’m so sorry#please forgive me#Lucifer coming soon
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╰₊✧ ﾟ⚬𓂂➢ [yandere!men in your harem x reader]
* ・✦⇢ contents :: wherein one day, the seven men in your life, decided to put aside their differences and pass you around. [reverse harem] [3,065 words]
* ・✦⇢ warnings/cw :: general yandere themes, filth, sexual themes, you’re getting used and passed around, slight dacryphilia, slight degradation, some m undertones (one of the concubines), smut !!, mention of violence (not to darling or the concubines), possessive behaviour, edging, overstimulation. those who are not of age (minors) dni !
* ・✦⇢ additional notes :: hello everyone! this is my first time (attempting) to write gn!reader smut so be kind ㅠㅡㅠ i am honestly not very sure if this is how you do it or if it’s written well enough but since a promise is a promise, here it is. do let me know if this is okay though ! now is the time i would greatly appreciate feedbacks regarding this since i want to know whether or not everyone liked it (or if you didn’t). hopefully, i was able to do it well and can convey what i wanted properly.
* :: this post is gender neutral and no explicit body parts are particularly mentioned for the readers, therefore, everyone is free to read it! although, if i missed it or something, let me know! because as far as i know, no particulars were ever mentioned. reader is smaller than all concubines tho ! if i missed any warnings/tags lmk!
* :: likes/reblogs and feedbacks are always appreciated! my ask is open for reqs~
CAN YOU STAY UP ALL NIGHT? FUCK ME TIL THE DAYLIGHT !
• the first one loves tormenting you. not in a sadistic sense, but more likely because he couldn’t get enough of you. raised in a holy kingdom where he spent most of his days training to become a paladin, and taking an oath to never let desire rule his life until he found a person whom he will spend the rest of his days with, he was eternally glad that he found you after fulfilling that oath. in his mind, if he were to see you in the premise of the holy kingdom, he wouldn’t be able to keep up the lifestyle he grew accustomed to. with his unlimited stamina, he kept going and using your body for both your pleasures. you remember how once, he fucked you for three days straight, only pausing between meals and catnaps (bath times are spent with him still inside you and depending on both your patience, you either just warm his cock until it’s over or you both end up fucking once more). you wouldn’t have believed your body was capable of having that much stamina— despite already having an above average one— it was all thanks to his healing powers. once he starts noticing your tired, fucked out form, he quickly provides your body with healing energy, and continues once your body regains its normal level. he’s a very eager man; so enthusiastic and so very attentive to your needs. he’s had you writhing in pleasure all by yourself before he even takes you, peppering your entire face with kisses until he gets to your neck and trails it with open mouthed, wet kisses. once he gets to your chest, he’s marking you like a madman while calling you the sweetest of names and singing praises, yet somehow, it all feels so inherently filthy coming from the very holy looking man. he fucks you hard and fast, as if afraid that if he slowed down even for a nanosecond, you’d disappear. he torments you with his insatiability, all the while, the only thing you could ever think is where and how can he learn to be this filthy?
• the second one loves taking his time. contrary to the very first time you did it with him, wherein he came undone before he even began fully touching you, the following times he took you, he savoured every inch of you like he has all the time in the world. and his hands calculatingly takes you apart; his large hands pressing at your thighs and spreading them apart. caressing your entire body until you’re whimpering and gasping for him. in full honestly, he is severely obsessed with how small you are against him. the visual drives him absolutely insane. from his entire physique, down to his cock, everything. revels in the way you suck his cock the most, even if he doesn’t admit it. he loved the way you struggle to take all of him in your mouth and how much you indulge him when he requests you maintain eye contact. he needs to come in your mouth, making you swallow all of it, at least twice before he’s lifting you up, making you bounce on his cock while standing up. he needed to leave a Mark on you, wants to ensure you’ll be able to still feel him even after he’s done with you. then when he’s fucking you, he loves the way he can hold both of your hands with only one of his hand, pinning it above your head as he watched you struggle take all of his cock inside you, completely entranced. but he especially loves the way you ride him, or tell him what to do. he loves when you take full control despite the size difference between the two of you. but he becomes an absolute heart-eyed fool when you’re on top of him, telling him how good he feels inside you. he also loves the way you make his cock sore, so sore. he loves the torture on his overstimulated dick, moaning at the feeling of you tightening around his already sore cock as you continue to bounce on top of him, riding out your high. he finds it rather difficult to leave you then, and the sweet pain of the proof of a little too much love making, concentrated at the tip of his abused cock.
