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phageinoculum · 4 months

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keeper of the old lords fic i wrote a little while back :)

also on ao3 (with extended nsfw bonus scene)

She moved swiftly, darting left and right and spreading waves and gouts of flames from her hands. Her opponent backstepped, attempted to counter. She dodged the thrust of his flaming blade, perched herself upon an upended root and withdrew her own sword, setting it alight. Mind focused, body moving on its own….

She knocked her opponent down with a blast of heat and bowed at those cheering on this graceful, mysterious masked woman.

The graceful, mysterious masked woman tripped and flailed when one of the Elders caught her by the shoulder, his other hand holding back her opponent. He gestured towards the altar. Enough sparring. It was time.

The small crowd of similarly highly skilled pthumerians- Shadows, Warriors, Chieftains and others, enraptured by their fight, now turned as one to the end of the labyrinth chamber. Here was the elevated altar, draped in a blood red cloth and surrounded by a myriad of lit candles and burning incense. Short stairways led up each side of the stone platform. A massive, open doorway loomed behind it all, and what hid beyond it was completely painted in darkness, dotted with barely glowing embers.

One level above, overlooking the chamber, their Queen and a couple of her elite Shadows and Elders accepted fine fungus wine from one of the servants, who then bowed and backed into the door leading out.

The final stage of this ritual was a rare, momentous occasion. But, intimate, too. Relatively few were allowed to bear witness.

If one looked closely, one might spot a dark, shrouded figure hiding within the shadows of the chamber columns, writing and sketching into a journal, glancing up and around periodically with a nervous posture. Most people honored the privacy of this event. Not this one. Well, this particular swordswoman and pyromancer hardly cared. She wanted to know these things, too, so she could practice and anticipate properly.

She moved shoulder-length black hair from her face and felt for her six-eyed skull mask, to make certain it was still in place. There was not much reason, at this point. It was practically fused to her skin now. She wore it always, when sleeping, bathing, eating- the jaw was on a hinge, just like the real thing, and she was quite proud of that.

These masks were meant for those who had completed the penultimate step of the ritual. She hand carved this replica from ancient bone, and the resemblance was quite close, after many, many failed iterations. They could not truly punish her, for the mask didn’t have the proper amount of eyes, yes? It wasn’t the same. Right? And the ancient bone wasn’t the correct kind of ancient bone.

That… all was by accident, yes, but it was the best piece she had done up to this point.

Real Keepers generally found this amusing. The Elders, not so much.

Well, they seemed to have given up on this fight by now. Not without a lot of glaring, though.

With the help of the Elder, a withered woman approached the altar at the far end of the chamber. She wore a real, properly eight-eyed skull mask, and nothing else.

Seasoned warrior, master pyromancer, and now she was about to complete one of their people's most sacred rituals.

She was excited for the warrior whom she knew, but had not seen in ages. Eventually, this would be her fate as well. She was determined to make it so.

“Charnel?”

Charnel- it was a human word that she had heard, once. “Charnel house”, specifically. She liked the sound and adopted it as her own name, although once she learned the translation of the word “house” she had quietly dropped that part of it. It was not too rare for younger pthumerians to borrow names from human languages, possibly for the “exotic” sound of words like “shoe”, possibly because it annoyed their elders to no end, especially those who knew what these “exotic” names really meant.

On the other side of things, there was at least one human out there tattooed with Pthumerian script, elegant and perfectly copied.

“It means Vision”, he said.

“It means eyeballs: do not eat ”, said the pthumerian immigrant he was bothering. “And it’s upside-down.”

She turned and beamed at the healer, who had just finished up with her opponent. The other fighter had bowed politely to Charnel, then lost himself in the crowd.

“No damage!” Charnel chimed, spreading her arms. “Did you see how good I was?”

“Yes, yes, all your practice is truly paying off,” Healer said with a genuine smile, then began healing her anyway, just because it was proper to do so. When she finished, she slipped out of the chamber. Charnel turned her attention towards the altar, and the presentation of the final part of this sacred, secretive ritual.

The first part involved a strict diet of a kind of sparse, almost inedible root and water licked and squeezed from a mildly poisonous moss. And… rocks, although that part was not a requirement, but a desperation tactic that one Keeper had admitted to doing, once, in order to fool the stomach.

All was scavenged from the more remote, dangerous parts of the labyrinth, with no contact nor assistance from others. Most pthumerians were quite thin already– good, non-poisonous food was not in abundance in the underground. Growing fat was a great effort and a thing to be admired. And it was expected that those who gathered enough food to do this, also gather enough to share in a periodic feast for everyone else. This was an event of its own.

Unofficially, Charnel tried practicing the first test, many times. Healer was not thrilled with this. Charnel practiced within the relative safety of pthumerian society, at her urging. Urging not to do this at all, really, but, well… Charnel was an adult, capable of making her own choices.

Charnel was presently serving as a Shadow of Yharnam, not that one could tell from looks. She started wearing a replica of the Keeper’s uniform recently, too, big hat and all. It wasn’t a bad likeness, either. She was quite resourceful when it came to things like this. And no one was able to convince her to stop. The handful of real Keepers enabled it. Charnel amused them. And, she was legitimately skilled in battle, to the point where she had fans, which complicated matters. The Elders gave up.

She knew they would have to truly accept this, sooner or later.

Anyone with sufficiently skilled pyromancy and swordsmanship was allowed to begin the ritual to become a Keeper of the Old Lords. Technically.

There were Unspoken Rules about this kind of thing.

“You don’t think I can do it?” Charnel had asked Healer, dejected. She was currently having a sword wound healed. Self-inflicted. Her back had been itchy.

“You’re still young,” Healer sighed. “This is a trial for some of the most experienced… and wisest of our… fiery fighters.”

“There’s no actual rule about age though,” Charnel said. “And even if there was, that gives me more time to practice!”

There was more to it than being good at swords and fireballs. Common sense, for starters.

Well. Maybe the Old Lords would at least find her antics outside of battle… “amusing”.

…If she got that far. The thought of her dying, starved and alone, also made her heart ache.

Charnel had not tried practicing again since the day she was caught sitting cross-legged on the floor, swallowing pebbles like really, really hard grapes. One by one, from a neatly gathered pile, down she choked them.

She had stood up abruptly, scattering stones, at the sound of footsteps and darted into the nearest corridor with but a few mumbled, incomprehensible words as explanation.

This was half a lunar phase ago. But, she learned her lesson: find a good hiding place and tastier rocks.

One who passed the first part of the test was allowed to stop, or continue on, rock eating optional. But, if anyone had stopped, it was not public knowledge. It was a lie, that there was no shame in quitting. There were probably failed Keepers wandering the surface now, attempting to live among humans, unable to make themselves return and explain.

Charnel didn’t understand that. She would return and make up a lie. It seemed simple enough. Of course, she was sure she would succeed, so it hardly mattered.

And after this part of the ritual? It was a secret, and the test taker was not seen again until either they perished, or they finished.

The warrior approaching the altar looked like death, even from this distance. Practically skeletal, practically a mummy. The Elder kept her upright as she shambled up the stairs, then, back to the crowd, he helped place her down gently and sat with her, propping her against his chest. Now, there was prayer, and then the chiming of bells.

An orange dot of light appeared in the dark doorway, growing steadily larger, heavy footsteps echoing throughout the chamber. The ancient, reptilian creature emerged, its skin forever cracked and bleeding intense flames. It felt as if the chamber had become an oven with its entrance. The Watchdog of the Old Lords lowered its massive head, eyeing the Elder and withered woman on the altar. She tilted her head in its direction, for it was about all she could manage. She could not sweat despite the beast’s overwhelming heat. The Elder did, plenty enough for both of them.

The Watchdog sat on its haunches, and it spoke to her, and then to the Elder. Its dialect was ancient, voice rumbly and difficult to hear, mouth never moving except to yawn and show off the bright blazing glow within. She had probably learned the old dialect, too, or at least was studying it. The enervated warrior could not speak above a hoarse whisper and often trailed off as if suddenly lost, however. The Elder acted as translator between the two.

After a long dialogue, the Elder gently lay her down, stood, and stepped down from the altar to join the other watching pthumerians.

The Watchdog raised one foreleg, and carefully, so carefully, pulled the woman’s jaw open with the pad of its huge finger.

It hovered over her and it opened its maw, and let lava dribble from its mouth, into the warrior’s. She could not scream, only gurgle and sizzle.

It dribbled fat drops of lava down her chest and belly, burning holes into her fragile skin and filling the room with the scent of cooking meat.

The Watchdog spoke. Then, came the stream of fire.

A blackened, charred skeleton with rags for flesh rose from the altar, her undead body still aflame within, now forever aflame, her mask now fused to her melted face and skull.

Often, there was nothing left of the Keeper’s body after being burned. Nothing but ash that would be gathered and smeared with special paste into their mask and new armor. The burning skeletal warrior was able to don her new hat and uniform herself, with no assistance from the one who brought it to her. She moved like a strange, stop-motion effect at first, growing steadily more fluid in motion.

Eventually, this walking corpse would be her, Charnel thought. She watched, enraptured. This would be her.

#bloodborne #keeper of the old lords #pthumerian #chalice dungeon #fanfic #fanfiction

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riridontneedya · 2 years

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WHATS MINE ISN'T YOURS... PT 2

Well here it is part 2! I know I said it would be out a lot earlier but my apologies to those babes who may have been looking forward to it :)! not to bore you but you know when life hits .. it hits you all at once and everything changes in a short space of time! Anyway enough of that its here and I hope you angels enjoy it xx

Pairing: Tommy x Y/N x Micheal

Summary: Part 2 so if you haven't read part 1 its not super duper compulsory but if you would like to read part 1 CLICK HERE. A continuation of the female reader navigating her turbulent relationship with Tommy whilst dealing with a new development with Micheal.

Words: 4,600

Warnings : Mature themes! are dealt with in this segment we see a much more darker and possessive Tommy so reader discretion is advised. Also there is a rather cheeky barn scene its more heavy on dirty talking and its deliciously angsty, not full on smut but you have been warned of the adult nature!! Oh and mature language.

A/N: Once again thank you for the support I really appreciate it! All constructive feedback welcome :) feel free to send me a message etc I don't bite. As for this series let me know where you want it to go if you have any suggestions tell me what you love , what you hate I'm curious to know what you guys think! Also let me know if you want part 3 or have other requests for me because I enjoy writing you guys ideas! ps: Shout out again to the absolute beaut @notyour-valentine for the title and being a supportive babe for part 2 xx

Pss: I gave myself a deadline to have this up today so apologies if any punctuation and grammar seems a bit helter-skelter because I usually dedicate an entire day to being my own editor to fine tune it to perfection lol. But in this case its only been a few hours .... its probably not that deep but I thought id mention lol xx

They say there are several stages of grief you must work through , each stage you slowly over come until you reach acceptance… but is there a word for when you experience them all at once. The turbulent rollercoaster of emotions … the wells worth of tears , the rage , the delusion and then… nothingness. This is what the last few days had felt like for y/n and now she lay curled up in the armchair overlooking the estates gardens , awash with numbness. Several days had passed but there she remained confined to her chair as the world continued to move around her. Today unlike the last couple of dismal days a pocket of sunshine beamed through the window waking her from her slumber. Y/n immediately recoiled as the sunlight poured over her. Having been stationed in a rather grungy lit room for several days the abrupt intrusion of sunlight was unwelcome. Rubbing frantically at her eyes she surveyed her surroundings.

There were several trays and pieces of crockery graciously placed on the table besides her, kindly laid out by the servants of the manor. Upon seeing a visibly distressed y/n they knew best not to interfere in marital affairs and instead left it for y/n to have on her own accord. Y/n sniffled and chocked back a glass of water. The onslaught of tears had left her parched. She clutched onto the glass and drearily stared into its depths. Her grip began to tighten , she had drank it with a desperate hope that it may somehow act as a magical elixir. It would just absolve all the woe and suddenly she wouldn’t feel the way in which she did .. but no just like the glass she too was empty.

Letting the glass crash to her side y/n sank back down in the armchair that now imprisoned her. The shattering of glass understandably alerted someone but Y/n was surprised once she saw who emerged from behind the door. “Y/n?” …“Arthur?”. “What are you doing here Arthur?” She chocked rising from her chair ,quickly rubbing at her eyes and pulling at her clothes, a sorry attempt to disguise her disheveled appearance. “I could ask you the same thing love” he smiled kindly pulling her in for a hug. Y/n fought back the barrage of tears that made their way to her eyes. Shuddering and inhaling deeply. Arthurs grip tightened “Its alright poppet let it out”. Y/ns face sank into Arthurs shoulder and let the tears spill. Arthur's grip never wavered he gently held y/n until she was ready to let go. After being starved of touch for what felt like forever the warmth of Arthur's soothing embrace was refreshing. Of course nothing was resolved but it made her feel just that little bit better. “Sorry” sniffled y/n as she realised the stains of her tears upon his shoulder. “Don’t you dare, you’ve nothing to be sorry about love!” Y/n gave him a small smile showing her gratefulness. A few moments of silenced passed ,

Arthur slid his hands into his pockets and began to shuffle awkwardly staring down at his patent leather shoes. “Look y/n I know we’ve had a few laughs and we might not be the closest , but you are my family … and .. well its not right you feeling like that .. our Tommy , well he’s different from all of us I don’t even understand him most the time , but what I do know is that his hearts in the right place even if he doesn’t show it all the time.. you’ve been the best thing for him .. he shouldn’t take it for granted so I'm going to have a word with him..” Y/n immediately cut him off protesting profusely not wanting to face the unknown repercussions of Arthur's involvement.

“Honestly , I'm grateful.. I really am but there’s no need”. Arthur could detect the panic in y/ns voice. He made his way towards her and gently rested his hand on her upper arm lightly patting it in a manner used to comfort someone. Arthur needn’t speak as the look in his eyes said it all. Arthur was right y/n and he may not be the closest but she too could sense the hurt deeply rooted in him. Due to his brash demeanour and fearsome reputation this was often overlooked and he was left to face his demons on his own. But with him talking to Tommy on y/ns behalf was his way of doing what he wished someone could’ve done for him. Letting him know to cherish what he had before it was too late. Y/n could feel the tears begin to well up once more , but Arthur was immediately on stand by with a handkerchief. “Right , no more sulking lovely lets get you out of here, lets go for a walk you look like you could use some fresh air .. and maybe a brandy”. Y/n let out chuckle beneath her handkerchief. “ You're not wrong there , Im sure I look repulsive Im going to go freshen up then we can get going”. “Don’t be silly y/n you always look as pretty as a..” Arthur fumbled for an endearing comparison. He eventually settled for “flower”. In that moment Y/n produced a genuine smile.. With one last squeeze from Arthur she sauntered off upstairs to freshen up.

There’s always something revitalising about that first shower after a depressive spell. Although the task may be done rather begrudgingly the feeling on completion is none other. Y/ns outwardly appearance now was now refreshed and vibrant. No-one would’ve been able to detect her inner turmoil. But just like a house a fresh lick of paint on the outside , would only temporarily distract from the mess that was harboured inside. Arthur was right ,she needed the fresh air .Being stifled up indoors made her feel drained but as she and Arthur paced along the countryside air had her feeling reenergised. “Right let's get you that brandy ey? I could do with on me self” mused Arthur stroking at his handlebar moustache. Taking a purposely exaggerated bow “Milady” crooned Arthur gesturing towards the car. The usual watering hole was none other than the Garrison so it was no surprise when they arrived at its doors. Tommys whereabouts had been unknown for several days to y/n but after all as his wife she would have some knowledge of his schedule .

With it being midweek and pretty early on in the day she was rather taken aback when she saw caught the back end of Tommy , stood centre stage as if performing a monologue . Not just that , there were a few things that threw y/n as she entered the establishment. First its rather new austere appearance and not to mention a sea of familiar faces all engrossed in the delivery of Tommy's monologue . As the sea of familiar faces became aware of her and Arthur's arrival .. or be it intrusion . Tommy whisked around “Arthur , just the man I was looking for I was about too” his words fell short as he cast his eyes upon y/n . His face carrying the same expression of bewilderment as hers. She became acutely aware of all the pair of eyes on her and could feel them boring their way into her flesh. The silence was deafening until it was broken with a simple “Y/n Why are you here ?”

Y/n knew facing Tommy was inevitable and would be no easy task but what she didn’t expect was just like that what little progress she had made to be completely dismantled by a sentence at that. Y/n felt physically sick and humiliated . As if that one friend who’s invitation was extended out of pity and they were not actually expected to make an appearance. Ever since that ring had come into contact with her finger things took a turn. She knew she was being absconded from business plans or any family matters and that was confirmed by the silence of said family members dotted amongst the crowd. Only able to muster a weak apathetic smile . “We were actually just gonna..” “Leave” came y/ns voice cutting off Arthur .

He looked at her as if to question but knew better by the look she flashed him. “Well me , not Arthur.. he kindly ran me into town , Ive some things to do to today …. So I will see you round”. Tommy planted his hands on his hips examining y/n. “You look beautiful today , come and give your husband a kiss before you leave” for others that may of appeared a simple request .. but y/n knew the demand that lurked beneath it . Despite the pain and resentment she harboured for him it was quelled by that rush of giddiness she got, knowing that the beautiful and assertive man that stood before her was indeed her husband. As she leant towards him tentatively he swooped his arm around her pulling her in for a rather fiery kiss.

Clutching the pail in both hands she rounded the corner in search of fresh water . So caught up in her endless loop of thoughts she performed the task in autopilot. Her body physically conducted it whilst her mind continued to wandered. Y/n would have been none the wiser of this hadn’t it been for the sudden sensation of cold water overflowing on her , causing her to snap back to reality. Y/n grunted flapping her hands in frustration. A menial task ought to not cause such aggravation but at this point y/n had had enough. With aggravated huffs and puffs she dried her hands on the front of her dress and decided to go back to the barn fetch her belongings, and call it a day. It was then she was met by the back of a man, not just any man as she soon realised she recognised that stature as well as the caramel brown hair and faint aroma of menthol cigarettes. “Micheal ?” Croaked y/n . Immediately Michael swivelled around at the sound of his name, upon seeing who it was a grin outstretched on his lips. “Y/n” he beamed attempting to approach , ready to embrace her . “Woah woah , wait what are you doing here ?? Did Tommy send you …”. Micheal was visibly baffled as his arms fell to his sides. “Well ?’ Y/n probed. “No…no I'm a grown man am I not allowed to be here on my own accord?” “Very funny Michael just answer my question” y/ns face was now stern. Micheal let out a laboured sigh..

