Tumgik
#to be honest I consider both characters to be best girl
simpjaes · 6 months
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ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)
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Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part two here!! | MINORS DNI
PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  
WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k
CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth
SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 
!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 
NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.
tags under cut
smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 
other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment. 
Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum. 
The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis. 
Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club. 
Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go. 
Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time. 
Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup. 
No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum. 
There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time. 
You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.
What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least. 
You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city. 
Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here. 
If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home. 
And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days. 
Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear. 
You’re going to the booming “after life”. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Well.
“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains. 
It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink. 
God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place. 
Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.
His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”
Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think. 
You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you. 
Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.
And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual. 
A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.
Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.
In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering. 
“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”
“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast. 
The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile. 
You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think. 
“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”
You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night? 
Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices. 
“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway. 
Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you. 
“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.
You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it? 
Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely. 
You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through. 
God, it’s more beautiful inside. 
You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head. 
You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.
It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time. 
The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of. 
And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest. 
Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.
The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows. 
Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission. 
Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work. 
That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.
The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club. 
A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her. 
Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be. 
This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food. 
You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home. 
And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.
When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that. 
Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory. 
The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.
Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.
And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go. 
Somehow.
Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass. 
Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest. 
Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step. 
And suddenly, your body freezes. 
There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of. 
Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.
Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach. 
That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?” 
And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound. 
Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up. 
You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.
And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It��s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there. 
You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take. 
Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun. 
It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring. 
Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine. 
Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache. 
And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep. 
That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you. 
You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though. 
That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person. 
He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers. 
Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself. 
You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend. 
And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.
So bright. 
So full of life.
The exact person you’d want to be around. 
“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile. 
He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan. 
“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.” 
You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work. 
“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.
“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.” 
You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him. 
“So, it’s Friday.” 
He bounces on his feet. 
“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”
“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.” 
You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head. 
“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?” 
You nod casually with a shrug.
“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.” 
He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun. 
“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.” 
You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance. 
“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.” 
You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong. 
The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless. 
You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls. 
He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something. 
It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up. 
“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club. 
He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes. 
“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist. 
“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.” 
And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye. 
He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling. 
“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”
“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.
You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.
Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile. 
“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness. 
“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”
Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.
“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.
He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.
“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”
“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face. 
“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes. 
“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?” 
He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.
Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you. 
“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.” 
“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”
You nod shyly. 
“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”
He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground. 
“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.” 
“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying. 
And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.
“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.
And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone. 
As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?” 
Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar. 
For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.
“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink. 
“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar. 
Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.
You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man. 
Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat. 
You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.
God. The shirt is sticking to him. 
“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?” 
You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head. 
“Red death, please. Two of them.” 
The man nods with a knowing smile. 
“I saw that you came here with someone.” 
He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him. 
“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence. 
“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”
“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.” 
“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge. 
“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else. 
Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other. 
Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment. 
“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”
Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again. 
“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”
You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts. 
“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie. 
And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. 
You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it. 
“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”
And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger. 
“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”
Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long. 
The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you. 
Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry. 
“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”
Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost. 
“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!” 
And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you. 
You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach. 
It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people. 
“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.” 
You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now. 
“Okay, lets get you to-” 
You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd. 
Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom. 
And it’s still suffocating in here. 
And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.
“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.
The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now. 
You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing. 
And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you. 
“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?” 
And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you. 
“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.
You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing. 
“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly. 
“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”
“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again. 
Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face. 
“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”
You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out. 
“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.” 
Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.
“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.” 
You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh. 
“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”
He pauses, eyes widening. 
“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.
And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them. 
You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful. 
Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone. 
You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.
You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.
There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you. 
“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it. 
Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”
“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.
The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you. 
“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll. 
And, well, you do get home safe. 
You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.
There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Have you no shame? 
Fuck no. 
What about Jungwon? Nah.
Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.
“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again. 
“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.
And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist. 
You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course. 
And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers. 
“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose. 
“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out. 
Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you. 
And, well. The night is a blur. 
Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again. 
Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it. 
You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again. 
It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.
And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity. 
You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point. 
Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness. 
And you search. 
And search. 
Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point. 
Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you. 
“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”
“In the flesh.” The man waves you off. 
And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it. 
“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point. 
Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club. 
It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.
Probably just a pimp. 
Or human trafficking. 
He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own. 
Still, you nod to the bouncer. 
“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?” 
You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face. 
“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”
“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste. 
And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy. 
More dizzy than you already were, anyway.
“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows. 
“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.
“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours. 
The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow. 
“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting. 
Again.
A third meeting. 
“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?” 
You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him. 
As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears. 
As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.
“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder. 
“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?” 
Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.
“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”
You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times. 
“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine. 
Pretending you’re not interested. 
Wondering why it is that you are, actually. 
“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?” 
Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention. 
You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply. 
“I believe you.”
Why do you feel proud of that?
“Come back with me, yes?” 
There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender. 
What was his name again? 
J…J-
Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no. 
Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away. 
This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.
You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers. 
You should find Jungwon and cling to him. 
You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run. 
“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.” 
And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon. 
And oh, wouldn’t you know.
You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present. 
A weirdo. A freak.
But…aren’t you too?
You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.
You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–
“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club. 
Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.
There, straight back to that damned cathedral.
You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color. 
The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors. 
Blue, red, green– 
“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”
Holy shit. 
You thought it was a dream.
You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow. 
And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think. 
Was it not a dream? 
The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh. 
This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room. 
You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them. 
The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…
Red.
Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse? 
Your shoes?
Where the fuck are your things?
You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.
Are you losing your goddamn mind? 
Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like last time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?
He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you. 
He’s definitely looking for you. 
Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back. 
“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?” 
You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation. 
“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”
You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before. 
“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room. 
The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you. 
“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more. 
“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?” 
“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.” 
You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall. 
“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.” 
And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all. 
“Come now, dear.” 
Reluctantly, you follow her. 
All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be. 
She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence. 
Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat. 
There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is. 
“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought I had you too.” 
You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.
“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.” 
“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.
“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.” 
You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability. 
Again, red. 
“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands. 
You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale. 
There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.
“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed  yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?” 
A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak. 
“You got on your knees and you prayed.”
You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed. 
“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?” 
Exhale. 
“Me.” 
Inhale.
Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch. 
Well, goddamn. 
There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up. 
He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.
“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.
He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.
“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.
Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you. 
“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.” 
Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even. 
Words can’t explain how you feel right now.
“Why didn’t you leave?” 
You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place. 
All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain. 
“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”
You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him. 
God, he’s so charming. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.
You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep. 
Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here. 
“Where were you?”  He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door. 
Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies. 
“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”
“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.” 
You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys. 
“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it. 
What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?
“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”
You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.
A vampire? Really? Surely not. 
“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?” 
Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend. 
“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.”
You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red. 
Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it. 
“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.” 
“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him. 
“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.” 
He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.
And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.
“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side. 
You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk. 
A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something. 
That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales? 
It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world. 
“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile. 
“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”
You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.
“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.
To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim. 
The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.
“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”
All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay. 
The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more. 
Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door. 
“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him. 
He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel. 
Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to. 
It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway. 
Month after month after month. For years and years. 
It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days. 
Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies. 
“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.” 
“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.” 
“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns. 
“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”
“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.” 
He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.
Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone. 
“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”
“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.” 
And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen. 
Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift. 
“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever. 
“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake. 
A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him. 
An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you. 
And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here. 
Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room. 
Familiar. Warm. Spicy.
Cinnamon.
A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door. 
“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.
“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him. 
“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here? 
“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”
And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows. 
You feel comfortable, safe. 
The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives. 
You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway. 
And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral
 silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways. 
No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget. 
“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close. 
You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.
“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them. 
“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back. 
From something.
“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”
“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall. 
“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.” 
He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door. 
You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running. 
“Do you want to go home?” 
You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes. 
“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?” 
And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist. 
“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?” 
“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens. 
“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest. 
“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now. 
After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.
“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach. 
“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.
Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you. 
“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made. 
“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”
Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right? 
“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.” 
Oh. 
And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands. 
“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.” 
Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you. 
Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again. 
Inhale. Inhale. Inhale. 
And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours. 
You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.
Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you. 
“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.” 
You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly. 
“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”
You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.
Just a small bite. Just a taste.
“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.
He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it. 
His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.
And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth. 
“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep. 
Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away. 
His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins. 
“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.” 
You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever. 
“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth. 
“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.” 
And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits. 
“Now, listen.” 
It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be. 
“Do you hear it?” 
You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth. 
There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste. 
“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”
Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.
“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon. 
And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying. 
Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.
He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect. 
In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.
You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.
So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least. 
And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you. 
Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?
And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips. 
Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears. 
And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true. 
No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there. 
And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.
Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath. 
He’s not breathing.
And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you. 
Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.
He smiles at you. 
At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that. 
You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now. 
Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do. 
So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own. 
A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you. 
Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too. 
And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him. 
He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked. 
Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.
It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way. 
Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood. 
After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.
There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters. 
Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?
Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.
It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.
You. 
You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him. 
“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–” 
Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.
Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-
Gods be damned, he could kill you. 
He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.
Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it. 
Needing you to stay alive. 
Insane. 
He’s fucking losing it.
He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble. 
He’d take a walk at noon.
You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either. 
If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst. 
If just to live in insanity.
“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”
“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now. 
Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs. 
“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin. 
“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.” 
“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?” 
Of course you fucking feel it. 
The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold. 
“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts. 
“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants. 
He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.
Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world. 
His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt. 
You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.
Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are. 
They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.
“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”
You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold. 
No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.
Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see. 
He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.
“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again. 
“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?” 
You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat. 
How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic? 
God, but it feels so, so fucking good. 
“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”
Ah. 
So he is. 
Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…
Entirely dead. 
“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end. 
“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”
Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him? 
If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him. 
Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.
He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–
The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it. 
He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point. 
It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up. 
You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.
And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.
It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him. 
And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release. 
You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed. 
You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality? 
You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories. 
The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.
And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying. 
You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.
His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there. 
Here it is. 
You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–
A kiss.
He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you. 
It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it? 
“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice. 
It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin. 
“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long. 
Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening. 
You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this. 
“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”
“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.” 
“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?” 
You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead. 
“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.” 
You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you. 
Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself. 
“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.” 
“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.” 
Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing. 
“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.
You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek. 
“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”
You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover. 
You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive. 
A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing. 
You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy? 
And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.
Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.
“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”
You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.
“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?” 
Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive. 
He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you. 
He’s never lied. 
You just refused to listen. 
He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you. 
“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all. 
So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to. 
“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself. 
“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.” 
Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?
“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.” 
You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again. 
But he didn’t. 
He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you? 
What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?
He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.
After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him. 
Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?
And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.
Still, somehow, this feels holy. 
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
PART TWO Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤
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shellofhappiness · 1 month
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The general dialogue between Eric and that AOL girl regarding his philosophy on love has always stood out to me. It's one of the very few moments of vulnerability we've been given / able to find on his character over the past twenty years.
Eric always had his guard up. We all mostly know this from his own writings, no one acts like how he portrayed himself naturally. But, also including the accounts given about him from other people in his life, important or not, before and after passing. Mostly commonly described as aggressive and irritable, yet closed-off and restrained.
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Alongside that online exchange, the only other times I can think of were when he called out of work to be there for his sick dog, or the innocent adoration he held toward his older brother, alongside sincere respect for his mother, of course, Reb's "I wish I were a fucking sociopath" Tape, and (arguably) his undisclosed email to his childhood best friend.
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He talked about love like he was an outsider. A still figure watching it & whatever shape it may take maneuver around him, but not having the ability to engage. Let alone even acknowledge the fact it could be something of his own as well if he reached his hand out to touch it, but that wasn't even a possibility for him at that moment. Feeling comfortable enough to bring it up, but never to address it directly. Mentioning what he believed, but never outright saying it, afraid to cross a boundary. Though, he was still very careful with his wording despite not feeling confident enough to state his opinion in full. Being just general enough so he didn't risk the girl disagreeing with his words because he didn't give her an opening to do so, but still baring just a bit of his self to her through his ego because it was just the two of them.
Everyone talks about the concept of "love" relating to the case in reference to DK, because it was something that openly consumed him in private, but in a way, I feel the same just might have applied to Eric as well. But, like many other things relating to him, he hid it all away inside of himself. To live is to be vulnerable, and the times Eric was, never ended in his favor. Hence why he conditioned himself to be so isolated from everyone else, emotionally independent.
When Eric did openly talk about his doctrine on love, it was that degenerate & exploitative journal passage in which he wrote in depth about the idea of forcing himself onto certain women in his life alongside gaudy band lyrics. Considering how hesitant he was to directly speak to another girl about love, even under the context they were both being open with each other, the passage was likely written out of some kind of complex frustration. To compensate for how he felt like such a stranger in the face of it, but remarkably knowledgeable when speaking objectively. He wasn't being honest with himself, but still desperately needed some kind of liberation as an attempt to stop whatever feeling of desire he harbored from further stirring inside him.
The passion that stems from hatred is something I'm sure we all know Eric was well acquainted with. I think the hate inside of him masked the love, being overshadowed and making it appear small. It was definitely there, but seldom did it get a voice to speak in comparison to the amount of steam he let out on a general basis.
Eric cared a lot. When you look past the ego he presented to the whole world, he wasn't an individual with ASPD by any stretch of the means. He wanted not to be independent, but his life made him feel that was the only option he could truly rely on with the social instability he faced growing up. He wanted to be seen. I'm sure many people have voiced this before, but it's truly heart-wrenching to think he was doing this big finale act with his best friend, maybe because he had his best friend there to do it with him, only to find out post-mortem that DK didn't hold him to the same high regard. Maybe close, but not at all on the exact same level.
Putting the fact aside both of them expressed fantasies of doing NBK with their own respective "dream girl," DK wanted other options for someone to go through with the date, other actual people in his life, but from Eric's point-of-view, it had to be Dylan. Dylan was one of the very few people in his life, the only one still present with him, that aided his desire not to be alone. To be seen as an individual. To be vulnerable. Under the impression Dylan felt the same way he did, or at least something similar ... and while I won't deny it was there, it just wasn't as significant to the other party.
"What one person calls true love (EH) can be just another cheap thrill to another (DK)."
I'd like to specify that my goal with this post isn't to send the message that they were "gay," nor point out any form of "romantic chemistry," but rather to emphasize how languished love was overall in Eric's life. Also, I think there's an absurdist humor that comes from the irony of him saying this with what we know would follow half at his hands (you know who the other half is).
They both loved each other as friends, without a doubt, but it's so tragic to think that Eric's closest bond, a connection of love so intimate yet unrelated to direct societal romance, which created a strength so abundant that it started a ripple effect worldwide that still persists to this very day, wasn't quite requited the way he thought it was. Just like every other published bond of his, in his sad little existence.
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sutorus · 1 year
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BUY ONE GET ONE FREE
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DESCRIPTION: gojo satoru and geto suguru are the jewels of your university. glued at the hip, you have your eyes set on one of the best friends, but you should already know to expect double the trouble with this packaged deal.
PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader
WC: 3.8k
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, some derogatory terms like s!ut :c), university!au, frat!au, characters are in their 20s, oral (fem receiving), gojo is a douche (sorry!) with a soft spot for you, gojo and geto are both taller than reader, gojo wants you sooo bad you don’t even know, dubcon if you squint, annoyances to… something else!, implied 3sum but that’s for part 2 ig bc i got tired. enjoy!
A/N: first fic here yayyyy pls support (kiss kiss
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they were those boys in your campus. every university had them, or so you’re told. the ones to be proud of, but also weary of. the ones who could show you a good time you’d probably regret the next morning. the ones you’d tell stories about and never really forget.
at your school, that was geto suguru and gojo satoru. you heard they knew each other since high school, best friends back then and best friends now. they were part of the most infamous party house, the most awarded college teams, the most scandalous groupchats, the most torrid bathroom stalls conversations. everybody knew them, every guy wanted to be them, every girl wanted to be with them. you know the drill.
and although this was only your second year, you’d had enough run-ins with them to know exactly what they wanted — and what you wanted, too.
the two were truly inseparable despite not being all that similar, just like brothers. considering the stories you’ve heard, that proximity would be almost weird if they weren’t so hot. but that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open and, most importantly, don’t need to open in order to sit on geto suguru’s dick.
because of course it’s geto. 
sure, gojo is hot — in a really fucking annoying way. in a way that makes you want to slap that stupid grin off his face every time he ogles you and your friends at a party. you’d go for it, really, if you didn’t have to live to see the next day. you knew gojo would never let you act like it never happened, and not in a romantic way, but in a disgusting braggy way. 
gojo satoru is hot as fuck but you’re not built to handle him, if you’re being honest. not innocent enough, not devoted enough, not googly-eyed and pink-glossy-lips-drooly enough. gojo satoru was complicated like that. he came with a warning label as big as a cvs receipt in which big bold red letters warned DO NOT TRUST. and you knew better, anyway. 
but geto? geto was pretty much perfect. his looks were sweet, dark and kind of edgy, like a black kitty with really sharp teeth. he had really cute fuck me eyes and really big veiny hands and a really cool manbun and you wanted to sit your ass on his fat sick. it was simple math. 
the only thing that preoccupied you, though, was his reputation. and not his manwhore reputation or his party animal reputation or his fucks-hard-and-doesn’t-cuddle-after reputation — no, who cares about that. what worried you was his reputation with his best friend gojo satoru. 
ever since you enrolled at your university you’ve been hearing rumors. apparently, the two of them were so close that they shared everything. everything. 
would never let a brother go hungry and all. 
so yes, there was the slight possibility (only corroborated by, i don’t know, the hundreds of girls you’ve heard the same story from) that geto would want a threeway. 
you, having sex with gojo satoru? you can’t say you’ve never thought about it. you did have that one class together, your freshman year. in retrospect, the fact that he was your senior and taking the same elective as you should’ve been enough of a red flag. 
by the end of the first lesson he came up to you and told you to text him if you ever needed any materials for the class, almost sounding sincere before shrugging and saying, “i’m just on top of things. by the way, would you like to be one of them?”
and scene. 
that was your first impression of gojo satoru. 
if you two fucked a year after that initial offer of his, would it be comical or tragic? he’d never look at you the same way — that is, he’d stop looking at you like he can see your tits through your shirt with x-ray vision and start looking at you like he has seen your tits because he will have. and that sounds annoying. 
but whatever. you’ve heard the stories of how gojo fucks, after all. it’s not like it would be a bad time. 
and tonight seems like the perfect night to make a stupid decision like that because geto looks so fucking delicious in a hawaiian shirt (how is that even possible?) leaning against his yucky frat’s wall and sipping a beer. 
god, you want to bite him. is that weird?
“is that weird?” you turn to shoko, who so kindly accompanied you to another house party with the promise of free, gojo-sponsored liquor. “i want to bite geto.”
shoko looks disgusted, all too acquainted with your ramblings about the guy. her eyes scan around the room before settling towards the kitchen. “i’ll leave you to it, then, and go get a drink. do not abandon me until i’m drunk enough to be by myself in this shithole.”
you nod to her before she’s off to get her fix. and you’re gearing up to get yours, adjusting your skirt and correcting your posture until a too familiar, grating voice yells out from behind you:
“yo!” 
you sigh, rolling your eyes before turning around. 
“gojo.”
he throws one of his long arms over your shoulders, pressing your sides together. your fingers absentmindedly go back to your skirt, pulling it down. 
gojo has to lean down to talk to you, his face hovering over yours. you can feel how hot his torso is against you, his white shirt already completely unbuttoned. it sends a shiver down your spine. 
“long time no see, cutie,” gojo’s breath is warm against your ear, his voice high to be heard over the music. he gestures with his solo cup, “how are you finding the facility?”
you look up and give him a tight smile. “gross as always! is there something you want, or…”
he laughs heartily, and you feel his whole body rattle against yours. you huff in annoyance, antsy to get a word in with geto before he’s occupied. 
“so mean to me!” he looks down at you and if it weren’t for his sunglasses, that he wears indoors at nighttime like a dick, you’d be able to see his eyes looking right down your cleavage. “just when i was coming here to do you a favor.”
you can’t help but laugh at that. 
“what in the world could you possibly do for me?” he lifts an eyebrow and your finger flies up in between your faces. “don’t answer that, actually.”
“i came here to tell you a very interesting secret,” he sing songs right into the shell of your ear, earning another shiver from you. you take the cup from his hand and sip, too distracted to know what it tastes like. nibbling on the plastic rim, you gesture for him to go on. 
gojo’s smile grows that much darker, that much more sinister, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek. 
“a little birdie told me suguru’s dying to screw you tonight.”
your demeanor must visibly brighten at that information because gojo lets out another lurching laugh. your eyes instinctively zero in on geto, across from you, who’s either doing a really good job of pretending he doesn’t hear the two you talking in the doorway or is genuinely clueless as to what his best friend is saying about him. 
you force yourself to regain your composure, shoving gojo’s solo cup into his bare chest and wiggling out of his hold. “and you care because?”
but you suspect you already know the answer to that. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and god, your height difference is kind of reeling. 
“like i said, ‘s just a favor,” you eye him suspiciously. he continues, “he wants to fuck you, you want to fuck him. i’m just being a nice guy.”
right. nice guy. 
“and who says i want to fuck him?” you try to play it cool, even though you probably know as much as satoru knows as much as suguru knows that you’d crawl on your knees towards geto right now if that meant you could put his cock in your mouth. 
and who could blame you? 
“playing dumb?” gojo pokes your cheek. his voice grows thicker, “cute. look at you,” and he does, hungrily, eyes scanning your entire form and making you feel oddly self conscious. 
he snakes a hand around your waist and leans in close again, whispering into your ear, “all dolled up just for him. in class with me you show up in other dudes’ hoodies but for darling suguru you dress slutty. everyone knows.”
you inhale sharply. what is he playing at? is he trying to get into your head or what? people dress up at parties, people want to fuck people, it’s a thing. god, gojo is so unbearable. 
you scowl up at him. 
“first of all,” you rip his hand from your waist and he lets it fall limply by his side. “second of all, again, how is that any of your business? salty you can’t get laid without the hotter best friend’s help?”
gojo just smirks, huffing out a chuckle through his nostrils. “you don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. although i have to say, i do worry about you…”
“what? why?” you can’t help sounding sincere at his words. he twirls a piece of your hair with his index finger. 
“‘m just saying, what kind of best friend would i be if i handed you off to suguru without taking you for a test drive first?” gojo’s disgusting, he’s audacious and cocky and it’s doing something to you. you find yourself uncharacteristically quiet as he continues, “i mean, for all i know, you just might break once he gets inside.” 
“you’re ridiculous,” you manage to utter, feeling too small and too warm. geto is no longer in your line of sight and neither is shoko and you rapidly start to feel like you’ve fallen into the lion’s den without realizing. 
“you know i’m right,” and you don’t, really, you don’t think he’s right at all but why do you want to prove him wrong so badly? “c’mon, baby, lemme break ya in a little.”
that seems to snap you out of it. “ew. you’re disgusting, where is—“
“ugh, i love it when you degrade me,” he groans sardonically, hand leaving your waist and grabbing your hand instead. “come on. i’ll take you to him.”
whatever that feeling was just then, you shake it off and relunctantly let gojo guide you through the sea of bodies in his living room, the two of you earning some whistles from his friends. eyes too busy scanning for geto, you’re surprised when you suddenly end up in front of the bathroom. 
“quick pit stop!” gojo tries. you roll your eyes. 
“you won’t even try to take me to your bed? like, you live here,” you say. 
gojo is grinning. “nah, nah. room’s for the main attraction,” he winks and turns the doorknob, letting you go inside first. what a gentleman. “this shouldn’t take long.”
the bathroom door muffles the loud music outside, leaving your ears ringing in the silence. gojo looks like a douchebag, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, shirt unbuttoned and wet with some sort of liquor, and your eyes do not dare scan any lower than that. 
you suppose he is a douchebag.
but he sounds so painfully sincere when he whines low in his throat, “wanna kiss you so bad.” 
you laugh at his face, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter. 
“i’m serious,” he says, taking a step forward. you instinctively open your legs a little to make more room. 
“you want to what, ‘break me in’, you said?”
gojo laughs and that doesn’t sound sincere at all. he takes another step towards you, slotting his hips in between your thighs. 
“suguru’ll like it sloppy,” and that’s all the explanation he gives you before he’s closing the distance between you two, crashing your lips together. 
you should be feeling ill at his words. you should be pushing him away. if you had any self respect, you would. 
but his hands on you feel so good, he’s kissing you like, yeah, he wanted to so bad. his grip on your hips is almost bruising, pulling your body closer to his so he can grind against you. 
you moan into his mouth and he’s quick to return it, tongue pushing up against yours hungrily. you feel like you’re being devoured, the kiss all encompassing, but it’s not bad, it feels so so good and gojo is so good and—
he breaks your kiss to command, “wrap your legs around me,” and you do so immediately. 
his hands push your skirt up, grabbing your ass and pulling you that much closer to him. you tug on his hair, grinding down hard against him, and he lets out the sweetest, most pitiful moan that sends your head reeling. 
“gojo…” you say his name but you don’t know what for, don’t know what you want or what to ask or what to say, all you know is yes and good and more. “satoru—“
gojo whines and presses his lips to yours desperately, grinding his hard on against your clothed pussy. he’s big, you can feel him all over your cunt, and you suddenly need all these layers between you gone. 
“fuck, let me see,” he swallows hard, pushing your shirt up fully. “lemme see those tits baby, that’s it—”
you puff your chest out when gojo pulls your bra down. you expect him to go for your boobs but instead he goes back in for a kiss, panting into your mouth. 
god, it’s too much. for how collected he acts one hundred percent of the time, seeing gojo satoru disheveled is a power trip. 
“touch me,” you mumble against his lips. 
he gives you a few pecks, nibbling your bottom lip before pulling away. 
“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” gojo says, one hand grabbing your tit and another pulling your panties to the side. the cool air on your dripping core makes you shudder, and you feel yourself gush at the slightest brush of his fingers against you. 
he bends down to pop a nipple into his mouth and you arch your back, gripping his hair hard, ‘cause apparently he likes that. you both let out a unison moan as he sucks, saliva audibly swishing inside his mouth. 
you know it’s gonna leave a mark, he’s gonna leave a lot of bruises as he bites and sucks and keeps you distracted while he slips a finger into your wet core. 
you suddenly regain conscience and remember the man working your body with nothing more than his hands and mouth probably has a pretty painful big hard cock inside his pants, so you reach out to help him. 
“wait,” he says, mouth popping against your breast, “wait, you can suck it, i just wanna—i gotta do this first, lemme—“
that’s all he says before giving you another kiss and dropping to his knees. 
you’re obviously not going to complain, you can neglect his dick just fine, nevermind the fact that you want it inside you immediately. but in the meantime, gojo’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you and he’s about to put his face between your legs. 
it’s beautiful, it’s a lot, you want it so fucking bad and it shows. 
“so fucking wet, all f’me” he lays his tongue flat against your clit and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, making you groan in anticipation for what’s to come. “been thinking of this pretty pussy for so long.”
“yeah?,” you whine, brushing some hair away from his face before coaxing his head closer to where you want it. gojo moans in response and starts working his tongue in tight circles over your clit. 
fuck, is gojo satoru in a frat bathroom the best head you’ve ever had? he might be, with the way he expertly rubs his fingers against your walls, instantly finding that spongy patch that makes you jut your hips out. 
“fuck, right there,” you grind against his face, delighting yourself in the debauched moans he makes against your cunt. not only does it feel good, it looks so fucking hot and you can’t tear your eyes away. “stay right there, you’re so good.”
the way he eats it like he needs to, like it’ll save your life, like this alone is enough to make the both of you cum, you can’t help the too-honest praise tumbling from your lips. 
“yeah? tastes so fucking good” he mumbles, rubbing a thumb over your clit. you nod, bottom lip held tightly between your teeth. “play with your tits, baby, those juicy fucking tits, do it for me.”
you obey, head hanging back in pleasure. you keep one hand anchored firmly in his hair, your fingers gripping so hard they start to tingle. 
you shove his face closer, earning a deep groan from him. he noses at your pussy, replacing his fingers in your entrance with his tongue, fucking in and out of you. your breathing has lost all rhythm, your chest feels tight and on fire and a bead of sweat rolls down your back. 
you can faintly make out gojo asking do you like this? just like this baby? and all you can say in response is a string of “yeahs” and breathy little moans. they almost sound surprised, and they might be, because every twist of his tongue and every brush of his fingers knocks the breath right out your lungs. 
it’s so much pleasure that it doesn’t make sense. you think, suddenly, this is why people do drugs, this is why people develop addictions because you have no fucking clue how you’re supposed to live without gojo satoru between your legs from now on. 
“satoru. i wanna cum,” you whine, mind to mouth filter completely obliterated because all you want to do is fucking cum for gojo satoru. message relayed. 
“fuck yeah, baby, you wanna cum? i’m gonna make you cum?” he’d sound pathetic if you didn’t know how much of a whore he was. his fingers go back inside you and speed up ever so slightly, his lips wrapping around your clit. gojo’s tongue works you over and over and over and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of gojo swallowing every few seconds. 
he doesn’t stop, mumbles his dirty talk right into your pussy, like fucking cum for me baby cum all over my face yeah do it i’m gonna make you cum so hard god you look so fucking sexy wanna fuck you so bad, and you don’t want to know why but it makes you all the more intent in coming the hardest you ever have. 
you grip gojo’s hair and grind into his face mercilessly, revelling in the gurgling sounds coming from between your legs. 