• the third one drags you to filth with his mouth as he hammers into you. “you might be the most noble of them all in this empire, your highness,” he smirked, “but right now, you’re nothing but a filthy whore waiting for everyone to have their turn with you.” and you know it shouldn’t make you clench harder or make your back arch even more so you could take him even more, but it did. and as your body further betrays you, you tried to suppress the lewd noises you were making. “tell me, does your imperial father know that his most trusted knight and the commander of the imperial guard fucked your throat raw and had all of his cum swallowed, not a drop getting out of that greedy mouth of yours?” he taunted you, “or perhaps, you’re already aroused before we even began because your head was already filled with such obscene thoughts unbefitting of your status while you’re supposed to be focusing on the grand meeting?” and instead of answering him, you only made a noise of protest when he slowed down his pace. “answer me or you don’t get to come.” he stated, eyes serious. “i’ll come inside you again and again,” he said while pushing on your abdomen, “but i will stop every time you feel like coming.” he mocked your begging gaze, already spilling his seed inside you as he did so, a little smirk on his face as he proves just how much he meant all his words. he’s a sly one, while he’s not much into too much kinky stuff, he loves the way your eyes tear up whenever you’re desperately in need of an orgasm, or when the pressure of his cock is too much for you to handle so he teases you and your body until he hears you desperately begging, your previous attempts of not wanting to cease control, all but forgotten. gets drunk in the way you crumble underneath him.
• the fourth one has a lot to give, whether it’s room to breathe, praises, or when he’s filling you up with all of his cum. his big, calloused hands massaged your body as he infused a bit of magic to take away the fatigue he’s beginning to see. he eases the tension in your body, expertly moving his hands to your pressure points so you could feel relieved; despite how kind he’s treating your body, however, all he could whisper is, “how filthy, your highness,” he smiled sweetly, “you seem to enjoy being passed around us like this... was being with one of us not as satisfying anymore now that you’ve tasted this? if you enjoy it this much... maybe we, as your men, should put all our differences aside and use you like this more often, hmm?” his taunt could only make you softly grunt, burying your face in the crook of his neck, he laughs mockingly as he teased you some more, hands dangerously falling lower on your back. next thing you know, the hands that were expertly relieving your soreness, are now expertly moving onto even filthier places, caressing your body. feeling his finger against your tight hole, you let out a small gasp. he whispers, “now, now. be good for me, darling.” as he takes his stretching you for him and makes sure you’re ready enough. as he prepares to enter you, you could only wince as you recall how big this man holding you right now is. how is it possible that most of the men in your little harem has a cock to boast about? but your thoughts are cut off when he swiftly moves inside you; filling you up so, so perfectly. he’s got you completely weak that you slumped against him, mewling, telling him to move for you. then he does. and he’s whispering the sweetest praises he could give you, eyeing your other men provokingly, displaying you to everyone and gloating how good he can make you feel— especially, how easily he can make you submit all control to him. and as you let out a needy whine, chanting ‘yes, yes, yes’ like a prayer to whatever it is that he’s saying; whether it may be if you’re good for him, want his cock, or if he should fill you up with his cum. he has you mindlessly whimpering, while his teeth refuses to let go a section of your neck as he relentlessly pounds into you. and you beg for more, so he has you settled on your back, pressed in half, to ready you for the oncoming load of his cum and more to come. he has truly achieved fucking you stupid. so he coos at you, almost sincerely, telling you how much you look good for him this way, looking so stupid as you can only beg him to fill you up with cum, his thrusts never once slowing down. then he has you cumming, your legs shaking uncontrollably, spasming around him making him groan lowly, with your throat aching from a broken scream you let out. after a few more rounds and he pulls out, he watches his cum oozing out of you, pushing his fingers in to keep it back. overall, despite his godly hands and honey coated praises; he’s the one who wants to break you, he craves your body and wanted to make it submit to him and him alone, he loves the way your voice can’t even come out as your brain loses all its function and can only focus on the pleasure he can bring you.
• the fifth one loves depriving you. he’s a tease but unlike the others, he doesn’t do it as much. he’s got your eyes covered with the finest silk, something he couldn’t have easily obtained with his current status. as he takes you from behind, grasping and fondling your ass, he’s got his pair of psychic hands pin you to place. he finds out your little fetish of being held down and being helpless against someone as they take you to be very interesting, and something he can do— quite often at that. he didn’t care how much you whined when he upped his pace thrusting into you. the view of your ass jiggling every time he pounded into you harshly, blindfolded and held down was a sight to behold. instead of asking you what you want or even giving you instructions on how he wants you, he’s doing it himself; handling you as he makes you give absolute submission. he would do you in any way, form, or position that he’d like until you’re reduced into a mere blubbering mess. and whenever you try to catch up to him and move by yourself, his hands are already on you— psychic or physical, depending if one is busy doing the other. he loves the way you can utter such obscene language, cursing to death as you try to whine for an orgasm. “such a needy little thing, your highness. it’s truly unfortunate for others that only we get to see you this way. we’d have to have anyone who are not us never see you, nor hear you lest they wanted their eyes gauged, or tongue cut off as no one can ever know how lewd our perfect little royal highness is.”
