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blueparadis · 1 year

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a concept:

tattoo artist kaeya having a thing for u, his regular client rosaria's cute little roommate, who is the exact opposite of her. he feels bad for touching himself to the thoughts of u but he can't help himself bc he likes u so much

❝ INKED SECRETS ❞ + KAEYA ALBERICH !

+. CWs —» tattoo artist au + modern au, f!reader, fluff, light angst with comfort, some canon elements, love at first sight, mention of cigarette smoking, bad relationships, hookups, stranger to lovers, smut ( fantasies, m-mastarbation ) ; word count — 2k.

+. NOTES —» thanks to my beloved yoru ( @anantaru) for helping me and beta reading this otherwise i would've opened the gates of kaeya-brainrot; also, thank you for being patient. This ask was almost a month old and I know this was supposed to be short but the thing is kaeya is the one who had me invested in genshin impact. However, surprisingly I've never thought of writing about him so thank you for your muse. I loved writing this so fucking much. Thank you. Tattoo artist kaeya shall live forever in my mind. If you wanna check more of my writings, click here.

Kaeya Alberich. The name of the mystery man who would always be the talk of the topic for Rosaria. He was more familiar to you than your roommate ever was. You two shared a room yet you could never read Rosaria but she was thorough with you; maybe that is why you two clicked. Every one of your friends considered it a mystery how a sunflower like you would ever survive in the company of a moon. Everyone including Kaeya. He had his own proportion of confusion every time Rosaria talked about you.

Kaeya knew how you looked, talked, and liked to eat ice cream in winter. Not only that, your favorite colors, bits and pieces of your small dreams were known to him. And all because Rosaria wouldn’t stop with the constant blabbering about you whenever he directly hung out with her, emphasizing the fact that you were nothing but an angel in disguise. Kaeya had to endure all of it, every bit of you that Rosaria seemed to find alluring. At moments like this, one could say that they exchanged personas since Kaeya was a guy of smiles and chitter-chatter while Rosaria was quite the opposite.

True, the friendship between Kaeya and Rosaria was another talk of Mondstadt’s inhabitants, but they both did not seem to react as people expected, as people thought they should. You would, barely, call them lovers. While Kaeya enjoyed different takes of his customers about Rosaria, she, on the other hand, brushed those petty rumors off, with just a glance keeping her stoic persona.

But, among all these happenings, Rosaria had the front-row seat of the chaos that was about to unfold. She had her beauty salon just above Kaeya’s tattoo parlor. They have been working together for at least five years. Rosaria had her shop on rental and the five-storied complex was owned by none other than Kaeya Alberich himself.

Anyone who wanted to go to her parlor had to cross Kaeya’s floor; hence, no one slipped past the grip of his galactic eyes. He knew the regulars of her shop and had an immense influence on them. He believed it was his charms while Rosaria begged to differ.

But she was just being professional, clearing non-financial tabs that she owed to him, for bringing the immense influx of customers to her salon. Sometimes, it worked both ways, but whenever they fought, the elders of the locality had more spice to flavor the rumors that had just started sedimenting.

January, the prime of winter, of snow and the freezing cold, Kaeya laid his first glance at you. Warm and alluring: you were every bit of beauty that Rosaria spoke of, in fact, now that he had finally seen you in person, he thinks Rosaria fell short of speaking of your angelic aura.

“Hello, I have a parcel for Rosaria, could you please deliver it to her? I would have done it myself if I wasn’t in such a hurry.”, you kept the package on my desk, “Thank you very much, Mister . . .”, you looked at his batch that reads Kaeya Alberich, “. . . Thank you so much, Mister Kaeya Alberich.” And before Kaeya could say anything back, you fled out of his sight like a bird.

He watched you get into a cab holding the package in his hand, barely registering what you asked him to do. His mind had drifted far off to all those times when Rosaria was talking about you. He checked his watch and smiled to himself. Oops! Rosaria’s smoke break was ruined since he joined in with the package you had left for her, with many questions.

For a tattoo artist, Kaeya seemed the least bit invested in its antics, yet he had a steady influx of customers, mostly because he is very professional and dedicated to his livelihood. He pays special attention to his regular customers, sadly, you weren’t one of them, not yet.

Still, he would stand and smoke at the corner of the entrance so that he could watch you go like the wind to meet your roommate with a package in hand. He would notice the color of your dress, the matching nails, shoes, and every little detail thinking how flawlessly sexy you looked.

But he abruptly stopped the second he had bruised his fingers with the cigarette burn. Fortunately, it was his left hand but with his line of work, he needed both.

Today, during the lunch break when Rosaria told him that y/n wanted to have a tattoo, his blood rushed to his cheeks and ears. He did not think you’d be interested in tattoos or piercings. He definitely did not see the next blow coming. “Yep. sure.”, he supplied, coughing back the lump in his throat. Of all the parlors you could choose you had to choose his. What in the lord’s fuck was going on?

The day came faster, faster than he had anticipated. Needless to say, it did not go like he thought it would. It was safe to say he was more nervous than you were. “Are you sure about this?”, “Ya’know it’s gonna hurt, right?”, “Should I use some anesthetic on the area?” His questions wouldn’t stop and you were trying your best to stay as patient as possible It is true, part of him was nervous but another wanted to spend and enjoy some time with you.

“And done!”, Kaeya playfully mused as he wiped over the work of ink, careful enough not to accidentally graze his fingers over your inner thigh but of course, he did want to.“y/n” he spoke, his tone low but clear enough for you to hear, “so, how many tattoos do you have now?” Kaeya shifted in his chair as he intently watched you normalize your heightened breathing

“Didn’t you keep count?”,

“nine”, he said, letting out a breathless laugh. “which means you dumped your ninth partner.” and he was not wrong. Of all the regular customers he had, you were his favorite because you had an amusing story to tell whenever you had visited his parlor. He would listen to you the moment he was finished with his handiwork.

But this one in particular, was quite a different story. You never told nor was he allowed to ask about the guy you dumped, ever. Part of him wanted to console you, and tell you that good things take time but another part of him was too afraid to lose you, realizing it was unprofessional of him to offer any form of painkiller against a situation like that. Because on any other occasion, his usual customers weren’t as chatty as you were.

He never thought of a case where it might be the opposite. With that, he thought that you, of all people, being dumped by someone was utterly ridiculous, because who wouldn't want to date someone like you? He knows he would, after all, and if he could, he would make sure the ninth tattoo is to be the last tattoo on your body.

“What about you?”, you asked, swinging your legs in the air while sitting on the bed. “For a tattoo artist, you are awfully blank.”

“It’s somewhere. . .”, he started, “wait I’ll rather show you . . .”. and when you, in a sliding second, unexpectedly flashed him, his hands immediately found their way crawling at the hem of his turtle-neck.

“Wait. wait. Wait. stop. Just stop.” kaeya panicked as you partly opened your eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest while your eyebrows jumped and stayed intact for seconds. Pin-drop silence and then both of you simultaneously laughed. Some might think it’s corny, and maybe you did as well but it doesn’t matter, what matters is that you were smiling right now.

That’s good. That’s really good.

Kaeya checked his watch as you left his place to run upstairs, checking to see if Rosaria was done with her chores; after all, she was almost approaching the closing hour of her shop so she should’ve been done by the time you had arrived at her place. Fifteen minutes, fifteen minutes before you and Rosaria would come out of the elevator to go home; maybe he could if he’d finally stop thinking about it in such an unhealthy calculative manner.

Yet, well, there was just one problem. His ears felt hot, his mind was restless and he couldn't focus on a single task. Generally, it took ten minutes to close his shop and he does it every day, all alone so if not his mind, his muscle memory should be functioning properly. But all he desired to do was to touch himself and relieve himself from the agony of months boiling in his core.

June, the prime time of summer and ice cream. Kaeya slides his right arm under his vest while grazing his lower belly, eagerly thinking of the last time, but eventually, his arm ends up slipping into his pants, his fingers clamping around his length, and finally, a soft groan escapes from his mouth. The tip of his tongue kisses the corner of his lips as he takes out his cock which was coated with warm white fluid, at the tip pre-cum.

For a moment, he is surprised, and then he suddenly is not. There is a crescent formed along his lips as he taps the tip of his cock, smearing the reddened end with its pre. “Oh fuck. This feels so much better.”, he groans, mumbling to himself, thinking why he didn’t do this way sooner.

He palms his member, a little harder, this time trying to imagine how it would feel to be sheathed by your gummy walls. He started to pump his cock as his pants slipped, now clustered at the bottom of the chair while his legs were trying to give as much space as possible by spreading them further apart.

With half-lidded eyes, he checks if you had locked the door before leaving or not. You did not and the thought of you walking onto him turned him so bad that he thought he might cum right away.