“No y/n Thomas didn’t send me … I am simply here cause I sometimes come here to just .. unwind nothing sinister .. I promise .. in fact I pinky promise”. Y/ns expression softened and a smile crept at the corners of her mouth. Although it appeared quite the juvenile approach of attempting to affirm his sincerity it was actually a rather endearing tradition they shared from when they grew up next-door to one another. When they would get caught up in the mindless tit for tat as children the pinky promise was there to serve as the ultimate truth and its continued too. Right into their early adulthood. Y/n sighed “Im sorry , I'm just a bit tense you know how Tommy can be”. Micheal exhaled the last bouts of smoke from his cigarette , drawing his two fingers to his temple he mimicked a gunshot to his head and dramatically rolled his eyes. “You entirely underestimate him” snapped y/n her arms now fastened against her chest. “ And you .. give him too much credit” sighed Michael as he ground out the remainder of his cigarette under his foot”.

The pair had walked and talked around the horse stables until they came to their final resting stop at the barn. Micheal perched himself against the barn wall and proceeded to light a cigarette “So how’s married life treating ya?” . y/n gnawed on her lip before responding. “Ugh yeah .. perfect domestic bliss happily in love”. Micheal scoffed raising his eyebrows flashing her a knowing smile. “Micheal! Just don’t” “What I didn’t say anything .. your in love .. thats great I'm happy for you .. though just because your in love doesn’t mean you're right for each other” . Y/n wasn’t always forthcoming with information regarding her marital life but after all Michael was her best friend it was as if he knew all about it before she did sometimes. “ Alright , thats enough from you doctor love guru .. aren’t you on like girlfriend four hundred at the moment”. Y/n quipped poking her tongue out at him. Micheal let out a laugh “Oh y/n we often we often ignore truths for temporary happiness .. and nope! maniac that last one back to the life of a bachelor”. “You’ve got quite the way with words Michael .. pshh no surprises there though …believe it or not I thought you took quite the shine to this one..”. “ Same could be said for you y/n .. uhhh yeah I suppose I did but I .. I have feelings for someone else”. The last of Michaels sentence was rather mumbled but still audible ,it was apparent he was bashful. Y/n narrowed her eyes at Michael as he haphazardly flicked his cigarette to discarding its ash.

“Feelings …right well we need to discuss this mike” chirped y/n curious about this mysterious woman who managed to garner the feelings word from him. “Actually y/n … I think we should discuss the other night in the Garrison you and I” he motioned his finger between them “and don’t you dare feign ignorance”. Y/ns throat instantly went dry there was no wriggling out of it now. The silence had clearly gone on too long for Michael's liking so he spoke up. “ Y/n I'm just going to come out with it .. you and me you can’t deny there’s been a sort of .. change its been a thing for sometime and well that night I meant even word it wasn’t just the brandy speaking. Id take you right this second if you wanted me too … but I had to really think about it because well I've known you all these years and you’ve always been attractive and it surpasses the simple desire to fuck you silly … and honestly I can’t believe its taken me all these years to realise how I really feel about you”. “ y/n please say something!”.

“Micheal there is no denying, you are an absolutely gorgeous man I just , wow I haven’t given it any thought .. we’ve been friends forever isn’t it sort of taboo ” .This wasn’t a lie as y/n simply denied herself he opportunity to think about him in another light. She had simply ushered away any feeling she did have for him that cropped up, for the sake of their friendships . Which she valued so dearly. It was a very matter of fact approach considering she was indeed married. Following that y/n had dealt with many of Michaels ill tempered girlfriends who’s look and personalities bore no resemblance to her own. So that absolved the idea of her being his ideal “type”. Also not to mention the close proximity in which he and Tommy worked.

Despite all of this as they grew older there was shift. Albeit it small much like tectonic plates the simplest of rifts can cause the earth to tremor and the night at the Garrison only confirmed this. Y/n couldn’t help her eyes from wavering all over his body , that same sensation from the night palpitated through her as she continued to gloss over all the contours of his body seeing how the fabric of his shirt encapsulated his toned arms, how his rings glistened on his delightfully large veiny hands .Y/n couldn’t help wonder how it would feel to have them trail over her body.

“If you keep looking at me like that I'm not responsible for what happens next , each of my thoughts are improper….” “I never said I didn’t want you Michael” y/n whispered hoarsely.

Micheal manoeuvred himself from the barn wall he was perched on and sauntered over to y/ns who was sat upon a bale of hay . As he loomed over her the palpable tension congested the air almost to the point of suffocation. “I can’t believe we’ve known each other our whole lives and never shared a kiss” Michael purred , his hand cupping her jaw whilst his thumb delicately traced her chin. His head now rested on her forehead lips trembling at the closeness of proximity.

“Can you feel what you're doing to me” his voice raspy as he pressed himself against her. His lips met her jaw and his kisses began to descend. “stop teasing me so much” y/n fluttered

“If you don’t like my teasing.. then why are you moaning so much” growled Michael. His large hand began to travel the length of her thigh . “why don’t you be a good girl and spread your legs, because my tongue can do a better job of teasing you than my words” he heaved breathlessly into her neck . Michaels words charged through her like an electric pulse causing her too shudder. “God you're so fucking hot” Micheal panted ,continuing to devour y/ns neck.. “don’t be so rough there can’t be any marks Micheal”. “Im sorry .. you just have no idea how much I want you” he grunted “let me taste you” he gasped as he sank to his knees .

Y/n gulped the mere sight of him knelt before her sent her in a frenzy. “Tell me what you want” he demanded nipping at her thighs. Y/n squealed she was awash in arousal her vision clouded with a lustful haze. “I don’t care, i'll let you do anything if you just touch me now” she cried . “Oh god , I've never wanted to fuck you more than I do now y/n ,if you want to come you better fucking beg” beamed Michael. Just as he was about to plunge his tongue into her heat there was a sudden piercing laugh that permeated through the barn closely followed by the sound of the crunching of gravel beneath feet, the steps grew closer and closer and the sounds of several other jovial voices became clearer. The pair pried themselves apart and frantically rejigged their clothing.

“Fuck” muttered y/n. “Look at me y/n” he said in a hush tone “ You go out there and distract them i'll hide and sneak out later .. its gonna be ok I promise I'll find you later. He leant forward as if to kiss y/n but then withdrew. “No the first time I kiss you Im going to make sure you remember it”. With that he slithered between two hay stacks and crouched down out of sight. Y/n quickly caught her breathe still riding the high of Michaels touch that had been stripped from her, briskly she exited the barn not before grabbing some hay to corroborate her tall tale of horse feeding. Turning on a false cheery demeanour she waved and smiled “Hello boys!” “Mrs Shelby” they all chimed gleefully in their drunken stupor.

“Nice walk”? Came Tommy's cool steely voice. Y/n immediately leapt out of her skin , she hadn’t anticipated him to be home and considering the events that had just unfolded she was rightfully on edge. She intended to squeeze past him but his pale eyed stare zeroed in on her keeping her firmly rooted to her spot . “Christ , you frightened the life out of me Tommy” y/n squeaked. Tommy stifled a smirk “Quite jumpy aren’t you .. why? Did you kill a priest?”. “ a priest ..” Questioned y/n . Thoughts began to clamour all around y/ns head … he wasn’t one for spontaneous joke cracking or was this yet another one of those cruel jokes that would later tie into him knowing what materialised between her and Micheal. Y/ns thought cycle was broken by a guffaw from Tommy. “Its a joke y/n, “ he scoffed.

His arms now folded across his chest he took a step towards y/n his eyes flittering all across her. Not thats of a suggestive manner but more of an investigative one. Y/n could feel her body tense up under his conspicuous gaze, she felt as if heat was permeating from all the spots in which Michael had so longingly caressed like a beacon calling out for Tommys attention. Unable to bare the silence and the scrutiny of his gaze y/n snapped “very funny Thomas, anyway Im going to take a shower so” “no you're not our dinners on the table” he quipped . Dinner? Y/n questioned “Uhh I'm not that hungry besides I was about to shower darling”. Actively ignoring y/n he proceeded in the direction of the dining room “Ill see you inside petal”.

They sat quietly amidst the sounds of cutlery grazing against ceramic. The dining room table was grand one . It stretched for miles and looked ridiculous having been only set for two with all that negative space surrounding them, but then again Tommy's wishes were Tommy's wishes. Resting his knife and fork at the edge of the plate he manoeuvred his hands and clasped them under his chin having it act as a platform to rest it on. After clearing his throat he began “So… Arthur spoke to me today .. tell me petal are you not happy ?” Y/ns eyes shot up from her plate. The resounding ‘of course Im not can’t you see’ bleated in her head but yet it couldn’t pass her lips, instead a coy “I'm fine” tumbled from them. There it was again the unwavering glare that somehow could reach down into her and yank the truth from its hidden depths. “Actually no I'm fucking not Tommy ”. His jaw clenched and eyes narrowed “ You wanted my attention .. you’ve got it now love .. the floors yours” y/ns grip tighten around her fork making her knuckles bare white, she wanted to pierce him with it make him feel only a fraction of her pain but then also wanted to be wrapped in his arms and lace him in kisses. “I can’t bare one more day of invisibility! Why do you hate me .. can’t you see all the love and appreciation I have for you?” Tommy removed his hands from his chin and leant back into his chair. His expression unreadable yet a mere hint of amusement rendered it.

“ Oh my y/n .. you know one of the many things I admired about you was that you were an independent woman, you didn’t demand that constant reassurance from me …. Guess I was wrong” he smirked wafting his newly lit cigarette in a circular motion. “You can’t RE assure when you never assured in the first place” y/n spat. Tommy twinged , there was a sudden eire of darkness that swept across the room, rising from his seat he strode towards y/n. Rather abruptly he flickered up y/ns chin forcing her to meet his gaze. “what’s this all about hmmm … you wanting to be fucked more is that it?”. A shadow of a smile played at the corner of his mouth whilst a darkness shrouded his face. As his cool finger traced her chin y/ns thoughts shifted back to earlier in the day with Micheal causing her breath to hitch. She couldn’t let him use his manhood to down play yet another serious situation no matter how much she may crave it

“Fuck off Tommy” swatting his hand away she ejected herself from her chair and stood across the opposite side of the room the grand table acting as their Berlin Wall .Tommy cocked his head to one side looking at her rather quizzically, the sudden rejection on y/ns part was a wildly foreign concept for him. With gritted teeth Tommy made his way to the door but just as he grasped the doorknob y/ns voice rang out “ Your fucking kidding me right?”. He poised himself at the door and with a sigh he turned to face y/n “you did this to yourself” he remarked flatly.

Tears began streaming from y/n. “You don’t get to walk away … not this time .. Id like to think I'm deserving of something better.. I just wished you loved me as much as I love you”. Tommy stood motionless for a brief moment letting himself absorb y/ns words. Unhanding the brass doorknob he steadily walked backed to his seat. Dropping into his chair he assumed the same position of clasped hands propped under his chin. He spoke in almost a whisper “You know exactly how I feel about you .. you’ve always known” “I'm not sure I do anymore Tommy” said y/n chocking back her tears. “ Men like me .. don’t get a happy ending .. I don’t just get to decide when I'm done .. You knew ahead of time what sort of man I was .. what kind of lifestyle I lead you were fully aware of the repercussions prior to marrying me but yet you still did ,so.. why the sudden change of heart? Who is he y/n?” . Y/n attempted not to appear visibly flustered , she knew for certain she loved Tommy but she had yet to work out how she felt about Micheal though it was inevitably the years of Tommys estranged behaviour only propelled Micheal closer. “Tommy stop this! Its always been about you.. I don’t think I'm asking for too much for you to show me if you care”.

There was a sudden chill in the atmosphere , the sort that sent a shudder down your spine. The ominous creak from Tommy's chair echoed as he arose. He cautiously made his way to y/n as he drained the remanence of his brandy . He let out a sigh and perched himself against the table beginning to light up a cigarette. He motioned towards the packet, to indicate his offering. She shook her head declining and silently watched the plumes of smoke expel from the glowing auburn tip.

“Look” he rasped pinching the bridge of his nose. “I need you to listen to what I'm gonna say because I'm only going to tell you once. You think you know me but the truth is you don’t .. I love you .. I say it all the time I just say it very quietly I tell you when your in another room , right before you hang up the phone , after I shut the door behind you .. I say it in my head every time I look at you … and that smile, when you smile I forget every beauty the universe has to offer and there’s nothing.. nothing I wouldn’t do for you. However ! You want to be free and you also want to be mine .. I'm afraid I can’t let you do that. You see you're stuck with me not for a few months not for a few years centuries even ….you’re tied to me forever , wether you like that or not. That family .. those children you speak of they will come from me- or no one . You're mine and i'll kill anyone that tries to take you from me….. Am I understood?

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sukunasun · 1 year

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How do you write so well? I also want to write and find my own style but i always end up deleting my works because I can't bring myself to like them. They are too simple or too repetitive. It would be great if you could offer me some advice. (If you don't mind.)

hey anon! thanks for reaching out, hm...honestly, i struggle with liking my own work too, i guess we're all our own biggest critics :( and i can only speak from my own experience so my word isn't law haha but ive compiled some of my thoughts on this + some citations i think could help add perspective:

read as much as you can and study the writing you like: goes a very long way. if you like distinctive styles of writing like with prose and such then find writers who are known for that, off the top of my head—proust, joyce, brontë, tolstoy, cervantes, etc etc. but always explore, read non-fiction, read a script, read poetry. analyze themes, characters, dialogue ...or don’t? sometimes reading is an experience, not mental gymnastics, but take in how you feel about the stuff you read and digest them.

“The first, of course, is to read. It’s surprising how many people think they want to be writers but they don’t really like to read books… — From 'This is Octavia Butler’s best writing advice.' by Vanessa Willoughby. Read on LitHub / 'An Interview with Octavia E. Butler' by Randall Kenan. Read on JSTOR "You need to study what writing requires. Writing has rules, conventions, requirements. There is form. Writing is more than your thoughts about characters. Drama has structure. You can learn." — Excerpted from Miss Chloe: A Memoir of a Literary Friendship with Toni Morrison by A. J. Verdelle. Read on LitHub

observe: listen to conversations around you, the way people talk and react to things, the way they interact with one another. expressing and repressing. or watch films, what do images and scenes look like in your mind. i learned a lot about transitions and flow from movies. take things from the world around you. find what inspires you to write? i usually listen to music!

characters: if writing fanfic is your thing then take the time to think about the characters, their motives, desires, weaknesses, etc etc. read the source material or read hcs and form your own opinion.

"Events, in and of themselves, have no meaning. Lightning striking a vacant lot is pointless; lightning striking a vagrant matters. When an event adds a character, suddenly nature’s indifference fills with life." — Excerpted from CHARACTER: The Art of Role and Cast Design for Page, Stage, and Screen by Robert McKee. Read on LitHub (read this once for a creative writing class and thought it was really helpful)

it’s all in the little things: have fun with the details, think about the way a room is lit in the afternoon, or the way a ripe mandarin orange tastes, smells, you could also describe it in action—citrus and pulp and a zesty rind that spits from beneath your fingernails—fill in the blanks with texture and colour and give them a life of their own.

"If you are going to describe a spoon or a chair or a tv set, you don’t want to simply set these things into the scene and let them go. You want to give them some weight, connecting these things to the lives around them." — From 'An Interview with Raymond Carver' by Larry McCaffery and Sinda Gregory, 1985. Read on JSTOR. (finding the balance between vomiting out descriptions and knowing when to leave things as they are is a struggle for me haha, i get caught up way too much on crafting atmosphere when all the scene calls for is like a sentence or two... i guess its about knowing which is more important, keeping in mind pacing and such too. but im a big believer in instinct, you’ll know whats better for a scene when you read it like fifty times and think... 'maybe geto’s internal monologue and a valid ‘heart beating wildly in his chest’ is enough..’) <3

re: writing styles: ultimately has to do with your personality and how you see the world/the scene you're conveying to an audience. i suppose style stems from the way you weave and thread words together, how you place one word after the other. i think it’ll come to you the more you write, rather than aiming for style, start with the story and the way you look at things.

A unique and exact way of looking at things, and finding the right context for expressing that way of looking, that’s something else. . . . Every great, or even every very good writer, makes the world over according to his own specifications. It’s akin to style,... but it isn’t style alone. It is the writer’s particular and unmistakable signature on everything he writes. It is his world and no other. This is one of the things that distinguishes one writer from another. — From “A Storyteller’s Shoptalk,” by Raymond Carver published in The New York Times in 1981.

let your writing be something else, just not yours (in the best sense): sometimes the hardest thing is knowing that your writing will forever be tied to you, there’s a sense of ownership there, like a mother who’s birthed a child after a whole nine months, you’ll work on something for the longest time and not want to give it to anyone, but it has to sort of...get out there. and not every piece of writing will be a precious baby, sometimes it’s just an onion in your garden you found and thought to use in a stew, but the point is that eventually, it’ll belong to the world should you choose to post it. letting it go is catharsis. when i don’t have to look back on it, i can just write the next thing. even if you don’t intend on posting it, i find that i could always just leave things in the drafts, in a document folder, in scraps of paper, and move on to the next thing. i know i can always come back to it.

i guess...you just have to write? one word after the next until you’ve filled up a page or more. the difference between crafting a beautiful sentence you’re satisfied with and a repetitive, simple one is a whole lot of trial and error + practice (and suffering).