• the sixth one, despite being a virgin, made you feel so good that you wondered whether or not he was telling the entire truth when he confessed never touching anyone sexually before you. with his innate flirtatious nature, and glib tongue befitting of the top merchant that he is, it totally could’ve fooled you. as the richest man in the empire, he has all the resources to know how to make someone feel good. and good, did he make you feel. the travelling merchant only got better as your escapades continue; if you’ve ever met a worshipper, he has to be it. he goes feral whenever he sees you in any pretty clothing— in this case, any and every clothing— and will not be able to resist you in anything. his confidence gets a huge boost whenever you chant his name in a whispered prayer, clutching at him tightly as he makes you ride out your own release. his love bites are more akin to vampire marks, he loves leaving it when he can and he absolutely loves it when you give up wearing something that can expose them. he loves the idea that he is the sole person who knows why exactly their precious little highness is wearing a high neck even if it is scorching hot. sometimes, he bites hard enough to draw a bit of blood. splurges on recording orbits from the magic tower so he can capture you during your sessions. when he can’t stay and has to be away from you because of how demanding his duties can be, he watches them and let’s himself cum at least four times. he made a rule that if you’re away with each other and touches yourselves thinking of the other, then you must send an emergency communication alert to the communication orb to ask permission if either of you can come. has a hobby of picking up your limp body by wrapping a hand around your neck as he fucks you from behind. as you whine out, “i can’t... i can’t take anymore,” he hushes you softly, lowly encouraging you to hang on a bit more, that you’re being so good and that he will make sure to reward you greatly for being so good for him.
• the last one has a propriety glint in his eyes, after all, he’s stopped time for every single one of you just so they could properly use you without minding how long they’re taking. one look at him and you know, how impatient this man right now is. he settled you on his lap, a quick healing spell casted upon you. then you started grinding on his thigh, turned on with his twisted expression of possessiveness, jealousy, and impatience, your hands trying to muffle the sounds of your own pleasure. in retaliation of the intense jealousy he’s experiencing, he’s not letting you reach the high you so desperately wanted. he heard you whimper a soft plea, shifting closer to him as you did so. he adjusts you, now with your back facing him, and his arms wrapped around you, one on your chest and the other on your inner thigh, fingers needlessly teasing. then, he starts pleasuring you once more, strangled moans as you pray to whatever gods out there for him to let you come. still, he continued to just tease you near your end, torturously stopping just before it drives you over the edge. he continues to do this until you’re a proper mess; desperately gasping for air, panting, and letting out the neediest whines. still dazed as he finally compliments you for doing well and listening to him. to you, his voice and everything in within your vision is hazy, you can’t make out what he’s saying or what anyone is doing; all you can feel is his warm, hardened cock poking your back and the ache of wanting to finally cum. so he doesn’t waste anymore time and drives his cock into you and he lets himself bask on the feeling of your tightness around him, the squelching sounds that came from your joint bodies driving him feral and making him thrust into you with unbelievable pace. his once prim, proper and elegant face is gone, only unadulterated pleasure is left as he enjoys taking you. he kept powering into you, only focused on ravaging you so completely that all your inhibitions would dropped, too; so utterly destroyed that you’d feel mastered, owned, and consumed by him. “are you close? i can feel you squeezing my cock so tightly, darling. but you have to wait—“ you let out a whining sob, a protest that you don’t want and are not willing to wait even a second longer for your approaching climax, and he chuckled, the annoying bastard. “don’t worry, all you need to do is wait for me. i want us to come together, darling. you’ll do that for me, won’t you?” soon, your orgasm has finally came; and you came with an almost violent tremor wracking your whole body. you felt him grabbed a handful of your hair, you let out a small hiss as you felt the room go cold. then he’s drilling his cock into you even more; every forward slam of hips unapologetically violent. feral. and unrestrained. he couldn’t slow down as he felt your orgasm wrack your entire body. he forcefully turned your face towards his, “yes, take a good look at who’s owning you now, your highness” his tone insolent, he couldn’t slow down his pace at all. soon, your reaching another high, this time, you can feel just how intense it would be and anticipation clawed at you. his hands weren’t gentle, nor were his mouth as he trailed bites along your upper back. when it came, the burning stings of pain only pushed all sorts of your hot buttons, highlighting the indescribable pleasure he brought you. he slammed into you one last time, then began emptying himself inside you, “come, your highness,” you didn’t think you could come again as your first orgasm has been so intense, but it did. if your first was intense, now you’re coming in an explosive orgasm, wrecking you from the inside out, shattering you into tiny little pieces and sending all of you crumbling. you felt so sapped out of energy, your orgasm— so explosive and devastating— pretty much drained you so entirely. you slumped on your bed, shuddering and fighting to breathe, your brain completely shutting out. and you barely registered as he picked you up gently to sprawl you over his chest while he lay on his back.
those who chose the reverse harem fic, here it is! thank u for the feedback on my og post. im not sure if you wanted to be tagged so do tell me if you want to be untagged: @nebulosa-lady , @beyzaakadeku , @aineloveslatte1 , @a-person-with-many-likes , @msvaniilabean , @ccurheart.