The moment he closes his eyes he could see you, your calloused fingers around his cock and now he is pumping his cock rashly, the hem of his vest being buried in between his teeth, muffled moans escaping his mouth as the squelching noises had gotten louder and louder.

His other hand gradually made its way towards his nipples, pinching and circling around them thinking of your lips instead. “Oh fuck.”, he hisses as his toes curl, his hips bucked up with a force as he thinks of how euphoric it would be to have your soft lips wrapped around his cock, to have your puffy lips on his, to have your boobs tightly pressed against his bare chest, pronounced nipples grazing against each other while Kaeya’s cock is hitting your sweet spot with precision, blessing his ears with the prettiest desperate moans from you.

He squeezes his eyes shut as his hands move up and down his swollen cock, hitting his girth with calculated thrusts. He paces up as he feels his orgasm approaching, huffing and panting, not caring how vocal he has become until the coil at the core of his flat belly snaps, making him dizzy, his hand movements sloppy, and his inner thighs gradually closing, relishing in the high he had just experienced.

Kaeya’s chest rises up and down frantically as he finally opens his eyes, watching the spurs of milky white fluid all over the floor and his study desk. A heavy sigh leaves his body as his breathing normalizes. “Fuck . . .”, he mumbles throwing back his head before closing his eyes and thinking of you, again. He takes a few deep breaths to relax before cleaning the mess.

Yet, when he suddenly heard the footsteps, his heart sank. He regrets touching himself while thinking of you, he regrets not saving himself for you, he regrets chasing love so fast, so insanely that he almost lost his hope for finding the one.

“Hey Kae-ya, you done?”, you asked, opening the door, “Rosa is gonna be late today. So, I’ll stay and help her. I’m going out to buy some food, you wanna come with me?” You let your exhausted body lean against the door frame while Kaeya remained silent.

It just made him crazy how blatantly you ignored him, his magnetic affection for you, and the truth was, he cannot even blame you for that. He has always enjoyed this feeling, to like you in secrecy. The more you are unaware of his emotions, the greater chance he has to be around you. Kaeya does not ask for much, just a few more days till he musters up enough courage to finally ask you out.

—

@tokyometronetwork

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sn4xcurity-bre4ch · 9 months

Text

A look at some of the attractions featured at the Snaxplex!

Wiggle’s Steamy Bowling Tour

Come visit our tropical bowling paradise! Gather your friends for some bowling fun, and enjoy the springs signature Cheesy fries, tropical cocktails for the adults, and our spicy noodle bowls! Courtesy of our complimentary noodle bar.

Chandlo’s Sugarpine Skating

Looking for something leisurely? Try our Ice Skating rink! Fit with a cozy winter woods interior, the whole family is in for a whimsical time! Feel free to enjoy our warm baked goods from the Sugarpine bakery. Or our milkshake parlor, if you’re looking for an icy treat!

Please keep all food and drink off the skating rink.

Triffany Lottablog’s Gorge Golf

The most fun AND educational mini-golfing experience! Traverse through the Scorch Gorge and it’s many mini golf courses, and learn fun facts about history from the Snaxplex’s favorite archeologist and golfer, Triffany Lottablog! As you complete mini golf courses, you help Triffany uncover the mysteries of the gorge! Treat yourself to some BBQ Dino ribs, or some rocky road ice cream at the adventurer’s café!

Attraction is temporary closed. Release of more information pending.

#bugsnax #snaxcurity breach #posters and such #I FINALLY POSTED YAAAY #just couldn’t decide on a good first post tbh but this’ll do

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sungbeam · 22 days

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BIRD HUNT — five

nonidol!choi line x f!reader

gotham city is a gutter running rampant with the ill, corrupt, and the insane. at times, justice and vengeance must be served by one's own hand... no matter the lengths one must go to do so.

▷ genre, au, etc. bat family au, dc comics inspired, dark, vigilantes au, slow burn, ceo/billionaire au, cat woman!reader, murder mystery au, action, suspense, angst, slow burn-ish?, love square??; choi line inspired by dick grayson (csb), jason todd (cyj), and tim drake (cbg), including bruce wayne for choi minho and damian wayne for nishimura riki, inspired by 2022's The Batman

▷ chapter warnings. swearing, mentions of death/suicide/murder, mentions of weaponry, depictions of violence, mentions of corruption, feelings of guilt

▷ word count. 4.0k // taglist. open

« prev · m.list · next »

a/n: i... did Not finish chapter 8 or fix chapter 7, but we ball

FILE_05 : fall where they may

gotham city.

[The funeral ; ten days since your mother was murdered.]

The guilt had been eating away at his heart, chipping away at the bones of his ribcage to expose the most important organ in his body. The ancient Egyptians had once believed that the heart was the seat of the mind; a person did not make decisions purely based on logic, but on what their heart urged them to. And that had been exactly Beomgyu’s downfall as he smiled a little too wide, laughed a little too loud, enjoyed the twinkle in your eyes just a little too much. When that emotion filled his lungs like a gas, he could see nothing but the blurred tunnel focusing solely on you. On what you and him used to be.

“You’ve done well for yourself then,” he said, his cheeks aching from the grin on his face. His stomach and his chest felt tight from the mixture of hard laughter and ice cream and this terribly well-tailored suit.

Your expression subdued at the thought of work, and for a moment, Beomgyu’s heart stuttered, fearing he had said the wrong thing. It was strange—he never had to be scared of saying the wrong thing, but for some reason—no, wait. Of course, he wanted this to work. You were someone very important to him.

You cleared your throat. “I guess I have.” You paused, reconsidering your words. “Well, I’ll probably need to find new employment unless Mrs. Lee has something for me to do, but—”

“Come work for us,” he blurted. It had just… slipped out of him. But there was this thrill racing through his veins and he was not about to regret his words. Your eyes widened just slightly, and he reiterated, “I’m serious, y’know. If you need a job, you’re probably more than qualified for the positions we have open at the enterprise.”

His knee began to bounce under the table, and the ice cream parlor was suddenly too quiet, too small, as he awaited your reply.

You licked your lips in thought. He couldn’t read you; why couldn’t he read you? “Beomgyu, did you know that I applied and interviewed for a position at Choi Enterprise?”

Yes. He tilted his head to the side, feigning innocence. “Oh, really?” Tell me what happened, so I know whose ass to kick.

There was that noticeable narrowing of your eyes and he wondered if you knew that he knew. You were smart, so he wouldn’t be surprised if you figured it out. “Yeah… Soobin didn’t tell you?”

What.

He blinked, breathed. “Soobin? No, he didn’t tell me jack shit—”

“He was on the interview panel,” you said to him as you idly began stirring your spoon around your paper cup. There were only the remnants of a raspberry sorbet at the bottom. His eyes flickered over your bruised finger tips. When he had asked about it earlier, you had made up some excuse of "being mad at the world." He couldn't exactly call you out on it; he'd once thrown a physical fit and gotten a firm scolding from his dad. “Well, I think he was more just sitting in, but I don’t blame him for anything. He couldn’t have had that much say in who would be hired or not anyway.”

Oh, Beomgyu was going to murder Choi Soobin.

Beomgyu coughed. “Yeah no. Definitely not.” Totally not because he was one of the heirs to the company or anything. Soobin couldn’t have been older than nineteen or twenty, but like Beomgyu himself, he had been trained from an early age to carry out the duties of a company executive. “And after that you interviewed with Lee Sungjae?”

You nodded. “Somebody recommended me to his people, and I was hooked up with an interview. They must have passed along my resume or something.”

Now that sounded like something Beomgyu’s older brother would do. But why hadn’t Soobin overridden the interview panel’s verdict? Beomgyu trusted that they made a good decision, but could they not have referred you to a different open position or department in the company? There were plenty of positions to go around. Why recommend you to Lee Sungjae’s office?

"I'm sure there was a reason for—"

"Gyu—" you cut in with a slight smile on your face, and your eyes were alight again like earlier with something like silent laughter, "—I'm not mad about it. I don't hold a grudge against you or your family or Choi Enterprise."

Beomgyu opened his mouth, then reconsidered. He wanted to tell you, god, he really wanted to. He wanted to tell you it was going to be okay. He wanted to take care of you like you and your mother had done for him those years ago. He'd felt loved and warm and… his chest ached. Dear god, his chest hurt so bad.

He finally said, "I'm just glad you're okay." Even after I smashed your face into the floor and you knocked your head into my face and sprayed my mouth with pepper spray.

You smiled then, the corners of which were soft and assuring. "I'm glad you're okay, too."

A grin bloomed on his face then like the spring that Gotham never saw. Flowers and shit. Gotham had all of the allergies, but somehow no flowers. That stuff came from just outside the city limits, but Beomgyu hadn’t minded spending all that gas to find those calla lilies for your mother.