“The only sentence that matters is the one you’re writing.” Do not look ahead two or three sentences, thinking, Oh, but wait, I have to get through two or three more of these sentences before I can get to the really good stuff. Make the sentence you are at the place you are at, and make it a place of stone and steel, not a place of sand and clay. Fashion this sentence out of what has gone before on your page, always moving forward by looking back. Turn, swerve, torque and twist upon what you have written, finding new ways to render your object, and through these maneuvers, finding the way to write your heart out. — From 'The Gordon Lish Notes' by Tetman Callis. Read here.

eventually, you’ll look at the stuff you hate and find ways to make it better, and even then maybe you won’t be completely happy with it but i think it’s important to note that it’s a rather harrowing thing because you’re staring at it wondering if it’s something to be shared...that’s a lot. ultimately i feel it’s perfectly fine to write because you enjoy it, of course, some might say it doesn’t have to be perfect, but because you want it to be good, there needs to be a sense of care and responsibility to make it so.

You write as well as you can and hope for good readers. But I think you’re also writing for other writers to an extent—the dead writers whose work you admire, as well as the living writers you like to read. If they like it, the other writers, there’s a good chance other “intelligent, adult men and women” may like it, too. — From 'Raymond Carver, The Art of Fiction No. 76' by Mona Simpson & Lewis Buzbee for The Paris Review

sending you love and cheering you on! i hope you find this helpful in some way!

#thanks for sending this in i hope its helpful!#im not the best at this haha please do let me know what you think!#ask #anon

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fructidors · 1 year

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pt 2!! (pt 1)

tatoue moi: i feel like the lighting matches the tone of the song a bit less here, but there are a lot of effects i love--

this is one of my favorite lighting moments in the show tbh

i love the rainy lighting so so so much-- especially the dotted lights

also i'm a big fan of the red & blue at the end of this scene it's so dramatic. and speaking of dramatic!!!

le procession: the lighting here is so complex but the scene itself is so rich in musical and physical detail that the lights to me felt like they actually stood out less, despite being more eye-catching than they usually are? i love the projections on the floor and the screen, though:

i love love love this moment at the very end though. this sheer curtain is so cool and i love every time it shows up-

je dors sur les roses: ok confession time. i made this post just to talk about the lighting in this song it is my favorite thing in the entire world oh my god.

this moment might have changed my life for real. the fade from red to white !! the fade-in of the circle on the stage !! and then. and then. the roses. i'm so normal about these roses

so so so so so so normal!!! just a few of my favorite moments:

especially these two moments. at the beginning of the dramatic musical interlude-- the roses zero in, and mozart is lit in red:

and just as he starts singing again, they fan out again, and he's lit in white

and at the end of the song. once again, i think you could frame this:

this is probably my favorite lighting in the show. they could have just projected a couple of roses on the stage, lit mozart in white, lit the dancer in red, and just left it there, and it still would have worked well with the song. but the lights shift and change, expand and contract, while still never wavering from that first striking image, and in return, as always, the song has so much more emotional strength. in this song, with its minimal staging, the lighting makes so much of the difference between watching it and just hearing the music, which i think is a lot of what lighting sets out to achieve.

comedie tragedie: i think what this song's lighting really excels at is stark contrast between all the different people on stage-- mozart, the clown, colloredo, constanze and the singer woman (i do not know her name i'm so so sorry), and everyone else on stage are all lit starkly differently, that sheer curtain that i'm obsessed with is back, it's maybe not the most visually beautiful lighting, but it definitely fits with this song's absurdism:

place je passe: the Ultimate Cotton Candy Mozart Moment i love it so much

like. this is what i mean when i say that this musical fluctuates rapidly between very deeply 2009 and very deeply baroque and still manages to get them both right and looks great doing it

this lighting is so so iconic. you can't think of place je passe without it it perfectly captures its energy and also adds its own twist that you don't really get from the music alone. no notes

also the transition out of the song highlights just how much the set is a canvas for the lights. like in the span of barely a second, the whole stage changes colors so completely. who is to say magic isn't real

i am out of images again, see you in pt 3:

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dalkyeom · 1 year

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Jack Skellington say's trick or treat

Ooooh! Jack my boy, my seasonal fave. Nonnie, you have taste 👌🏻👌🏻👌🏻 also I hope your halloween went splendidly well!

Thank you for ringing my doorbell, anon! I’ll give you a random irl ghost story.

Hmm was a bit stumped on how I could answer this based on your costume, so how about I tell you a small ghost story (that actually happened to me 💀 lol) gather round the campfire 🔥 bc I have some stories to share!

So it’s a small collection of little things as my old high school had some… permanent visitors. I remember them quite well bc people talk and these are stories passed down to every class and I experienced some unexplainable things.

This happened during our class stage production era for english class.

To set the scene, our entire class was preparing for the end of the term productions so we were all staying after hours later than usual (i know some people went home at around 8 pm— which is quite late if you’re not part of the varsity team.) my section was wrapping up for the day so while I was waiting for my sister to pick me up, we were doing our usual clean up routine before locking the classroom.

There are two ways to get to my classroom, taking the main stairs at the other side of the building or taking the stairs right next to it. we were on the third floor and while it’s not a lot (tho tbh carrying a bag full of books and a filecase was an entire workout on its own) the catch is that it’s really dark unless you have the hallway lights on. To add to the creepiness factor, that staircase from the ground floor up to the top is in front of the old restrooms. They look pretty run down, so they’re kinda eerie.

Unfortunately on that night, the lights were all off save for the streetlights outside the building (it’s an open space? so it’s not like american high schools where it’s an enclosed space) but basically she got there just as we were locking up and traveling to the exit as a group.

Then before we can bicker which stairs to use, my sis was like “were you using incense?” and we were like !!! bc the only candle we lit was this small candle. idk about you guys but we use incense at mass and you know how we call the priest sometimes to bless the space so there’s no unwanted guests :)) incense also has a very particular smell that’s different from a burning candle.

so we told her no, we weren’t burning anything. And slowly she was like, hmm… strange. I smelled incense while climbing the stairs (next to your classroom).

Chills, mate, I swear I almost died when she said that. Apparently it was really strong on the first set of stairs from the 2nd floor going to the 3rd. 😭 suffice to say, we didn’t use those stairs until the following morning!

At that time there were a few other unexplained incidents that happened so if you like to know more you can always send an ask about it. we did experience one as an entire section (like genuinely we were scared) but i’ll save that for another day.

Trick o’ Treat 2022 mini event [closed.]

#trick o’ treat 22 #ngl am a coward but I love me some personal ghost stories #even if they freak me out :)#hhh you can ask me for more bc there’s actually quite a lot #my hs is really old so you know there’s an accumulation of history there #chia.diary #tfw this legit a diary entry lol #high school is an entire horror story by itself tho like tbh idk how I still managed to #keep up with schoolwork and extra curricular and tumblr when I had 700 things to do #no exaggeration (maybe a bit) but that work ethic was crazy now I am like chill #but I ended up with the ability to pull things off last minute 😩😩#will add an ‘and more’ cut after I post bc I’m on mobile rn :’)#so this is a pretty long post

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group10uh · 3 months

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Developing Environment concept.

Finnuala O'Higgins

As a team, we decided on the Dragon concept for this project. However, there are elements of the other concept ideas we would like to incorporate, allowing us to get the most out of our combined skills and time constraints. Specifically, the Submarine concept’s combination of 2D and 3D elements, to enforce depth and enhance texture is an element that would ideally be used within our final design. Considering this I sketched some environment designs to present to the team so we may decide what atmosphere and thematic to underpin our concept. I want to decide on this theme through the environment as the 2D background will be the largest element of this project that the audience will see and be surrounded by. Once the environment is chosen then the foreground can be designed to match. As a team, we agreed to continue with the East Asian components but were undecided on the type of stylisation to proceed with. So, within the environment sketch, I wanted to depict a few options we could consider for the final 2D background. I am aware that we have no true concept, of what to dome will look like at this stage but have been advised to come quite close to the floor. Although the audience will be positioned to avoid obstructing any of the images, I have ensured none of the details of subjects in my environment designs go to the floor, to minimise the effect of any interference.

I designed all the following environments to act as a sample of what would be created all around the dome. We would use whichever of the following concepts are chosen for this project as a guide to style, assets, and theme.

Environment: Midnight Lakes.

Figure 1 – Midnight Lake sketch.

This environment concept displays a foggy scene of buildings lit up from within standing at the foot of silhouetted mountains. This is the most heavily inspired by the original stimuli of this project: Blue-Eyed Samurai (2023). I chose a clean illustrative style for this concept to achieve a simplistic yet hazy depiction of the scene allowing for small non-realistic detailing in the clouds that add a fantastical essence to the image. The fog on the ground could be animated to billow and swirl with similarly stylised curls as the clouds when buffeted by the dragon's wings. I really love the ability of lighting within this concept as the moon would add a lustre to 3D objects and enhance the effect of shadows as the dragon flies over the dome. Additionally, a small amount of 2D animation could be used to make the clouds drift slowly around the dome during the scene, which would reduce the stiffness of a 2D-painted environment.

Environment: Cherry Blossom.

Figure 2 – Cherry Blossom Sketch.

For this concept, I wanted to experiment with the East Asian ink-wash painting style. With soft inky mountains and strong charcoal-like cherry trees on a light beige sky. The foreground of this concept would be a heaped bank of fallen flowers in the same inky theme that could move and settle during the scene. The cherry blossoms themselves would be vibrantly saturated to contrast the greys of the mountains and tree trunks creating a whimsical scene. I love the effect of falling petals that could continuously drift from the tree’s branches. Additionally, these petals could be whipped up into the sky by the beating of the dragon's wings and fall back in a magenta rain over the dome. Despite the simple beauty of this scene, if we were to use a 3D dragon it could be hard to blend the character into this scene. The soft washed-out style may not be compatible with the strong harsh lines and contrast of a 3D model.

Environment: Snowy Mountains.

Figure 3 – Snowy Mountain Sketch.

I really like the colour pallet of this concept and its harsh tranquillity. The ability of a whistling wind soundscape would add a lot of dimensions to this icy environment while the painterly semi-realistic style would lend itself to the incorporation of 3D without losing the fanciful thematic stylised texturing adds to the image. Although appearing bare, the addition of snow particles effects to rain down on the dome throughout the scene; and the animation of an icy mist would make for a dramatic backdrop to the dragon’s flight. If I were to continue with this design, I would probably add a building or sculpture as a point of interest within the scene.

Environment: Bamboo Forest.

Figure 4 – Bamboo Forest Sketch.

This concept Would really allow us to enhance a sense of depth to our immersive experience. The layers of bamboo receding into mist would allow us to use 3D models for the foremost staffs and then integrate them with the 2D background so the dragon can wind and fly between them enhancing the effect. Additionally in the foreground is a mess of foliage and vines that creep up the base of the bamboo that could be animated to grow and writhe as if alive. This concept would also be the most effective in manipulating the shape of the dome as the long vertical lines disguise the curved roof, ending in a small circle of sky at the apex seemingly far-far-away. Small glowing particles or bugs could drift lazily by during the scene and be wafted by the dragon’s flight. This I believe would be the most effective concept but the final decision will be made as a team.

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fuckyeahisawthat · 2 years

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Oh boy WOULD I. Fun fact, did you know you can only put ten images in an ask answer? That is not nearly enough for analyzing any kind of visual media so I’m making this its own post.

So each one of these is a separate piece: the performance, the costuming and hairstyling, the lighting and framing and camera placement, but they all work together to make end-of-episode-10 Ed, Kraken!Ed, feel different from any of the other Eds we’ve met before now.

(I think it’s up for debate if this Ed is the same version of Ed that we very briefly see at the beginning of episode 3, when we only know him as Blackbeard, more myth and shadow than actual character at that point, or if this Ed is something new and worse.)

First, the performance. Because Taika what the fuck my dude. What the fuck.

The whole toe scene is...a lot, on a lot of levels, but his creepy-soft, calm, almost-gentle voice really makes it. (This whole scene is like a weird dark inversion of the actually soft and gentle way he behaves at Stede’s bedside when he’s recovering from being stabbed...but I digress.) We’ve seen Ed get angry, we’ve seen him intimidate and threaten people, but we’ve never seen this kind of calm, controlled menace from him and it’s super creepy!

I have watched these scenes a lot trying to clock all the ways Taika changes his physicality (aside from like, the intense eye acting going on) and I’m sure I’m missing stuff because there are a lot of subtle little changes.

Happy, relaxed Ed is pretty bouncy. He moves around a lot, he gestures, he fiddles with things with his hands, he sits and stands in very relaxed, open positions, shoulders back, often with his feet up on something or legs stretched out. Kraken!Ed is very still. There are multiple scenes where the blocking lets him lean forward or loom over someone, like in the shots above. The sort of apex-predator-in-waiting vibe gets accentuated by the costuming--the shoulder pads of the jacket add a lot of bulk, which is very noticeable when he’s leaning forward like this, and the hair (even without the beard) creates this lion’s mane effect around him that makes him look bigger on screen.

All this is enhanced by the lighting and cinematography, which change dramatically from the way most of the rest of the show is shot.

While there is some gorgeous lighting in this show, it is a television show, shot on a set, so some standard TV cinematographic norms prevail. We’ve got a lot of medium and medium-close shots and mostly fairly even lighting. So anything that deviates from that is really going to catch your attention.

I want to refer back to the couple of very short scenes we see of Ed before he meets Stede, when he’s Blackbeard, the legend, before we know him as Ed, the person:

In both of these scenes, he's lit by these very intense, stark, high-contrast beams of sunlight. His hair is down, his face is obscured, and he's illuminated in this almost spotlight-like light. (Hmm something something about putting on a performance.)

Now look at this shot:

This is before his flip back into Kraken mode, but there's the spotlight, ready for him to step into it. It’s even right in the center of the "stage" that the proscenium arch creates around the bed nook. This is the very beginning of this scene, and we don't know what's going to happen yet, but I think this is a kind of visual foreshadowing.

For reference, this is how the same room is lit when Lucius comes in to find Ed in the blanket fort:

Still high-contrast with the bright windows and deep shadows, but without those intense, slicing beams of light. They only appear in the scene where Izzy confronts Ed.

For most of the scene between Izzy and Ed, Ed is lit like this:

Half light, half dark--balanced on the knife's edge between dealing with his heartbreak in an emotionally healthy way and...not. By the way, he's still lit like this at the beginning of this scene...

...up until he throws Lucius overboard and goes to do his Evil Again makeover.

After that point he starts being lit and shot in very dramatic ways. We get shots where he's barely lit and sometimes in full darkness.

The whole toe scene is lit like a horror movie. I mean...

He also starts getting a lot more extreme camera placement: close-ups where his face fills the frame from top to bottom, but also very wide shots like this one:

And more extreme camera angles, both high and low:

This kind of dramatic high angle is not used very much in the show (although I’m sure you can think of one other memorable example right away). Whether we notice it consciously or not, all these elements of lighting and camera placement help create the feeling that something is different, unsettled, off-kilter and wrong about all this.

All of the scenes I referenced add up to something like...six minutes of screen time. But they are really using every trick in the book to make them impactful, and they end up being one of the most memorable and striking parts of the show.

#ofmd #our flag means death #long post #ed teach #Taika Waititi #cinematography #lighting #costume design

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banananutsmuthie · 2 years

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Idol Club

Idol(s): Yiren [EVERGLOW]

Word Count: 5.5k+ words

Content Advisory: Escort with some light bondage (handcuffs). Also some anal and a very brief rimming scene

A/N: I anticipate this is going to be viewed as a very polarizing piece, but I hope you'll give it a chance. Enjoy!

“That one.”

“Excellent choice, sir,” your host complimented. “One of our best. Nothing but good reviews from her many, many clients.”

It was hard to hear through the loud electronic dance music that pumped throughout the club. It was even harder to see in the dimly lit space that occasionally strobed with random-colored lights. Yet somehow through all those obstacles, your personal host managed to flag her down from the pedestal she was dancing on across the room. He held up three fingers to her as the bikini-clad woman stepped off the stage. She disappeared behind the curtains, the bottom of her ass cheeks bidding you farewell as she exited.

Your host led you out of the main room into a quiet corridor. A plethora of soundproof doors lined either side of the hallway. He pointed to one of the doors that automatically opened at his command.

“She’ll meet you in Room 3 in a couple minutes. Enjoy your time at Idol Club, sir!”

Idol Club was a hotbed for the ultra-rich elites who loved K-Pop but wanted an even more intimate experience with their favorite idols. It wasn't without controversy, however. The legality and morality of Idol Club had always been hotly debated since its opening. The constant protests outside the club made it hard for patrons like yourself to enter without being harassed. It was a bit ironic, really. If the protestors had the same kind of money as Idol Club patrons, there was no doubt they also would’ve spent it on a night with the likes of an Irene or Tzuyu. They were just jealous hypocrites who weren’t lucky enough to be born into wealth.

What a lot of protesters always failed to acknowledge was that the idols had no problem with it and Idol Club always got permission from their respective companies. These idols loved Idol Club because they and their companies were always compensated handsomely. Even for the groups from lesser-known companies, a typical month would net them enough profit from Idol Club to fund the group’s next comeback. You had no moral qualms stepping into the club since it meant supporting your favorite artists. Still, it was a new experience for you.

The door finally slid open. She stood in the door frame with more clothes than when you initially saw her dancing on the pole. She looked comfy in her pair of pink sweats and black long sleeve crop top. Body glitter sparkled like a disco ball with each step until she finally stopped just short of your position at the foot of the bed. This was finally the moment you’d thought about all week.

“I’m Yiren from Everglow.” She really didn’t need the introduction.

“Yes, I know who you are.”

“You’d be surprised how many clients just walk in and pick out the prettiest face in the room.” Yiren noticed your rigid body and fidgeting hands. “You look nervous.”

“I—I’ve never done this before,” you confessed as you clung to your shoulder.

“What? You’ve never had sex?” she asked.

“I’ve had sex before. It’s just… I’ve never done it with someone like you.”

“Someone like me?”

“This is my first time here, I’m not sure what to expect.”

Yiren slowly approached. She wrapped her arms around your neck and felt a nervous cock graze against her inner thigh as she made your lap a temporary seat.