#yandere oc#male yandere oc#yandere headcanons#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere drabble#male yandere#soft yandere#possessive yandere#yandere oc x reader#yandere x darling#yandere smut#yandere x reader#yandere x you
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OKAY BUT I HAVE MORE IDEA FOR BLUNT READER CUZ I LOVE THAT AU SO MUCHANDMDJFKSLDKF
So you know how french people's insult are always outta pocket (from a person who's first language is french I can tell you that no other language compares in insult -apart for African languages)
Like,, some "bad" insult here would be : bitch, fuck off, whore,..
Which we can all agree is boring...
BUT THEN IN FRENCH!!!
We be getting creative with it
Eg.
"mange tes mort" wich translates to "eat your dead (relatives)"
"vas te fair enculer" means "go get yourself pegged in the ass"
(yes, we have a specific word for being fucked in the ass 💀)
AND THOSE WOULD BE THE COMMON ONES AS WELL
English could never compare ✨
BUT ANYWAYS
how would the characters react if reader was from france/ belgium/ canada(or any other french speaking country) and started cursing people out like they eould do in their home countrie !?!?
The eay their face would drop
We would make a couple of people cry
AND GOD(us haha) FORBID A KID OVER-HEAR US AND STARTS REPEATING US
Trying to un-teach them would be hell *cries*
Your thoughts?
Love yaaaa~
ABSOLUTE TOP TIER ORAH MY BELOVED!!
Nobody has any idea how much I HATE ENGLISH both for its rules/pronounciation BS/etc. But also, most importantly, THERES LIKE NO GOOD CUSS WORDS- OR LIKE CUSS PHRASES??
I HAD TO PUT THIS GIF BC THAT WAS LITERALLY ME WHEN I HAD THE REALIZATION TO LOOK UP OTHER LANGUAGE CUSS WORDS AND I WAS JUST BLOWN AWAY BY HOW GOOD THEY WERE- HOW CREATIVE- 😫😭🥲 ENGLISH WHY R U SO SHITY IN EVERY POSSIBLE LANGUAGE SITUATION-
like idk we got "eat shit and die / fuck off / go fuck yourself" ???? Like- thats pathetic 😟.
I love hearing someone just cuss smbody out their native language/non-english, it’s so badass and cool to see
Anyway u already know i love non-native english speakers from the bottom of my heart✨️
GOD I FUCKING LOVE BLUNT LANGUAGE AU ITS LIKE ONE OF TOP FAV AS U CAN PROBABLY GUESS I COULD WRITE A LITERAL FANFIC ENTIRELY OFF THIS SIMPLE PREMISE 💖💓💗💞❤️🔥❤️🔥❤️🔥
omg so i HAVE SPECIFICALLY HEARD ABT FRENCH BEING RLLY CREATIVEEE
and i researched french cusswords/phrases,,,
😭 BRO IM CRYING
“bête comme ses pieds!” IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR-
(trans: you’re as stupid AS YOUR FEEEEEETT)
idk what’s funnier, you translating urself in real time and saying all these phrases to ppl,
OR just scaring the ever-loving shit out of every teyvat citizen within a mile radius bc oh wow- you look pissed, so yeah somebody’s about to lose all their self-esteem for the rest of their life bc ur insults are known to be extra cutting bc ur so blunt-
OH CREATOR ABOVE (…oh creator, present??)- you changed to your holy language FOR THIS???
everybody just giving the npc the most bombastic side-eye for pushing you to do this,
or even just you stubbing ur toe/ate food when it was too hot
or my favorite, getting onto ppl like Wanderer when they do smth silly lmao
STOP I HAD A FOUL THOUGHT OF GETTING ONTO Ei AND WANDERER (like ei for not keeping him/at least giving him to someone else to raise, then all the shit he did as Scaramouche lol)
AND THIS CUSSWORD COMES OUT UNDER UR BREATH OR SMTH- DOES THIS FIT BC THIS KILLS ME:
“Putain de salope…” (whore of whore, I LIED IT MEANS FUCKING BITCH LMAO😭)
JUST GETTING THE MOM AND THE SON IN ONE FULL BREATH CRYINGGGG
STOPPP wanderer using it against other ppl ever since u used it lol
oh no stop dont bring the kids into thisss 😭😭
Klee would deffo be the first one to pick up ur words and use them, omg she just uses them as catchphrases like when throwing her bombs 💀
“Mange tes mort!” JUST WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE AS SHE THROWS HER HUGE SKILL BOMB INTO A FISH POND
Venti would definitely make sure the winds “pass along phrases of the sacred All-God language!”
which just means anyone who UNDERSTANDS YOU JUST GETS GENTLY CREATIVELY CUSSED OUT BY THE WIND IM SOBBINGGG
☆
i hope u guys are having a great summer! its basically too hot to go outside where I am, not unless ur going straight into the water or smth
which hey, ill be doing that this weekend, floating down the river about an hour away from my house with friends! :]
which,,, if anyone sees this, U GOTTA HELP ME THINK OF A 1000 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE THING TO DO IDK WHAT TO DO BUT I WANNA CELEBRATE IT BC I NEVER THOUGHT THATD HAPPEN!! lmk what u think in the comments if u read this!