Beomgyu wondered if you'd like to come by the manor for dinner. It had to be time for supper by now; he didn't like the idea of you being alone in that apartment, even with all the cats—

The shrill sound of his ringtone sliced through the comfortable atmosphere, and Beomgyu swiftly pressed the phone to his ear with a groan after catching a glimpse of the caller ID. You lifted an eyebrow at him curiously at the sound of his generic ringtone—it used to be this one, very loud Green Day song.

"What?" He bit out.

A chuckle met his ears, followed by Soobin's separate grunt, "You've had your fun, Beom. There's been another murder."

Beomgyu exhaled roughly and dragged a hand through his hair. He caught your eyes then glanced away. "Where?"

When Soobin said the name into the speaker, Beomgyu let out another haggard exhale. He cursed under his breath, hand coming up to his face to massage the pressure points between his eyes. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

The call did not last long after that, with Beomgyu promising his older brother that he would be there in fifteen minutes. He needed to take you home, after all. When he tucked his phone away, you were already giving him that smile of understanding, as if you had listened into the entire conversation through just his facial expressions and reactions. He hated that you knew that he had to go—he hated that he actually had to go, most of all.

“Duty calls,” you said first. “Is it work?”

He lifted a shoulder in a lazy shrug, the corner of his lips curling upward in a sheepish sort of smile. “Yeah, you can say that. Hey, but I can totally give you a ride home. My brothers can wait.”

You laughed as the two of you stood together to throw away your trash and head out.

It was a good thing that Beomgyu had the sense to stay in the shadows beneath the bridge as he brought his shiny, black BMW to a stop. The sidewalk outside the entrance to the Iceberg Lounge was beginning to fill up with clubbers dressed in their finest and skimpiest cocktail dresses and button-up shirts. Some of them laughed with their heads tilted to the poisoned Gotham night sky while others let their big mouths run wild to the pretty face hanging off their arm. Maybe you shouldn’t have had Beomgyu drop you off here, but you needed to see your father about something, and you hadn’t the energy to go from one end of the city to the other twice.

Beomgyu’s jaw was set as he surveyed the outside of the club. “Yn, I know I shouldn’t ask…”

“I just have business to wrap up,” you told him while gathering your things at your feet. “My mom had a… connection here.”

“I don’t think you should go alone.”

“And who’s gonna accompany me?” When you glanced over at Beomgyu, he was already staring back at you with that steely gaze. It was defiant, telling you what you already knew—he would definitely drop whatever work thing had come up to accompany you through the Iceberg Lounge. “You have business to attend to, and I’ll be fine. I’ve been in a couple times anyway and the guys at the front know me.”

His eyebrow shot up. “They know you? That really doesn’t make me feel better.”

It was so odd, you realized as you took in the full view of Beomgyu’s crisp black suit and his gold Rolex and his characteristically chiseled “Choi” features side by side with the outside of the Iceberg Lounge. The silver-blue neon sign cast an almost ethereal glow across his face, like an angel. But angels didn’t exist in Gotham, at least, not the good ones. You wondered if what your father had told you about the Chois were true.

The corner of your lips quirked upward. “I’ll be fine, Beomgyu. You have my number now, so you can even text me later and I’ll confirm that I’m completely fine.” You pushed your car door open and welcomed the icy Gotham night across your skin.

Beomgyu leaned across the car’s center console, the shadows now dancing over the pretty shapes of his face. “You better answer then.”

“Promise.” You grabbed the top rim of the door, primed to close it. “Now you should probably get out of here before somebody recognizes you.”

A flash of admission in his eyes. “Hey, listen. You wanna hang out—you just let me know. Like any time, okay? I—” he pursed his lips then nodded, “—yeah, I missed you a lot, Yn. I missed this.”

Whatever this is, you wanted to say. Because… well, what was this? You didn’t know why your heart stuttered at the idea of texting him and hanging out with him again. Maybe it was the little teenage girl inside of you banging on the bars of her cage, begging to be let out at the taste of what used to be. That was what this had been—just a taste.

You could only bob your head. “Get home safe.”

“You, too.”

You slammed the door to the car and, without so much as a glance backward, you made your way across the street and into the neon light of the Iceberg Lounge. But seconds before you slipped into the raging nightclub, you peered over your shoulder to watch the BMW pull out from the shadows beneath the bridge and slowly begin to drive away.

Less than five minutes later, you were seated in the living room of your father’s apartment, wondering how thick the floors and windows were if you could not even feel the bass from the floors below. It was a marvel; how much force would it take to break? If you ever had to break in, some way other than the door, then how could you do so?

Tonight, your father nursed a little, white and blue teacup with some kind of dark brew swirling in its innards. There was some kind of piano ballad playing in the background and a bookmarked novel sat in your father’s lap.

“Where did you even get the idea that the Chois were backing the vigilantes anyway?” You asked him as one of his assistants emerged from a secret doorway in the bookshelves to hand you an unopened bottle of water. It was one of those brand named bottles claiming to be bottled straight from the blood of Fiji—or something of that sort. Water was water, but why weren’t you surprised that he owned this kind of luxury? “I don’t really see how or why. Thanks,” the latter statement being directed to the assistant, who promptly disappeared once his purpose had been served.

Your father took a sip of his beverage. “Yn, dear, everyone in this city has an allegiance to someone to remain alive, whether they know it or not.” He considered the dark surface of the tea as if he could read the tea leaves lying at the bottom of the cup like corpses. “They do not answer to me, so they must answer to someone else.”

“Couldn’t you just—I dunno—look into their finances?” As soon as you said it, you backtracked, “No. Wait, don’t do that.”

He chuckled and the sound always sounded so oddly hollow. “Ah, still attached, are we? I seem to have noticed that you did not take your usual form of transportation tonight.”

“So you were spying on me?”

“I was merely looking out the window,” he replied while feigning an innocent look on his face. “But back to what we were discussing: you probably already know that men with money don’t like getting their hands soiled.”

You cracked the water bottle open. “So they flick their money in certain directions to make people get their hands dirty for them. That’s just common sense.” After you had taken a generous gulp of your water, you continued, “But you haven’t even the faintest piece of solid evidence that the Choi family is allied—or at least—employing these vigilantes, do you?”

Something flashed across your father’s face, and you realized that the warm and fuzzy feeling in your chest was satisfaction. Oh god, it purred and circled in your chest until it settled there upon your sternum. It felt good to see your father stumped for once. (And frankly, the fact that you knew something he didn't also gave you that fuzzy, feline feeling. No, you had not cared to divulge that Choi Yeonjun was most likely the Red Hood. Something told you it was a secret you would do well to keep.)

At the dawn of your sly satisfaction, your father steered the conversation elsewhere. “Speaking of evidence, I have another lead.”

Immediately, that warm, fuzzy feeling was smothered and your posture straightened. “What is it?”

“But you have to do something for me.” Of course, because what was a lead without you doing another favor for him? You didn’t even prompt him. “The Commissioner of police—you know him? This Kim Namjoon character.”

You nodded. You knew of him, and you had even spoken with him, but he had seemed like a nice man. Then again, there weren’t a lot of nice people here. “He’s your lead?”

He scoffed into his tea cup. “No. That man is irritatingly difficult to persuade—”

“You mean ‘to corrupt.'”

He flicked a hand in dismissal. “Yes, yes, to corrupt. Either way, information will not come from him, so I need you to take it yourself.”

Your eyes shuttered as the statement processed in your head. “I will not kill for you, I hope you know that. I am here for my mother.”

His harsh gaze cut across to you and you suddenly felt so small beneath his stare again. Where had that satisfaction from before gone? You missed the comfortable weight in your chest, but now, all you felt was the thick viscosity of blood choking you from the inside out. “This is for your mother, Yn. If you want something, you have to take it. That is something your mother and I disagreed on, and look where that got her.”

The room descended into silence.

Your heart thundered in your chest, your ears. It threatened to leap out and rip your so-called father to shreds. “Go fuck yourself. And you say you loved her?” You hissed. You ripped yourself out of the armchair, turning on the balls of your feet to get the Hell out of this place.

“I did not want you to kill anyone, Yn.”

His voice didn’t stop you as you continued down the corridor. Maybe this would be good. You could totally do this on your own, right? Wrong. And this awareness had you still listening to his words.

“All you must do is sneak into the commissioner’s office and steal the report from your mother’s case.”

Your feet stopped moving. “And why can’t you just get one of your goons to do it?”

The sigh that fell from his lips sounded tired, but you sensed the exasperation lacing it. “My man on the inside is close to being found out. Plus, I know that you are capable of getting in and out without being caught. You’re more competent than all of my men.”

You abhorred how your pride swelled at the comment. It was hardly a compliment, but here you were, turning back around. Who were you trying to fool? You couldn’t do this on your own. “Fine. What am I getting again?”