“I think you’ll find I’m exactly like a handful of other girls here at Idol Club—we're just like everyone else. It shouldn’t change your view of me just because you know who I am. Treat me like any other girl.”

Her weight shifted in your lap trying to get her line of sight to sit evenly with yours. She was surprisingly light even in her 163 cm (5’4”) frame. Yiren searched deep into those thoughtful eyes trying to find any sign of your doubt and nervousness washing away from her assurances. Treat me like any other girl. That’s what she said. Except she wasn’t just “any other girl”: those eyes that stared back at you—the ones that still sensed your nervousness—belonged to one Wang Yiren.

“Tell you what, why don’t I give you a little sample of what I can do? That should loosen you up.” She had seen the same kind of behaviour dozens of times before. She was well-equipped to unleash her clients’ inner freaks and this case was no exception.

The burden of Yiren’s weight lifted off your lap. The lights dimmed unprovoked, but it wasn’t a surprise, given how advanced Idol Club’s technologies were. Automated lights seemed trivial. So was the music that started to magically fill the room. Yiren began to dance in front of you.

Her limbs were surprisingly fluid. Yiren was a blur, her pink sweats seemingly flinging and flailing around in the darkness. But then she dropped down to the floor where she really shined. She pushed back up with her hands and for a brief moment, her ass hung in the air. Any light that still permeated in the room gravitated toward her body, creating a shadow in the crevice between her curvaceous cheeks that sucked in pink cotton like a black hole.

She dropped back down onto the floor. Yiren grabbed at her ankle and swung it over her head. Her sweats pulled tautly at the apex of her move, showing off her hungry pussy lips as it gobbled through her clothing. Yiren was as flexible as advertised.

“This could all be yours,” she said over the music.

As she stood back up and continued her dance, Yiren arched her back, highlighting her ass that was still swallowing up her sweats when she got up off the ground. By that point, her “ass-vertisement” was no longer necessary.

When the song finished, Yiren returned to her position just in front of you. Without hesitation, she pulled down her pants. The bikini bottom she wore when you picked her out in the main room earlier was gone, Yiren’s smooth, delicious pussy greeting you in its place. The meeting was brief as Yiren turned around, giving you a sample of those curvy cheeks that caught your eye during her dance. With enough handles to grab onto, they were the perfect size for taking Yiren from behind.

“God damn, Yiren! Did you always have that ass?” She gave it a little twerk; it turned out her personality wasn’t her only bubbly asset. While she continued to shake it, Yiren pulled her top over her head and flung her unclasped bra in your direction. Her skin crinkled near her hips when she turned around and watched her bra land on your shoulder.

She winked. “You can keep that as a souvenir.”

There wasn’t much time to enjoy that moment, either. She turned around one more time, showing off her youthful pink nipples that were already aroused from her own sensual dance.

“So you ready to tell me what you want, big spender?” Yiren’s naked body really did have a way of coaxing even the most unwilling clients to spill their deepest desires. Like a dam under extreme pressure, you finally burst.

“I wanna fuck you so hard that it splits you in half and breaks you! I wanna use up all of your tight holes! I wanna tie you up and cum in your ass, pussy, and mouth until you’re filled up like a jelly doughnut!” She could see the aroused vein in your neck throbbing. Yiren stood there quietly with no emotion on her face.

“Was that a bit too much?” you wondered.

But then Yiren smirked, satisfied with the work she had done to elicit your honest confession.

“There it is,” she said as she walked over to a little drawer in the corner of the room. “Even the most timid first-timers eventually break. They always succumb to their carnal instincts once they see their favorite idols naked in front of them.”

From the drawer, Yiren pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. You watched from the foot of the bed as she slapped each pair onto her wrists. She sat up on top of the mattress and stretched her legs out, lining up her right wrist with her right ankle and cuffing them together. When she was done, she skillfully managed to do the same thing to her left side without any assistance. Yiren fell back onto the bed, her limbs now bound and splayed out like some kind of disturbed butterfly.

Yiren was now helpless to any and all fantasies you wanted to carry out on her. Her limber legs split open at a 180-degree angle on top of the silk bed lining. She was used to this position and had a talent for it. She was trained to spread wide because Yuehua Entertainment wanted Yiren to do the splits, a party trick she could show off during Everglow's variety show appearances and fan meetings. Idol Club, however, repurposed her talents for a more sinful reason: to make it easier to pump into her suffocating cunt, resulting in clients pumping more money into Idol Club.

From the base of the bed, you crept up to her bound body like a lion edging closer to its unsuspecting prey. With each forward motion, you quickly pulled off a piece of clothing. First, the shirt. Then, the pants. Yiren’s eyes grew in excitement the closer you got until you were fully naked hovering above her helpless body.

“Use me.”

There was no time to lose, not even on foreplay. Every minute mattered; you had already paid for the session in full and Yiren’s sultry dance ate up a lot of time. The only question now was where in the buffet line you wanted to start. Common sense told you appetizers first. Her mouth was a great place for the festivities to begin.

Her cold silicone-like skin just above her bare breasts pressed against the bottom of your balls as you sat on top of Yiren. You were careful to make sure you didn’t crush her trachea, though it wasn’t like she needed it to do any breathing—it was gonna be lined with semen in a few minutes.

Yiren felt the hard tip of your cock slap against her cheek, begging her to open her mouth. Her jaw unhinged without much more persuasion; she was determined to get that five-star review from her client.

“I’m gonna stick it in. Is that okay?”

“You don’t need to ask,” she said, almost somewhat offended. “Fuck me however you want, you paid for it. If you wanna fuck my mo—”

She had talked enough. You interrupted her monologue, sticking your cock in her mouth and pacifying her. The inside walls of her cheeks sucked in and pressed your shaft with a fresh coat of saliva. You weren’t expecting Yiren to be so good at taking a cock in her mouth. All that nervousness and apprehension of even deciding to give Idol Club a chance started to wash away with each thrust.

“Fuck, Yiren, you’re such a naughty little girl. You like that, don’t you? You like having your mouth punished?”

Yiren nodded.

You hadn’t even fully penetrated her yet and she was already enjoying it. It was time to test her limits. One quick shove and her puckered lips kissed the base of your crotch. She somehow managed to let a moan escape her filled mouth.

“How about that? God, the back of your throat feels so good.” You didn’t even wait for her answer. How could she even answer, anyway? The length of your cock pressed down on her tongue, prohibiting her from letting out even a single syllable from that tiny mouth of hers that was drooling all over you. Fuck me however you want was your earlier cue from her to continue exploring her limits.

You pulled out and there was nothing but saliva dripping down. You grabbed it, wiping your wet member against her face.

“Yeah, you fucking love that don’t you?” You were fully into it now. “Didn’t even realize you could be that wet for me.”

“You said you wanted to cum in my mouth,” Yiren explained. “So do it.”

Following her command, you held her head in place and thrusted back into her open mouth. It tickled the back of her throat and that’s when she finally clamped those lips back down onto you. Furiously, you began thrusting in and out. Yiren let out tiny whimpers with each poke of her throat.

“If this is what it feels like fucking your mouth, I can only imagine how wet that pussy is going to get.”

You closed your eyes trying to imagine it, getting off on the image of a bound Yiren getting her pussy fucked by your cock. Yiren did her best to cater to your imagination, her warm hole salivating even more against your thrusting cock while her tongue slid against the bottom of your shaft.

Every subsequent thrust was easier than the last. She had produced enough saliva and eventually got used to the feeling of getting tickled in her throat. Yiren was enjoying the facefucking.

“I’m gonna fucking blow my load into your mouth.” Your cock wagged between her lips as she nodded her head to confirm she was ready for it. She sucked on you trying to help your orgasm along, and before you knew it, warm cream started to fill her throat.

“Mmm,” Yiren moaned.

The first spurt was an easy swallow for Yiren. But the second, then the third, caused a back up in her throat; there was just too much cum for her to keep up. Eventually, she gave up as your cum started to fill around you in the space she created to accommodate the heavy load between her cheeks.

When you were finally done, you pulled out slowly, enjoying the sound of Yiren’s slurping. Semen erupted out of her mouth when you were fully out. A lot of it trickled into her nose or down her cheek.

“Damn, Yiren! We’re only a third of the way through the session and you’ve already paid for yourself. No wonder you’re so highly rated.”

Yiren took the compliment with a pasty smile, the cum in her mouth still pushing through her pearly whites. They were pearly for a different reason now. She managed to move enough fluid around to let out a garbled, barely intelligible sentence: “Keep fucking me.”

Boy, was she a pirate with the amount of filth coming out of her mouth.

With her face fucked and filled, it was time for the main dish of the Yiren buffet. No, not her tight little cunt that was staring up at you and inviting you between her fully split legs. Initially, it was going to be the main dish. But Yiren’s dance earlier in the session made it very clear she was advertising her juicy ass, best served raw. It was definitely worthy as the main course. And just like a pirate yourself, you were out to get some booty.

You slid down and flipped her over. Her cheeks easily parted in her bound state, revealing her perfect little hole.

Just a little taste, you promised yourself. You had never eaten ass before and you hadn’t even planned on it when you first walked into Idol Club. But if you were going to rim someone for the first time, who better to pop that cherry than an idol like Yiren? You slapped your greedy hands onto the pretty little fuckdoll, grabbing a handful of her ass cheeks and squeezing it as hard as you could. Your lips forced its way toward her. Then without thought, your tongue reached out.

First, a little lick. Then a series of continuous pulsating thrusts of your tongue against her asshole. Finally, a long drawn out lap around the perimeter. You were no longer an ass-eating virgin now. It was surprisingly better than you imagined and she was loving every moment of it.

“Mmph!” Yiren cried out into the sheets. Her asshole puckered. Her body winced and pulled back in enjoyment.

Just a little taste, you promised yourself. Now it was time for the real thing. “If you like that, then you’ll love this next part,” you told her. That was all the warning she was going to get.

With your hands still grabbing onto her cheeks, you pulled away and replaced your mouth with your cock pressing at the back door. You pushed your way through—just a little—until just your tip was in her. Then you pulled out again. Surprisingly, she was already lubed up. No wonder she took a while before entering the room. She could’ve easily taken the whole thing on the first go if she wanted.

“Tell me you love the feeling of my cock in your ass.”

Her head was buried deep into the sheets. Yiren was drowning in a puddle that was starting to leak out on both sides of her buried head. The white pool started to stain the red silk and tickle her pierced ears.

“I llrrg drr ppffllng buuv kkek gin mmrph ezzz.”

She muttered out muffled gibberish. Locks of her luscious espresso hair curled and wrapped between your fingers. You tugged up until her head lifted out of the cum-stained sheets. Her gaping hole unleashed the rest of the cum she had hoarded in that whore mouth, seed dripping down and joining the rest of the mess that had already seeped into the silk below.

“Spit it out, Yiren!”

She repeated herself, this time with a clear throat and lack of sheets stifling her words: “I love the feeling of your cock in my ass!”

“Tell me how much you love it.”

“I love it so much! I want you to dump your cum into me! I want it oozing out of my asshole!”

“Beg for it, then.”

“Please! Stick it back in me and fill my ass with some hot, white cum! Mark it as your territory so that all the horndogs after you know my ass already belongs to someone. I don’t just want it, I need it. Own me, please! Fuck!”

“Well, if you insist, Yiren.” Your fingers untangled from her hair, gravity reintroducing Yiren to your cum as her face plunged back into the cum-covered sheets.

You thrusted in again, this time, the whole thing instead of just a sample. She was prepared for it, sucking you in past the event horizon like she did to her sweats during her dance performance. You were past the point of no return now; releasing in her was the only way she’d release you from her gaping black hole.

The knuckles that kept you stabilized above her dug into the 22 momme silk on either side of her hips. The small of her back thrusted into the bed, dancing in sync with the slowly sliding cock that was thrusting into her ass. Yiren let out an elongated moan throughout until you filled her fully.

“Destroy me,” Yiren commanded.

Inhibitions disappeared. She let out a squeal as the cock behind her pistoned in and out of her with every pump. With every full penetration, your balls slapped her pink outer lips like a pendulum hitting its apogee.

Yiren’s face was still buried deep into the bed. She couldn’t help smothering her face into the cum that was sliding around the bed sheets while her helpless body graciously accepted your cock.

“Gaahh.. F—ffuuck!” Yiren’s yelps could barely be heard; she was a muffled mess. Sweat dripped down your forehead as you continued to press against her soft, squishy ass. It trickled down her spine before collecting into a tiny lake at the small of her back.

“You feel my sweat dripping down your back, Yiren? That’s how hard you’re making me work for your ass right now. Fuuuck. I hope you appreciate just how much my cock loves being in there and widening your tight hole. What do you have to say about that, Yiren? Is your ass thankful for this cock?”

“Mmhmm.” She nodded into the sheets giving her approval. Then she let out another undecipherable moan. It wasn’t understandable without any context, but then you felt her hips buckle and understood what she meant when you looked down.

“Fuck, Yiren, cumming already just from anal? I haven’t even stuck it in that hole yet!” Below, the red silk sheets had darkened in the area between her crotch. Her pussy dripped from the sensation that tickled her ass. Yiren was clearly enjoying herself as much as you.

The job wasn’t yet finished, though. Pendulums continued to swing. Your bent elbows gave in, unable to hold up your own body weight. The feeling of your sweat stuck to you as you fell on top of Yiren’s back. Hot breaths forced its way out of your lips that pressed against Yiren’s ear.

“Baby, can you handle this?” you whispered to her as you continued thrusting.

She nodded into the sheets again. For some reason, you didn’t believe her.

“Baby, can you handle this?” you repeated. Again, she nodded. And again, you didn't believe her.

“I don’t think you’re ready for this jelly,” you told her.

“No, please! I’m ready! Cum in my ass! Fill me up like you promised!” Cum still managed to ooze through her lips as she begged for it to ooze elsewhere. It was great to see from such a willing participant. Even better were the words that oozed through those cum-smacking lips. It was exactly what you wanted to hear come out of that expensive mouth.

“Good, because your body’s too bootylicious for me to not cum.”

A couple more thrusts and your sensitive cock was ready to give Yiren another heaping helping of cum. You pulled out just enough until only your tip remained in her. Yiren’s ass cheek rippled boisterously from the merciless smack of your hand, signaling to her that you were ready to fulfill your promise.

“Fuck, Yiren!”

She shook her ass trying to coax your cum into her used hole. You could feel her tighten as you released into her. There was a faint popping sound as you slowly pulled out. Cum dripped out of her spread ass, joining her slick that soaked the silk. There was no way those sheets could be used again, given how destroyed it was from the session.

There was a tiny section at the edge of the bed that remained untouched and free of bodily fluids. You rolled over to the clean area, catching your breath and staring up at the ceiling. Yiren laid motionless beside you, unable to move due to her limbs still bound to one another. Cum dripped out of everywhere except the one place that remained pristine. Luckily for her, you still had enough of an appetite saved up to continue the Yiren buffet. There was always enough room for dessert.

“You ready for one more round, Yiren?”

“Fffmph mmph kkunn.” She was still lying face down, unable to lift her face out of the bed sheets to properly answer the question. You flipped her over. Yiren’s face was covered in a thick and sticky face mask.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Fuck my cunt.’”

“Fuck my cunt, what?”

She probably would’ve been rolling her eyes if not for the heavy dose of cream that kept her eyelids shut. “Fuck my cunt, please.”

“Well, okay. Since you asked nicely.”

One more time. Despite your cock feeling sore and spent from making Yiren’s body a wasteland of cum, there was still just enough energy for one last ride. Yiren was still wet from her earlier orgasm. It made it easier to slip into her despite how tight she was. Yiren winced when you were fully in her.

“God, Yiren, you’re so fucking tight. You sure you been fucked properly before? All these rich ass pricks with little dicks coming in here and barely making a dent in this tight pussy of yours.”

Not that you were complaining, you loved the way Yiren squeezed tightly around you.

“Those baby carrots couldn’t even make me cum. Why don’t you show me how to get properly fucked? Make this high-class pussy worth the money you spent on it.”

Yiren squealed in surprise when you picked her up off the bed and carried her toward the wall above the headboard. Her entire body pressed flatly against the white surface, her shackled limbs included. Even through the long session, her muscles were still limber enough to maintain the spread body dictated by her handcuffs. Then like a skilled taxidermist, you stuck your pin into your butterfly specimen, admiring all the hard work it had taken to fill her up and mount her for display. Her back climbed up the wall when your cock penetrated her and pinned her to the cold white surface.

“Let me show you how to get properly fucked,” you told her.

One thrust, she lets out a drawn out moan. Second thrust, she’s biting her bottom lip. Every subsequent thrust after that? She’s yelling through the strands of white viscous fluid dripping down her face that was trying to keep her lips shut: “Fuck me! Oh God, no one’s ever fucked me like this before! No one’s filled me like you!” For the first time, Yiren was feeling how to properly get fucked.

She was a disheveled mess as you kept pushing her into the wall. The cum coming out of her ass dripped down the wall while the cum on her face trickled down to her supple breasts that subtly bounced with each thrust. The walls violently shook to the point where even the room next door would’ve felt Yiren’s impending orgasm.

“You love the way I fuck you, don’t you, Yiren? Your wet pussy finally getting its money’s worth. What a deep fuckin’ value.”

She let out a seductive moan. “Oh God, this cunt is yours! Only yours!”

You launched harder. “Prove it to me, Yiren. Cum for me like you mean it, like it's the first and last true orgasm you’ll ever feel. Because it is, no one’s going to make you cum like I do.”

“Fuck!” On cue, her cunt tightened around your driving cock. She sprayed out, her own cum now coating your cock and the wall beneath her, proving that no one had ever made her cum as hard as you.

“That’s right, Yiren. Lather my dick, I own your pussy.” You lost her for a moment in her own orgasm. Her eyes closed underneath the white on her face while she trembled against your body. It awoke your cock one last time as you felt the familiar sensation of your fluid shooting through your shaft, and with a couple more thrusts, you joined Yiren in her orgasm.