☆
Safe Travels 0rah,
💀♒
♡the beloveds♡
@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi
#srry i take so long to answer smth so simple#i actually have a surprising amount of asks!#i was thinkin abt it the other day like#damn should i reopen mail box#then i was like#not really bc i still got a lot of stuff to answer!#so now ITS CRAZZYYY to see my first posts/asks and see me trying to get ppl to send asks!#anyway i gotta make a 1000 followers thing bc i love u guys#sagau#genshin sagau#genshin impact sagau#sagau x reader#genshin imagines#genshin isekai#gender neutral reader#self aware genshin#genshin impact au#genshin x reader
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i just finished watching scavenger's reign yesterday, and let me tell y'all this is genuinely the best piece of sci-fi media i have seen in a long while, and it's insane how little i've seen this show being discussed online! it is probably the most unique and viscerally stunning series i’ve ever seen. the world that they have created is equal parts fascinating and terrifying, and every part of it feels fully realized. sci-fi is at its best when it lets go of nostalgia and explores the unknown, and SR gives me hope that real sci-fi can take root again, and be something beyond what came before it.
i will refrain from giving too much away in my discussion because this show works best the less you know going into it. the premise for this show is simple: crewmembers of a crashed freighter ship are left scattered across an alien planet. a good chunk of time has already passed by the time the show begins, and a few of the survivors have already established camps. however, things quickly spiral out of control as disaster wipes away their progress and forces each of them to move on. it's a harsh and unforgiving world that tests them each and every step of the way on their journey.
worldbuilding is where this show truly shines. it is no easy thing to design an entire ecosystem from scratch. it takes an insane amount of creativity and attention to detail to pull off what this show has. and my god did they fucking pull it off. living balloons floating through the air, large sea creatures that suck up their eggs when faced with danger, tendrilled plants that spawn clones of their prey to track them down - it is a frightening, surreal, and violent world, but harmonious in its own way. some creatures poison you, others clean off the poison. there are your typical type of predators that come at you with sharp fangs and giant pincers, but then there are predators that hunt via more insidious means: manipulating the memories of their prey to have them do their bidding, or hijacking their bodies from the inside. ultimately, the characters who fare best in this world are those who learn to adapt to it, and even sync with it.
SR also boasts a surprisingly well-crafted narrative. we are shown just enough of the world to keep us hooked, but it still feels like there is a lot left to be discovered. i also really enjoy the way the story is delivered to us. we follow the journeys of a few isolated groups whose paths gradually intersect. the characters are all fleshed out and three-dimensional - they were different enough to be unique and quirky, but never too different that it felt overboard. the way they react is exactly how humans in those circumstances would and should, the dialogue and voice acting were just superb. it felt so insanely real at times.
i really do hope that this show gets greenlit for a second season. this type of pure creative freedom is what we need right now. all in all, scavenger's reign is a gorgeous nightmare that you need to experience for yourself.
#scavengers reign#sr#review#recommendation#movie review#movie recommendation#show review#show recommendations#animation#scifi#science fiction#xenobiology#alien
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so, first, accountability statement: I plan on trying to finish the “zedaph steals a baby” fic by the end of the month and god is that one-line summary no longer accurate but we’re sticking to it, said here publicly so now I have to do it. obviously I also have recursive exchange and the writing I have for hotguy comics zine, but I am not SUPER worried about either of those time/inspiration-wise at the moment and also for Reasons I know it won’t be long until I have more free writing time after that, SO.
various items that are on my potential writing docket, I am curious which of these appeal most:
I dust off the supervillain support group au. two ways this could go: I chip away at the second arc of my original outline and acknowledge this will be like a 300k fic I’m not ready to feel “done” with or “ready to post” with for ages, or I re-work it into something a little more doable and less ambitious keeping the same premise (ren runs a support group for supervillains, doc pov as he starts to heal and redeem himself). this MAY honestly be a target for “if I don’t hate the first 50k on re-reading it and I can actually make my brain write the second arc, do a slower release schedule and then start releasing chapters before I’m done writing”? but this ALSO runs the risk of “I stopped writing it, which is often a sign I was having trouble writing it”.
pearl monster au, which has been cooking in my head for a long while. the basic premise is “one day, pearl, with no memory of how or why this happened, wakes up in a facility as a monster and must try to figure out how she got there, escape, and find her way home, even knowing she may be irrevocably changed”. now with bonus season 10 fish flavor to add to this creature design I’ve been iterating on in my head for forever! this one is ALSO an experiment for me in “can I write a fic where I can’t write dialogue for basically the entire first act”, which would be interesting to see from me, you know?