“ohhh fuck, fuck, satoru i’m so close, just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“ gojo groans, using his free hand to play with your nipple. 
it’s too much, it’s too good, the coil in your belly that’s been building up since you started entertaining the idea of maybe getting laid tonight finally snapping. 
you’re sure you’ve never been this loud as you cum, hard, you can feel it gushing out of you and right into gojo’s awaiting mouth. with ringing ears and trembling legs, you find purchase in his hair as you keep cumming for him. 
the muscles on your thighs seize up as you ride out your orgasm against gojo’s face, your feet trying to find any sort of balance or solid ground. but you wiggle desperately in his hold, the man below you fulfilling his promise of drinking every last drop of you until the two of you are satisfied. 
you’re catching your breath when gojo finally pulls away from you, his face and neck flushed as you’re sure yours are. your back falls against the foggy bathroom mirror, chest rising and falling dramatically as you catch your breath. 
he finally stands up, sneaking a very obvious hand down his pants to readjust his erection. once he catches your gaze, he smirks at you. 
you try to roll your eyes, you really do, but what comes out is a slow, languid blink. you’re completely fucked out and he loves it, leans in to kiss you so fucking deep you taste yourself all over his mouth.  
before you can do anything else, anything more or less than kiss him back, you hear three knocks on the door. 
they’re gentle, nothing like the sound of a pissed off college student, murderous because you’re hogging the bathroom. 
gojo pushes himself away from you, grinning. “right on time.”
he grabs both your tits in his hands and plants a wet kiss on one, then the other, before pulling your shirt back down. 
you’re still dumbfounded, your overworked body slumped against the bathroom counter. 
before you have time to react, gojo’s opening the door to let geto suguru in. 
your body jolts, legs closing shut in what’s almost abject horror. you nearly forgot he’s what you came to this party for. 
it feels like you got caught red handed, and it must show on your face because geto shakes his head and laughs that pretty, sexy laugh, waving a hand around to tell you it’s okay. 
“please, don’t stop on my account,” are his first words to you tonight. 
you would say something if you weren’t sure your voice would fail you. but like usual, gojo satoru can’t stay quiet for too long.
“all done. she’s too easy” he announces cheerily, but the funny thing is, he doesn’t leave. instead, geto lets the bathroom door close behind him as he crowds in. 
you realize this space is far too small for two very tall men, most definitely far too small for whatever is about to go down between the three of you, and your calming heart starts to race again. 
“hey, pretty,” geto reaches out and wipes the side of your lip. “having fun?”
you can only nod, looking at gojo satoru of all people for answers.
he looks at you like he hasn’t just eaten your pussy with the intensity of a starving man, like he wants to do it again, right now. 
geto is sporting a similar look of hunger, looking between you and gojo and quickly assessing the situation that just happened here. 
this is weird. this is so fucking weird and so stupidly hot. 
“wanna take her for a ride next?” gojo asks geto like he’s not talking about a person, like you don’t have a say in it, like you belong to the both of them to play with, and it turns your brain to mush. 
geto smiles, handsome and dangerous. 
“what do you say, honey?” this time he addresses you. you swallow hard, looking between the two men in front of you. gojo grabs the outline of his hard cock through his pants, a reminder that whatever this is, it isn’t over just yet. “down to have double the fun?”
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loviingpedri · 2 months
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tripling the fun -jude and jobe bellingham
prompt: three best friends take over the house by babysitting the bellingham boys’ two nephews and niece.
pt.2 here
bellinghams & fem!reader platonic friendship
warnings: grammar issues, all characters are fictional (except jude and jobe ofc)
click to help palestine
credits to owners for all images
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knocking on the door, anticipation grew.
you have grown up with jude and jobe, considering your parents and their parents were very close friends.
you practically were like their sister. you did everything with them. you were there at their biggest accomplishments or lowest levels.
the door opened to jude and jobe’s aunt, ready for dinner. recently, the bellingham boys recently had a new addition to their family, a little baby nephew. the parents had 3 kids, and one still being about 6 months old, it was a major hassle. they needed a little break, some time for themselves.
who else better to call? the famous trio!
the parents trusted you and the brothers very much. trust me, the babies were in good hands. (might be delusional, but we’ll see!)
“oh my goodness, thank you guys for coming.” the mom hugged all of you. giving you a little peek on the cheek.
suddenly, jude and jobe’s uncle appeared behind her. “you’re here! thank you guys. come in.” stepping into the house, you were met with cold air.
“i see the kids really love this house.” you spoke with a smile as you noticed toys were scattered around the floor. ending your sentence, jobe nearly tripped over a toy truck.
catching himself as you were frightened for him, the three of you burst into a laughter.
“okay mate, it’s not that funny.” jobe said while pushing the truck away from his path.
“jobe, how do you not see a bright yellow and green truck?” jude was dying from laughter.
“i’m really grateful that you took this opportunity. it has been quite awhile since my husband and i have gone out.”
suddenly, a huge commotion was made. all eyes going to the stairway, you could see a little boy about the age of 6 running down the stairs in a little dinosaur onesie.
“there’s my little guy!” the boy ran into jude’s arms into a tight hug.
“i knew it! i knew you were coming! i heard your voice.”
“did you really?” jude fixed his onesie and gave him a little pat on the back.
then, you heard a door slam. staring at the stairs once again, you could see a 4 year old girl in a pink princess dress with a tiara and wand, strutting down with a bright smile (and one missing tooth).
“all hail the princess.” jobe spoke as she slowly walked down with her head held up high. smiles appeared on everyone’s faces, except her brother’s. she only earned an eye roll from him.
finally reaching downstairs, you curtsied to her as jude and jobe did a little bow.
breaking character, she did not hesitate to run to jobe. giving him the biggest hug he has probably ever been given.
“i think the baby is still asleep. the formula is already prepped since he should be waking up soon. we have to get going, good luck guys!” quickly grabbing her purse and getting the hell out of there with her husband, it was time to finally have some fun and bonding times.
“alright kiddos, what should we do today?” jude put down his nephew and immediately patting his head for reassurance.
“we should build a castle!” jobe, also putting down the niece, agreed.
“what kind of castle?”
“castles are for losers!” her big brother snarled at her.
“now, dinosaurs may be big and strong, but they are certainly not rude.” you bent down to his level. he crossed his arms, but unexpectedly, you started tickling him.
“tickle attack!” jude yelled as everyone was tickling the dinosaur and princess.
all laughter came to a quick stop. cries of a baby were echoing throughout the house. jude and jobe were no professionals for caring for a child under 1, therefore both synchronized to look at you for help.
and to be honest, you wanted to hold that baby forever. your motherly instincts kicked in. running up the stairs, you could not wait. meeting the little guy at just 2 months old, he was probably the most adorable baby you’ve ever seen (maybe because he looks a little like baby jude, but we’re gonna ignore that fact).
slowly and gently opening the door, you were met with a baby with a small tear falling down his cheek, but having the brightest smile as soon as he saw you. your heart melted.
“aren’t you the cutest,” you picked him up and could see his chubby face and rolls on his arms. “the baby fever is really kicking in.”
wiping the little tear, you placed his head on your shoulder as you walked down the stairs. putting your hand on his semi-bald head to create a shield just in case, jude and jobe lit up to seeing him.
crowding the little one, jude took him into his arms as you prepared the milk. in the kitchen, you were met with a little princess eating a sugar cookie (jobe couldn’t say no to her).
“hello your royal highness.” you gave a smile to her as you grabbed a little bottle.
“hi y/n. how’s it going?”
“it’s going great! how’s your cookie?”
“it’s good. you should be a mom.”
the statement created a pause for you. the measuring cup filled with formula almost fell on the counter.
“sorry ma’am, but what?”
“you should be a mom.”
“oh no thank you, it is definitely not for me.”
“well you definitely need a boyfriend. i have one! his name is james, he’s 6. i like them older.”
“hold on, you’re talking about your brother’s friend?”
“yep! that james. he’s so dashing. you know you should get with jude.” a frown appeared on your face. kids are full of creative ideas, but this was not on your bingo card.
“i really appreciate your feedback, but i need time to review this information.” jude suddenly appeared in the kitchen, giving you a scare.
“what are y’all talking about?”
in panic, you shouted “nothing!” which created high suspicion. the princess got off the chair after finishing the cookie, and walking off with jude.
finishing on making the bottle, you weren’t sure on what you were about to see, but it was definitely a sight.
jude and jobe bellingham were in pink and purple tutu’s and tiaras. you gasped at the sight.
“y/n, please don’t laugh.” jobe pleaded, sensing his embarrassment already.
“who said i was gonna laugh?” you picked up the baby trying to hide the fact, you were gonna laugh. sitting on the couch to feed him, the boys were being ordered around.
“alright, what’s next to protect the precious princess?”
“it is i! the knight! and i have come to destroy this kingdom!” the once dinosaur jumped out from the hallway holding a fake sword and shield.
the princess let out a tiny scream.
“uncle jude! protect the castle now!” jude nodded in agreement as he picked up a fake sword and play fighting with the knight. tutu’s were dropping and tiaras were falling.
“meanwhile you, uncle jobe, you should totally dance with me.” hiding your smile with the bottle, jobe didn’t really have a choice.
the house was chaotic. a ballerina and knight were battling it out, jobe and the princess were turning and spinning. jobe even had a little purple magic wand as his prop for his dance recital. you were glad you could lay back with a baby who did not give any trouble.
the fun continued to grow as the night went.
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tonicandjins · 1 year
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all of the girls you loved before
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CHARACTERS: lee donghyuck | haechan x fem reader
WORD COUNT: 3k
GENRE: best friends to lovers, all of the girls you loved before by taylor swift
WARNINGS: none, just fluff
AUTHOR'S NOTE: this has been in my drafts for way too long. hope you like it! please consider donating/tipping me
all of the girls you loved before is the fourth installment from 23 moments with donghyuck
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lee naeun, June 2013 - July 2013
Lee Donghyuck’s first love turned out to be the quickest one.
It was a whirlwind romance, like how he would describe it whenever you’d ask him. At thirteen, you and Donghyuck were finally catching up to the rest of your homeroom’s growing pains—both literally and figuratively. Your legs were longer now, albeit Donghyuck’s becoming longer than almost everyone else’s, and you were prettier than most. Letting your bangs grow was a wise decision in the summer, after all. Long gone were your chubby cheeks and you’d learned how to put on some lip tint before jumping on the bus to school. The internet was a better teacher when it comes to styling your hair; you’d never expected hairstyles come with face shapes. Meanwhile, Donghyuck, though his cheeks are still as round as they were in primary school, has learned that the hugs and kisses he used to give everyone in homeroom erupted butterflies all over.
You’d wondered, of course, because among everyone in class, Donghyuck’s probably given you the most hugs and kisses, yet you haven’t quite figured out what they meant when they say he gives people butterflies.
In the same year, Donghyuck learned consent. His mother and father gave him a lecture on why kissing people randomly isn’t ideal at his age and why consent is important. Hence, he’d stopped giving everyone random kisses. The last one he’d kissed you on the cheek was a week before summer started—not that you were keeping a record of all the stolen kisses—right when you were about to jump off the bus you and him were on.
Lee Naeun gave the first consent at thirteen. On the last day of classes.
She was moving to the US the next school year. Donghyuck made you wait by the benches as she packed up her duffel back after soccer practice.
She was taller than everyone else. Sporty and ambitious, Lee Naeun was every boy’s kryptonite. Just like how Lee Donghyuck was every girl’s.
“Can I kiss you?” Donghyuck asked. Naeun blushed like crazy. She was taller than Donghyuck, so when she’d nodded, Donghyuck had to go on his tip toes to reach her lips.
You looked away when Donghyuck got his first real kiss, wondering if the sudden pain in your stomach is the same as the butterflies that people get when Donghyuck kisses them.
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kim haerin, August 2016 - January 2018
Kim Haerin was Donghyuck’s girlfriend all throughout junior high school.
Contrary to popular belief, Haerin pursued Donghyuck from the first week of classes. You and Donghyuck had moved to a different school after middle school as the one in your hometown didn’t focus much on arts, leaning towards STEM more, which, if you and Donghyuck were being honest, is the last thing you’d want to do in high school. This also meant that you and Donghyuck were new in town—the new girl and the new guy—and that people your age were particularly curious about you and Donghyuck that school year.
Oddly enough, the first thing they needed to confirm was whether you and him were dating. As soon as it was a clear no, you and Donghyuck received flowers left and right. You wondered whether this is what high school should be like and expected Donghyuck to feel the same, but that school year was different. The people liked the extroverted, friends with everybody Donghyuck, so it was easier for him to adjust to the new place and the new people.
They’d started dating the week after school started. Haerin was a part of a big group, the ones who’d studied in the school’s sister middle school down the road, and she knew everyone. She was nice, or so you’ve heard because you didn’t have that many conversations with her to confirm if she truly is, and she’d say hi to you when you passed by her by the lockers.
Donghyuck tried to take you with him whenever they’d hang out, of course, but his attempts could only do much because you weren’t into the same things as they were. Eventually, you’d found your own group and adjusted to the new school all by yourself. It made you worry about Donghyuck less whenever you’d see him all happy and loud like the person he is. While Donghyuck’s name stuck with Haerin’s all throughout high school, yours remain independent. You’d decided you’d start dating when you’re ready.
The only times you’d see each other, apart from the classes you shared, were weekends with your families. You and him talk, of course. Donghyuck at home is different from Donghyuck at school. But it was different. The memories of you and him going to and from school gradually blurred between all the people you’d met in high school.
Kim Haerin broke up with Donghyuck as soon as you all came back from Christmas break on the last year of junior high. She’d started dating the new guy from the other class who transferred all the way from Germany. She’d given Donghyuck a kiss in the middle of the empty gymnasium and told him she’d loved him but the sparks were gone.
Donghyuck waited with you on the bus stop that same day. To this day, he waits with you.
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im jieun, November 2019 – December 2019
Im Jieun was one of a kind, and if you could pick, she was your favorite from Donghyuck’s long list of lovers.
She was a couple of years older than you and Donghyuck. How Donghyuck even got the slimmest chance of dating her, you have no idea. She was a freshman in college. You and Donghyuck met her at one of your seniors’ birthday party; they’d hit it off easily. They had the same personality, almost like twins, and were pretty much the perfect couple in your newly found friend group.
That year was the most life changing for him because Donghyuck lost his virginity with her, and for quite some time, similar to when he’d dated Kim Haerin, he disappeared from your life, and not that you’d cared at much at that time because you were also dating your first boyfriend, Na Jaemin.
Jaemin was everything a first boyfriend should be. Gentle and sweet, determined and future-driven, truly the kind you’d want your parents to meet. He’s been in the same class as you since junior high, but he wasn’t the kind to approach women that easily. He was brought up loyal and kind, and it showed with the way he treated you. He asked you out on a dinner for the first date, at an amusement park for the second, and a picnic by the park for the third—which was the same day he officially asked you as his girlfriend.
When Donghyuck had learned, he was as surprised as a best friend would be.
“You never told me you liked Jaemin,” he commented when you’d told him the news. He was sitting on the swivel gaming chair you and him bought as pairs right beside your bed, where you were still half asleep because he barged in at seven on a Sunday morning. Apparently, he learned it because he saw Jaemin’s Instagram story from your date with him last night.