Your father leaned forward to set his now empty teacup on the table. “The file must have a record of the casing from the bullet she was murdered with—the one that was found at the scene. From there, we can track down the make and model, who owned the weapon, and such. A lead, as I said.”

You had only been stationed outside the window of the commissioner’s office for seventeen minutes, but the guilt and pity was raging for this poor man. Commissioner Kim Namjoon had seemed like a nice enough man—a professional enough man—when you had spoken with him that day at the Lees’ home in the suburbs. As your father had said, he was one of the few irritatingly stubborn people in this town who refused to be corrupted by anyone. This one was a good egg in a bad nest. You suspected that he actually sought justice and had a good moral compass, and you also guessed that was the reason why there was a massive stack of paperwork on his desk. The man had been hunched over his desk for the entire time you had been stationed outside waiting for him to leave his office.

“Take a damn break, man,” you muttered lowly to yourself, but also secretly hoping he would hear you and move his ass. If not for you, then for the sake of his own hair because you were certain he was this close to uprooting all of his hair follicles.

It seemed the dark angel looming over your shoulder would grant your wish, and Commissioner Kim’s coffee cup had run dry. He rubbed his palms down his face, then stood to stretch his back and grab the emptied mug to head out of his office to get a fresh cup from the pot.

You saw your opportunity and took it. Swiftly, you maneuvered your lock picks into the window lock, then lifted the pane up and open. You didn’t have a lot of time, but your father had assured you that his alleged “man on the inside” would find a way to distract the commissioner should he finally leave his damned office. You couldn’t really rely on that, so you scrambled over to the wall of file cabinets as quietly as possible and began to shuffle through them.

Because the responding officers on the night of your mother’s murder had classified the crime as a simple suicide, you could probably guess that the officers in question probably got it thrown in a closed case file. You really wished you had been given more head’s up about this, or even a file number, because while the commissioner’s filing system was awfully organized, each file was categorized and labeled with a set of numbers and letters that did not help your timing.

Why hadn’t your father’s “man on the inside” let you know which cabinet it was in, at least? (Right, they had given you some dumb explanation like “he works in robbery, not homicide." Well, your mother’s death wasn’t even a homicide, so it shouldn’t matter much—? God, you fucking hated this.)

Your heart hammered against your ribcage as you picked up the sound of nearing voices and footsteps.

Clock’s ticking, Yn. Come on, let’s find this thing and get the Hell out of here.

Sweat began to dampen the fabric of your mask, and you could feel your fingers begin to shake. The voices had faded along with the footsteps, but you still could not find the file—

The door to the office crashed open, the handle slamming against the wall as the words “FREEZE!” erupted.

Guns were pulled—the barrels of the Commissioner’s and an officer’s in your face, and the barrel of yours… you couldn’t—you simply could not decide who to shoot. And maybe it was that hesitation that spelled out your fate.

Or it was the commissioner’s order for the officer to unmask you.

Fear filled your veins like a drug, and that drug pumped action into your limbs, forcing you to do something. They needed you alive, damn it; at least, that was what you told yourself in some weak attempt to assure yourself as you slowly lowered yourself and your gun toward the ground.

Your mind raced—the officer—the officer looked so familiar. Why did he look familiar to you?

Do it. Do it NOW.

You flung yourself at the officer’s twig-like legs, arms wrapping around his knees to send him folding and doubling over, body crashing through the doorway. The commissioner’s shouts were loud, but for some reason, he wasn’t shooting you like you thought he would—or did you know he wouldn’t shoot if you didn’t first? The gun in your hand became a hammer as you smashed it across the officer’s face, your knee landing oh-so-sweetly in between his legs.

You got in his face; you knew why he looked so familiar now. “You cunt,” you sneered in his face. This was your father’s “man on the inside,” the assistant from earlier.

Blood spilled from the gash you had dealt to his face. He bared his teeth. “Doing my job, bitch.” And with a bout of strength, he flipped the two of you over and made a grab for your mask.

Panicpanicpanic—

You were ripped out from under the two-timing son of a bitch, the both of you heaving for breath as you were forced apart.

The commissioner’s voice came from just behind you, and the realization that he was the one restraining you had you cursing inwardly. This couldn’t get any worse, could it? “Young, go get cleaned up, and for God’s sake, calm yourself, man.” He then addressed everyone else to scram, before hauling your arms behind you. You heard the telltale click of the handcuffs, your coffin lid closing into place.

Namjoon nudged you in the direction of a hallway just to your right. “Come on,” he said, his tone tired. “I won’t unmask you out here unless you don’t cooperate.”

But he was still going to unmask you, right? Nonetheless, you cooperated, and let him walk you down the hallway into one of the interrogation rooms. When you had settled in the cold, steel chair, with your hands cuffed to the bar on the table, the commissioner settled in the seat across from you.

“Would you like to call anyone before we begin?”

You shook your head. You didn’t even know your father’s new phone number, and he had never deigned to give you an outside way to contact him. There was this bitter twist of shame in your gut and the question of why you felt so ashamed to be caught loitered in your head. Was it because your father said you were supposed to be competent enough?

He raised an eyebrow at you, incredulous. “You sure, kid?”

Your fingers curled into a fist, then unfurled. “I don’t have anyone to call,” you forced out.

You saw the pity in his eyes—hated it. He was standing up now, walking around the table to stand next to you. It was like slow motion. The mirror across from you gave you a front row seat to your own unveiling, as Commissioner Kim grabbed one ear of the cat mask and ripped the entire thing off your face.

a/n: listen... it's not as pathetic as it looks... okay maybe it is

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nmjoo-n · 2 years

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REAL OR NOT REAL 🍦 jung hoseok.

pair. fashion designer! hoseok x fem! reader | genre. one night stand, strangers to lovers, pining, romance, slight angst | warnings. profanity, vaping, pet names, jealousy, age gap, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, dirty talk, praising, spanking, slight degradation, masturbation, edging, voyeurism, fingering | word count. 7.9k

synopsis. “you’ve been begging to get fucked since the moment you walked through that door, beautiful. real or not real?” or hoseok respectfully couldn’t give less of a fuck what your father thought of him. he wouldn’t stay away from you.

January is the coldest month of the year in Osaka.

Snow falls white and melts slowly, temperatures drop to single digits and stay there for weeks on end, but the Sōsei River always flows the same to you, even underneath ice, even after kissing a boy next to it, forever changing the course of your life. It stays moving, unbothered; water as water does. In that way it seems to you, you’ll never truly be rid of Jung Hoseok. Or his blueberry ice vape smoke.

It was through no fault of yours the attraction your body held for him. As if a magnet existed between the two of you, your bodies seemed attuned to one another, joined by a force greater than logic, than reason. Because it made absolutely no sense how badly you wanted him to fuck you in the storage room on your break that first time he walked through the doors of your dad’s ice cream parlor. None.

Nor were you ever going to admit how fast he got under your skin, charmed you into bed with a single dazzling smile, offering you a room in the most expensive hotel in your city, messing those feathery soft curls up with his long fingers. You were in big trouble. It wasn’t even the flirting that did it, it was the determination; the stubbornness of his coming to the shop every single day since that afternoon, picking a different flavor on a cone, a cup, a waffle bowl; with sprinkles, then plain, then all kinds of syrups—and your choice, what he’d seen once next to the register, vanilla ice cream with caramel drizzle and brownie chunks. What he witnessed your tongue lick off a plastic spoon when time stopped once and for all for him.

Your dad had noticed, of course. How could he have not—you were a neighborhood store, with regulars that dated back so many years before your birth. Newcomers were few and far between, usually foreigners. Americans. Hoseok was the odd one out from the beginning. But it never seemed to bother him, all the stares—you doubt he’d even noticed.

He looked important with his shoulder length dark hair, hair that curled at the ends, sunglasses always covering those almond shaped eyes. The clothes he wore was a whole other thing; the designs and patterns mixing together, colors clashing in the most interesting of ways. When you asked how is he not yet absolutely fucking sick of ice cream, he answered:

“I come here for you.” You knew that. Everyone knew that.

“I’m working, sir.”

Hoseok smiled at that. He looked really sweet when he smiled; younger too, though you guessed he couldn’t be a day above twenty five. His skin was clear, the way he carried himself was assertive, confident. Not arrogant, just self-assured, if maybe a little cocky. But it suited him, you thought. His straight, pearly white teeth blinding, was making it hard to look straight at him.

It was definitely not how handsome he was. Or the black card in his hand, the card he always used to pay for his purchases, several rings adorning his long fingers, colorful bracelets in both wrists. A character, that’s what this man was. Eccentric, but not loud. Demanding to be seen, to be looked at, but not expecting it. It really was no mystery how you ended up in his bed, just one week after that.