the related “bigb folklore au”, where after secret life bigb is woken up by Cat and Dog by the tracks of the King Snake, which bigb can recognize as the railroad track, and decides to journey down the railroad to see if he can figure out what the fuck is going on. I need to do video review of life series bigb for this one. this is my excuse to get Weird and Metaphorical and also assign everyone to various animals for no reason, along with using some very specific aesthetic I have wanted to use for some worldbuilding but hadn’t gotten around to yet in any of my stuff. man walks through the desert with animal, confronts train that might be the watchers, might be death, and might just be a train. also, realizes that “confront” is the operative word there and has to deal with that. you know how it is.
““office au””, in air quotes because it’s not REALLY what anyone going to an office au is looking for so much as an excuse to write weird horror. iskall, normal-ish software developer man in a boring office job who does game jams in his free time, goes to work one day to work in his boring downtown office on a payment system for a client. and then things, uh, Take A Turn. this would be a LITTLE me going “what if I wrote an au with a guy who works in tech but like, the boring side of tech I’m in. like, banks and consulting and manufacturing and shit. where you sit in meetings all day and tweak java 8 code even though that language is ten years out of date. but THEN. something exciting happens in the worst way possible.” I’m doing to iskall what I did to mumbo stuffed bird is what I’m saying. it’d be fun.
DO ANY OF THESE PARTICULARLY INTEREST ANYONE. your input will be valued. like 50% chance i get hit with a strong bolt of inspiration then IGNORE that input but it’ll be valued all the same,
#note that me telling you about these ideas is ALSO accountability#on account of both ‘anyone can make whatever based on my things forever’ meaning one of you could make one now#and on account of people will start asking me about them on rare occasion now lol
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Help! Is my friend going to be all pissy that I lost his cat?
Miss Manners, Washington Post, 28 November 2022:
Dear Miss Manners: A friend of mine is staying with me, and he went home for Thanksgiving, leaving his cat here. Well, I woke up the first morning after he left, and the cat is gone.
It is common for us to leave the doors open during the day, but the cat has never run off until now. So what do I do? Do I call my friend and tell him over the phone? Or do I wait till he gets back, hoping the cat will return in the meantime? But if the cat doesn’t return, will he be hurt that I didn’t inform him right away?
What a shock it must have been to discover that leaving the doors of your house wide open resulted in a cat vacating the premises! Such a bizarre, once-in-a-lifetime occurrence could never have been predicted! Consider reaching out to Ripley's to see if they are interested in this surreal and freakish incident.
But to the heart of your question: it's difficult to say whether any given person would give a single solitary fuck if their pet fell off the face of the earth. Everyone is so different! Sure, a few folks might want to know that their beloved companion has been lost, but the vast majority are probably just going to be like, meh, win some, literally lose some -- hence your harrowing conundrum about whether this man deserves to know whether his cat is safe in the care of the person entrusted with such! A handful of people would want to know about and participate in the search for a lost pet, but a lot of people probably forget they even have a cat once it leaves their direct line of sight! It's entirely possible, even more likely, that your friend is just this kind of person!
And yet, what if there is the tiny, minuscule, almost unfathomable chance that your friend cares whether his cat lives or dies? It's already truly bizarre that this feline hit the bricks after finding every available escape route labeled with a neon sign saying "take me," so it's hard to imagine the universe handing you something as doubly strange as your friend giving the barest shit about his errant pet.
The best course of action is to keep everything to yourself, forever, to avoid having one awkward conversation. On the off chance your friend expresses concern about his cat's whereabouts, simply place his belongings on the curb. Act as if you have never met him and never heard of his cat. Problem solved.
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Fluent Freshman - Part 17
PREVIOUS
1. You do not talk about the Speakeasy in the basement
2. You DO NOT TALK about the Speakeasy in the basement
Those are two of the three cardinal rules of Eden’s Twilight both as a VIP customer and as an employee. The rest are more suggestions or requests that are fairly malleable depending on the night and the patron.
Andrew himself had broken the latter half of ‘Don’t be a dick or try anything with your dick on the club premises’ multiple times with Roland and then he’d broken it even further and with more vigor with Neil.
Roland had tried to bill them for the furniture in the break room and Andrew had been more than happy to use some of the blackmail he’d been holding onto to make it go away despite Neil’s repeated attempts to try and pay for it. “It’s my fault Andrew, I asked you to lay me there.” And “Allison didn’t warn me that it could stain fabric, she said it transferred really easily onto skin.” Had been waved away as Roland was happy to have those particular bits of blackmail out of play.
That being said Roland had come in despite the clear ‘occupied’ signs on the door and interrupted some of Andrew’s finest work a few weeks ago (His from? Excellent. His pacing? Excellent. His angle? Excellent. The noises Neil had been making? Perfection.)