Yiren’s enjoyment in her own bliss was short-lived. She opened her eyes, feeling the warmth of your cream filling up her final frontier. There wasn’t anywhere left for your cock to explore. Unable to hold her up any longer after your third orgasm, you tossed her onto the bed and plopped down next to her.

For a moment, Yiren laid on the bed like a forbidden cinnamon roll, glazed with icing that dripped from every crack and crevice of her used body. Then with a simple flick of her wrists, she managed to break out of her handcuffs. She jumped out of the bed to reach into the drawer again, this time for the key that would release her from the useless steel bracelets. Cum still dripped everywhere out of Yiren as she found a hand towel in the drawer.

It was surprising to see all that power and energy come from Yiren’s lightweight frame, especially after such a grueling fuckfest. The girl was definitely special. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but damn, Yiren.”

“You act like these are police-grade handcuffs. I could’ve gotten out of these easily at any time if I wanted. They’re more for the first-timers to help them unleash their deepest desires without reservation. Last thing we need is a loss of business from someone who felt like they spent a fuck ton of money for a shit experience just because they didn’t tell us what they wanted.”

“Fair enough,” you replied.

Yiren looked at the timer on the wall that counted down the time left in the session. “Well, there’s a couple minutes left. If you end it now, you’ll still be charged for the full rate, so you might as well use it up. Anything else you wanna do?”

It was going to be hard to go for another round after dumping three different loads into Yiren’s various holes. There wasn’t enough time or bullets in the chamber to make that work.

“How about we just talk?” you suggested.

“It’s your money,” Yiren said as she started to wipe herself off and put her clothes back on.

“Hmm... Have you had any memorable clients? Any high-profile billionaires come in here? Bezos? Musk?”

“Well, a couple months ago, Yoojung from Weki Meki was one of my clients. The actual Yoojung, can you believe that? She probably could’ve met me out in the real world and I would’ve just given it to her for free. Anyway, someone like her coming in here? There were a lot of wandering eyes that night asking how much for a night with her. Obviously, it would have to be kept a secret since we don’t have contract rights from Fantagio. They refuse to partner with Idol Club.”

“Wait, you’re telling me Yoojung actually came in here and fucked a guy for money?”

“I’m not allowed to say due to client confidentiality. But, hypothetically speaking, there may have been seven to eight men that night who may have ponied up 10× our normal going rate just to possibly have a bukkake party with her.”

“Fuck, 10× the normal rate just to cum on her face while seven other guys stroke their cock and watch? Is she really worth that much?”

“We don’t get a lot of female clients, understandably, so you could imagine just how horny they all were when an idol like Yoojung walked into the club, and not as an employee. Clients are willing to pay more for that. And like I said, since Idol Club doesn’t have the contract rights for Yoojung, it’s a ‘risk’ upcharge to make sure she’s covered if Fantagio ever finds out. And if you ask me, if that did actually happen—and I’m not saying it did, because that would be a breach of contract—she’s definitely worth the money. She’ll fuck anyone and she’s really good at it. Hypothetically, of course. I’m not allowed to discuss how other clients spend their time and money here.”

Suddenly, the sound of a bell chime played twice over the in-ceiling speakers.

“Well, that’s the end of the session. I hate to do this but my employer has me ask a couple of questions, an exit survey, if you will. It’s kind of hardwired in me at this point, so here goes: on a scale of one to five, how satisfied were you with your Yiren experience?”

“Five.”

“Great! I trust we’ve earned your patronage as well for the foreseeable future?”

“Of course.”

“That’s good to hear! If you wanna get me again, just give the host my employee id number: Yiren, #2567.”

“Thank you so much, Yiren #25...”

“67,” she finished.

She walked towards the door that automatically opened when she was near enough. The door across the hallway happened to open at the same time; some other client’s session must have just finished up as well. Another Yiren android walked out of that room, greeting your Yiren when they both bumped into each other in the hallway.

“Hey, 2567,” you heard the other Yiren say.

“Hey, 0113. Five stars?” your Yiren asked. Yiren #0113 just gave her a knowing nod, careful not to give away her client’s satisfaction since the door was still open and he was still within earshot.

Yiren #0113 then mouthed, “You?” It didn’t really matter that Yiren #2567 had her back faced toward you. You already knew her response without her even making an audible noise.

One of our best. Nothing but good reviews from her many, many clients. It wasn’t hard to understand why your personal host raved so much about her. She was a popular model at Idol Club, it seemed, and it was well-deserved, given her light weight and flexibility.

Together, the Yiren androids walked back to the main room of Idol Club to continue making passive income for the idol who had loaned out her likeness to them.

It was almost hard to believe that a small club possessed the unrivaled technology to produce life-like sex robots based on 3D scans of girl group idols. The sex you just had with an Yiren android felt as good as the real thing. You were uncertain when you first entered, but Idol Club made a loyal customer out of you.

You'd definitely be back for more.

A/N: Inspired by elements of the video game "Detroit: Become Human" and heavily influenced by the TV anthology series "Black Mirror". Now go back and re-read this to catch all the foreshadowing. The story takes on a whole new meaning on a second read 😄

Easter Egg(s): If you were using a browser to read YouWeMe Part 4: Lunch and a Show, you'd have noticed there's a blue squiggly underlined "Idol Club" that, when clicked, would've redirected you to a secret easter egg page that blessed the reader with the opening paragraphs of this story. The easter egg was only available for a week and only two lucky readers found it.

#kpop smut #everglow smut #yiren smut #reader insert #male insert

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hongism · 3 years

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touch of the devil - k.hongjoong 18+

↣ pairing: hongjoong x fem!reader | ao3 version (mxm seongjoong) ↣ genre: angst, fluff if you SQUINT, nsfw, fantasy, supernatural, demon!hongjoong, emo rocker!hongjoong, there do be plot tho. ↣ wc: 9.0k ↣ summary: you came to make a deal with a devil sure, but this is the last thing you were expecting out of a night in a dingy bar. ↣ warnings: explicit smut, mention of death, demons, it’s actually really heavy on plot and angst and less focused on the smut ↣ a/n: again i know it’s my birthday but this is my present to you guys, i am a person who prefers to give rather than receive on my birthday and this was the first thing i wanted to work on during my hiatus!! i’ve got so much inspo and motivation rn that it’s crazy and i can’t wait to have everything all set out for you guys when im back :3

﹊﹊﹊

Everything about the air around you is heady and thick in a way that chokes you as you step through the fogged bar. This isn’t your sort of scene – not one you would typically find yourself frequenting on a Friday evening without even so much as the company of a friend – and yet here you stand with hands pressed into the pockets of your black leather jacket. There remains a dull thrum in the atmosphere of the club, a steady rhythm of bass and vibrations that makes your ears ring but you do your best to ignore it in favor of reaching the bartender.

“Just a rum and coke please,” you murmur, hand sneaking out of your pocket to lay a few bills flat against the wood counter. You tug your ID card out as well and flash it in the man’s direction when he raises an eyebrow at you, but upon seeing it, he relents and steps away from you to get the drink.

The question remains of why exactly you are in such a dismal and hopeless scene full of people too drunk off their rockers to even fumble around the bar with some sense of dignity. You, who is neither dismal or hopeless yourself nor are you drunk in the slightest (at least not yet).

The answer is simple. This is a breeding ground, a festering cesspool of desires and greed, and it is the prime place to find what you are looking for in terms of deals with the devil. Maybe not one specific devil, but certainly whatever demon you can get your hands on tonight. And you have quite the lot to choose from it seems, because as you glance around the neon-lit building, you can spot many pairs of red eyes glinting under the lights. You know you have no right to be picky — any and all of them will get the job done — but you can’t help but to note that none of them are as appealing as you imagined they would be. When your friend said that these demons thrived off of lust and appeal, you figured that meant they would purposefully up the ante in terms of physical appearances.

The disdain must show on your features as the bartender begins to speak again as he sets your drink down before you on the counter.

“None of them are for you,” he utters, and you twist back to look him in the eye.

“What do you mean?” You inquire, chin tilting to the side in question, and the man huffs out a small laugh.

“They have their prey already. Picked ‘em the second they walked through the door. All it takes is one look to figure out what these needy people crave from them, what appearances they need to take, what voices to use, what outfits to wear. For people like you, though, something more is required before the real games begin.” He points a single bony finger at your face, staring you down over the length of his digit like it’s the barrel of a gun, and that has you shifting in your seat a bit.

“Something… more?”

“One must have a particular level of certainty before coming to make a deal with a demon, ma’am. But you — you don’t seem to truly know what it is you want. And for that reason, the King will see you with no ruses or deception.”

On the contrary, I wouldn’t have dared set foot in here if I didn’t know what it is I wanted, you want to say. However, your attention is held rapt by his final sentence, the one that held unspoken promise to it.

“And by that you mean physical alterations?”

“You catch on quickly, Miss.” The man leans forward, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip, and you glance over the motion only once before pushing away from the counter. He notes the slight annoyance in your features a moment later. “The King will like you quite a bit.”

“When can I expect for this ‘King’ to present himself?” You prop an elbow up on the counter and give one last forlorn glance around the bar in the hopes that someone will come over your way, but it’s to no avail.

“Patience, human. The show hasn’t even begun yet.” He motions towards the middle of the bar, the starkly empty space with a glossy stage set in the center with only a microphone held delicately in its stand and nothing else. You had been hoping to make this a speedy trip — a quick in and out with your deal made and nothing else — but it seems you won’t be having that luxury. And it is a bit frustrating, honestly, to come to this place with the expectation of having a demon cater to you and your wants only to be told that you aren’t certain enough for these supernatural beings, so you’ll have to wait on a demon who won’t cater to you or come to you immediately.

You take a quick swig of your alcohol with the desperate hope that perhaps drinking will make you more certain of what you want, although you already know it won’t. The bartender offers a shrug in response to your annoyance then pulls away to tend to other customers, and you take it as an invitation to swivel in your stool and face the stage. It’s still fucking empty, but at least it gives you a better view than the old wood of the counter that now sits under your elbows.

“Leave it to men to make me wait on them, demon or not,” you mutter under your breath, breath fogging the side of your glass a bit.

You nearly choke on the liquid inside in your next breath because the swirling red neon lights come to a halt on the center of the stage, and the suddenness of the shifting lights startles you so much that you have to sit up straight and inhale deeply to keep from coughing on the alcohol in your mouth. The hazed mist hovering above the floor of the bar seems to swirl towards the stage under the beams of light. You watch the movements as though in a trance, slowly leaning forward until your elbows come to rest on your knees. Out of everyone in the bar, you seem to be the only one interested in what’s going on at the center of the room. Mind you, everyone else is preoccupied: demons with their humans, and humans with the mask-wearing demons who cater to their desires. And while you have no reason to be so intrigued by the scene before you, you truly cannot bring yourself to look away, especially as the dull thrum of music in the bar heightens and gains momentum.

There is no way of describing the sounds rumbling around you. Perhaps if you were fully in your senses, you would be able to distinguish the instruments and beats of the song, but the bass clogs your mind and leaves you squinting at the hazy stage. It could be poetic, the way a lone figure pushes his way through the crowds of the bar like he holds all the power in the universe, studded black leather jacket slung around his shoulders. And as the red lights come over him, you can see his features better. Dusty brown hair that shines a bit, one side exposed and cut shorter than the other, which has bangs that hang loose over the side of his face. Metal bars line both ears, another near the end of his left brow, and a final more intricate one that loops around the middle of his lip and connects to two long metal chains. You follow the path of those chains with your eyes, watching them trail downwards until they loop around his chest and disappear behind his jacket. It’s just a black turtleneck that he wears underneath the dramatic leather regalia and chains but somehow he makes the garment look expensive. You dare glance a bit lower, just enough to make out the frayed and distressed jeans that cling to his skin like a vice, leaving hints of enticing skin underneath to peek through. You can’t see his feet thanks to the fog, but you can practically hear his footsteps drumming in your ears with the rise and fall of his shoes.

Simply put, you are entranced by the sight of this man — if he can even be called that, because you wouldn’t find yourself at all surprised should he reveal himself to be a demon on the tail end of this encounter. He barely looks up from the floor on his trek to the stage, only stopping when he comes before the mic stand and exhales against it in a way that sends shivers down your spine. It’s hardly reasonable for any creature to hold your attention in the palm of his hand the way this one does, but there is no chance of you looking away now, especially as his voice begins to drawl through the microphone and coat your ears like honey. There are words, you recognize enough in the music to know that it should be a song you’re familiar with, but none of them truly process in your daze.

It’s all you can do to just sit there and watch his performance. Between the gentle sways of his shoulders and hips, the teasing drag of his tongue over his lower lip whenever there is a break in his lyrics, and the overall intoxicating nature his aura exudes, you are hooked on every breath he takes. You don’t realize how relaxed your body has become under his spell until it’s too late, and that happens to be the last note of the song as well. It is accentuated with the drop of the glass in your hand and a sharp shatter of the cup against the floor. And just as you inhale a startled gasp and break out of your reverie, his deep crimson eyes flicker over to find yours across the bar. Those twisting lips churn something ugly in your gut. You can’t find the strength in your body to move.

“Mine.”

Your heart leaps in your chest as the word leaves his lips, and while you can’t hear it grate against your ears, you can clearly read his lips enough to know what he’s saying.

His eyes glint a bit in the darkness. It shouldn’t leave you wanting more, but that bitter taste of curiosity is nipping at the back of your throat, and you are far too intrigued to turn back now. You just want more. If he seems to understand that at all from the gleam in your eyes, he makes good on it, stepping off the stage and letting his hand drag over the mic in a way that is almost tantalizing. Step after step, he comes closer to you with his lips still curled into a smirk, and the way the lights hit him makes him seem to glisten and glow in the darkness. You don’t realize you’ve been holding your breath until he breaches your personal space and you release a shaky exhale that seems to fog in the air between you. He stretches a hand out to close the space between your bodies and curls his index finger under your chin. The touch is simultaneously hot and cold — your whole body seems to light on fire under it, yet at the same time, the chill in your bones deepens to an alarming degree.

“What is it you desire above all other things?” You can hear him now, loud and clear, and whilst you heard his singing beforehand, the simple rasp and lilt to his regular tone is something that has you unashamedly weak in the knees. “I can give you everything,” he whispers as he presses closer to you. Your knees brush against his form but he keeps on pushing forward until he’s slotted himself between them. The chain hanging from his lips rattles like a chime, singing its unknown song like church bells in the night, although you are far from God and heaven now. “All you need to do is ask.”

You cling to some semblance of reason while you can, knowing full well that it will all leave you soon enough, but for now, it lets you choke out a single statement that has the demon before you laughing under his breath.

“That’s not how it works.”

“And who are you to tell me how it works?” His finger curls a bit harder at your chin, and you can feel the blunt of his nail scraping over your skin. Your eyes are glued to his, so enamored and consumed that you can’t even think to look anywhere else.

In that moment, it is as though the universe is nothing but a speck of dust in the corner of your vision. Something so raw and whole like the man standing before you is all-powerful and vigilant in a way that has every nerve in your body at full attention, ready for whatever his next step might be. And that turns out to be quite the curveball as it seems because he leans closer to you, breath intermingling with yours, and you subconsciously curve your back into his touch to reach him closer. Still, even though you physically show how ready and desperate for the touch you are, he waits and glances over your features.

“What is it you desire from me, human?”

You have to vehemently restrain yourself from simply saying ‘you’ and getting on with it.

“Your name.”

“Is that all you would have from me?” As a demon, it is his life’s work to know the inner-workings of the festering desires of humans. You have no doubt in your mind that he knows exactly what is it you want, even if you are not sure of it yourself, and you do not doubt that he won’t use that to his advantage either. But that’s what you asked for in coming here, and that is exactly what you both expected and wanted out of this.

Perhaps it is shameful, but just for once, you wanted to surrender control. Too often are you asked to have everything set out and planned and under control, and too often do you find yourself wanting someone to just tell you what it is you should do. That could be why the bartender labeled you as ‘uncertain’ because even in this moment of vulnerability, there is still the thinnest thread of thought tethering you to that control. And as of now, you want nothing more than for this demon before you to break that thread.

“I would have your name before I asked for anything else from you. Calling you demon over and over would certainly wear out its welcome, no?”

“That all depends on the context, my dear. But… you can call me Hongjoong, if that’s suitable to your tongue.”

“Hongjoong,” you try, testing the way the name rolls off your tongue in such a delicate manner that the demon before you flutters his lashes a bit.

“Sounds so pretty coming from lips so innocent.” He tilts his head to the side, and the movement flashes the pretty expanse of skin below his jaw. You aren’t shy in the way you let your gaze slip over it before trailing back up to meet his eyes again. “Would you close your eyes for me, doll?” He doesn’t have to ask. He could just make you do so with no resistance but still, he asks as though you could say no if you wanted to. You don’t though, and as such, your eyelids fall shut and your vision turns to black for the time being. “Do you know who I am?”

“Th-The bartender called you the King.”

“And do you understand what that means? Truly understand with every fiber of your being?” The question is heavy on your bones, and it is one that you feel like you should know the answer to yet you can’t find any response to his inquiry. Perhaps he means to confuse you because you hear the soft huff of a laugh fall from his lips. “King of the Underworld, Lord of the Dead. Some would call me Pluto, others Hades, it varies from religion to religion and in every culture. Sometimes I pick up rather banal and common names, other times I find myself seeking something extravagant and luxurious. Now… Hongjoong will be a good middle-ground for us.”

You should be falling to the floor in absolute shock due to his words, but the steady finger under your chin keeps you steady. That and the growing fear in your gut as you come to realize that this man holds so much power in just his pinky finger and could absolutely crush you under his heel whenever he wishes. What are you to a god besides an insignificant fleck of dust on the pavement?

“And what of your appearance? Is that… manifested as well?” You dare to ask.

“I have many faces, yes, but this one is one I wear boldly and frequently. You could say it is my natural form. After so many millennia of fantastical myths and legends, however, I’m sure that would seem odd to you.”

“Are you truly a demon then?”