“You get off at some point, though, don’t you, doll? Or does your daddy lock you up in here?” He commented, then chortled to himself. “Can’t blame him—I wouldn’t bear to lose you either.” And then he winked at you.

If you lost your footing for a second there, you regained your composure just as fast. He really had a way about him; his incessant flirting, the silent observing he did in the five minutes he spent at the shop every day—so far he knew the man on the other end of the counter was your father, watching over the stream of clients and, of course, his daughter. Only daughter, if Hoseok were to take a not-so-wild guess, the reason for his overprotectiveness. And something else, something he found by honest chance, what led him to keep coming back for the creamy dessert—

He saw you leaving class one morning, right before Christmas break. You were with friends, completely oblivious to the single fucking fact—your beauty. You were breathtaking in your white skirt and lilac sweater, chunky snow boots trudging along the pavement, laughing wildly, openly. A force of nature, the girl with the knitted sweater—a fashion major. Like him.

But for him that school had been a struggle of the past; four years to be exact. You were a sophomore, he’d learned from one of his good faculty friends in the University, a promising student.

“Show me her designs.”

Talented, indeed. Unique, with soft lines and interesting uses of light and sewing. A pioneer in the use of delicate fabric like silk and lace, surpassing even him, though hard to admit. A bittersweet revelation, but an awakening all in one. An asset for his atelier, if you’d do him the honor of joining his team of five. But how could he ask you, and when would it be the appropriate time?

Hoseok didn’t want to scare you, or pressure you into anything you weren’t comfortable with. He’s been sketching since he was a little kid, no more than four years old on his mom’s kitchen table, his childhood home, so far away from Japan, and yet not far at all. Tall silhouettes with no faces, clothes draped over them, inexperienced and sloppy. No technique, no real life in them. No source of inspiration for him to draw from—like an answer to his prayer, twenty four years too late, you show up.

He’d rather slit his throat than let you slip from his fingers. So, he follows and ends up at an ice cream shop. A small business, with minimal, sand white interior and the largest selection of flavors he’s ever seen. Things he’s never even tasted. Brown sugar tea, matcha chocolate chip, peanut butter caramel—nonsensical combinations that with time he grew to love. Because you’d thought of them, because your mind worked different, and he loved your mind.

Jung Hoseok swore to himself that first time he entered the parlor—this girl will be mine. Damn anyone that stands in my way.

“He’s noticed, you know,” you say, trying to scare him away with the menacing thought of your father, an authoritative figure, a military man.

“Has he?” Hoseok takes the cone from you, taking a cookie chunk in between his lips. He watches you watch him, basks in your attention.

He wonders if you’d give him the same eyes as he’s licking your sweet pussy all over, getting you ready for him. A distracting thought, certainly a dangerous one, but he was never one to back down from a challenge. And you were important; a muse, a fellow designer he respected and needed with him as soon as possible, no matter the title you’d end up having under him, whether it be friend, girlfriend, fuck toy. As long as he got to work with you, learn from you, and show you in return. Hoseok wasn’t a selfish man, something that’s bothered him immensely. He offered options, he accepted refusals. He thought he could accept yours with dignity, until he got a taste of your mouth, of your cunt.

After that, ‘no’ was an alien word to him, a concept he banished from his vocabulary. For you. Because of you. You’d have him negotiating enormous amounts of money to have you work for him in a few weeks time, and if only the both of you were aware of that earlier. Then, maybe the heartbreak wouldn’t have been so terrible, the loss not as great.

“A twenty five year old man obsessing over his daughter? Yes, I think that’d be quite clear,” you retorted sarcastically. “Sir.”

Hoseok rose an eyebrow at your chosen name for him, sensing the power you thought you held by addressing him like that. If you were anywhere else but there, he’d bend you over and show you what a stubborn fucking girl like you got for calling him ‘sir.’ But in front of your father? He smirked.

“Twenty eight, sweetheart,” he corrected you, amused. “The rest was correct.”

A new person walked in, then, the bell above the door ringing as the door closed behind them. Your arms uncrossed from under your chest, your breasts bouncing slightly in your bra. The brown haired man tightened the hold he had on the waffle cone, the crunchy sound of it breaking apart bringing him back at once. Your father neared the part of the counter you stood at.

“You need to leave,” you pleaded this time, and it was your panicked tone that made Hoseok question the true hold your dad had on you. “Please, okay?”

“You heard the girl, young man,” the older man brushed him off, welcoming the customer warmly. But the threat remained, lingered over both parties like a cloud heavy with rain.

Leave or else.

“I don’t answer to you, old man,” he retaliated, keeping his tone calm, his anger under control. For your sake. For his, later on. “I’ll see you later, doll, yeah?”

He turned to walk away, but not before seeing your small nod towards what he’d said. You feel the same, don’t you, pretty baby? I fucking knew it, I saw right through you.

Hoseok is nothing if not patient. He’ll wait as long as it takes.

The second time he sees you outside the shop, he approaches you. He tells himself it’s not like the first time, you know him now, he has reason to fall in step with you, ask where you’re heading.

Your coat is chocolate brown, your scarf a burgundy shade that matches your lips. He imagines you wearing his clothes, his designs, sketched after you, your body type. If you let him. He’d work the hardest for you. He could think of no one else better than you to model his creations.

“Let me guess what’s under that coat, beautiful.”

You jump at his voice, clutching at your bag protectively. He chuckles, hands in the pockets of his oversized leather jacket. Shinsaibashi is busy at this time, a late evening on a Saturday. Valentine’s Day decorations have already been put in place, January giving way to February, the snow leaving with it. The lights of the station ahead of you illuminate in your eyes, the flush on your cheeks giving you an animated glow. Hoseok can’t stop staring.

He wants to wrap his arms around you, pull you close. Take you on a date. Bring you to his Atelier and keep you there, a prisoner for art, but for something else too, something he can’t quite put a finger on. He’s attracted to you, of course, you’re so fucking gorgeous it makes his chest ache with the thought of someone else even looking at you. A possessiveness with no grounds—he has no way of showing this to you in a healthy way.

It’s a primitive instinct, caveman behavior. Usually, such feelings are below him, they never end up reaching his heart enough to shake him. His mother raised him a gentleman, and then she passed with her mind at ease. He promised this to her; he’d always treat women with respect, always put his manners above his desires. But with you—he’d undress you right there, against the traffic light pole. He’d fuck himself into you until you know no other words aside his first and last name. Hoseok wants to own you, he realizes with a strange terror.

Your body, and your genius mind. He’d do fucking anything.

“Do you always walk up to women like that?” You ask, avoiding his gaze, instead focusing with all your might on your destination.

He chooses not to reply to that. His cheap dates and faceless women that’ve passed through his bed are of no concern to you. “You love your knits, don’t you?” He fingers the sweater poking through the collar of your coat.

“What’s the interest in my clothing choices?”

“I’m a fashion enthusiast through and through, doll. Some call me a designer.”

You stop at that. He misses the sound of your heeled boots immediately, the way they hit the pavement confidently, with purpose. He wonders how the leather of them would feel around his shoulders, digging into his skin.

Your eyes squint at him. “Are you lying?”

“I don’t lie very well,” he replies honestly.

“How’d you know, then?” You question him. “Surely, you know. Somehow. Is that why you won’t leave me alone?”

“Watch it!” He shouts, eyes widening.

Hoseok’s reflexes are faster than yours—he pulls you on his chest as a man nearly knocks you over running, shouting apologies behind him. He looks down at the top of your head, your stiff body curled in his arm. You smell like peaches, a scent he’s smelled before at the parlor, entirely too sweet and fragrant.

You pull away before he can ask how it is possible that you fit perfectly against him, familiar and warm. He can feel his pulse beating in his ears, the blood rushing through his veins.

“Thank you,” you mumble, embarrassed. “That guy came out of nowhere.”

“You need to be more aware of your surroundings, sweetheart.”

“Noted.” You breathe in, and hitch your bag high on your shoulder. Then you start walking once again, leaving Hoseok to stare after you.

He shakes his head and follows.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” you remind him.

He smirks at that. “I will if you answer one of mine.”

“It’s not a negotiation,” as you maneuver around people, crossing the intersection carefully.

The sky has long set, a bright darkness settled over everything, billboards, and tens of stores beaming like lighthouses, luring everyone in. This area is one that Hoseok knows very well, having walked it thousands of times on his way to school, and work, years before establishing his own business.

“I’m not negotiating.” To his surprise, no comeback from you this time. So, he continued. “Where are you going?”

You laugh, teeth and everything, head falling back as you lose your tempo of walking. You don’t seem to mind, though. Hoseok is aware his question is ridiculous in the grand scheme of things. He doesn’t know you, has barely talked to you, yet is now asking about your plans. The same peculiar feelings stirs in him, the one from earlier.