“Because I didn’t,” you groggily replied. You squinted, trying to make up your mind whether Donghyuck’s a dream or not. “I mean, I like him now. But it didn’t occur to me until he started asking me out for dates.”
Donghyuck leaned his head against your chair, kicking his feet off the floor to spin himself around. “You never even told me you went out on dates.”
You giggled. “Are you sulking now, Donghyuck?”
He sighed. “I tell you all about the girls I date. Even the ones I dream on dating. And this one time you finally decided to start dating, I wasn’t there for you.”
You sat up, watching as your child-like best friend spins himself dizzy on your chair. “Check your phone. Every time Jaemin and I went out, I texted you.”
He sighed again, pressing his foot on your bedroom’s floor, stopping so he could look at you eye to eye. “You didn’t tell me it was a date. You said you were having dinner with him, going to the amusement with him, and hanging out with him at the park.”
“We’re 19,” you pointed out. “What would 19-year olds do alone together?”
Donghyuck tilted his head sideways. “You and I are always alone together.”
“It’s different.” You throw a pillow at Donghyuck, kicking off the blanket from your body and moving to give him some space to lay on. “Come here, you big baby.”
Donghyuck’s mouth formed into a pout but occupied the space on your bed anyway.
“I’m a big girl,” you reminded him as he rested his head on your chest. “I don’t need you to be there for me on my first relationship.”
“Ouch,” he mumbled.
“I will always need you in my life, Donghyuck,” you clarified, knowing well how Donghyuck hates being not needed. “Just, not for this one. I might actually, truly like Jaemin. He’s a good guy.”
Donghyuck hummed. “But I’m still your best friend, right?”
You laughed. Because it’s the most ridiculous thing you’d ever heard. Donghyuck will always be your best friend. You were certain no relationship would break that. You and him were past being insecure about your friendship.
“Always.”
Donghyuck broke up with Jieun before Christmas break. The reason, you have no idea. But he’d told you it wasn’t as fun as it was in the beginning anymore. And Jieun was in university, after all, and you and him had SATs to pass and college essays to ace before the school year ends.
You and Jaemin took him out for clubbing that night, in hopes of cheering him up. It was a mystery to you why he’d suddenly decided to end it when the relationship seemed like it was smooth-sailing. They’d even talk about Donghyuck going to the same university as Jieun next year. You didn’t recall any fights within the relationship, so you wonder why.
Donghyuck leaves the club without you and Jaemin.
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lee naeun (again), February 2020 – April 2020
Donghyuck learned from Lee Jeno that his first love returned from the US to take her bachelor’s degree in Seoul on Valentine’s day. He found her wandering around SNU’s main lobby on the first day of the spring semester. You and Donghyuck were visiting the university after receiving your acceptance letters, looking for an apartment to share. Jaemin was going to another university, so it wasn’t wise for you and him to move in together, hence Donghyuck offered to move in with you to save up some money for rent and other expenses.
Lee Naeun stood there, still taller than Donghyuck, still the first person who ever kissed Donghyuck’s lips, still the first person you’d ever compared yourself to, wondering what she had that you didn’t.
Like the day they kissed in 2013, you looked away when Donghyuck finally reached to where she stood, wondering why, all of a sudden, many years later, the butterflies were flying all over in your stomach once again.
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ginny williams, September 2020 – October 2020
Of course, the first woman that Donghyuck officially dated in university is from the UK. Jeno said he only dated her to show everyone he’s immensely improved in English.
The break-up was proof Donghyuck never improved in English. He didn’t even understand why she was breaking up with him.
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park yesol, September 2021 – February 2022
You introduced Donghyuck to Park Yesol because it’s what she wanted for her birthday.
She had invited you to her 21st birthday. You and her, if you were being honest, barely know each other. You only shared a class in Literature once, so at first, it was a mystery to you why she suddenly invited you. When she’d asked if you could ask Donghyuck to RSVP with you, you’d known that it’s all she wanted from you.
Eventually, they’d start dating. Donghyuck, at that time, had been single for almost a year. He thought he convinced you that college was finally catching up on him hence he’d put a stop to his “demanding” dating life. However, Donghyuck is your best friend, and you could see right through him. You knew he liked someone he wasn’t willing to share with you, and he was probably working up the courage to ask that person out, which, when you thought about it, was new. Donghyuck was cunning and ambitious and he knew what he wanted and how to get it. He was never one to shy away from the people he liked, so it was a little suspicious that it took him almost a year to start dating again. You did not figure out who he liked, and you knew he’d only started dating Yesol to get you to shut up about it.
You and him knew it wasn’t a serious relationship because Yesol was dating other guys while she’d dated him. Donghyuck told you it felt like the relationship was just for sex because of his oozing sex appeal; you’d thrown a cushion at him when he’d said that.
Meanwhile, you and Jaemin were almost at pointbreak.
You didn’t want to spend Valentine’s Day being uncertain of the relationship would go, so you broke up with him on the first day of February. Jaemin had gotten an internship in Japan a few months ago, and the company that hired him liked him so much that they wanted to keep him while he finishes his degree virtually. You wished you could say the same, that you loved him so much you also wanted to keep him.
It was finally catching up to you and him, the distance. So, it was better you’d break it off before you and him start failing subjects just to keep a relationship steady.
Two and a half years together wasn’t enough. You and Jaemin wanted to spend the rest of your college years, at least, together. But like he said the night you’d ended it: it wasn’t worth it if it was compromising your mental health and studies. You’d cried so much that night, and you wondered if Donghyuck pretended he couldn’t hear you sobbing from the other side of the apartment.
Come Valentine’s Day, Donghyuck asked you to dress up, throwing a paper bag at you.
The place he “luckily scored” a reservation from, on a busy, fully-booked Valentine’s night, was nice. It was romantic and you were flushed and giddy from all the wine and all of the Donghyuck.
“Why are you here with me and not with Yesol?” you’d asked after the waiter filled your glass.
Donghyuck smiled at you. “I broke up with her two weeks ago.” Around the same time you did with Jaemin. “I figured if my best friend would be miserable on Valentine’s day, I should be, too.”
You laughed. “Well, you don’t look too miserable for a newly single man.”
“I’m not,” he confessed. “I’m never miserable when I have you.”
You reached out one hand, palm facing Donghyuck. He intertwined his hand with yours. And it fit perfectly. Just like the dress he got you.
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your name, June 2022 – present (or alternately, sometime in 2005 – forever.)
“Lee Naeun, Kim Haerin, Im Jieun, Lee Naeun again, then Park Yesol,” you enumerate. “You were a ladies’ man!”
Donghyuck whines, begging you to stop as you go through his things in his room, particularly the notes and letters from the girls he’d dated.
You and him are moving out. Graduation is just around the corner, and you and Donghyuck decided to move on to a better place. Your boyfriend got a job in one of the biggest companies in his industry, while you’re yet to find yours.
“Don’t forget Ginny Williams,” he teases, throwing you a love letter from the bunch.
“You did not date Ginny Williams, Donghyuck. It was an illusion,” you scoff. “Tell me one conversation you had with her. A real one.”
“I swear to God, she loved me,” he answers. “Stop playing around and help me in here.”
You stand from the carpeted floor and walk towards Donghyuck as he sorts out the things from his study desk. Donghyuck starts with the tower of books and folders, organizing them alphabetically as he carefully places them on the box labeled as books. The other box is labeled as essentials; hence you start throwing his headphones and speakers and its chargers in. While doing so, you get a hold of a small box that contains what you thought were miscellaneous items mixed in with trash, until you realize what’s inside.
There are a few polaroid pictures of you and him from high school, including a picture of you and him on your high school’s graduation day, some receipts from, now you recognize, the places you’d gone to. There’s a receipt from when you and him took the subway to visit a museum at the other side of the country back in 2018, another from Valentines day 2022, when you and him celebrated being newly single, the old ticket from your senior prom when he’d gone with you, and so many more that you could recognize just from its dates.
“Donghyuck,” you whisper as you look at the box of memories. Donghyuck turns, eyes wide when he recognizes the box you’re holding. “Where… where should I put these?”
Donghyuck loved many girls in his life. You can recall their names in the order of when he’d dated them. You had your favorites and the ones you didn’t like that much. Some of your friends wonder if you’ve ever been insecure knowing you weren’t the first kiss or the first person he had sex with and if you were okay with knowing all of that. You weren’t the first and you wish you’d be the last. The only thing you’re certain of, is that he had always loved you, and that alone erases all the other thoughts.
If you could say so, you’re thankful for all of the girls he loved before because they made him the one you’d fallen for. Every dead-end street led him straight to you.
He smiles. “Essentials.”
998 notes · View notes
nolita-fairytale · 1 year
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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter eight
summary: you and luca pick up where you left off a week ago.
warnings: fluff, smut (18+ only), literally just p*rn FOR the plot. big note on consent: there is protected (then sort of) unprotected sex in this chapter. the biggest point i'd like to make here is that both characters consent to both kinds and have a very open and honest conversation about it which, if you take away anything from this chapter, it's PLEASE HAVE HONEST CONVERSATIONS WITH THE PEOPLE YOU'RE SLEEPING WITH FOR EVERYONE'S SAFETY. ok rant over.
word count: 4.9k
listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist
a/n: another busy week ahead of me so I wanted to get this out here ASAP, but most likely won't be able to get the following chapter out for a bit. obviously, we don't know what happens w/ marcus' mom, but in this world, she doesn't die opening night of The Bear.
on another note: you guys are seriously the best and leave the sweetest and most excited comments/reblogs. i seriously love it when you guys scream at me in gifs/memes/all caps. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.
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part seven | masterlist | part nine
“Yeah uh, everything’s been goin’ good. I think Carm’s still trying to deal with everything that happened since opening – I don’t know if you heard but – but… it’s been good,” Marcus says over his FaceTime call with his mentor. 
“No, I hadn’t. Eh, haven’t talked to him much since before you visited,” Luca answers, hesitant to ask about what happened during that first night. 
“Got locked in the fridge and kinda lost it but… he’s doin’ okay,” Marcus explains, summing up the events of The Bear’s friends and family night. 
“How are you doing? How’s your mum?” Luca asks, changing the subject from Carmen to his mentee. 
He’s had more contact with Marcus – knows more of what’s going on in Marcus’ life than Carmen’s for a bit now – and Luca wants to make sure he’s being a good friend to him, considering he’d heard about Marcus’ mom’s emergency the night of The Bear’s friends and family night. 
“She’s hangin’ on but… it’s not lookin’ great. It’s hard, man. I’m… doin’ the best I can,” Marcus admits, solemnly. 
“I can only imagine,” Luca empathizes, because he can’t bear the thought of losing his own mum. 
“But uh… anyways, what’s up? What’s new with you?” Marcus asks, his voice much more energetic from the prospect of changing the subject. 
“You sure you want to hear about me?” Luca hesitates cautiously. 
“Yeah, man,” Marcus agrees. Luca can hear something so sure in his voice, as if Marcus is in dire need of a distraction – to talk about anything but his sick mom. “Shit. I’d love to hear about someone else’s drama for once,”
Luca chuckles softly, his voice light as he replies, “No drama on my end. Though. Ehm… I met a girl. I actually kinda have you to thank for it, mate.” 
“What do you mean?” Marcus questions. 
“Well. All that talk about inspiration…” Luca says, thinking about how what he’s just makes sense. 
“... you know, about being open to things outside the kitchen…. After you left, it made me realize that it’d be a while since I’d taken my own advice. Got stuck on a menu, went out for inspiration, and, well you know what they say: the rest is history.”
He knows it’s not as simple as that, but it seems like Marcus needs a little good news right now. 
“Oh shit! How’s that going?” Marcus asks, his tone much lighter now. 
“I’m positively chuffed, mate,” Luca chuckles, unable to hide the i’m-very-much-enamored smile that spreads across his face.
“The fuck does that even mean, man?” Marcus teases with a laugh at the oh-so-posh-sounding expression. 
Luca laughs again before explaining, “It means I'm pretty damn smitten.” 
“Shit,” Marcus sighs. 
He can see it all over his face as he continues to see his mentor. 
“You’re a goner, man.”
-------------------------------
Luca walks you home this Saturday evening after his regular dinner date at your restaurant. While you had a steady flow of business tonight, Mathilde and the rest of your kitchen staff made it a point to rally so that you could join him for a bit. It’s been a week since your unplanned sleepover with Luca (and your pleasantly surprising sexy morning after), and you haven’t stopped thinking about it. 
Haven’t stopped thinking about him:
The way he called you ‘love.’ The way he watched you fall apart with the most pleased look on his face. The way his fingers felt inside of you. 
“Luca,” you begin. 
The two of you stand across from one another, at a crossroads. The night could end here. You could say your goodbyes, give him a goodnight kiss, and go your separate ways, but that’s far from the option you’d prefer.
“Yes, love?” he asks you, as if he’s waiting for you to ask first.
There it is again. 
Love. 
Your eyes flicker from the cobblestone streets then back up to him as you the words fall out of your mouth:
“Do you… wanna come up?” 
Something flashes across Luca’s face as he opens mouth to say something, pausing for a moment before answering, as if it’s an agreement to what you’re really asking, an ever-so confident,
“Yes.” 
You smile, take a breath, then grab his hand as you turn towards the door to your building. As Luca follows you, the only sound between the two of you are your footsteps as you make your way up the stairs. The tension between you is thick, the anticipation of what happens next palpable, that takes shape as a pregnant silence. Luca is more-than-patient as you unlock your door, welcoming him into your home once again, before locking your front door behind you. He’s busy removing his shoes as you giggle, taking yours off as well. 
Once both of you are barefoot, you reach for him, pulling him towards you so that he towers over you, your back pressed against the front door once again. 
“This feels… eerily familiar,” Luca jokes softly, so close to kissing you that it hurts. 
“Yeah,” you agree, under your breath. This is exactly where he had you a week ago, before you both decided not to do the thing you were about to do. “Think you might wanna… pick up where we left off? Now that neither of us are plastered?”
Luca waits a beat, leaning in and ghosting his lips over yours, causing you to gasp in response to his teasing. 
“Do you?” he asks, his voice steady.
He wants to know that you’re sure. Wants to know that you want this as much as him. That you haven’t stopped thinking about the other day when he watched you fall apart on his fingers and how it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. 
“Yes,” you answer, your voice unwavering. 
He swears under his breath before his mouth is on yours, kissing you so deeply that your head spins. You make a mental note to tell him later how absolutely perfect his lips are – how deliciously plump they are, how they feel perfect against yours, how talented they are. You kiss him back, allowing him to steal the air from your lungs as he does it, crowding you up against your front door. 
Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you. You push your body against his, surprised at how steady his hands are, while yours feel so desperate, so frenzied, when he reaches for you. 
His hands are all over you, leaving confident, strong touches all over your body: pulling you in closer to him by your hips, stroking up and down your back, sliding underneath the hem of your shirt like he’s already done this with you a thousand times before. With his hands already underneath your shirt, exploring new territory, and his mouth leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck, his name leaves your lips like something between a sigh and a moan. 