“King of demons, yes. Whether I am truly a demon myself is something that could be ambiguous, I suppose, but if they are all part of my creations, then would that not make me one myself? Though you could say they are all fragments of my own being, making them all mythical gods. It’s all a matter of perspective; however, I doubt that you came searching this place for a lesson on perspectives.”

“No, I came for…” You trail off, and that blossoming uncertainty from before presents itself again.

“There are two things your heart wants right now. One, I can give you with ease and grace, only if you would allow it. That desire is a fleeting one, however, and I do not think it is what you are truly after in being here. The second… that is a wish I cannot deliver, and I think you are more than aware of that. The reason everyone left you to me is because of what you want. It is a domain only I could ever touch.”

You blink your eyes open in haste, searching his deep crimson gaze for some sort of confirmation of the words. The demon dares to look forlorn and lets his stare drop to the floor rather than looking you directly in the eye. Confusion blossoms in your gut. Yes, you figured there was a slim chance that your wish could not be granted, but still you clung to the desperate hope that maybe there was just a small window of opportunity for such a wish to be granted.

“Death is irreversible,” the demon, Hongjoong as he wishes to be called, says in a quiet tone. “I cannot give that which you want more than anything else.”

“Then what can you give?” You ask, squeezing your eyes shut as tight as possible to keep your emotions from slipping out the corners.

“One of two things: I can give you time to speak with him once more or I can make you forget the pain.”

“And if I choose the latter?”

“It would make you forget everything about him and leave you with no memory of him at all.” Hongjoong exhales a small sigh, the bouncing rhythms of the bass rumbling against your ears along with the sounds of his breaths. “You need not decide right this instant. The payment will be the same either way, so we can settle that first if you’d like.”

“W-Wait,” you stammer. You dare to open your eyes once more. “How would I be able to speak to him if you can’t bring him back?”

“I cannot bring him back the way you want. He… he is gone, and though I am the King of the Dead, there are powers even I do not have. Bringing him back to life is impossible, but I can create a doorway for the two of you to speak through for a short period of time. I have no control over how long it would be, just a forewarning. That is all up to him and his willingness to see you.”

“I can’t imagine he wouldn’t want to see me,” you murmur, but the pang in your chest tells you otherwise.

“Sometimes, death and the underworld change fundamental parts of people. They are no longer alive, after all, and as such, those human vices and personality traits dissipate. How you knew him in life could be vastly different than the spirit who now resides in my domain. It is all a matter of weighing risks, my dear. What matters most to you? Remembering him or him remembering you?”

“So if I ask to see him, I would remember him but there’s a chance that he would have no recollection of me? And should I ask to forget, there will be no way of knowing whether he remembers me in the afterlife or not?”

“Precisely.”

That is a hefty bargain to weigh. It is almost too much for your shoulders just to think about it. One is starkly more selfish than the other, but if he’s dead, what good will selflessness do you? It won’t bring him back, that’s for sure. Either you are left with the painful realization that he does not have any memory of you in the afterlife, or you forget it all to avoid that pain. Maybe thinking about the payment before deciding would be a good idea after all.

“As for the payment? How many years do I owe you?” Demons have no use for human currency or trinkets that could be traded for favors. You can barter the only thing you have — years of life. Whether it shortens your lifespan or turns you into a personal slave for a certain amount of time, that is a price you must be willing to pay for such services. You are more than prepared to barter it all off right now if need be.

“None,” Hongjoong answers coolly, and you quirk a brow upwards at the nonchalance in his tone. “I do not deal in years of life. Not often, at least. My abilities are bound in… passion. Lovemaking, fornication, sex, fucking – whatever you wish to call it. Of course, it wouldn’t have to be that exactly, should you not desire that. The other option is a blood pact, a ritual that would take hours to complete, although both could take quite some time depending on your stamina.” There’s a breath of silence that allows Hongjoong’s lips to twist into a suggestive grin, and heat brushes the base of your neck as you fight off waves of embarrassment. “I cannot guarantee that the blood pact would be painless. With sex, I could at least provide some comfort that the pain would only be temporary; however, the choice is yours. Both are binding and would mean that you could never make a deal with another demon again, and you would be marked as mine for eternity.”

“What does being yours entail?”

“Nothing diabolical or unsavory, I promise. Just… when the time comes for you to pass on and join the Underworld, you would take a place at my side.”

“How many people have you laid claim to? Did they all agree to the same terms? How can I trust your word?” The questions tumble from your lips without relent.

“For what you desire, the cost is far less than what I would usually ask for. Those lucky enough to deal with me in the past paid less for their debts. The blood pact… the fornication… both are binding elements. The real cost is your service. Most have agreed to give me their servitude in the afterlife, all with their own places in my domain. That is what you would be offering as well. You will live just as long as you would without making this deal but make up for it after your death.”

“And that’s it?”

Hongjoong’s eyes twinkle a bit under the lights above your heads.

“What did you expect from me, doll? Savagery? Unfairness? Everyone deserves a fair price for what they want, regardless of station in life or status in society.”

“Deal,” you utter without any more hesitation, blinking up into Hongjoong’s dark orbs. There lies a lingering sense of regret in your gut, one that you cannot chase away no matter how hard you try, but you do not need to dwell on it any longer.

“And how would you like to bind our deal, my dear? Neither can be handled immediately. The blood pact requires special preparations for the ritual, but the other — I would not have you in such a place as dirty as this.”

“I-I, um, sex will work just fine,” you bite out, the skin of your cheek caught between your teeth.

“Then when the time comes that you are ready with your decision on what it is you truly want, all you need to do is take this—” Hongjoong retracts his hand from where it rests gently against the column of your throat and digs into one of his pockets. He pulls out a gilded card, one that is black and gold with flecks of red across the surface, but there are no other adornments to the material. “Tear it in half and it will bring you to our meeting place, and I will join you there to seal the deal. Should you decide that you do not want this after all, then all you need to do is burn the card. The decision lies in your hands, and yours alone.” He has to lift one of your limp hands and forcefully place the card into your waiting palm, closing his fingers around yours to make you cling to the item.

“I – th-thank you,” you stammer as you blink from your closed hand to Hongjoong’s features.

“The pleasure is all mine, doll.”

Those are the last words you hear from the demon before he slips away from you, the dense fog lingering in the air swirling up around his body, and within moments, his shadowy form disappears entirely from sight. The air grows cold around you once more. You are left with only the fleeting desire for that warmth to return, for you to feel less alone than you are in that moment, and even if it’s the briefest visit ever you just want one last chance to tell your lost lover how you feel without mistakes this time.

///

The night, as per usual, is cold and unforgiving. It allows for too many opportunities to be alone with lost feelings and thoughts. It has been weeks (if not months) since you visited that dingy club and your fateful meeting with none other than the King of the Dead. Yet you are still here, wallowing in the memories that you’ve been left to suffer with alone, and the gilded black card sits in your nightstand untouched. You open the drawer just to stare at it from time to time, when the nights are particularly rough, and it already had begun collecting a thin layer of dust the last few times you looked at it.

It isn’t that you haven’t made your decision about what you want from your deal with Hongjoong. The more terrifying fact is that you are fully aware of what it is you want, and you simply cannot rectify the guilt that comes along with the pure selfishness of your decision. The feeling is so potent that it swarms your every thought. You know it wouldn’t be an issue once you meet with Hongjoong; the demon will take it all away and leave you with nothing. You won’t even know enough to be guilty any longer, but the pain of committing to the decision is strong enough to make you sick to your stomach.

Wooyoung — the one who suggested you go to the club and make the deal in the first place — will not shut up about how worried he is about you. You won’t recall the deal or why you made it, so what’s holding you back? A temporary guilt that won’t exist longer than a few seconds once you’re actually in Hongjoong’s presence? As he said, you just need to swallow the feeling and get on with it. Prolonging the regrets any longer won’t do you any good.

You huff out a quiet laugh in the silence of your darkened room. The black gilded card taunts you again now, gleaming up at you through the shadows with its faint hints of gold and red. Maybe Wooyoung is right and the only way to get rid of missed opportunities is to forget about them entirely. Yeosang was but a chapter in your life, one that is past and gone now, and as Hongjoong said, there is no reversing death. Seeing him one last time won’t give you anything but pain.

You stretch a shaky hand towards the card in the drawer. It’s cold to the touch, dust billowing up with even the slightest touch of your fingers. You have to dig your nail under the material to pull it up, and once it’s safely set in your palm, you drag your thumb over the surface to brush the dirt away. No words on the surface, no sign that it has been touched by a demon, and not even a hint as to what it could possibly be for.

It is surprisingly flexible, at least moreso than you would have imagined, and you give it a few testing bends to see how easy it would be to break. Hongjoong simply gave you the instruction to tear it in half and that was all. You don’t expect him to suddenly materialize before you on a whim, but surely such a creation is bound by some sort of magic on his part. It is hard enough to believe that demons are real living creatures, but magic as well? Maybe you’ve passed on and just don’t realize it yet. Still, you exhale one last huff of air into the darkness before letting your eyes flutter shut. Taking the card between your hands, you begin to slowly rip the material until it separates with the force, torn in two mismatched pieces.

Nothing fantastical happens.

That fact alone is so overwhelmingly disappointing that you really think for a moment that Hongjoong was just some goth rocker in a stoner bar who pulled an elaborate trick on you. It can’t be too difficult to get your hands on some weird red-toned contacts and weave some elaborate story about being the King of Hell. You could do that yourself. Why did you think he was incapable of such a charade?

Because he knew what you wanted without you having to say it.

Yes, well, Wooyoung claimed that your regrets and grief were evident in your features every time he looked at you. Maybe Hongjoong could see it as well.

You fall back onto your bed, flattening your back against the mattress with a small shout of frustration. The urge to cry is strong; if you’ve spent all these weeks uselessly worrying over something that could all be a farce, you don’t even know how you would react. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, blinking away the tears that blossom in the corners there as best you can. The rolling emotions in your system distract you from the sudden shift in temperature, and before you know it heat washes over you and fills the void of cold in your body. You jerk but refuse to sit up quite yet, eyes flying open in your shock only to choke on air as a bright golden light fills your vision and swarms you with warmth. The cushion under your body doesn’t feel the same either; it is not your bed, it’s too plush and soft, too warm under you, and you feel like you are absolutely drowning in the sensation.

Gold flickers above you, twinkling lights that glisten like small stars above you, and the ceiling is so dark that you nearly think it’s just an opening to the night sky. You sit up in a mad panic. The gold and red decorations littering the far too lavish room barely process in your vision as you look for a way out, and you don’t even see the figure coming up along your side until he’s upon you. A hand stretches out to brush over your forehead. You nearly shriek in your state of terror, but the sound is all but stolen from your lungs instead.

“It’s only me, doll. You’re safe.”

Hongjoong. Ah, Hongjoong. Then… he was telling the truth. It wasn’t a farce or a deception meant to be a game. He claimed to be the Devil Incarnate, and here he stands before you in a room too rich and exquisite for words. You can’t find it in you to think he’s lying now.

You dare to glance up and meet his gaze, finding it so soft on your face that you have the audacity to blush under his stare despite the things you’ll be doing with him soon enough.

“Have you made your decision then?” He asks, tone soft and light. It isn’t one that demands an immediate answer. You know he could ask what took you so long to decide, complain about your hesitance, say that you kept him waiting for far too long — instead, he exudes patience with you, hand slowly combing over your forehead down to your cheek and brushing over the skin there with a touch so featherlight that you almost don’t realize it’s there at all.

“I-I have,” you whisper like the two of you aren’t the only ones in the room and it’s a secret meant only for your ears.

“What would you have from me first then? As I told you before, the payment is the same regardless of your decision, and as such, we can bind the deal first if you’d rather.”

You swallow around nothing. There is no harm in going through with the decision now, but your nerves are so frazzled and out of sorts that you almost desire the sex simply as a means of stress relief. Hongjoong steps in front of you, fully coming into view, and you are shocked at how… mundane he looks. You blink fervently at the man — demon, rather — and take in the gentle part of his hair, the soft glow of his skin that makes him look simply ethereal under this light. He hardly looks like a demon to you; his features are too smooth and perfect for that, from the curves of his lips to the even line of his nose. Although you suppose that’s all he wants you to see, yet it still seems oddly intimate to a certain degree.

“You aren’t worried that I’ll try to run away after my wish is fulfilled?” You ask. Hongjoong arches his brows at you, and his neutral expression slips into one of momentary shock.

“Where are you going to go, my dear? I brought you to this place, and you will need me to send you back once we’re done here.”

It sinks in at that moment how you are completely at his mercy right now. Not that you had any plans of running away, but the question was moreso just to test the waters, see if he is truly as merciful as his features make him out to be. The underlying danger in his tone proves your point and sends a chill down your spine.

“Is that something I ought to be worried about, doll? Should I claim you now to make sure you keep your end of the bargain?” The question sits on your ear like warm honey. It chokes you, fills your senses with Hongjoong’s scent, and you almost find yourself leaning into his curling lips before catching yourself. That seems to pique his interest in the very least, and his smile twists a bit more. “The decision is in your hands as always. I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to do.”

“Permission granted,” you mutter before catching a hand on Hongjoong’s collar. “Do it all.” You aren’t too worried about damaging his clothes as he’s not wearing anything drastically fancy or expensive-looking, and thus you twist your fist into a ball around the fabric of his black tee and yank him down to your height. He bends at the waist, hands catching on the mattress before his forehead can smack hard against yours. There’s a bit of tension in his neck, and that keeps him far enough back so that he doesn’t kiss you quite yet. It’s almost as though he is waiting for something else, eyes carefully tracing your features with great care before he settles on your lips, and a sharp inhale of breath follows before that thin line in his composure snaps.

His lips hit yours with a surprising amount of force, and the kiss isn’t at all what you were expecting — well, to be more accurate, you aren’t quite sure what you were expecting in the first place. It’s much more pleasant than you could have imagined though, and Hongjoong isn’t shy with the touch at all. His tongue is quick to swipe over your lower lip, hands darting upwards to brush over your sides before reaching your face, and he brings a knee down on the mattress to support his weight as he leans over you. You follow the motion when he pushes forward and lean back until you have no choice but to scoot back on the bed. Hongjoong moves with you with the same amount of fervor, still pressed to your lips without relent, and you don’t even think to stop as he completely drapes himself over your body, knees still up and supporting his weight. The cushion of the mattress dips by your head, a telltale sign that he’s placed his hands there, and you use that as your opportunity to stop for air. Hongjoong surely has no need to breathe like you do since he is undead, but he still pants above you, chest heaving as a pretty flush rises to his cheeks.

“Putting that much power in a demon’s hands is dangerous, is it not?” He mutters. You let your lashes flutter shut as he moves back to your lips, hot breath ghosting over your skin. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’ll tell you if it’s something I don’t like,” you murmur, opening an eye to peek at him. He meets your gaze with a soft laugh, but your answer seems to please him enough to bring his attention back to your lips. You inhale as his tongue breaches your mouth and pushes into the wet cavern inside. There’s no chance for you to fight back for any sort of dominance because he only thrusts deeper and coats the inside of your mouth with his taste until you can feel his tongue brushing over your palate. A quiet moan reverberates through your throat and against his lips. You feel the barest hint of a smile in the kiss, then his lips are suddenly gone from yours. You gasp for air with the freedom. Heat pools in the depths of your gut, a pleasant one that leaves you wanting more, and you aren’t sure if it’s simply been so long since you last had sex or if Hongjoong truly has that effect on you.

He returns to touching your body a moment later, hands trailing to the row of buttons on your nightshirt, and one by one, he pulls them apart until the material is barely clinging to your skin. His lips replace his fingers then. First at your jaw placing a wet trail of kisses and soft nips that leave you with goosebumps. Then he reaches the midpoint of your sternum and rests the flat of his tongue there, tasting and teasing your skin until you can do nothing but writhe under him because he is taking so damn long. Your impatience is laughable to him, as evidenced by the quiet huff of air that leaves him next.

“I want to taste every inch of you,” he mumbles against the skin of your stomach, hands pulling your nightshirt away to expose more of the skin underneath. He makes good on his words, and that damn tongue traces lower and lower until he reaches the band of your pants and underwear. You instinctively dart a hand down to tangle in his hair. “F-Fuck.” The curse slips out when you give an accidental tug to the hair close to his nape, and you nearly think that you’ve hurt him in some manner until you catch sight of the blissed-out expression on his features.

“D-Do you — can I…?”

“Do it harder while I eat you out,” he growls. His fingers close hard around the remainders of your close, and you don’t even have time to nod before he’s yanking both your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop. It leaves you more than a little exposed — you’re suddenly nearly nude before the demon who is still fully clothed, and that realization draws your thighs tight together in a sudden rush of embarrassment. You swallow hard around nothing, eyes darting away from Hongjoong’s prying gaze.

All of a sudden, he shrugs your hand off his hair and sits back on his heels. You don’t understand what his reasoning is until you settle your eyes back on his body. He’s leaned back to start stripping layers of clothes off in a rush, hands fumbling and struggling to pull them away in an orderly manner. There is no composure to his actions, only a hastened fervor that has him tossing his shoes far from the bed along with random articles of clothes until he’s laid fully bare before you. You really try your hardest not to glance down at his… you know, but the urge is overwhelming. Before you can even catch a glimpse, however, Hongjoong is on you again, hands latched around your thighs and pulling you to the edge of the bed as he kneels before you on the floor. The sudden movement has you squealing in surprise, and that noise is broken off into a startled moan when Hongjoong’s lips brush through your folds without warning.

“O-Oh god,” you gasp out. Hongjoong’s tongue gives a long and dragging pull through your heat, teasing some of the juices out of you with little restraint.

“Far from it actually,” he replies against your clit. A cheeky grin eats away at his features, but it quickly disappears as he returns his focus to your cunt. Your hand finds its way back down to his hair once more and tugs hard at the strands. Each tweak of his tongue through your folds has your legs jerking a bit, and he has to tighten his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving so much under his touch.

“I’m not — I w-won’t last, pl-please, I–” You can’t even finish the sentence as Hongjoong flicks the tip of his tongue right over your clit and cuts you off. He repeats that same motion, again and again, brings you right to the precipice of an orgasm only to tear you back down from it with soft kisses pressed to the outside of your folds. You can’t keep track of how many times he repeats that process, but it is more than enough to have you shaking from exhaustion and desperation even though you haven’t even been able to come yet.