He’d take you out then, if you allowed him to. Then, he’d tell you his proposition. He’d ease you in, explain all the ways an internship with him would actually benefit your academic career, even put you on the map. He wouldn’t be too proud of his name and what it offers, but would instead lead with the facts, his tone calm but stern, like that of a teacher’s.

Come with me and I’ll show you all I know.

“What do I say to that? Is there anything you want to hear?” You reply amused, after your laughter has died down.

“Yes,” he admits, admiring the bustle of downtown. “I want you to let me take you out.”

When he looks back at your face, you’re very evidently blushing. Still, you don’t give in. A good thing, since Hoseok didn’t think you for the type to do so.

“What if I tell you I have a date?” And you raise a good point, he thinks.

If only he cared for it. “You’ll have more fun with me, doll, I can promise you that much.”

You enter the plaza, restaurants and cafés surrounding you now, all kinds of smells swirling in the crispy winter air. He studies you coming up with a remark to his statement. You look the cutest going up against him. He even considers letting you win; if only so much wasn’t at stake.

“What if it’s with my very handsome high school boyfriend?”

Hoseok grins at that, barely containing his snicker. “Dump him. You’ll grow bored of him soon.”

He could tell you’re just enjoying the banter now. There’s no date, no boyfriend. You might’ve had an appointment, or an engagement to something, but that flew out the window the moment he got a hold of you. It felt nice to be intellectually challenged for once, especially by you, a person he held in high regard after witnessing your work. Your beauty.

“For someone older than me—I thought you were supposed to have my best interest at heart?”

Hoseok decides to end the stroll short, having had enough of your poorly concealed shivering. He guides you inside a close friend’s café, holding the glass door open for you to enter, unable to look away as you pass past him.

“I am a generous man, sweetheart, but even I have limits,” he pulls a chair for you to sit on, choosing one of the tables in front of the window wall. “Your best interest is me,” he leans down to whisper in your ear.

Peaches invade his senses once again, rendering him unable to think of nothing else but you. You, you, you—

It is that very night you follow him to his hotel room.

After your coffee date, he suggested a bistro not too far from where you were, and refused you paying for your share. And even then, you had no intention of leaving, no good excuse as to why you had to go home. Hoseok was—so much fun. No man had ever made you laugh harder, his smart comments and sarcastic remarks only adding to his charm. Your ex held nothing against him, a comparison you couldn’t help making. Eight years between you, though you wouldn’t be able to tell. He followed the flow of your thoughts easily, adapted to your personality, and led the conversation back every time you rambled on.

Your common ground was, of course, fashion. Designing. He mentioned his Atelier only once, something other men would boast endlessly about. He offered to give you a tour, if you were ever interested, and you jumped on the opportunity. It was a designers dream to own an atelier, or even a boutique—it definitely was your dream. And Hoseok was willing to be so kind as to bring you into his own, for you to explore and learn.

He realized you had too much to drink only when your hand wrapped around his bicep, your chair closer than it had been half an hour ago. Did he miss the rejected calls that read ‘Dad’ on your phone? No, he didn’t. He ignored them. Because the intentions he had with you weren’t honest at all, weren’t innocent or honorable—nothing of the sort.

And daddy definitely didn’t need to fucking know or ever find out.

“Where is this going, doll?” Hoseok decided to lay his cards down, wait for your move. The hand you’d deal him back.

You swirled the dark liquid in your glass around, looking at it like it was the most interesting thing on planet Earth. Like it would somehow show you the answer, tell you what you need. Your warmth was intoxicating, unbelievably comforting. It’d been so long since a girl made him feel this way—unable to get a fucking grip. On many things.

“Isn’t this the part where you say something romantic albeit overused and I fall for it?” You ask, your tone cutting through the air between you.

No bullshit. He liked that about you. “What’d make you fall, sweetheart? Tell me and I’ll do it, I have no shame.”

Your wine stained lips curved slightly, the softest smile appearing on your flushed face. He tilted his head better to get a good look at you, and reached out with his thumb to wipe at your mouth. The red lips fell open, seemingly keen on following the digit to find its owner.

Hoseok’s other hand went underneath the table to readjust his hard cock, the time you’ve spend rubbing against him enough to get him fucking impatient and leaking in his boxers. The hold you had over him scared the living hell out of him—he’d either do something about it or leave you alone once and for all. No in between, not when dealing with you.

“There it is,” you mused. “The promise of letting go your inhibitions for me—a tempting bargain, surely I can’t refuse.”

The brown haired man stared at the empty table in front of him, enjoying your head on his shoulder, your hair tickling his neck. He couldn’t help but admire your stubbornness, your calculated answers. He wondered.

“I’ve never pretended to be anything other than what I am, doll. What I want—I’ve put it in simple words, haven’t I?” He whispers to you, an intimate conversation between almost lovers.

“I know what kind of man you are, Hoseok—my daddy has warned me about men like you,” you retort with a hint of bitterness, something that doesn’t slip past him.

He’s all ears. Anything that will explain the mystery of Jung Hoseok. “And what kind of man am I, (Y/N)?”

“Unyielding. A puzzle,” you lift your head, meeting his eyes. “Transparent.”

An adequate answer for what he’d shown you. He could describe himself impressed, even. But then your eyes bared him naked, dug deeper, struck gold—the hidden part, the ugly truth.

“A lonely man, aren’t you?” You continue, voice velvet, angelic. “Sad in the world you’ve created. All artists are, in some way.”

He kisses you. Just grabs your jaw and smashes his lips on yours, arm wrapping around you, melting you onto him. You don’t pull away, don’t yell at him to fuck off, or slap him, call him names. You’re kissing back. A fucking miracle—the miracle he was waiting for, the one he was secretly hoping for. Here. In his arms. Responsive.

He does take you to the hotel. He ravages your mouth the whole way there, and when you’re finally alone, the pretenses fell, whatever was left of them, and the distance was non existent. In all ways.

“An artist needs a muse,” he mutters against your breast. “But you’re not just that, are you, beautiful? You’re a fucking equal, you’re someone I’d give every last penny to have design under me, under my name. Will you accept?”

He tastes like artificial blueberries and mint. He lays you on the bed he’s been sleeping for the past month, and has his way with you. Tears off your tights, and carefully removes the knitted sweater, a piece you created yourself he’ll learn later on, knitting, a hobby your mother used to enjoy before she passed—but for now, you knew only desire, only how much you wanted him, on you, in you, all ways you could have him, and his curls felt nice in between the cracks of your fingers, his tongue felt warm against your cheek, against your lips, against the crevice of your neck.

“You can’t buy me, I’m not for sale,” you tell him sternly.

Hoseok doesn’t waver, doesn’t miss a beat. “Can I have you, then? As mine? Would you take me?”

His hands are everywhere, your body is a forest fire and he’s the match, the lighter, the gasoline, everything all at once, but when they creep between your thighs—oh, it’s a whole different crime. An arsonist, repenting for his sins. He pulls the fabric that’s standing between him and your cunt, and then his long fingers are pushing inside your entrance, your wetness coating his knuckles. He curses, and spits on your slick, continuing his taking, his wish to have you come just like this, before he can feel you on his dick. The sweet thing he’s been dreaming of for weeks.

Your moans fill the dark room in the most delicious way; music to his fucking ears. He wants more, he wants this sound imprinted on his eardrums, to listen to it always, to get haunted by the melody of it, the crescendo of the labored breathing, your soft, broken voice. Sweetest fucking thing he’s ever heard.

“Is this why you wouldn’t leave me alone?” You gasp when his fingers are replaced by something bigger, something harder.

His shirt is half way unbuttoned, his necklace falling against your chest cold, the metal shiny, as he comes face to face with you, eyes boring into yours. He slams inside you in one swift movement, pushes you up towards the headboard with the sheer force of his thrusting. You hold onto him, bring him closer, legs wrapping around his torso, lips pressed on the side of his face. You can see that dark gaze behind your eyelids, the intensity of it as his cock slips past your folds. There is no more holding back, you’re bearing everything to him now. What he wanted.

Your phone buzzes in your bag for the tenth time that night, the hour reading past midnight. You hear it faintly, but for the life of you cannot seem to bother with it. You’re an adult, you remind yourself stubbornly. You can do whatever you like, stay out as long as you please. Get fucked by whoever you want.

“This—” Hoseok buries his head in the crook of your neck, chuckling darkly, breathlessly. “I would risk a lot of fucking things to have this again, sweetheart. Your cunt welcomed me right in, I can’t get fucking enough.”

“Show me,” you whisper to him, arms tightening around him. “If you’re telling me the truth—show me.”