Roland still couldn’t look at Neil without his eyes wandering where they shouldn’t so Andrew had a guest pass for the speakeasy waiting for him at the bar to make up for that wandering eye.
Which meant that he could take FF down to the speakeasy tonight. He was sure that FF would pass muster and be able to come without a pass after the night, he was just the kind of guy that they liked to have down there.
It would all be so simple if it weren’t for the third cardinal rule of Eden’s Twilight.
3. Nicky Hemmick is not allowed to know about the Speakeasy.
When Nicky had worked at Eden’s he’d been popular but he’d also talked about all sorts of secrets. He spilled tea like Aaron had spilled drinks.
So the club had done what it had to do in order to protect the incredibly select and private feature of their club:
They lied about what was down there and then they committed to that lie.
So the day came and Nicky was looking at the door with a guard next to it, “Where does that go?” He asked.
“It’s an exclusive club for straight swingers to meet and swap.” The lie rolls off of Roland’s tongue like the truth.
Nicky made a disgusted face. “Straight people.” He said shaking his head and then Roland swiftly made some purchases to sell his lie and offered the guard Frank an additional $5 an hour if he was willing to change his uniform.
Nicky Hemmick has never gone near the door since then and it is considered a success for the record books by all of the staff and VIPs in the know.
Which is why Andrew had needed a plan to pry Nicky off of FF for the night.
Nicky and FF had spent the entire time at Sweeties elbowing one another and laughing (well Nicky laughed and FF tolerated all of Nicky’s jokes and implications stoically), Nicky had been sticking with FF like he was one of the various flecks of glitter that stuck to FF after the freshman had slept in Nicky’s bed.
Before he’d gotten FF dressed up Nicky had made a solemn oath, “You and me Smithy, we’ll dance the night away!” Nicky had exclaimed.
“I’m good thanks.” FF said, “You know what will happen if I dance.” He says and Nicky grimaces as if remembering something painful. He wonders if FF just isn’t a good dancer or if the consequences of someone bumping into him were as painful as they were when someone bumped into Andrew on the dance floor.
“Well, then you and me will just have to spend the entire night chatting in the booth Smithy!” Nicky had smiled as if he wasn’t fucking up Andrew’s plans to take FF down to the speakeasy where they could sit without the headache inducing music that Nicky, Aaron, and even Kevin (he claims Stockholm syndrome) claim to love.
So, Andrew had needed to find a way to get Nicky to a state where he would be compelled to dance and leave FF alone for the night.
There are exactly three sure-fire ways to get Nicky Hemmick to become a slave to the dance floor.
1. You have to play his favorite music and Andrew doesn’t know if there’s enough blackmail in the world to get Roland to force a DJ to play nothing but Nicki Minaj’s Super Bass, Gasoline by Daddy Yankee, or Usher’s DJ’s Got Us Fallin’ In Love (his three current obsessions) on a loop for the entire night. (Bust)
2. You are Erik Klose and you want to dance. This option was unlikely due to Erik currently (as far as Andrew knew) being in Germany. (Bust)
3. Nicky has taken some party drugs. (Feasible)
So, Andrew may have been the one that had reminded both his brother and Nicky about Cracker Dust on their way to the car. Neil shoots him a look he ignores because Andrew hasn’t really pushed or mentioned Cracker Dust in almost a year.
It was something that they had all gotten off of for various reasons the year prior.
Neil had never started, Andrew had his deal with Neil, Kevin wanted to cut back on the substances he was abusing and he was not going to be giving up alcohol anytime soon, Aaron had needed a squeaky clean image for the trial, and Nicky had given it up in solidarity.
Aaron had been bemoaning that he had forgotten to get any the last four times they had gone to Eden’s so, really, Andrew was just being a thoughtful brother when he’d reminded his cousin.
So when they park the Maserati and head into the club it is no shock that after the first round of drinks (Neil & FF both had bottled waters) Nicky whips out the sandwich baggy he had gotten from FF and hands Aaron his share.
In a turn of good luck a bass heavy remix of Flo Rida’s Club Can’t Handle Me started playing and the only thing Nicky did was squeal, kiss FF’s cheek, and drag Aaron out onto the dance floor.
And then there were three.
***
FF had NOT been able to figure out where the hell the bathrooms were.
It might be due to the fact that his stomach is trying to stage a revolt against him but he’s pretty sure he’s forgotten how to read English. There are no other languages around for him to see if this illiteracy has spread to other languages.
He wonders it he brought out his katakana flashcards if the lines would blur or if his brain would be so filled with the unrelenting desire to go to the bathroom that his Professor would wonder how he ever got full marks on his midterm.
Maybe clubs didn’t have signs that pointed to the bathroom? Was he supposed to go up and ask that bartender that Andrew kept going to? Was it like a gas station where he had to ask for keys?
Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something.