“Are you going to beg for it, doll?” Hongjoong hums after what feels like hours of pleasurable torture. “I promised to make you feel good, did I not? You just have to tell me what you want.” His words are so taunting that it burns you with embarrassment. The need for that orgasm hangs on every nerve ending of your body, and you could cry just out of the need to come.

“Please,” you whisper in a tone broken from constant moans and cries.

“Be more specific.” It’s so cruel. He dangles the promise of pleasure before your eyes again, this time nipping ever so gently at your bud, and you really do cry this time, fingers digging harshly on his scalp. That draws a prolonged growl from his lips, and it reverberates against you so nicely that you could come from that. Hongjoong pulls his head back too soon though and the sensation is dashed away.

“N-No, no, please. P-Please, Hongjoong, I — please let me come. I need it, I need it so badly. Shit, just – just please let me come,” you wail as tears slip out the corners of your eyes and spill onto the sheets under you. That’s the breaking point for him as well, or so it would seem, because the next time his mouth brushes through your cunt, he doesn’t relent. You come undone on his tongue, riding out the waves of your intense orgasm as he fucks his wet muscle into your heat. He won’t stop chuckling either — a low noise that just prolongs the pleasure and makes you quiver from overstimulation. He doesn’t let up until a dry and choked sob pushes past your lips.

Suddenly he is back up on the bed, bent over your body to be eye to eye with you. His fingers trace over your wet cheeks then clasp hard around your jaw.

“Too much?”

“N-No,” you stammer through the wet cries. “So good. So so good.”

“Mm, can you take my cock too, doll?” He all but purrs the words against your skin. His soft and trailing kisses return to your skin, peppering the line of your jaw just past his fingers.

“Yes, please, I c-can. Please. I want i-it all.” You never thought you could sound so overwhelmingly desperate, but the tumbling sensation that swerves through your stomach as Hongjoong’s demeanor shifts has you falling into absolute shambles. He shifts your position, pushing you up higher to rest against the pillows, and you start to drape your legs around his waist. That must not be the position he had in mind though, because his hand clamps down hard on one of your calves and pushes it to the top of his shoulder. Before you can even blink, he does the same with your other leg, effectively folding you in half and into a position you weren’t even aware that your body was capable of. That shock is momentary as you feel the tip of what must his cock rubbing over your pulsating hole. You can’t do anything but ball your fists around the sheets under you and cling to them like a vice. It’s the only thing that can prepare you for his girth; the stretch may not be as much as you thought it would be, but it still stings like a bitch even after he bottoms out in you. That pain must be showing on your features – in the way your brows are tightly knit together and your eyes are screwed shut so that excess tears from earlier slip out.

The soft caress of lips touches your forehead. It’s so gentle and delicate that you nearly miss it in your efforts to grow used to the sensation between your legs, but Hongjoong repeats it time and time again until your breathing steadies and your chest stops heaving as much. It’s only then that he dares to resituate his hips. You crack an eye open to look at him, and it’s abundantly clear that he’s trying his hardest to hold back and keep from fucking into you with reckless abandon.

“I’m okay now,” you whisper, pulling a hand off the bedsheets to brush some loose strands of hair out of Hongjoong’s vision. “Please fuck me as hard as you’d like.” You snake the same hand around the back of his neck. When he still doesn’t move, you offer a sharp tug to the hair that falls over his sweat-slick nape, and that spurs him into action. His hips snap roughly against yours, pushing your back further into the crude curve it’s already in. Now that the dull throbbing pain has dissolved into a sensation of pleasure, you drown yourself in the drag of his member inside you. It’s quite possibly the best feeling you’ve had all night with the way his tip rubs over your bundle of nerves at just the right angle.

Hongjoong drops his elbows to the pillow under your head, and you greet him with a kiss that is mostly just an awkward clash of teeth for the most part. He gains enough composure to shift the angle to one that’s easier for both of you, hips still working hard as he rocks into you with the same force and speed as before. You are so lost in the euphoria that you can’t even feel your next orgasm sneaking up on you, but when it does, it pulls a noiseless scream from your lips. Hongjoong mouths at the corner of your lips as you ride it out. He still seems far off from his own high, even as he slows the pulses of his thrusts. You claw your way back from the high of your orgasm to grip his hair tighter and pull him closer to you.

“In me. I need you to come in me or not at all,” you demand through a huffed out sigh. It’s a moment of throwing caution to the wind, one that is quite worth it thanks to the expression of hunger and lust that fills Hongjoong’s face.

“You can’t just say things like that, doll,” he growls into the shell of your ear. You try to laugh but he interrupts you with a thrust harsher than any of the ones before. Every sound that falls from your lips now is stuttered and broken at the seams, and you let him fuck you with that same level of passion until he finally seems to tire and lose his rhythm. The only warning you have that he’s about to orgasm is the slight whine to his tone when he moans next. You push what strength you have left into clenching hard around his cock, and that is ultimately what tips him over the edge and pulls a delightful moan from his lips as he spills into your tight heat. He releases his hold on your legs, letting them slip away from his shoulders and back into a more comfortable position on the bed, but he refuses to move off your body.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay like that: with Hongjoong continually mouthing small kisses to the underside of your jaw and you just staring blankly at the glittering ceiling with a mind nearly empty. However much time passes doesn’t quite matter because once you recover your senses enough to be coherent again, you recall what is supposed to come next. Shaky hands find their way to Hongjoong’s arms and trail up to rest atop his back.

“Take it all away,” you exhale through a pant, hands clinging desperately to the milky skin of Hongjoong’s shoulders. “I don’t want to remember him anymore.” His chest heaves against yours, and a few loose strands of dark hair fall forward to stick to his sweat-slick forehead. This time when he kisses you, it is hot and searing, a brand against your lips, one that burns the inside of your mouth and sets your tongue alight. The sensation slips down the back of your throat, fills your gut, burns you from the inside out, and all your thoughts go hazy under the touch of his lips. With that one kiss, Hongjoong takes it all away. He gives into your desires, heeds your wishes, and grants you the ultimate peace and serenity you so deeply craved. He continues to cling to you like he’s never held something so desperately or lost in his infinite existence. You return the embrace in full while you can, strength already leaving you in the afterglow of your fornication, and you rake your nails down over his back if only to leave him with some sort of trophy to leave with. He is already leaving with your memories though, a trophy to hold close to his heart should there ever be a time when you ask for them to be returned to you. Perhaps in your afterlife, you’ll ask for them back, and Hongjoong would gladly give them should it be what you desire.

That is what he is, after all. As much as he takes, the Demon King of the Underworld gives in return, where he can with what he can. His duty, his bond, the sole purpose for his existence is to maintain that balance between giving and taking. But if it’s for you — a creature so lost, dismal, and hopeless — perhaps he can tip the scales a bit further in your direction.

At least, that’s what he thinks as you curve your body into his and press your lips with more fervor than before. That maybe, just maybe, endless years of his own hopelessness and confusion were all meant to lead him to finding this: a purpose in his undying life.

﹎﹎﹎

#atzinc #kdiarynet #kwritersworldnet #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez angst #ateez imagine #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez scenarios #hongjoong smut #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong angst #hongjoong imagine #hongjoong imagines #hongjoong oneshot #hongjoong scenarios

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sparkledfirecracker · 3 years

Text

Deeds For The Big Screen

I see writing as a form of creative artwork with everyone having its own liking or preference to it.

Do not interact if you are uncomfortable with any of the given warnings or if you are a minor.

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, proceed to read with care. Warnings have been up and mentioned, if I missed any please feel free to let me know.

Warnings: 18+, explicit sexual content, explicit language, sexwork, porn industry, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, oral receiving (f), swearing

Rating: explicit

Pairing: Ari Levinson x Female Reader

Summary: You’re taking power into your hands when your actors don’t seem to do their job and are wasting expensive production time.

Word count: 3006

A/N: This might be a little rusty, I haven’t done this in a while, but some creators have inspired me to pick up writing again! Fairly new to Tumblr, despite having an account for years and having done zero with it. Apparently me dreaming about different story ideas has become a thing now. So bear with me here. As said; if I missed any warnings please feel free to let me know.

@punani ’s ‘The Fluffer’ was inspiration for the chosen work field. So thank you for writing that magnificent piece.

English is not my native language; my grammar mistakes are purely my own. Constructive criticism is allowed and appreciated, I won’t bite unless you’re being rude.

I do not consent to have my work copied, reposted or translated on any other platform. Reposts on any given platform have been reposted without my permission or consent. By reading this, you agree that you are at least 18 years old!!!

Please do feel free to comment, like or reblog.

ENJOY!!!

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Deeds For The Big Screen

Irritation bubbling underneath your annoyed expression, your lips tightly pressed together. Fingernails tapping aggressively on the armrests of your director’s chair. Your legs crossed, bouncing with frustration at the sight in front of you. It seemed liked the actors onsite were on a mission to make everyone’s life on set hell. Your hands grabbing the armrests your knuckles white from the intense grip of the edges of your chair.

You were a visionaire, adultery was your passion, you had been in the business for year before starting your own company. Focusing on the female friendlier porn demand had paid of well for you, your company was your pride and you thrived on the success. You ran a tight ship, time was money and currently both actors were wasting every second of it. The current creative project was not being envisioned at all. It had been meticulously drawn out on a storyboard, it seemed like everything that had been discussed and rehearsed was thrown out the window.

You let out an annoyed huff, it had been hours on end anything between action and cut. Your million-dollar superstar was propped on his elbows towering over the fragile body underneath him. His hips franticly pumping in and out of the actress underneath him, who was clawing her nails into his skin desperately. Was he really the problem or was it the useless woman caged underneath him. Her super loud moans that probably could be heard at the other side of the world and the quantity of clawing at his skin.

“CUT!!!” you yelled and everyone in the production stopped, heavy sighs heard across the studio. Your hands rubbed your face slightly not wanting to yell or lose control of the raging thoughts running through your mind.

“What’s wrong this time?” your most prized possession asked, the annoyance clearly dripping of his tone. He stood up facing you, his hands falling to his hips, sticking out his chest while his thick muscle stood proud against his pelvis. You couldn’t help but take in the sight, his cock was red and he was painfully hard. You licked your lips and took in a deep breath, trying to refocus on your thoughts.

“Alright let me make myself very clear here. The crew is TIRED and I am tired of fucking repeating myself” you took another deep breath as you felt anger rising “was I not clear enough when we had a table read yesterday and when we rehearsed this morning?” your eyes switching between the actors. No response “An answer would be nice, because that storyboard on the wall contains every movement of where body parts go during every fucking scene”

“Get the fuck out Y/N, you know storyboards only contains the major outlines of a grand story being told, it is different when you are pumping in and out of a body you know. You don’t always get to choose where a hand, leg or cock lands”

“Ari, we are in the god forsaken porn industry, that thick throbbing dick better end up in the fucking dripping vagina, between her lips or even in that nice and tight puckered hole” you could hear a few supressed snickers from the crew. Ari just kept staring you down “Right now all I see is stiffness, no passion, no fire and absolutely nothing that was on the fucking board or script”

“Whatever Y/N” Ari huffed, you rolled your eyes breaking the tension that was clearly building between you and Ari. You turned your gaze to Edie, who just sat there uncomfortably.

“Edie, can you just tone down on the moans, I know this is your first gig and a step up from the amateur adultery films you have done, but we are not in the cheap kind of porn. This is exclusive, sensual and soft sex. We make porn for the ladies and if it happens that men love it too so be it-” you clapped your hands together trying to get through to the actors in front of you “Also ease up on your facial expressions too they are just too much and stop clawing at Ari, we are not feral wolves in the outskirts of woodsy valley…” you pointed at her, the hostility evident in your voice, she just nodded your way she almost looked too scared to speak. Your attention turned to Ari, just by looking at him you knew he wouldn’t be able to take a lot more of your antics “-And for you mister, I need more open posture. We want to see those muscles work underneath that toned skin of yours. Flex them a little, you want the person watching this to drool from their mouths while their vaginas or arseholes are begging for your majestic cock. Yes, we can do this all rough and tough, but with this project we want fire, passion and mind-blowing sex. Understood?”

Both pornstars nodded your way and you sat back down in your chair. The actors taking their spots again, you raised your hand, cues being called across the room.

“ACTION!” Edie tried her utter best to contain her excessive sounds, but she looked like she was about to take a dump “CUT!”

“Y/N, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Ari yelled, jumping of the small platform, grabbing his robe from the floor, storming your way while putting on his robe, you got off your chair.

“Is it really that hard to do what I am asking? Edie you look like you are about to take a dump right in front of the camera” you lost control of the anger that had been boiling inside of you. Ari bumped into you, almost knocking you down, it must have been on purpose as you could sense his anger “where the fuck do you think you are going?” he spun on his heels

“I have been edged for hours on end, I need some form of release and it looks like our director is not going to let us get any release for a few more hours” Ari spat your way

“GET BACK HERE!!” you definitely lost control, watching Ari on a mission to march out of the studio “ARI I SAID GET BACK HERE”

“I AM NOT YOUR FUCKING A DOG!!!”

“YOU ARE MY FUCKING TOP DOLLAR DOG, SO YOU BETTER GET THE FUCK BACK BEFORE I FIRE YOU MYSELF” it was true, Ari was your million-dollar star, your company couldn’t have grown without him. He had been there from the beginning, you had him to thank for the success of your company and in return he had you to thank for his stardom.

Your words had made Ari stop in his tracks and turn around, the temperature in the room increasing quickly. You had started to doubt if the room had been that hot the entire time or if it was the arousal creeping through your veins caused by Ari’s deep angered gaze.

He charged your way his finger pointing at you and his mouth was moving, but your hearing seemed to have vanished. You contemplated if you should just show them what you meant or just call it a day. Things were getting heated and the crew was already exhausted enough. Your thoughts interrupted as your mouth started to speak.

“Do I really have to do everything around here?” you muttered under your breath “Edie get off the sunbed and put your robe on” she complied to your order, getting of the stage and putting on her silk robe. You took a moment to analyse your thought, to see if the voice inside your head would protest of what you were contemplating. Nothing came to mind, so instead you unbuttoned your sundress quickly before regretting your decision “Last attempt to film this guys, start rolling. Ari off with the robe, we start from the beginning. Edie take notes” you ordered around the room. Your sundress and underwear falling off your frame piling up next to your director’s chair.

“What are you doing baby girl?” Ari whispered in your ear as you walked backwards his hands holding your hips guiding you towards the double sunbed. His anger seemed to have disappeared and replaced with intrigue.

“Showing you what I want, but mostly taking what I need right now” you replied, he quirked an eyebrow, a smirk plastered on his face in approval “Let’s give them the show they want”

“The show you want” Ari chuckled as he corrected you, before narrowing his eyes a little “The big boss in action, I like it…” Ari whispered as he took in your naked body “I like it a lit” His confident spoken words made you a little insecure, but you hid it well trying to hold your nerves together.

You climbed on the sunbed laying back, your eyes wandered over Ari’s toned chest, his cock aching, your pussy throbbing. You licked your lips and the muscles in your core tightened with the exciting thought of him filling you up to the brim in a matter of minutes, you being at his complete mercy.

“ACTION!” you yelled

Ari crawled on top of you, your hands roamed freely over his arms and chest, his lips crashing on yours briefly before moving on to your neck and your upper torso. Your hands finding their way onto his shoulders, caressing the bare skin. You arched your back at the delight feeling when he sucked on your nipples, a low moan left your lips. Ari’s hands cradling your frame as he peppered kisses further south.

Your eyes following him, he looked back at you through his long lashes as two of his fingers tease your entrance, running gently through your folds. One thing was for sure, you were hot and bothered, all because of the eye candy encaging you in his porn play. He dipped two fingers in your aching core and pumped three times before they stilled inside you. His face coming up to meet yours, his eyes darkened and stole another passionate driven kiss.

His fingers starting pumping you faster earning a few unexpected deep moans. Your lips parting, your lust blown eyes were completely taken by the current moment. Your mind completely forgetting everything was being recorded. Ari’s fingers left your soaking cunt as he lowered his head and settled himself between your legs.

His mouth sucked your clit, you took in a sharp breath. His tongue firmly stroked downward on your slit, enough pressure for a controlled yet obscene moan to escape you. His tongue entered your dripping hole before returning his attention back to your clit. Ari’s fingers rejected as your vaginal muscle had tightened from the attention your clit was receiving. His mouth eased off and he pushed his fingers inside you, your cunt accepting, sucking them in.

The pleasure was almost too much, your hands caressing your upper body finding your breasts. With a feathered touch you rubbed your index fingers over your nipples, biting your bottom lip at the pleasure. Your touch made your nipples erect, the sensation spreading like wildfire through your entire body. Ari increased his pace and your moans and whimpers became more frequent, but in a more wanting and loving way.

Your back started to arch up and you were about to cum, when Ari stopped all his actions. Your eyes shot fully open to protest, but he shushed you by placing two of his fingers in your mouth allowing you a moment to taste yourself before retracting them. You watched him pump his hard cock with his hand, before he gripped your hips as his member slowly pushes down in your sopping cunt.

“Big enough for you princess” Ari grunted as he pushed fully into you.

“Y-Yes” the response was short and simple, your brain not functioning anymore when the pleasure had taken over from the thoughts. His tempo made your eyes roll backwards, your hips meeting his rhythm as he held a firm grasp on your hips helping and guiding you up and down on him. Without warning Ari stopped and flipped you over. A fistful of hair grabbed pulling you back, his grasp wasn’t harsh and only intensified your lustful awakening.

His left arm snaking around your waist finding your right boob, giving it a sinful squeeze, pinching your nipple between his fingers. He held your back close to his chest while his lips sucked pleasure marks on your neck and breathing heavily into your ear, whispering nothing but obscenities to you. Your arms lifted up and your hands fisted his hair, your fingernails scraping his scalp a little. He growled in your ear, you repeated your actions and he gave your hip a single firm squeeze.