He hums in response, pulling back for a moment. Your heart skips as a beath, as blue eyes lock with yours in a heated, lust-filled standoff. 
“Come with me,” you whisper, causing Luca to move aside, letting you lead him towards your bedroom. 
On the way there, you flip a hallway light on so that you can at least see where you’re going. You feel his fingers tangle with yours as he grabs your hand, his heart pounding in his chest. As soon as you reach your bedroom, you sit him down on your neatly-made bed, before turning on a small, soft, golden lamp that feels like candlelight. 
It’s just enough – more of a nightlight than a lamp, really.
You approach him without a word, and Luca marvels at you. You’re a sight for sore eyes: your hair messy from the heated makeout against your front door, your lips kiss-swollen from the fact that he can barely keep his hands, let alone his mouth off of you, your pupils blow wide with desire for him and only him. You pull your shirt over your head as you climb on to his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck as you press a searing kiss to his lips. 
“My god,” he murmurs, his hands coming up to meet the newly exposed skin. You settle into his lap, pressing your hips against his, arching your back into him in response to each touch. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”
You giggle before thanking him.
“Yeah, and I know that you know you’re hot,” you tease him in between kisses, because the man must know what he looks like, right? Luca mutters something about how he wasn’t trying to solicit a compliment from you as he lays back on your bed, taking you with him.
His hands hungrily grab at exposed flesh: the sides of your back, your breasts, the straps of your bra, just to pull them down enough to think he’s going to take it off. Impatiently, you grind your hips against where a tent in his pants has begun to form, earning a moan from his lips as he bucks his hips up to meet your clothed core. 
“We should um-,” you start, already so turned on by the way Luca’s body moves against yours that you think you should bring this up sooner rather than later. “Things we should talk about….”
“Yes, my love?” Luca asks, grinding against you again. 
You moan in response, throwing your head back as you giggle, knowing that he’s teasing you – testing your patience. 
You settle down, just for a moment, both hands going to his well-toned chest. Luca’s hands still around your hips as you say:
“I have condoms. In my nightstand. And I’m also on the pill. I… just got back on it.” 
Just got back on it when you started seeing him – you know, just in case this became a thing. 
“I haven’t been tested since my yearly physical which was… almost a year ago… but I also haven’t exactly been having sex so,” you add, your eyes flickering away for just a moment before returning to Luca’s very blue ones. 
“That’s very sexy,” he smiles up at you, his hands softly stroking your hips. 
“What?” you ask with a giggle, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you shoot him a quizzical look. 
“This… very direct communication,” he replies with a smirk, grinding his hips back up into yours again. 
“Luca!” you squeal in response, catching yourself against him so that you don’t lose your balance. 
He grins before answering, “My last test was three months ago at my yearly physical. Clean bill of health.” He pauses before saying the next thing. 
“And I’m not seeing anyone else.”
You nod, leaning down to kiss him in understanding, “Okay.”
“Okay,” he replies, bringing you down once more for another passionate makeout. 
Luca is right. It’s an even bigger turn on, the open communication, and now that you’ve gotten that conversation out of the way, you’re ready to dive in head first to exactly where you hope this is going. Getting undressed is a sexy, dreamy blur. You’re practically tearing Luca’s shirt over his head, unable to hide the fact that your jaw is near-on the floor as you take it in the hard planes of his abdomen. He expertly removes your bra, and before you know it, he’s gotten you onto your back, and you’re kicking your pants off to the bottom of the bed. 
Luca pins both of your hands to the bed overhead with one of his hands – his fingers laced with some of yours as he holds them in place – while his other hand once again makes its way between your legs. You gasp in anticipation, unable to stop the confession that comes out of your mouth. 
“I haven’t stopped thinking about that. About you. All week,” you whisper, eager to have him touch you again. 
“That so?” Luca asks cockily, in between kisses. 
“Yes,” you gasp, squirming underneath your touch as two his fingers dance over your clothed core. 
From the wetness pooling between your legs up to your clit, the way he touches you sets off sparks all over your body. You pant, unable to think straight as Luca pulls your pantied aside, his fingertips meeting your wetness immediately. He moans in response to this discovery, his forehead pressed against yours, and you cry out when he finally gives you what you’ve been begging for, as he slips a finger into you. 
“Luca,” you sigh, like you’ve gotten the only thing that could remedy your restlessness as of late. 
Luca kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth for a millionth time tonight as he begins sliding his finger in and out of you. 
“You’re so wet, love,” he coos, teasingly, into your mouth. “It’s too easy. The way my fingers slide in and out of you.” He pushes another finger into you, beginning to stretch you again at a deliciously slow pace. “You want me this much?”
And all you can do is moan, arch your back in response to the pleasure he brings you, his hand keeping both of yours above your head while he has you at his mercy. 
“So good,” you cry, as you breathe heavily. “So good. It feels-. Fuck.” 
He chuckles cruelly, breaking the kiss between you as he pulls his fingers from you. You whimper in response, impatiently, greedily. The man has you under a sexual spell and you could care less about anything else right now. 
“I already know how you feel about my fingers. Think I should give you my mouth too, hm?” he rasps, his question anything but rhetorical. 
Luca releases your hands that he’s pinned to the mattress, beginning to kiss down your jaw, your neck, your bare torso, pausing to take each of your nipples into his mouth, his tongue flickering across them like it’s a goddamn preview. 
“I need to hear you say it,” he commands, his voice quiet yet dominant. Luca pauses, his journey south, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses across your belly as he looks up at you with piercing blue eyes. 
“D’you want my mouth? Will you let me taste you?” 
“Please,” you’re too quick, too eager to respond when you’re looking down at him, looking down at the sight before you. 
Without hesitation, Luca tears your panties down your legs, impatiently tossing them behind him. He begins kissing the inside of your right thigh, alternating between soft kisses, and gentle love bites that have you squealing in delight. You let out soft moans in anticipation, sure that whatever happens next will bring you to an early grave. 
A hiss in pleasure escapes your lips as you feel the heat of his breath fan over you, but before your brain can even catch up, Luca’s licking a broad stripe up your core, parting you open for him and only him. 
You cry out, your head thrown back as he buries his face between your legs, tracing fierce abstract shapes over your clit. He moans against you, the vibrations too much as you surrender to him. He alternated between sucking and licking, and it’s not till he’s pushing two fingers back into you that your hands are grasping at the sheets, grabbing at the back of his head as your body writhes in pleasure. 
You can feel it, that spark so deep in your belly, the coil that winds itself so tightly that the only thing it can do to relieve any tension is to snap. 
“Luca. I’m gonna cum,” you beg him, a desperate whine in your voice. “Please don’t stop.” 
He doesn’t. It’s as if he couldn’t bear the thought of it – like he could never be cruel enough to deny you what you’re asking for when your voice sounds so sweet, so desperate, so on fire for him.
Using his fingers and his mouth in tandem, he’s relentless in bringing you to your climax, so determined to keep his name on your lips with every gasp, moan, and exhale.
And god, does he love the way it sounds: when you’re moaning it, when you’re begging him not to stop, when you make it sound like a symphony – like he’s just created a goddamn masterpiece. 
He’s left you breathless, and all you can do is breathe, allowing your brain to catch up with the pleasure your body has just experienced. Luca makes his way back up to you before pressing a searing kiss to your lips. You can taste yourself on his lips, and you have no intention of stopping now. 
You can feel the weight of him as he folds his body over yours. Curious hands begin to move as you become more and more interested in exploring Luca’s body. His muscles flex underneath your fingertips as a reminder of the sheer strength of the man above you. Luca groans as you cup him over his pants, before you begin to undo his pants.
“Do you… want to grab a condom?” he asks softly. 
You pause, your hands to meet his gaze with your own. 
“Uh.. yeah,” you reply. You had every intention of returning the favor, but perhaps that’s something you’ll save for tomorrow. “Let me just um….” 
You sit up, and Luca pulls back, kneeling on the bed as he finishes the job, undoing the button on his pants as you open your nightstand to grab a condom. You place the condom down on the bed next to you, before laying down, your legs spread enough so that Luca can settle between them as you watch him slide his pants and briefs down over his erection. 
Holy. Shit. 
The man’s an adonis. 
And…
Well, you know you shouldn’t be surprised. 
He’s 6’ 3” for godssake. 
But as you see his cock standing tall, hard, precum leaking from the tip, you’re glad you’ve had quite the night of foreplay so far, especially since it’s been a while since you’ve taken a lover. Instead of hesitating, you sit up just for a moment so that you can pull him over you, pulling Luca down to you for a kiss. He’s quick to respond, using one tatted hand to cradle the back of your head, deepening the kiss as he lays over you once again. 
Your right hand makes it way between you, beginning to stroke him, earning a hiss of pleasure from Luca as you wrap your hand around his thick length. He bucks into your hand and you stroke up and down his erection a few times before guiding him towards you, allowing him to use your slick as lubricant as the two of you grind against each. 
You know you should do the responsible thing, but you can’t help wondering what it would feel like too. But there’s time for that. Another time for that… 
As if he’s read your mind, Luca grabs the condom next to you, before sitting up. He carefully rips open the foil packet before tossing it somewhere on the floor, giving both hands the freedom to slide the latex over his hard on. And then he’s back on you, folding his body over yours as you make room for him between your legs, pressing the gentlest kiss to your lips. 
“You sure you want to do this?” he asks, and you think you’ll melt with how damn considerate he is. 
“Yes, baby,” you whisper back, it being the first time you’ve called him that. “Yes.” 
With your ‘yes’ Luca reaches down, pressing his thick tip against your opening, then begins to push in. You both gasp at the contact as he holds your gaze, and you feel the slightest pinch as he stretches you open. Luca caresses the side of your face, watching you for any sign, any kind of reaction that you’d want to stop. He keeps his eyes on you, pushing deeper, and then deeper, till he bottoms out.
Leaning his forehead against yours as he pauses, he’s got to focus on not cumming right then and there. 
“Fuck. You feel so fucking good,” he exhales, letting the way you feel take over him. You’re all warm, wet, pulsing heat and it feels too fucking good. 
You give yourself a moment to adjust to his size, before beginning to give him a few experimental movements, grinding your hips where the two of you are connected. Without having to say a word, Luca understands, dragging his hard length out of you at an unbearably slow pace, before pushing back into you, eliciting moans from the both of you this time. 
“Do that again,” you murmur, your eyes fluttering close and you focus on the delicious drag of his cock. 
He does it again, this time thrusting a little bit harder into you, causing you to moan a little louder this time. His mouth is back on yours as he begins to set a rhythm, thrusting in and out of you while you meet his hips with yours, rocking against him at a pace that matches. It’s as if Luca’s begun to map out your body, wanting to memorize every little thing that makes you tick, that makes you scream, causes you to grasp at any grabbable surface – the sheets, his hair, his back. 
His mouth is back on yours, swallowing your moans as he continues to fuck you. You’ve settled into a rhythm that feels just right – something that you can get completely lost in. It could be minutes, hours, days that you’ve been here, chasing mutual pleasure, wrapped up in each other’s arms like you need it to breathe. The way he moves against you is strong, yet gentle as Luca makes love to you, whispering the filthiest things into your mouth, into your ears, the soft canvas of your skin, as if he’s engraving them in stone.
You take me so well. So fucking pretty like this. My beautiful girl. 
“Luca,” you gasp, as he gives you a particularly euphoric thrust. 
“Hm?” he hums in response. 
“Let me ride you,” you request, your eyelids heavy as he stays close to you. 
“Yeah?” he asks you, one expressive eyebrow raising up. 
“Yeah,” you nod. 
Luca kisses you deeply before pausing, pulling out of you and rolling over onto his back. He thinks he’s died and gone to heaven as he watches you climb on top of him, your disheveled sex hair and desire to fuck him seem to awaken something primal in him. As you hover over him, your knees framing his hips, you line yourself up with him before taking him once again. 
Luca groans, letting his hands trace gentle patterns up and down your body – his hands smooth over your ass and caress your breasts, as calloused fingertips drag across your stomach, your shoulders, your ribcage – as if he's writing a love letter against your skin. 
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, his voice low and gravelly. 
He moans, closing his eyes as you begin moving your hips over him, forward and back, beginning to ride him like you’d asked to earlier. Large hands make their way to your hips, as you continue your movements, this time leaning down to kiss him. Luca moans into your mouth as your tongues tangle together, your hips never ceasing their grind against him. 
It feels too good. 
You feel too good.
You break the kiss this time, placing your hands on Luca’s chest for leverage as you begin to speed up your pace, letting out a moan as you fuck yourself on your lover. Back arched, hair messy, and your head thrown back, you’re completely lost in the way that he feels inside of you. 
“Look at you,” Luca marvels, hands everywhere as you bring yourself closer to your second orgasm of the night. “My god, love.” 
And before you know it, Luca’s sitting up, sitting tall, wrapping one of his long arms around your torso while the other braces against the bed behind him. He’s thrusting his hips up into you, his hand moving to the small of your back to keep you in perfect harmony with him. The way he hits the back of you with each thrust, how deep he is, how good it feels has you so, so close for the second time tonight. You cry out in response to a particularly hard thrust as your body slumps, resting your forehead against Luca’s shoulder. 
You are no longer in control. It’s funny really – and sweet – that he let you think even for a second that you could be. But when he’s bouncing you up and down like this over his hard length, thrusts becoming more erratic, more chaotic, sloppier, you have no choice but to surrender to him. You hold onto his back and his shoulders for dear life as he fucks up into you and you can tell he’s close too. 
“God, you’re so good. You’re so fucking good at this,” you whine, all nerves, and explosive pleasure behind your admission. 
“I’m close. Baby, are you-?” Luca struggles to get out, the tension in his brow telling you everything you need to know. 
“Yes. Harder. Fuck. I’m gonna cum,” you sob, sure that your neighbors will send you the dirtiest or looks when you run into them in the hallway tomorrow. 
You cry out as his fingers return to your clit, rubbing hasty circles against you in an effort to take you there with him. All you can do is moan as you busy your mouth with leaving kisses and love bites against his shoulders and chest. 
It’s somehow too much and not enough all at once as your orgasm rips through you, your entire body contracting against his. You bite down on Luca’s shoulder, and you think the pain and pleasure combined is what gets him across the finish line as he fucks you through your climax. Before you can properly come down, it’s one, two, and then a third hard thrust up into you before he lets out a primal grunt, pressing your hips down hard against his. 
Luca stills inside of you, panting as the ripples of pleasure course through his body, his ears ringing from how hard he came. His eyes meet yours, and he chuckles, moving a piece of hair from your face before tucking it behind your ear. 
“Hi,” he smiles, watching you carefully. 
“How ya doin?” you ask him, teasingly. 
He shakes his head with a laugh before pulling you towards him so that he can kiss you once again. 
“I’m great,” he answers, in between kisses. 