He does. He moves inside you with vigor; like he’s afraid someone’s going to snatch you away, like there’s a time limit to how long he gets to have you like this, unraveled underneath him, for him, like an opened gift—take me, take me, I’m yours, play with me. Hoseok craves your body like a madman, but wants your mind the most. The way it works, the thought process you possess…it’s the sexiest thing about you.

Sweet, beautiful girl. All for me, and this cunt—Christ, this fucking cunt. Let me drown in it, doll, let me have it again and again, and again. Let me…let me take care of you, baby. Come with me. Fuck, you’re driving me crazy. Your hips are meeting every single one of his thrusts halfway, falling into a steady rhythm, slow fucking with sudden, hard strokes, sex you’ve never experienced. It’s intimidating, how he’s staring down at you, like you’re the only thing—like gravity. Without you, there’d be no reason.

Is this what love looked like, perhaps? No. That was the wine talking. You couldn’t, you absolutely couldn’t fall for this man, there was no space for him in your life. And yet… “Fuck!” You fall back against the pillows, too lost in pleasure to think anymore. To hell with thoughts, what good did they do anyway? Hoseok kisses your temple like he senses your inner battle. Then he fucks you hard and fast, mercilessly digging into your sore pussy.

Your phone rings again. He growls; you groan.

“Answer,” he barks, and you’re close. So fucking close, if he’d just move— “Answer him, sweetheart or I fucking will. And no one’s gonna like what I have to say.”

“Hoseok, please, God, please!”

He seizes your thighs and raises your legs, then grabs both ankles in one hand and holds you like that, fucking into you so much deeper, so much better. You’re coming instantly, shaking unstoppably, tears stinging in your eyes. You fist the sheets underneath you, and fucking take it; his cock bruising your insides, the stretch of your hamstrings, the slaps he unleashes on your ass.

“Goddamnit, fuck,” he spills inside you muttering a string of unidentifiable curses, panting over you. “Do you fucking feel this, beautiful? You’re mine now,” he drops your legs, snatching your chin, forcing you to look at him straight in the eye. His face is dead serious. “No one else’s. Mine.” He kisses you once, hard. “Answer. I won’t say it again.”

You scramble to find your purse on the floor. He falls on the bed, breathing labored, hair sticking on his forehead. Hoseok tilts his head to look at you, wants to see the look of embarrassment as you tap on the call to talk to your father, his seed inside you, your cunt no doubt still clenching at the sudden emptiness. If it was up to him, he’d let your precious daddy know about what you were up to, and whisk you away.

“Hey, daddy,” you say, your voice high pitched, straining to sound normal. Hoseok smirks at that. His dick hadn’t even been anywhere near your mouth, and yet you sounded like he face-fucked you for an hour straight. “No, daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” the naked man on the bed scolds you, feeling anger bubble in his chest.

You ignore him, instead trying to find your underwear and the rest of your clothes. You were leaving, he realized and his stomach dropped. At daddy’s beck and call, huh? Hoseok’s pettiness wasn’t his proudest attribute, but it was definitely a strong part of him. Especially when it came to your father. He honest to God couldn’t understand why that military man annoyed him so much. Was it that illogical hold he had over you, a young college woman? There was no reason for you to go home tonight, he thought grimly. And you shouldn’t. Not if he could help it.

“I was with a friend, daddy, and we got carried away—I’ll be right there, okay—Hoseok!”

“Hey, old man, how about you stop terrorizing your daughter, huh?” He pressed the phone against his ear, standing taller than you, your dainty wrist imprisoned in his death grip. You went to pull away, get your phone back—he moved away, glared at you.

The line was dead silent for a moment, aside from even breathing. Hoseok figured he must be gathering his thoughts. Or his fists. “I should’ve known she’d fall for scum like you,” your father’s booming voice tore through the speaker, the calm before the storm. “You’ve no idea what I’m capable of, son, and I suggest you don’t try to find out.”

“Hoseok, please stop, give it back,” you whisper, and a couple angry tears spill on your plumb cheeks. He wants to wipe them away, but he’s overstepping enough. You might hate him even more if he tries to console you.

Despite all this, he doesn’t give in. “With all due respect, I don’t know who the fuck you think you’re talking to,” he retorts, all ice and sharp edges. Unrecognizable, you can’t help but think. Cold and heartless.

“Your daughter is old enough. And she’s with me, safe and sound. I’m keeping her here tonight. As much as she’d like your blessing for this, I could care less for it. Have a goodnight.”

Hoseok doesn’t need to look at your face to know you’re angry at him. He can sense your shaking, but he doesn’t think it’s for justice you feel towards your father. He was rude, obviously; if anything Hoseok was fucking terrible to the only family you seemed to have, and had probably severed all bridges to a good relationship with who he assumed would one day be his in-law. Despite this fact, the deed was done, the choice made.

Anyone that belittles and disrespects you like that is of no importance to him. And the same should go for you, he’d try to teach you if you decided to come with him. He just needed to make you see. But the decision was all yours, something he couldn’t help.

“Why?” You ask, giving up on your fight to free yourself from his hold. “Why’d you do that?”

Hoseok tried to level you with a sharp look. He needed you to calm down, to be able to think straight. Otherwise none of what he was about to tell you would make any sense. First, he needed an ambush—a distraction.

He pulled you into his arms, his hand holding the back of your head in place, your chest against his chest, breath on his neck, heartbeat becoming one with his. He tried to shush you into obedience, rubbing circles on your back, whispering in your hair.

“We’ll play a game of truth now, beautiful. Know you can be honest with me, there’s nothing in the fucking world you can tell me that’ll stop me from pursuing you,” he starts with a steady voice, bracing himself to use all of his strength if necessary.

Keeping you with him was essential, especially after tasting you, having you so completely, so utterly.

“I don’t understand,” you mutter, lost.

“But you will,” he promises. “See, a couple years ago you went for a walk in the middle of the night, next to the river. It was snowing then, too, wasn’t it?”

Hoseok feels you shake your head. He smiled softly, patiently. “I assumed as much,” he continues. “Sweetheart, you kissed me that night. You had a bruise on your cheek, tears in your eyes. Freezing cold,” his tone grew harsher, unwavering gaze deadly at the memories replaying in his mind.

You go to pull back—he doesn’t let you. His cock stands fully erect between you, but he won’t make another move on you tonight. He just wants you to remember, to understand.

“That boy…that was you?” You question, shocked. “It was dark, I’d barely caught your face. Was that really you, Hoseok?” This time there was no holding you back.

Your eyes met. Your glistening ones to his rage filled ones. Rage for what would go unsaid, to the question he wouldn’t dare ask, wouldn’t bring himself to bring up in fear of hurting you further, of embarrassing you more than your father, once again, already has. But his entire journey to find you—it ends here, now, his mystery girl in his arms, finally. It almost felt like destiny, a thing he most definitely believed in. You crossing his path—it was meant to happen.

“Real or not real, baby?” He asks you, vulnerable by all accounts. “You tell me.”

Your mouth opens, then closes. It’s evident you’re still slowly processing the information. Hoseok won’t blame you. “How’d you find me?”

“By chance. I was craving ice cream,” he smirks down at you. You blush. Adorable. “Recognized your eyes, they sparkled in that same way…like stars. Sad, but so fucking beautiful. Then, I found out about your school. Same I attended,” he goes to explain further, seeing your expression change. “I needed to learn more about you, sweetheart, don’t punish me for that. If I knew more, I could get closer to you. But then you kept showing up everywhere I looked, and I realized—I’d find you anywhere, because you seemed to find me first.”

“I need time to think about this, I—” you press the back of your hand against your forehead, sighing incredulously. “Please. Understand,” your gaze rises to meet his own, and he sees.

The hesitation. The intrigue. The fear, no doubt instilled by your father. He nodded, his lips going for your temple, pecking the skin there, hands smoothing your hair back.

“Promise me,” he whispers softly. “If he gives you any trouble, any at all, doll, you call me. Is that clear?”

You don’t reply, but instead—kiss him. Hoseok has no time to react, couldn’t even close his eyes—you kissed him. In light, your head straight. Initiating it first…it made his heart swell, his cock twitch. The girl of his dreams, his sweet, talented girl, showing him she liked him back.

He was gonna die, as soon as you left, no doubt about it. How to stay away from you after that?

“I know how to handle my father, Hoseok,” you tell him later, fully dressed, bag in hand. “You figure out a way to be in the same room as him without wanting to beat his face in. A favor, to me. Please.”

He nods once, jaw clenched. “Won’t make any promises.”

You smile, and the whole world blooms. “Good enough.”

Exhaling blueberry smoke, he waits outside of your apartment, a figure dressed in all black, expensive sunglasses, once again, hiding those indecipherable eyes.