His cock slowly being dragged in and out of you, your walls coating his thick veined cock. The squelching noises pulled from the juices being pulled from between your legs. Ari’s hands running freely over your skin setting it on fire. You felt fucked out and your orgasm was building rapidly.

Ari must have felt it as his hips started bucking up into you even faster, making is his mission to finish you. Your moans of sin becoming frequent again, Ari’s wandering hand slid in between your folds, rubbing your clit gently, pushing you even closer to the edge. One of your hands held onto his wrist holding it in the pleasurable place whilst the other placed on the nape of his neck, fingers gripping the hairs at the bottom.

Your orgasm washed over you as Ari let you ride out your high before pulling you off, laying you flat on the double sunbed. As you tried to calm your breathing he straddled you underneath him, pumping his member faster. The white strings of sin faltering out of his cock, you leaned up on your elbows and opened your mouth while he decorated your face and chest.

Licking your lips with his salty cum, you swallowed and stared back at Ari who seemed to enjoy the fucked out sight in front of him. When he had finished squirting his load on you, he cradled your head in his large hands, his thumbs running over your lips before leaning in to steal one last fiery kiss. You separated from the kiss and kept staring each other in the eyes for what felt like hours.

“Happy boss?” Ari questioned still holding your head gently as you nodded your head

“CUT!” you yelled, Ari climbed off of you and helped you up.

“WOW, that was amazing” Edie clapped being stunned by the scene that just had taken place.

“Thanks, hopefully a great lesson for you on what to do next time” you spoke, she smiled widely back at you when you walked towards your chair, picking up your clothes from the floor “Well done everyone, I think we all need a break and we’ll continue with fresh eyes tomorrow” a relieved cheer was heard “I’m off to have a shower, since I have become a Picasso art piece” you started walking towards the dressing room

“Worth millions” Ari spoke after you, you raised your middle finger at him without looking back at him. His loud laughter filled the room.

-----------------------------

You walked out of the building, rolling your eyes at Ari as he leaned against your car, one leg propped up on the tire, his arms folded and a cocky grin beaming back at you.

“There she is, my million dollar star” Ari clapped his hands before raising up his arms slightly and bowing down “I bless the ground you walk on peaches”

“Oh shut it Ari” you felt your cheeks burn, embarrassment bubbling underneath your skin. It was ridiculous, but you felt a little insecure “Hopefully good enough for what I want to get done” you continued walking towards the car, halting in front of Ari.

“Hopefully?” Ari raised an eyebrow “Peaches you were wonderful, you are in my top 3 ‘the best fucking sex I ever had’ so I guess for a retired pornstar you still possess your magic” you shoved him a little and his head fell back letting out a laugh “Don’t be embarrassed, I liked it a lot” his hands found their way on your waist pulling you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you Ari, but can you move out of the way, I want to go home, I am little worn out” “Must be because of my majestic cock” he laughed

“Don’t flatter yourself, it doesn’t suit you” you giggled “Why are you still here, I thought you left a while ago”

“Couldn’t stay away from you peaches, since you performed so well today” Ari wiggled his eyebrows

“Had to show you guys somehow, you were costing me a fortune” you pointed out, opening the car door, tossing your bag on the backseat.

“Would it make a difference if it was done on purpose?” Ari questioned, climbing into the driver’s seat. Your mouth had fallen open from the shock and your brain scrambled for words and phrases to throw Ari’s way. You opened the door on the passenger’s side and got into the seat.

“Are you telling me you put on an entire show so you could get your dick wet on the clock?”

“Had to fuck the brat right out of you somehow” his cocky grin beamed back at you. You knew he was taunting you if it wasn’t for his sunglasses shielding his eyes “You have always been such a perfectionist, so I knew you would fall for my well thought out trap”

“Well next time ask me to eat a snickers instead” you rolled your eyes as Ari started the car.

“Might need another round of fucking the brat out of you peaches” Ari grabbed your hand, pulling the intertwined hold to his lips and placing a kiss on top. Your cheeks flushed with heat at the thought of how intense your fuck session had been and what kind of ways you both would fuck one another later.

YIKES, that was a true adventure!!!

#ari levinson #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson x female reader #ari levinson x y/n #ari levinson smut #ari levinson fic #chris evans smut

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

Text

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 3)

(part 1) (part 2)

series summary: bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself. except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.

word count: 3k

chapter warnings: mention of past sexual harassment, very mature karaoke (lol), mention of pornography

Day 63 and you still hadn’t talked about it. He’d actually gotten to know you a lot better over the past two months, even almost confessing his feelings for you with that stupid half-asleep storybook thing he’d done way back when, but you still hadn’t talked about the night you saw him looking in the rearview mirror.

Tonight actually reminded him of that night; this time was a premiere, for a movie you hadn’t actually been in but apparently you were supposed to go anyways? He didn’t get it but he figured he didn’t need to. As long as you came back alone this time, he’d be happy.

Of course, when he saw you step out to the car to leave for the venue, he was confident that would be impossible— not that you ever looked bad on a red carpet or anything, but wow… this was different.

“It’s not too slutty, is it?” you asked him nervously, spinning around to show him the back. Don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass don’t look at her ass—

“Just slutty enough,” he responded with a gloved thumbs up.

“Perfect,” you smiled, and he opened the door for you to get in the back. He took a moment to catch his breath before circling around to the driver’s side.

You actually chatted with him on the way, which was a new thing you two had started doing when he drove you. He looked forward to your talks a lot— especially the ones where you ranted about whatever was on your mind. You would usually apologize for rambling but he liked it; and, you were cute when you got really worked up about something, even if he thought it was kind of trivial.

As he pulled up to the red carpet, with cameras flashing and the indistinguishable yelling of reporters and fans, you shot him a look as if you didn’t want to go.

“Everything alright?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” you shook your head incredulously, “I just… I wish you would’ve come and seen it.”

He recalled a few weeks back when you offered him a ticket to the premiere showing, but he’d insisted on just sticking to what he knew and letting your assistant have the spare ticket. “I’ll catch it on Netflix,” he dismissed.

“No, I mean, I wish you were coming with me,” you explained.

Was it hot in here, all of a sudden? Because his cheeks felt warm. “Uh, you don’t want me in there. I always fall asleep in theaters anyways. Just go have fun and I’ll catch you after.”

“Okay,” you nodded with an adorable little smile.

So he waited, wondering if he should’ve taken you up on it all those weeks ago, but decided he probably made the right call. He would just embarrass you in a place like that, more than likely, and you had enough to deal with already. He felt more useful waiting in the wings than being in the spotlight, to use a fittingly-timed theater metaphor.

It was a few hours of him killing time in the car, but he got to relax a little more since the event already had pretty good security on its own. You’d recommended a book called Flowers for Algernon to him, even lending him your copy for the time being, and so he leaned his seat back and picked up where he’d left off from this morning. Of course, if he had known that you’d be gone long enough for him to finish, and that the ending was going to make him cry, he probably wouldn’t have read it. WIth his luck, it was inevitable that he’d be all but sobbing when you texted him to pull the car around.

Wiping his tears and hoping his eyes wouldn’t be too red, he tossed the book into the glovebox and started the engine. You waved cheerily when you saw him from the entrance, and he attempted to navigate through all the other cars pulling up so he could reach you. Thankfully, you didn’t have a new friend with you this time— or an old friend. Jealousy crisis averted, for now.

“How was it?” he asked with a smile as you opened the door and slipped in, unable to hide how happy he was to see you.

“The premiere itself was a lot of fun, I got to see some people I hadn’t seen in ages; the movie, though? Sort of pretentious,” you admitted as you shut the door and he got the car moving again. “And way too long! I could watch movies all day, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch a movie all day!”

“Fair enough,” he laughed.

“What did you do?” you asked innocently.

“I finished your book,” he frowned, trying not to think about it so he wouldn’t get emotional again.

“Ah, I can tell you’re still a little hurt about it,” you smiled mischievously. “Should’ve warned you about the ending.”

“No, no,” he disagreed, “it’s not a bad ending just because it’s a sad one… it was a good book.”

You’d already been smiling, but your smile undeniably changed as he watched it in the rearview mirror. Something softer, something more sensitive. He liked this one better. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

Just in time to interrupt the moment, you saw something on the passing street outside that caught your attention.

“Ooh, karaoke!” you piped up, pressing your face against the inside of the window excitedly. “Pull over!”

He chuckled at how easily distracted you were, but did as you’d asked. He barely found time to slow down to a stop before you were opening the door and running out, flashing your ID to get inside.

He groaned as he realized how completely unsafe it was for you to be in a bar… especially now, when you were at your most recognizable and literally still wearing what you’d had on at the premiere. Thankfully, he managed to pull the car around and park in the closest spot he could find, jogging to join you inside the bar and hoping you hadn’t already made too much of a scene. His hopes were dashed the moment he pushed through the door, however.

“Is she perverted like me? Would she go down on you in a theater?” you sang along with the grungy backing track of Alanis Morrisette’s You Oughta Know; your lips were curled into a faux snarl as you stood on stage with your heels in one hand and the microphone in the other.

Bucky’s head fell into his hands, looking around to see hundreds of bar patrons, nearly all of them with their phones out filming you.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky mumbled to himself, hoping you would somehow hear it and take his advice. Instead, you pantomimed sucking a dick with a cute little wink and everyone cheered. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“And I’m here, to remind you,” you continued, jumping around wildly; you looked like you were having the time of your life, honestly. If he wasn’t so worried about you, he would’ve let himself smile seeing you so happy.

During the bridge, you stole someone’s water off their table and poured a bit on your head, slicking your hair back and shivering from the cold. There was something about the water dripping down your face, starting to soak your clothes and make your skin glisten...

Bucky glanced around to make sure no one was looking at him before subtly adjusting his jeans.

He watched you sing the entire song, making most of the notes and definitely capturing the anger of the original song— if clearly having a lot more fun with it than most would. The entire bar cheered when you finished, and you took a moment to take some pictures with people and meet a few fans, which he thought was sweet even if his bodyguard instincts forced him to interrupt after a moment.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he guided you away gently.

“Goodnight!” you waved goodbye to someone who was already buried in her phone and posting the photo you’d taken with her.

“Have a good time?” he asked sarcastically as the two of you began to walk out together.

“Would’ve been better if you hadn’t been glaring at me the whole time,” you smirked.

“I wasn’t glaring, I was just… watching. You have a good voice, you know.”

You seemed surprised by the compliment. “Oh. Thanks.”

“And your stage presence is certainly… energetic,” he grinned. “I bet your little charade is already trending.”

“I checked, and it is,” you giggled, showing him your phone for a moment where Twitter was open and you were the #7 topic in the United States and climbing. “And the part where I poured that water on myself is pretty gif-able, don’t you think?”

He raised a brow as he held the back door of the bar open as you slipped back on your heels and walked past him. “Is that why you did it? For the reaction?”

“I did it cause it was fun,” you corrected. “You wouldn’t know anything about that. And the water thing was just practical, I was getting hot in this dress.”

That didn’t seem to be a problem anymore with the way you shivered in the night air as he walked you through the parking lot. “Want my jacket?” he offered.

“No,” you frowned, but you eyed the leather with a hungry stare. He chuckled and took it off, draping it over your shoulders anyways. “How far is the car?”

“Uh, a block? Not much parking this time of night,” he explained.

“Ugh, these heels,” you groaned, “they hurt so bad. I don’t know if I can make it.” You began to slip them off but he stopped you.

“You can’t go barefoot out here, god knows what’s on the ground,” he shuddered; what if there was broken glass or something?

“Well, I can’t wear these,” you frowned, “and I probably shouldn’t be walking on asphalt in red bottoms anyway…”

He probably should’ve warned you before he scooped you up into his arms, but it was sort of instinct and he kinda forgot to say anything first. You squealed a little but then went lax in his grip.

“You’re gonna carry me the whole way?” you asked incredulously.

“It’s only a block,” he shrugged, adjusting you in his arms a bit before starting the walk.

It got quiet after that, the cool night air rustling the trees and blowing through his hair— frankly, he was a little chilly without his jacket, but it looked better on you anyhow. The drive home was quiet, too, or at least quieter than usual, but it didn’t feel awkward, necessarily. It didn’t feel like a lull in the conversation; it felt more like the conversation had just changed from verbal to non-verbal. You both looked around at the city lights surrounding you on the drive, silent because there was nothing that needed to be said. It wasn’t nervous, or tense, or anxiety-inducing like most of his interactions with you (or with anyone) could be.

It felt like time spent with an old friend. He hadn’t known you long enough for that to be accurate, but he was happy to think of you as a new friend. He just hoped you thought the same.

Arriving at the house, he dropped you off at the front and watched you make a mad dash for the stairs and presumably your bedroom, smiling to himself as he parked the car and came in to follow you. He saw his jacket tossed onto the couch and your expensive shoes discarded right by the door. Going upstairs and peeking into your room, he saw your limp form flopped onto the bed, your back exposed from the low cut of the dress.

“You’d better not get comfortable, you’ll kill me if I let you fall asleep with all that makeup on,” he frowned, leaning against the doorway.

"I couldn't fall asleep yet, anyways. I'm wired."

“Any plans to burn off all that energy?” he pressed.

You groaned a little as you sat up, starting to unclasp all the jewelry on your wrists, around your neck, and on your ears. “It’ll take me a while to get out of all of this— but not as long as it took me to get into it,” you laughed. “Then I’m thinking TV and beers.”

“Beers?” he questioned, emphasizing the plural. “You plannin’ to get toasted right before you go to sleep?”

“No, it’s plural because there’s one beer for me and one beer for you,” you explained with the slightest air of condescension, but he couldn’t really think of it as rude since it was an invitation.

“I don’t want to intrude on your chill evening,” he refuted.

“No, really, you’re not intruding!” you insisted, standing up and setting the jewelry on a nightstand before approaching him and turning to face away from him. “Will you unzip me please?”

He stammered a little. “I don’t… see a zipper,” he admitted with a weak voice.

“It’s on the side here, see?” you lifted your arm a bit, and pointed to it.

Reaching out to touch your zipper was reminiscent of that old boardgame Operation: he needed to touch the zipper and only the zipper, cause if he bumped into anything else nearby, he got the feeling he’d get zapped.

His breath caught a bit as he watched more and more of your skin become exposed, the zipper ending up so low that he could just barely see the top of something lacy around your hips— and he had to stop there because anything more could induce cardiac arrest.

“Thanks!” you piped up happily, slipping away to your closet to do the rest in private. “Will you get the beers while I take my makeup off?” you requested through the shut door.

“Sure,’ he replied, turning to leave but realizing he should ask first: “Shiner or Pabst?”

“Don’t patronize me,” you grumbled, and he laughed because it was a stupid question. Trodding downstairs, he grabbed the Shiners from the fridge, stopping to check his phone only to see that it had started to automatically send him headlines pertaining to you.

‘Touch of Blood’ star gives impromptu karaoke performance at Queens dive bar!

He laughed at the picture of you onstage, even though he thought it was kind of reductive to describe you by a movie you’d been in so long ago when you had so much great new stuff coming out. Jumping back up the stairs, beers in hand, he found you makeup-free (aside from some leftover mascara and eyeliner that hadn’t really made it all the way off) and in a robe, laying on the bed as you pointed the remote at your TV. He thought you looked almost more beautiful like this than you did on the red carpet; of course, objectively, everybody looks better when they’ve been painted to the point of perfection, but he liked the domesticity of this. When you were casual and relaxed like this, he could almost, almost pretend you were his girlfriend or something. And not, you know, a global superstar and his employer.

“Beer me,” you requested as he sat down next to you, handing you a bottle and trying to ignore the thorough view of your legs he was getting in that robe.

“Anything good on?” he prompted as he watched you scroll through the channels on the guide.

“Uh, not particularly,” you frowned.

“They’re showing a game,” he pointed out as you passed the sports channels.

“I’d rather watch this pay-per-view porn,” you rolled your eyes.

He cleared his throat but said nothing because he was confident there was no good response to that.

“Hey, I’m in this!” you beamed, changing the channel quickly. He nearly had a heart attack until he realized you weren’t scrolling through the porn channels anymore.

He recognized the film instantly as the one of yours that he’d seen the most, for one very embarrassing and slightly sinister reason; looking down to the corner, he saw the HBO logo and realized it wasn’t going to be edited. His palms got a little clammy but he tried not to worry about it too much.

“Oh, this girl was super nice,” you remembered as you pointed to a character on-screen. “She had a bigger role but most of it got edited out.”

“That must be a bummer,” he imagined.

“Eh, it happens,” you shrugged. “Beats getting fired, or recast in the sequel.”

“Have you ever been fired during filming?” he pressed, morbidly curious.

“Once,” you nodded. “We were only a few days into it so they had no trouble finding somebody new and redoing my scenes. Just think: I could’ve been a Bond girl if I’d slept with that producer.”

“You— what?!” he squawked. “You got fired because you wouldn’t have sex with a film exec?”

“I got fired because of ‘creative differences,’” you explained with exaggerated air quotes, “and, unrelatedly, those creative differences surfaced the morning after I refused to get down and dirty with the EP.”

“Jesus,” he shook his head, “that’s… I hope you told someone.”

“Yeah, anonymously. Somebody will care someday, but not yet. He’s still too profitable, and not enough people have come forward.”

He glanced over at you, admiring your profile as you kept your eyes on the TV and took a sip of your beer. When you turned your head and looked back at him, he realized he’d been staring a bit too long.

“What?” you asked, quirking your brow a bit.

“What?” he repeated.

“You’re staring at me,” you frowned.

“Sorry, I was just… sorry,” he shook his head and looked back ahead. What he found there wasn’t much less embarrassing, though: he knew all too well that this was the scene right before THE scene. The scene he’d watched over and over until his arousal overpowered his shame. The scene that he’d used to try to satisfy his crush on you, but it only made it worse. The scene that had burrowed into his mind and deepened his obsession even as he fought it with everything he had…

You know, that scene. And he was about to watch it with you.

Bucky was completely, entirely, and supremely fucked.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes au

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