“Me too,” you agree as your lips curl into a smile against his. You press one more kiss to his lips before pulling back. As you climb off of his lap, allowing him to slip out of you, the two of you hit the mattress like you’ve just run a marathon. 
“Come here, love,” he says, encouraging you closer to him. 
More than happy to oblige, you curl up to his side, one of your legs wrapping around his as you lay on your side. You giggle, settling into the softness of moment, pressed up against the guy that just fucked your brains out. 
“What?” he asks, in regards to your laugh. 
“I just-,” you start, before giggling again. “That was really hot.”
Luca gives you a comforting squeeze, hugging you closer to him as you relax even further into his body. 
“Yeah it was,” he agrees, a grin spreading across his lips. 
He looks over at you to see that you’re on your way to being fast asleep. You’ve closed your eyes, so perfectly tucked underneath his arm as you rest against his body. Luca places a gentle kiss on top of your head as he grins to himself again. He’s not sure what to call it – this thing he’s feeling – because it’s too soon to call it anything, but whatever it is, he knows that his friend was right: 
He’s a goner. 
-------------------------------
Luca doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve this, but as he watches you take him into your mouth, he knows he must’ve done something right. Your name escapes his lips like a prayer as you spend your morning going down on him, completely incapable of ignoring the hard-on you woke up to minutes ago.
You’d promptly pushed him onto his back before asking if you could. 
And who was he to say no?
“Shit,” he hisses, as your tongue runs over the head of his hard, leaking cock.
“Wait, just-. I don’t want to cum yet. I-,” Luca stammers out, using all of his self control not to cum in your mouth right then and there. “I want to fuck you again.” 
His words shoot straight to your core as you release him, climbing back over his body and letting him roll you onto your back. 
“Do you want me to grab a condom?” he asks you, nipping at your jaw as his fingers discover that you’re already ready for him. 
His words from last night echo in your head: 
And I’m not seeing anyone else. 
“No,” you say, immediately searching his face for some kind of negative reaction. “Is that okay?” 
He nods, one side of his mouth turns up into that crooked smile that makes your heart race. 
“Fuck,” he rasps, his head spinning as he lines himself up with your entrance, beginning to push in. 
“Of course it is, love.”
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peachymilkandcream · 10 months
Text
My Husband, My Monster|Part 1|William Afton x Wife!Reader
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(A/N: So this is the fandom that won the poll! I'll try and keep these and Break Me Slowly regular, but still feel free to give me requests for both in my inbox, I do oneshots and headcanons as well as I'll answer your questions and comments! (Please just read the rules first) I think I have a general timeline and idea of the lore [It's FNAF lore it's complicated as fuck] so I'm going with my best guess on things. Hope you guys enjoy!)
WARNINGS: noncon, dubcon, power imbalance, age difference, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere themes, yandere behaviours, domestic violence, misogyny, violence, William's a warning himself, etc.
=============================================
Who knew that a bit of twisted words and cash made all of your problems go away? William had struggled to stay open with Henry Emily's company showing such strides in mechanical technology. He was still wearing homemade cloth suits while his rival had dancing puppets that children adored. His dreams and ideas were being stolen right out from under him in his eyes, rolling in mountains of debt and the threat of closing down looming over his head. They were his characters, his dream, his business idea, and the bastard had to steal it and make it better. Even though he had bought William out of debt all those years back, it didn't change the sting of defeat when the two businesses merged.
Now he didn't regret it, Fredbear's Family Diner was just starting out but it was already projected to be a success. His characters took centre stage and had never been more alive, delighting young and old alike, his legacy started now.
Which is when he noticed the girl sitting at a table with her friend, they were giggling and laughing together over some inside joke. William had always had a soft spot for pretty girls, his more reckless years spent taking what women offered him freely, now he didn't have the time.
However for this girl he might just be able to make the time.
Casually he walks over, pretending to just be passing by, when he spies the job application she's filling out on the table and catching snippets of their conversation.
"I'm just saying, you're not going to have time for school while getting even a part time job." The friend was saying this, a slightly concerned expression on her face. "And now offence, you're not the brightest bulb, you need all the time to study that you can get."
"Well thanks." She mutters, giggling slightly. "But I can't afford college with my situation now. Mom and Dad agreed to pay for most of it, but-" She hesitates with a blush. "I want the full college experience."
"Ooh~" Her friend seems intrigued. "My best friend finally loosing her innocence? Scandalous."
She scoffs. "Look I just haven't found the right guy yet, it'll happen when it happens."
At this William can't help but interject. "Excuse me, I couldn't help but glance over your shoulder and see you're applying for a job here."
She meets his eyes, and man was he a sucker for a pretty face. "Yeah I am, are you a manager here?"
He chuckles a little. "No actually, I'm the owner." While co-owner was technically true he liked to tell people he owned it solely to give himself an ego boost. "If you wanted, I could do the interview right here."
"Wait really?"
"Actually, she's fine, thanks, she's going to get a job with my mom or something. Come on let's go-" Her friend slides out of the booth, trying to drag the woman with her.
"Well I'm going to be brutally honest with you here ma'am, for a girl your age your options are going to be extremely limited. And even though the pay isn't great it's a great experience."
She stops, considering his words before waving off her friend. "Go ahead, I think I'll still fill it out, never hurts."
"If you'd like I can interview you right now, save some time."
"Oh wow that would be awesome-"
"Seriously? Listen, this guy gives me a weird feeling, let's just go okay? And I'll find you something better." The friend again reaches for her to come along, but the girl refuses.
"I'm serious, go on and I'll tell you how it went later."
With a huff her friend leaves, a clearly annoyed expression evident on her face.
William regains his composure before sitting across from her. "So, a job. Tell me what you can do." He crosses his hands on the table in front of her, a smile easily coming to his face.
"Well, I was thinking I would be a good server, I'm good with people, especially kids, and I love to clean. I can cook pretty well too but I think something at this scale would be too much for me." She laughs a little, clearly trying to ease a little nervousness.
He joins in on her laughter, hoping to make her comfortable around him, since that's what he wanted. "I suppose that's fair. Out of curiosity, why is it you want this job?" She was hired already, that he knew, a pretty face with a nice ass? What more could you want from an employee?
"Well I'm in college, and I want to be able to afford just some extras to really experience that life before it's too late."
"College?" He feigns interest, in his opinion all she was doing was wasting her most fertile years and her money. If she's halfway decent at any of her qualifications then she'd easily find a rich enough man like him, pop out a few kids and have a truly fulfilling life. "Can I ask what for?"
"Psychology, the human mind has always fascinated me."
"Oh yes definitely." He suppresses an eye roll, even more of a useless degree, maybe he could help this girl from throwing her life away because she thinks deep thoughts will make her money. "Then I should ask for your class schedule for hours."
"Right, I always keep it with me because I'm always forgetting." She giggles again, pulling it out of her purse and handing it to him. "I cannot work these times but anything else I'm there."
Wanting these hours to know when not to schedule this girl was the last thing on William's mind. "Well I'll do what I can, but it's not that easy, you have to be flexible in the real world."
"Of course, I understand that sir."
"William, call me William. My grandfather was sir and my father was Mr. Afton, so I'm just William." He flashes another smile, coaxing one from her lips as well.
"Alright, William." She tests his name out on her tongue with a soft smile and a subtle blush, the poor girl clearly hasn't been within five feet of a man before.
"Now Miss, have you had any work experience prior to this?"
"No, I haven't, this sounds entitled but I've never really had the need to up until now?"
"There's nothing wrong with that, although I'll need to teach you the proper dynamic between employee and employer. But I trust that won't be a problem, right?"
"Not at all sir-er-William. I'm more than happy to learn."
"Good, all you need to know is that I'm your friend, but I have authority over you so you need to follow what I say without question."
"Why without question?"
Oh she was so naive. "Insubordination, it's grounds with which you can be fired. So best not to stray too far towards that right?" He winks.
"Absolutely-" She shivers slightly.
"Then if that's it..." He draws the moment out for it to seem authentic. "Welcome to Fredbear's Family Diner and we're happy to have you on the team." He extends a hand to shake, which she grasps eagerly, her rows of white teeth on full display.
"Oh thank you so much! When do I start?"
"We'll have you start next week, let's say, Monday."
"That's perfect, that's so perfect-" She glances at the door. "I really should go, I think I've pissed her off enough as it is, thank you for your time." She shakes his hand and hurries out the door.
"Oh trust me, don't worry about it." He watches her go, a small smile coming to his face.
This was just the beginning.
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catgirl-catboy · 22 days
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Not sure if you're interested, but if I can give my perspective on Kokichi's treatment as a certified actual compulsive liar, you're absolutely correct that the other characters are deeply hypocritical in how his lying is treated in comparison to others and that beyond being kind of annoying and kind of an asshole he really didn't do anything that bad up until chapter 4, but in my experience the way he's treated is very true to life and honestly hits me personally very hard because I relate. When people realize someone lies often even about mostly small and petty shit, it changes how they treat you and everything you say that they don't like is often written off as a lie, you being a known liar becomes the easiest excuse in the world to treat you poorly and gives people a convenient justification for disliking you. Himiko lying about her magic isn't treated the same because it's one thing she lies about (I'd argue for the sake of not breaking the illusion and ruining the wonder) and while they do get annoyed with her about it, mainly in chapter 2 where her refusal to be honest is actively being a hindrance to the investigation, it doesn't change their overall attitude toward her because it's still just the one thing and they kind of know how to work around it. As for Shuichi, I honestly am not sure how many members of the cast even really notice that Shuichi lies as often as he does, and even those who do probably find it easier to excuse because they can recognize that he's doing it to reach the truth, Kaito and Maki in particular find it easier to both excuse and play along with simply because they trust Shuichi's judgment. As far as Kokichi is concerned, they don't trust that he's lying for any good reason because they don't know why he's lying at all, because he does it constantly about both important and meaningless things which makes it easier to just assume that he's at best unreliable and at worst a threat. It is a flaw and it is hypothetical, but it's also eerily similar to how I was treated by my peers as a teen.
Anyway sorry for the rant I just have a lot of feeling and thoughts about Kokichi because he actually was the first time I saw a compulsive/pathological/whatever liar in fiction that wasn't treated by the narrative as just pure evil without any nuance or grey area, or some kind of high school mean girl (looking at you Miraculous Ladybug), and that had a really strong effect on me and allowed me to actually confront and cope with that part of myself.
Oh, I am VERY interested.
May just be the autism, but what lies the Danganronpa characters do and don't seem to care about seems entirely dependent on their pre-existing biases.
Sure, Kokichi lies about enjoying bugs during the meet and greet. But Kaede and Shuichi do the exact same thing in Gonta's intro, and its completely brushed off!
Considering how truth vs lies/fiction is one of v3's main themes, it feels like Kodaka is shooting his message in the foot.
As a whole, one of my major gripes with the franchise is that it has a serious problem with protagonist centered morality, and those problems are named Syo and Kaito.
I would argue that a lot of Kokichi's lies also play into his persona, and that he always has to "perform" in a sense due to his talent, if that makes sense. Himiko's skill as a performer wouldn't be questioned because of who she is offstage, but Kokichi's absolutely would. Then again, there's a lot of skepticism about Kokichi's talent in canon and in the fandom itself, so that could explain it.
People are weird. Danganronpa characters are even weirder.
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I have a confession. I stopped talking to one of my good friends a few months ago because of the things they were drawing and posting on their side twitter account.
Me and my friend were both pretty deep into Hazbin Hotel when the first season dropped a few months ago. They’d send me their art sometimes over the years, but I’d never seen them post any of it on any of their accounts I was following them on. I suggested they should start an art account a few times in the past, but they always brushed it off.
Imagine my surprise when I stumble across one of those pieces they sent to me in private posted on Twitter. I forgot I was still logged in on my private account, and I realized that page had my main blocked. I scrolled through their art for a minute and very quickly realized why they had me blocked on my main. Most of the things they were posting there was NSFW art of Lucifer and Charlie (father and daughter), some of them of Charlie as a little girl talking about how sexy she was as a child and how Lucifer should have molested her. I’ve been very vocal about my disgust with similar art/accounts to them and I guess they blocked me preemptively, but forgot about my priv.
I confronted them about the account and they confirmed that it was them, and they said they just think it’s hot. I blocked them instead of responding. I haven’t talked to them since, and I don’t plan on it. It really hurts losing such a good friend, but I genuinely can’t look at them the same anymore. Knowing the things they’re into, I don’t feel comfortable being around them at all.
I know obviously this isn’t directed at me, but I still feel so betrayed. This isn’t the person I was such good friends with, or anyone I would’ve talked to at all if I would’ve known, and they knew I wouldn’t take it well considering they went out of their way to keep it from me. I feel like none of the fun memories we had together were even real, because I never would’ve even talked to them if I knew.
I’m very firmly against censorship and harassment over fiction, which is why I blocked them instead of responding. They have the right to post it I guess. But the fiction someone posts/enjoys completely changes the way I look at them. I can’t be friends with someone like this, and it hurts. I’d complained about loli shit to them many, many times, and every single time, they agreed with me. I’d say “just scrolled past porn of (insert underage character here), night ruined, gotta kms” and they’d say “yeah lmao ew.” I get why they didn’t, but I wish they would’ve just said “actually I think it’s hot” a long, long time ago instead of keeping it a secret. At least then I would be losing an acquaintance instead of one of my best friends.
Perhaps you should consider why they did not trust you enough to be honest and open if you two were the best of friends.
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Text
ɪɴᴛʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴛɪᴏɴ
pairing: college!harry osborn x college!fem!reader
summary: you had known peter parker for a few months now and he had mentioned having a roommate a few times but you never really pay attention to it. well you're left with no choice but to acknowledge it when you're met with him instead of peter while returning notes peter had so graciously let you borrow. maybe he should have so graciously told you he wasn't going to be home but you'd yell at him about that later.
warnings: swearing, brief mention of family issues.
word count: 3.3k
a/n: this is the introduction to my heaven is a bedroom series which uses characters and events from sam raimi's spider-man universe. since this is the introduction you can read it by itself or with the rest of the series! it is mentioned that the reader is a woc but you can ignore that if it doesn't apply.
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if there was one thing college had brought you it was the sweet boy you could call a friend, peter parker. you had met peter during your freshman year at columbia university. you had both been placed into biology, seeming as you were a bio major and he was a bio-physics major. peter just so happened to come in late the first day and the only seat left was next to you, i guess no one wanted to be sitting all the way on the left side of the room.
you became friends pretty quickly and even became lab partners. peter was probably the only college boy you actually enjoyed being around. he was sweet and honest, wasn't very reliable though. at least from what he had told you when you finally got him to talk about the girl he liked. you watched peter's eyes light up every time he mentioned her name, smiling to yourself at how head over heels he was for her.
you were entering your third month of college, aka it was finally october. the previous week you had gotten too caught up at the shelter and missed class. thankfully peter had showed up on time that day and was helpful enough to lend you the notes, saying something about how it was the least he could do considering how many times you've lent him yours. as promised, you were on your way to return them to him now.
you had never been to peter's apartment, there was never a need until now. usually it was him returning the notes to your apartment. he had mentioned that he had a roommate. you couldn't remember what he said his name was but it was his childhood best friend. it didn't really seem too shocking because you had the same situation. what college student didn't have a roommate? what person living in new york didn't have a roommate? well, unless you were rich.
the building seemed nice enough as you rode up in the elevator, peter's notebook in hand. the lecture that you had missed had been on arachnids and peter's notes were expert-level. he had even taken the time to drop out some of the species. as the elevator gets to the top you realized you probably should've called to tell him you were coming over. in your defense, he just told you to drop them off on sunday and that was today. he never gave you an exact time so he would probably be home all day.
right?
the elevator finally came to a stop at the ninth floor. you opened up the gate and stepped off, stopping in front of the door and knocking on it. you heard some shuffling and smiled to yourself a bit. knowing peter he had probably forgot you were coming over. you heard footsteps coming towards the door before it unlocked and opened.
wait, this isn't peter.