When the hell did Nicky lea-
Oh Dj’s Got Us Falling In Love is playing. Nicky is definitely on the dance floor. FF has yet to escape Nicky grinding on him whenever this song happens to come on the radio he is sure that someone right now out on the dance floor is suffering the same fate that he has 3-4 times a week.
He wonders if Nicky will call Erik like he usually does when it comes on outside of the club.
At least it’s super hard to hear in this club if Nicky takes a seat next to him and starts gushing to Erik in German.
Oh god Captain Neil just asked him something and he just remembered that this would be the second time Captain Neil has asked him something.
If there was one weakness in FF’s foreign language arsenal it is that he has a hard time processing language when surrounded by loud sounds. If he knows what language they’re talking in he can sometimes get by on reading lips (does that count as another language? Probably not) but Captain Neil speaks like four languages fluently and his Spanish is getting better and better every-
Oh god Captain Neil and Andrew just asked him something and he still hasn’t answered the other two times.
“I can’t hear you!” He calls out and hopes they can at least understand HIM.
Andrew rolls his eyes and bumps Captain Neil’s shoulder with his own. He sees Andrew whisper something to Captain Neil before pointing somewhere in the distance.
OH
They had noticed his obvious plight and were going to show him to the bathroom!
That was nice.
Maybe Nicky had asked them before his songs came on.
Andrew and Captain Neil are out of the booth and Andrew juts his chin off in a certain direction. FF does NOT need to be told twice, he’s more than happy to follow Andrew to the bathroom like some pre-schooler following their mom. These are desperate times.
So Andrew and Captain Neil guide him across the dance floor and…sure enough Nicky is grinding on some other guy who looks like he’s in heaven and he thinks he can see Aaron’s pale arms flying uncoordinatedly all over the place somewhere in the middle distance.
FF finds himself with Captain Neil and Andrew in a hallway. There’s a guard in front of the door with a bizarre pineapple shirt (why are they all upside down?) on but FF hadn’t even dressed himself tonight so he really shouldn’t judge.
“Minyard, Josten, and one guest.” He can hear Andrew say now that they’re away from the loud thrum of the music.
How fancy is this bathroom?
The man looks at Andrew, Captain Neil, and then FF. There is a visible head-to-toe inspection when he hits FF and whatever the man sees must past muster.
“Acceptable. You know the rules.”
Rules?
Wash your hands?
Don’t piss on the floor?
Let staff know if the urinal is low on ice?
FF hoped the rules would be posted in easy to understand pictures because his ability to read the English language was still heavily hampered at the moment.
Why is the handle to the door an upside pineapple too? Did someone install it wrong? Also Eden’s does not give off a very tropical vibe so why would they pick that?
The door opens and-
Oh.
Those are stairs.
Oh.
Andrew’s taking him to the basement.
MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU
NEXT
Per Your Requests:
@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27 @andreilsmyreligion @belodensetdust @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world @obscureshipsandchips @booklover242 @whataboutmyfries @sahturnos @pluto-pepsi @dreamerthinker @passinhosdetartaruga @leftunknownheart @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme @tayspots @nick-scar @crazy-fangirl2524 @blue-jos10 @stabbyfoxandrew @splishsplashyouropinionistrash @sammichly @the-broken-pen @bitchesdoweknowu @very-small-flower @ghostlyboiii @its-a-paxycab @bisexual-genderfluid-fan @cheesecookie
@theoneandonlylostsock @foxsoulcourt @blueleys @adverbialstarlight @elia-nna @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner @nikodiangel @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat @hallucinatedjosten @satanic-foxhole-court @vexingcosmos @chalilodimun @insectsgetcooked @angry-kid-with-no-money @queer-crows @lilyndra @themugglemudperson @readertodeath @apileofpillows @mortalsbowbeforeme @hellomynameismoo @next-level-mess @youreonlylow @interstellarfig @notprocrastinatingatalltoday @percyjacksonfan3 @queenofcrazy27 @bsmr261 @ghostlyscares @spencellio @adinthedarkroom @harpymoth @sufferingjustalilbit @anxietymoss @oddgreyhound @ohno-myhyperfixation-itsbroken @ken22789 @atiredvampire @isoldescorner @not--a--pipedream @azure-wing @bushbees @roonilwazlib-main @crumplelush @foldedaces-paperbirds @thesenseinnonsense
#Fluent Freshman AU#Neil at the booth: Hey Smith how you doing?#FF staring through time and space: ....#Neil to Andrew in Russian: I don't think he's having a lot of fun up here#Andrew to Neil: He said it isn't really his scene#Neil turning back to FF: Hey Smith do you wanna go somewhere quieter?#FF briefly stares at Neil before his gaze returns to the far off future: .....#Andrew: I don't think he can hear you#Neil: Hey Smith! Can you hear me?#FF looking at them again: I Can't Hear You!#Andrew: Told you.#AFTG#AFTG OC#AFTG AU#My Fics#FF - Pt.17
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