"hi?" the guy said.
he was cute. he was really cute.
he was tall, a little lanky looking. he had brown hair and honey brown eyes to match. he was wearing a blue button up, the collar of a white tee shirt poked out where the first two buttons failed to meet their match. there was a black watch on his left wrist. he had on these small, little reading glasses. you must've interrupted something.
"hi. i must have the wrong apartment. i'm looking for peter parker?"
"oh pete does live here. he's just not home right now" he answered, flashing you an apologetic smile.
so this was the roommate peter had mentioned.
"he should be back soon though. come in" he said before he stepped to the side and let you into their apartment.
"thanks" you smiled as you stepped inside and glanced around.
it was a nice apartment. you first walk into the kitchen. they had a dinning room table in front of one of the two big balcony doors. there was a small living room area beside the dining room table, in front of the other balcony door. stairs to the left of that, assumedly leading to their bedrooms. their office space was to the right of the stairs.
your eyes fell back onto the dining room table where there were notebooks and textbooks scattered.
so you did interrupt something.
"i'm sorry if i interrupted anything. i was just dropping off the notes he'd let me borrow. he told me to come on sunday" you explained.
"oh don't worry. you didn't interrupt anything, i was just doing some homework. pete stepped out early this morning but i'm sure he'll be back soon if you want to wait. i'm harry, harry osborn" he said, sticking his hand out.
his eyes seemed to linger on you a bit.
wait. osborn as in oscorp? the multi-billion dollar tech company?
"i'm y/n. peter and i are lab partners"
you shake his hand. his palm is kind of sweaty. he nods slowly, like he's putting the pieces together.
"did peter not mention that?"
"well he did, he just never mentioned that you were a girl"
you cocked your head at him a bit.
what was that supposed to mean?
he must've noticed the change in your facial expression because he was quick to explain.
"n-not that there's anything wrong with that. i just didn't realize pete had it in him"
you looked at him oddly again.
"no, i mean not like that. it's just that peter doesn't do too well talking to women. he sort of um... freezes up"
you had heard all about peter's inability to speak to women. he was constantly telling you about his failed attempts at making a move on mary jane watson. the poor guy was like a lost puppy in that department.
but harry wasn't doing any better right now.
"sort of like you're doing now?" a small smirk creeping onto your face.
"yeah, sort of" he chuckled, looking away. "do you want something?"
"no. thank you, but i actually should get going. i have a shift i need to get to. could you just let peter know i dropped it off?" you asked, handing him the notebook.
his gaze fell to the notebook and then back up to you as he grabbed hold of it. those puppy eyes seemed almost pleading. like there was something else he wanted to say.
but he didn't.
"yeah of course. i'll let him know you stopped by"
"thank you", you smiled, "it was nice meeting you harry"
he opened the front door for you and you looked back at him briefly as you walked out.
"no problem, nice meeting you"
-
"harry, no"
"oh come on pete! please?" he pleaded.
"no. i'm not getting involved" peter said, throwing up his hands.
"you have to pete. you're my only in"
ever since peter got home harry had been down his throat. actually, more like on his knees. begging peter to give him information about y/n.
"harry she's going to eat you alive. you ever heard that song "maneater"? yeah that's her"
"well if she's so bad then why are you friends with her?"
"oh she's a great friend but i've seen her crush pretty much every guy who tries to make a move with her's ego. and harry, your ego can get pretty big"
for every time peter rambled to you about mary jane, you told him a story about your massacre of a love life. that wasn't an insult either, that was the way you liked it.
"gee thanks pete" he deadpanned, "my ego will live. i still don't understand how you never told me about her!"
peter distinctively remembers a time that he was walking out of class with you. you two were in the middle of a conversation about the lecture when a guy from class stopped you. it was an obvious attempt to as you out but all the guy got from you was a dirty look and a short, uninterested response. then you continued on as if that interaction had never happen, resuming your conversation with peter.
now every time that guy sees you in class he avoids you like the plague. and you act like he doesn't exist because, to you, he doesn't.
"i didn't know it was so important to you" peter said sarcastically as he started up the stairs, chuckling.
"peter i haven't even been able to finish my homework, that's how important it is to me"
peter stopped mid step, noticeably fed up with harry's investigating.
"she mentioned going to a shift later. at least tell me where she works?"
peter internally smiled. harry had practically taken the short time you were here and engraved it in his memory. surely he had the resources to find out more about you on his own but peter figured he'd make his life a little easier. knowing harry wouldn't let him get through his homework if he didn't.
"she doesn't. she volunteers at the animal shelter." peter admitted before going to his room.
a smile took place on harry's face.
-
a few days later you were at the front desk of the shelter, filling out the paperwork for a new dog that had come in. you heard the front door open, thanks to the bell on it, and footsteps that stopped before you. you started greeting whoever it was without looking up.
"hi. what kind of animal are you looking for today?"
"well i was hoping you would help with that"
wait a minute. you had heard that voice before.
"harry?" you questioned as you looked up.
"hi y/n" he smiled
what was he doing here?
"i didn't know you and peter were looking for a pet"
he shrugged.
"figured there's no harm in looking"
"no, i guess there isn't" you smiled
"so will you help me?"
-
you had given harry a tour of the shelter. starting with the cats, moving onto the dogs. he didn't really strike you as an animal person but he seemed to like whatever you liked. he also seemed more interested in you than he was in the animals. the shelter didn't take smaller animals so after the dogs there wasn't much else to show. coincidentally, as your tour was coming to an end so was your shift.
"i have to go clock out" you told him as you guys had returned to the lobby.
"well i can wait here. if you want to go grab a drink or something?" he asked.
"a drink?" you questioned with a raised eyebrow.
usually, this would be an immediate no. you didn't have time for this. you were busy enough with classes and volunteering. you didn't need any distractions.
usually, you would write this off as a waste of time. you had no interest in dating or hooking up so what was the point? it's not like you needed a friend either. i mean you had plenty of friends.
right?
you had plenty of friends. you had clover, your other two long distance best friends, your sister, and... peter. they were more than enough. you didn't really have time for anyone else. really.
"well like a coffee or something, whatever you want" he saved.
his nervousness made you smile.
damn it.
"sure harry, give me a minute" you agreed before turning and going into the break room.
you'd be a liar if you said you hadn't thought about harry. the minute you got home you and your roommate had did some stalking to find out what you could about him. you felt bad about it but him showing up here made you feel less bad about it. he had obviously been doing his own research.
harry was the only son of norman osborn. clover had given you wide eyes when you guys found that out. not that it mattered much to you but it confirmed that osborn was indeed for oscorp. apparently, his father was a billionaire.
a rich, pretty boy was almost never a good combo. but for right now you seemed to have the upper hand. you just needed to keep that advantage.
you came back out with your jacket in hand as you made your way over to harry. new york was in fall now which called for a few more layers. you had been wearing a red spider-man baby tee, a black pleated skirt with thermal black tights and tall, black uggs.
"so you like spider-man?" he asked with a smile.
he has a pretty smile.
"you don't?" you asked as you slipped on the jacket and zipped it halfway.
"he's a cool guy"
he held the door open for you as you walked out before leading the way towards a coffee shop he said he had heard was good.
"what are you going to school for?" he asked you.
he has his hands in the pockets of his jacket. the cold wind was making the tip of his nose and ears turn red.
like a little rudolph.
"i'm a biology major" you answered.
your hands were also shoved in the pockets of your jacket. your tan skin made the redness in your face less obvious on you than it was on him but he could still see it. he made sure to.
"that tracks"
you gave him a bit of a side eye. if you hadn't known he had done his research on you before, he just gave it away.
"i just mean because it seems like you like animals. your eyes kind of lit up every time you introduced me to one"
so he's observant.
"you're not wrong. that's what i'm going to school for" you admitted.
and interested. maybe.
"to work with animals?"
"yeah, to be a vet."
"no wonder you're friends with peter. you must be like wicked smart" he chuckled.
you continued to talk until you got to the coffee shop. turns out he's an only child, you're not. he never mentioned a mother, so it must just be his father. he talks so highly of his father, but there's a bit of a falter there. you knew that falter.
stop psychoanalyzing him.
you watched his face drop when he went to order for you two and you told him you don't actually drink coffee. he apologized profusely for not asking before but you told him you'd live. he got you a hot chocolate instead.
when you guys left the coffee shop harry said he would walk you home so you led the way this time. you both sipped on your drinks and continued conversation. apparently, harry also goes to columbia but he was a business major with a minor in engineering. your paths would hardly ever cross on campus.
you had sort of wrote him off to be this fuckboy, you still kind of do. the business major thing doesn't really help his case. but this little walk with him had made you realize he wasn't so terrible.
that didn't mean you were gonna let him off so easily though.
you stopped in front of the building, harry looked confused when he realized what building you two were in front of.
"i told you i would walk you home" he said, frowning a bit.
"i walked you home instead, my place is further" you said, nodding in the direction opposite of the one you guys came from.
that was a lie. but it was too early for him to know where you lived. you had to keep that upper hand.
"i wouldn't mind walking a little bit y/n, really. "
okay so maybe he was actually interested.
"i know but its alright. i gotta get home." you said as you started to walk away from him. "thank you for the hot chocolate!"
harry watched you walk away from him with furrowed brows as he watched you go the same direction you had just came from.
"i thought you said your apartment was further away?!" he called after you.
"i lied!" you yelled back, smirking to yourself.
-
"y/n! i think you should give him a chance!"
you and peter were similar in the way that you both were roommates with your childhood best friends. right about now you wished you weren't.
"a chance to what? fuck me?"
you two were more different than you were similar. clover liked to see the best in people. that wasn't her fault though. she had never exactly been given a reason to do otherwise.
clover came from two loving parents. she was an only child but her parents treated you like a second daughter. sometimes you thought they treated you better than your own parents did. you tried to push that thought away though. it made you feel guilty.
they were the reason you and clover were living together right now. her parents were both tennis players and they must've been good at it because they were are loaded. they started investing in property at some point. and when their daughter told them she wanted to move to new york for college with her best friend, they made it happen.
they bought the whole apartment building actually, making sure to leave the best apartment available for their daughter and you. its insanity but you couldn't be more grateful for them. they did for more you than your own parents did.
"maybe. maybe more, maybe less" she protested
you laughed and shook your head at her. you had predicted this would happen. you were gonna avoid telling her in the first place but she saw the empty hot chocolate and started questioning.
"you've lost your mind. absolutely not clo"
she groaned like you had just told her she was grounded. which, for the record, clover's parents never grounded her. you grabbed bug and headed towards your room.
being a regular volunteer at the shelter gave you the privilege (and curse) of being able to foster some of the animals. you had to limit yourself to one and you picked bug. bug was a big black cat who enjoyed messing with clover during his free time. she wasn't huge on cats and he made it his business to harass her when you weren't home. you didn't mind, it evened the score for when she harassed you like she is right now.
"y/n please! this could actually mean something for you!" she protested.
for clover, this was the equivalent to you shutting off her favorite rom com right before things started to get good. her words not yours.
"it was just hot chocolate! plus, i don't want it to mean anything. i will live just fine without harry. didn't you say yourself that he had a reputation?"
during our light stalking session she said she had heard about him, a few girls had mentioned his name. then she admitted that was a lie and a lot of girls had mentioned his name, on various occasions. apparently he had spent the first few months of college getting some experience under his belt.
probably wasn't too hard for him once girls figured out who his father was.
you remember peter complaining about it once. saying how harry was falling behind and he had to threaten him to not help him anymore if he didn't get his act together.
or was it harry's father?
you couldn't exactly remember.
maybe that's why he was studying when you went over.
"we don't exactly know what that reputation is though! it could just be gossip or he could've changed!" clover called.
you scoffed as you entered your room, "yeah, fat chance clo!"
"a talking stage won't hurt!" she called after you before you shut your door and set bug down. you watched as he made his way onto you bed and laid himself out.
"might hurt" you mumbled.
-
up next: ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1
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Thinking about why DBD managed to hit me so hard in the Older Queer feelings place.
I went to high school from 2002-2006 and it fucking sucked. For reference, YouTube wasn't founded until 2006, and this was before smartphones and social media and thus easier access to ~*~socially transgressive~*~ material.
The only queer characters I remember seeing on TV while growing up were punchlines (Will & Grace) or grimdark suffering and tragedy (Queer as Folk, The L Word, Nip/Tuck). The biggest slur hurled at us was gay ("Dude, that's so fuckin gay, don't be such a pussy!"). I never actually came out of the closet in high school, but I was still bullied for being perceived as queer because I dressed goth and, at the time, goth was still enough of a subculture to get mashed in with 'everything else society considers fucked up.' I knew two 'out' queer kids in high school, both gay cis boys who leaned effeminate, and dear god they were not treated kindly. Matthew Shepard's brutal torture and murder was still fresh in our collective memory. I also made the classic mistake of falling in love with one of my oldest, and straightest, girl friends. 🙃
And this was near the California Bay Area, traditionally considered one of the most queer-friendly regions!
So anyway, fast-forward to today, and here's Edwin, being unabashedly effeminate in all the ways that I learned to associate with getting a fast fuckin beatdown, and he's...treated with respect, both by other characters and ALSO the broader narrative. He's the recipient of multiple different kinds of love and attraction. None of his flaws have anything to do with being effeminate. And even the surface-level dynamic of Charles being his self-proclaimed protector has nothing to do with Edwin's own abilities -- that he is, in fact, able to endure in ways that no other character has been shown capable of yet, and again, not for any reasons that have to do with the narrative itself punishing Edwin for daring to be gay.
And then: the confession in Hell. When I eventually confessed to my best friend, she hemmed and hawed and put me off without a concrete answer, only that she was happy with her current boyfriend. Fair enough! But then she strung me along for a couple of years until I finally pushed for an answer on whether or not there was any hope, and only then did she said no, she's straight. In retrospect, both of us could have handled it better than we did; we haven't spoken since.
So when Edwin confessed, I found myself getting tense, bracing myself for the inevitable brush-off and awkwardness, which is a common reaction IRL, just...not the fictional wish-fulfillment one from a viewer, y'know? Except that's not what happened! It's not that Charles didn't give Edwin a hard 'no' (no one is ever, ever obligated to return affection), it's that Charles gave Edwin an HONEST one, AND it was kind, and there wasn't a sense that their friendship had lost any trust or anything!
And I'll be honest, that made my cracked, stoic heart cry just a little bit and healed something from my late teen/young adult self.
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lover-of-mine · 3 months
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Lady Whistledown.. Gossip Girl. Yep, we have been talking about the same people!! I honestly was just coming to say the same thing. The BT HQ is on fire. I saw you said you were getting shade about if we were all real. Today is the best example of yes we are. GG is the cool one, but I'm clearly the dramatic one. If anyone goes back, they will see that I mentioned multiple times what they wanted that Henren scene to be. Basically, Hen tells the audience shhhhh, we like this guy. If I'm being really honest, it would have been more kind if they never aired because it was one of the last ideas they had...
So let's step into Narnia.. They ended the season thinking BT were each other's people, they finally found safe space, they were comfort. Then Lou ditches them, Oliver ignores them, and that little hope they had for Hen, giving her mother Hen approval is snatched. They are battling back and forth with having to acknowledge this relationship is completely undefined. Every opportunity they had at the medal ceremony to somehow make Tommy a part of the family is gone. They had Maddie and Athena there, nothing. They wanted Tommy at the table with Chris and Eddie, nothing. (Dont let them fool you they wanted Chris and him to interact to show dad vibes). Now they really have to settle into the fact that at best they are fuck buddies and Tommy can't keep up with Buck. Expect them to romanticize or make the idea cool BT content.
Now we leave Narnia
Also, expect some shade is brewing for Hen. Apparently, she wasn't supporting her queer elder. Did you fall over when you felt my eye roll? Its honestlybaffling to me how quick they are to turn on an OG character for this man. It's like Stockholm Syndrome was invented for this moment.
Lastly, weird thing. They aren't sure what to do with Ryan's workout story. This may seem weird, but they kind of cling to Tommy is husky, and Buck is just as "husky." So there is a weird gumbo of where they are trying to land on how they view their bodies. Like they don't want Oliver working out with Ryan and them pulling the S Sex (6) interview scene, you know. I can't tell if they are going to land on body shaming yet. Maybe they are just terrified both will bulk up for a shirtless scene like we expected that season. Also the fact they think it makes Tommy seem older.
Anyways... It's definitely a dumpster fire over there.
Hello my love.
This is... Damn. Honestly, yeah, this scene is a nail in the coffin. It makes him somehow even less likable. It doesn't do Tommy, or bt for that matter, any favors. The relationship is not that serious, Tommy does not care for approval, Hen clearly does not trust him. It crushed so many narratives in 36 seconds it's kinda impressive.
There's so much going on here I don't even know where to start. Considering how they are treating real life wlw people, I have been fully ready for them to turn on Hen and even Aisha since I saw the clip, so I'm already expecting that.
The Ryan thing tho. The obsession with Ryan makes me want to fistfight people. If bt is so perfect and real and endgame, then why the fuck does anything Ryan does matter? And bodyshame the dude? Have they seen him? The dude looks like he stepped out from a catalog. I feel like my brain is melting. The mental gymnastics involved here, man. Crazy. I am happy it's a dumpster fire tho. I feel vindicated.
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indulgence-is-key · 2 months
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Rant about female MHA characters + (fanservice, tw sa mentions)
Earlier this year I watched 4 seasons of MHA to try and get further in watching when I did before, years ago. Although on basically the episode where the big three were introduced, I could not make it any further. As of recently, my mother and brother, who both are/was (in the case of my brother) wanted to rewatch it, and i decided to join. They both never made it past the "creepy wall guy" (Mirio) and stopped there, although this time they are watching further and also seem to find it stupid and boring at the part their at right now.
This is the reason why the topic of female characters has gotten on my mind, since watching this show with some of these scenes is painful. The fact that they are children makes it worse
1: female character debate points, the fanservice
If you've seen or read MHA, you'll know. This takes up such a big part of the show I can put it in categories.
The costumes; Momo. That's all I need to say. Look at this picture and tell me that this is a suitable costume for a 15-16 year old should wear
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"but her quirk" zippers! Other ways around it! There is no explanation for why they'd make a girl wear this other than fanservice!
This one is equally as awful, although the character is an adult, so it's a bit less disgusting
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JUST WHY? IM 99 % PERCENT SURE THIS DOESNT HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH QUIRKS NOW😭
This can be summed up to one comment*:
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also, ochakos tight costume😑 why. No "I forgot to mention" can fix this one guys.
2: do they have personalities??
Yes. Are they on screen that much? No.
I'm not one of those people who will say something is sexist for having same gendered main characters, but when there's barely any girls in the show, and whenever they are on screen their subjected to fanservice, it's not a great look.
Also, I love Ochako. One of the best characters fr. And I love Ochako x Izuku, but it being her only major character development to get a crush and realise it...yeesh.
Other female characters barely have what I'd consider to be development, maybe Momo with self confidence?? But barely anything.
3: pervert
**. this is excluding denki, it's only about m*n*ta. **
Everyone's seen it. why is no one doing anything about Mineta. This is not average teenage boy behaviour, I'd say denki has closest to normal behaviour, but not Mineta.
Let's be honest, not only is this straight up harassment, this shit is assault. Him grabbing Tsuyus chest with full awareness and enjoyment, is disgusting, and he deserves getting drowned. There is no consent in that. And theres so many other things he's done that's just a small part.
The fact that the female characters don't really do much at all is so dehumanising and gross.
Anyways, my female MHA character rant😶
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sketching-shark · 11 months
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I was curious to know, is there a specific adaptation of JTTW that you particularly enjoy? Whether its good or accurate isnt important but more like in your personal taste
AUGH going to be honest @seasonalsummers in that I don't feel like I can pick just one...there's so many excellent retellings! But I will take this opportunity to present some of my favorites.
So first up we have the 1986 Journey to the West tv series. It is in many ways very goofy and gaudy, but there's just as many reasons why it's considered one of the best retellings out there, from its genuine heart to the adherence to the og classic. And needless to say its Sun Wukong really set a standard for cheeky scheming monkey behavior. You can start watching it here:
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Next up is 2016s The Monkey King 2. While this film is one of those retellings that gives the White Bone Demon a lot more prominence than she has in the og classic--and definitely has its own silly stupid moments--it also stands as one of the very few retellings that directly addresses the paradox of Tang Sanzang's mission: that he's trying to get the sutras to help mortals achieve a state of peace all while abhorring violence, and yet its only because of the violence of his disciples, especially Sun Wukong, that he's able to right a number of wrongs or simply go from day to day uneaten. You can watch it here:
youtube
And now it's time to give kudos to 2015's Monkey King: Hero Is Back. While this film is FAR from a faithful retelling and (usual refrain) has its own silliness, pretty simple plot, and gross-out humor, it also has so much heart and stands as a wonderful embodiment of the dad Wukong characterization. One also has to give it credit for its main child character, Jiang Liuer, being a genuinely charming kid who's wonder at the world and desire to do good drives the story forward in a sincerely lovely way. You can watch it here:
youtube
More recently--and in a work that is at best only loosely following the plot of Xiyouji--is 2022's Lighting Up the Stars. This film follows the story of a Li Nezha coded little orphan girl Wu Xiaowen and a Sun Wukong coded funeral director Mo Sanmei as they go from a very tense relationship to a genuinely loving father-daughter relationship. While there are moments of this film that feel kind of overwrought, it's an honestly wonderful exploration of what goes into dealing with death and the importance of love in all its many forms during life. I also have a soft spot for Mo Sanmei, who from what I've seen is the very peak of explicitly shitty cringefail loser who then genuinely works hard to become a better person Sun Wukong out there. It can be watched here:
youtube
Turning away from film and animation for a moment, I simply have to give proper kudos to Chaiko Tsai's comic The Monkey King. Between the gorgeous art, fun character designs, a good sense of how to translate many of the stories of Xiyouji into comic format, and a resolution to the Sun Wukong vs. Niu Mowang fight that I actually prefer above that in Journey to the West itself, this is definitely a comic worth going through! You can purchase it here for about $30.00
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And last but certainly not least, one simply has to give due credit to 1964's Uproar in Heaven. It's an absolute gem of stylized Chinese animation, a work with the very rare allowance on the Monkey King getting to go full grandpa for tons upon tons of monkeys at Mt. Huaguoshan, and it's very faithful to the first half of the og classic with the difference that here Sun Wukong does his havoc in heaven and gets away with it. All around its a really fun work to watch and does have a lot of importance from both an animation and a historical perspective. You can watch it here:
youtube
So those are my favorite adaptations of Journey to the West! It's but a fraction of the adaptations out there, but I hope other people found these as fun as I do.
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awildtei · 24 days
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Jackie Taylor will haunt me forever the way she haunts Shauna, because her death is the first in the show that truly feels like death often does in real life: sudden and anticlimactic and like so much is left incomplete.
We don't really know anything about the ones who died in the crash, and Laura Lee's death has this poetic sense of sacrificial rightness about it, she got on that plane knowing it might not work, she got to say goodbye, her arc as saved-turned-prospective savior is complete. Her arc as saved-by-God turned killed-by-whatever-rules-in-the-wilderness is complete. She passes on her faith and dies a grand, dramatic death (literally goes out with a bang).
But Jackie. Jackie is nothing if not loose threads and 'wait, that's it?'s. She's this character who we first see having sex with her boyfriend and not enjoying it, looking at herself in the mirror in fractured reflections and clearly experiencing deep turmoil about her sense of self vs image, glancing longingly and guiltily at her best friend even as she keeps up the act of golden girl, getting called the leader and uniting force of the Yellowjackets. In the first episode alone we are already presented with all the pieces that could shape up to be a fascinating puzzle once solved.
And those very interesting glimpses of what her arc of self-discovery and self-acceptance may look like (both in, like, a queer way but also in a dropping her façade of Perfect It Girl Who Knows What She's Doing way) (or maybe a darker, self-loathing and continued denial arc, I'm not picky!) get reinforced over and over: it turns out she's not a very good leader. She has sex with Travis and seems to have another moment of 'welp, that didn't work'. She finds out Shauna's had sex with someone and is clearly hurt by it beyond 'you didn't tell me'. She's jealous of how close Shauna is with Tai. She turns out not to be a very good team player when she doesn't get to lead. We know she dies, we think she will be hunted down by a pack of mad women and slaughtered in a frenzy of hatred or something else breathtaking and dramatic.
And then... she dies. She dies, not in a big explosion or with an act of inhumane violence. She dies in the cold, unseen, after a very stereotypical teenage girl fight with her best friend, and any possible character arc she might have had dies with her. Her death is the catalyst for so many things that will be crucial to the other girl's arcs, but her own is just... done. Just like that. No more possibilities for her. No more of her dealing with internalized heteronormativity, no exploration of her relationship with her parents, no hating or loving Shauna, no more anything. She's dead. Who is Jackie Taylor when societal conventions are stripped away and she is the rawest, most honest version of herself? Someone who dies, alone and hurt and heartbroken. Someone who becomes ostracized from a group she once understood to the point that there is no other way forward but for her to die. A teen girl, with insecurities and drama that in another life she might've looked back as an adult and consider overblown.
Shauna tells Jackie during their final fight that she will peak in high school, and she does. Her development ends in high school, the scattered pieces of her complexities and flaws and potential are blown to the wind and left to be picked up by Shauna in her flawed, subjective recollection. Who could Jackie Taylor have turned out to be if she hadn't died? No one. There is no version of this story in which Jackie makes it out of the wilderness. And so the threads of all the possible paths of her development are left for us and Shauna to pick up and fantasize about, without ever knowing for sure which of them, if any, might have come true.
I think that's why her death is the most tragic, because it feels the most realistic. No chase through the woods, no explosion, no brave sacrifice, no unnameable violence except for a few cruel words. She just... dies. Alone and cold and dreaming of being warm and loved and of her best friend saying back the words Jackie once said to her ('You're my best friend. You know that, right?'). She dies and any meaning attributed to that death is done so after the fact, because it in itself is just fucking... simple and fucking tragic.
And that's the thing, right? She just dies, and the flavor of her death is that of losing a loved one abruptly and going 'wait, what about their plans? their dreams? the version of themselves they'll never get to grow into? what about the unfinished conversations and the half-read book on their bedside table and the goodbyes they didn't get to say and the aspects of their personality they didn't get to develop or change? what do you mean they're just gone and their story is finished without satisfying closure? what do you mean any choice about who they were when alive and who they would've turned into is now up to the ones left behind? It doesn't make any sense. It's not fair.' And it doesn't! And it's not! It's just how it is!
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sirianasims · 8 months
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They say the first holiday after a divorce is the hardest. But Samuel and I had been co-parenting pretty well for a few months now, surely we could handle being in the same room for Winterfest.
For the girls. Right?
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It started fine. The girls were thrilled to have us together instead of alternating between the house and Samuel’s new apartment. They were playing happily while Samuel set the table and I prepared dinner.
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“Would you like some wine, Samuel?”
“What?”
“I found a bottle from when you still lived here. Do you want any?”
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He came into the kitchen.
“Sure? It’s just… very out of character for you to offer me alcohol.”
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“True. But you’re not going to be kissing me later, so I don’t mind.”
He didn’t respond.
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“Fuck. I’m sorry, Samuel. That was insensitive of me.”
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“Uh, yeah. Too soon.”
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I nodded and poured a glass of wine, handed it to him.
“Sorry. A peace offering. I’m trying, Samuel, I really am.”
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“I know. Thank you.”
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It took ages to get the girls to fall asleep after dinner, they were too excited about the presents tomorrow. By the time we managed, we were both tired as well. Samuel was nursing his third glass of wine, sitting next to the pile of duvets and pillows I had brought him.
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“Samuel, you don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know. The girls are going to wake you up at dawn, demanding presents. Do you want to switch? I stay here and you can take the bed?”
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“No! I mean, no thanks.”
I was startled by the force of his reply.
“Sorry, Freya. I don’t think I could ever sleep in that bed again to be honest.”
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“Oh. If it helps, neither could I, so I got a new bed. You’re welcome to it. I promise no one but me and Hailey and Ivy ever touched it.”
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“Thanks, but I’m fine with the couch.”
I was about to leave when he spoke again, his back turned to me.
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“Freya, I need to know. Did you ever love me?”
The truth will set you free.
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“No, Samuel. I’m sorry, but no. I really thought I did. You were my best friend, and you were – you are – very attractive. We seemed so perfect together and I guess I didn’t want anyone else to take you away from me. I wanted to be the one who got you, to… win. And before I knew it, we were married and…”
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“I see. I guess I should be flattered to be considered a trophy husband.”
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“Sorry. I think I loved the idea of you, of us, but not…”
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“Not the reality. I get it. I think I always knew. Or suspected.”
He sighed.
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“You know, in a way, that makes it easier. It would be so much harder for me to understand how you could ever have done this to me if you loved me the way I love you. Goodnight, Freya.”
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