A goddamn tease, is his first thought upon seeing you walk through the lobby doors. Spitting image of him, in a female version and with boots. Would you make it to the restaurant—it was up for debate. God knows it’d been the longest week of his life without you, and Hoseok once prided himself for not having an obsessive personality. All went out the window when it came to you, and fuck it. You were worth it.

“Stop staring, Jung,” you tease, but you seem reserved.

“Fuck no,” he exclaims, but then you stop half a foot away from him, and he has to ask, it’s eating at him. “Why are you—”

Your father shows from behind the same doors, tall and muscular. He’s at least two inches taller than Hoseok, and looks like he’d rather be burning in hell than have to talk to his daughter’s possible boyfriend. The younger man thinks he should just go ahead with the former option, he’ll end up there sooner or later anyway.

You clear your throat, your eyes pleading with him to play nice. He will, for you. But only if your father does the same.

“I wanna make one thing clear to you, kid—”

“I’m no fucking kid,” Hoseok cuts him off sharply.

You sigh, and your father snickers, lips curling in disdain. “What are you doing with my daughter, then?”

“I have a business, a house, a car,” he retorts simply. “Enough money to feed my children’s children. (Y/N) will be comfortable and loved—is that what you want to hear?”

“Are you proposing a marriage, son?”

You paled, reached for a hand to hold. Hoseok didn’t hesitate. Your father followed the movement with his hard eyes, arms crossed over his big chest.

“One day if she so wishes,” he replies. “I’ll do whatever she wants, be whatever she needs. Like I said—I don’t need your blessing. But I realize I cannot shield her completely from you, nor take her away from her only family.”

“You have balls,” the older man admits. Then nods in agreement, no matter how against the idea of you two together he is. You’d made sure he had no other choice but to accept it. “Hurt one fucking hair in her body and I’m coming after you,” he threatens.

Hoseok doesn’t get scared easily, and this time is no different. He understands the importance of this moment in the grand scheme of things, so he goes along with it. The squeeze of your hand in his tells him he’s doing the right thing.

“I’ll let you, you can be sure of that,” he shakes on it firmly.

He’d gladly pretend and say you made it to your reservation, but that’d be a fucking lie. With the way you looked, and the taste of you still vivid in his mind, all he wanted was to trap you under him and have his way with you again.

At first, he saw the way you rubbed your thighs together as he drove to your destination. Filthy little slut and her naughty fucking thoughts. Hoseok even made a show out of it, making sure to flex his forearms, gripping the steering wheel tightly, avoiding your gaze as he focused entirely on the attention you gave him.

“Okay over there, beautiful?”

“Mhmm.”

He smirked, eyes on the road, fingers tapping on the wheel. “Is that so?”

He heard your breath hitch, but your recovery was instant. “It is,” you affirmed, but the truth was louder.

“How about if I told you to touch yourself for me, doll? Would you do that?” He asked sinisterly, throwing a side glance your way.

Your mouth fell open slightly, a sight he fucking loved. He couldn’t wait to bury himself inside that hole, cum all over your pretty face, have you beg to do so. Sex with you was glorious, it ignited something in him that has been asleep for years.

“Open those legs for me, baby. Let me see you.”

“Hoseok…” you trail off, scared—excited.

The curve of his lips deepens. “Do as I say, and you’ll be rewarded.”

Your skirt hikes up your legs as you hesitantly part your thighs, turning in the passenger seat so that he could admire the view. Hoseok turns at once, slowing down at a red light. Black lace panties with a small, pretty ribbon on top, your smooth pussy practically bare for anyone to see. If that skirt were to rise just a little bit higher—his mood darkens just with the thought of someone else witnessing what’s his.

“My girl…such a desperate whore,” he snarls, refusing to touch you. He could see your hips buck towards him, needy for friction, for attention. “Aren’t you? Eager to get fucked by anyone with a cock? Is that why you’re wearing such small fucking skirts all the goddamn time?”

“No,” you shake your head, offended but turned on. He could smell you from miles away, that slick wetness of yours… “I promise, no.”

Hoseok drives again, pressing on the gas harshly. You gasp. He’s insane with need—for you, for what you’re offering so openly. “That’s not what your sweet little pussy is telling me right now. Pull those panties to the side for me, sweetheart, rub that clit for me, I know it’s begging to be touched.”

You do exactly as you’re told, your juices nearly staining the car seat. He had a way with words, a way that made you do anything for him just so you could hear that filth escape his kissable mouth. It turned you on to indescribable extends, you’d turn into anyone for him. Anyone he wanted, no questions asked.

He hears your breathy moans, the wet sound your sloppy cunt made as you slid those fingers along your folds, dragging them up to that small bundle of nerves all the way to the top, and pressing there. Then, moving in circular motions, two fingers, head falling back, broken sounds escaping your desperate body. Hoseok was in hell, split between parking the car on the side of the road and taking you right then or continuing to watch you lose yourself to self pleasure, his gaze and dirty mouth enabling your release closer and closer.

“Christ, you’re insatiable, aren’t you? Acting like you haven’t been fucked in years…such a slut, doll. That’s it, keep going—my beautiful girl, look at that fucking pussy, I just wanna drink it all up, slurp on it until I wipe you clean,” he adjusts the bulge in his jeans, clearing his throat of any hoarseness. “You’d let me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes…”

He makes a left turn, closing his eyes momentarily to get a grip on himself. You were driving him wild, he had no will left to hold him back. No fuck to give if you got caught. He had to have you, had to slip inside you, God the fucking sound! So goddamn wet…

“Go on, baby, stretch yourself out for me, slide those fingers inside that gaping hole, I know how much you need it,” he continues his unbearable verbal teasing, edging not only you but himself, until he absolutely drove both of you to the brink of madness. You had turned into a moaning mess, tears running down your cheeks, one hand gripping the handle of the door as the other worked yourself into oblivion.

“You have me so hard for you, baby, so fucking hard. Put your leg up on the armrest, let me see you. You’ve been begging to get fucked since the moment you walked through that door, beautiful. Real or not real?” He almost doesn’t turn his eyes back on the road on time, breaking hard when another car merges in his lane.

You cry out, the sudden halt digging your digits deeper into your cunt, reaching a spot that almost makes you come right then and there. Hoseok fucks it all to hell, and swerves, pulling behind a parked car, and turning off the engine in the middle of a busy boulevard. He unbuckles his belt, and pulls his rock hard length out, groaning at the freeing sensation. Pumping himself a few times, falling into your rhythm, observing the way your clenching and unclenching around your fingers, honey juices glistening all over your thighs, dripping on his leather seats…

“I have to—fuck, I have to come, I can’t, I can’t—” you mumble between sobs, eyes shut, legs closing as your hand moves harder, sloppier.

“No, the fuck you won’t,” he growls, and pulls your hand away, giving your cunt two good slaps, and earning a whimper from you, before bringing his arms under your ass and lifting to sit you on his lap, positioning you over his shaft.

Your eyes are glazed over, only one thought in your mind, and he’ll make it true for you, he promises you, he pushes your hair away from your sweaty face, and drops his forehead against yours, fingers coming to wrap themselves around your delicate throat. What a fucking vision, all for him to enjoy, to ravish.

“You’re gonna let me finish you off, baby, yeah, I need to feel that sweet release on my dick,” he mutters, and then he slams you down on him, the both of you exhaling, holding onto each other. “I know you can give it to me, c’mon, fuck on me, let me have it, let me have you…” his tone comes down to a faint whisper as you start riding him.

Hoseok can only admire his pretty girl having her way on his cock, can only offer everything he has and hope she accepts it, hope it’s enough—just like that, you’re doing so good for me, doll, I fucking love you, look at you bouncing on my dick like a goddamn slut. Hands grip on your waist, your love handles, your hips, and finally your ass again as he literally moves you on top of him, hard and fast, not giving a damn about the mess he’s making of you.

He could buy you as many outfits as you liked. Or even better, fuck that; he could make you them, anything you liked. Any price, any time. You just had to utter the word, and it’d be considered done.

“I’m the only fucking man who can have you like this, beautiful. Real or not real?” He asks when you finally shake all over, and collapse on his chest, panting and unable to speak. Still, he pushes. He needs to know, needs the reassurance.

When it came to you, he could turn into such a self conscious asshole. Ease his mind, then, tell him once and for all and get it over with.

“Real,” a promise. A beginning. “Real.”

He cups your face and kisses your eyelids, your cheeks, your ear, nose, mouth, neck. You fall into his soft lips, his warm touch. His dark eyes talk only of adoration.

“Come work with me,” he suggests once more. “Any amount you want, it’s yours. Work with me—be with me.”

“Yes,” you smile, exhausted. “Okay.” This time you take initiative, kiss the palm of his hand. His jaw twitches, gaze flashing. “You’re not gonna leave me alone, anyway.”

When Hoseok laughs, it’s spring. It’s flowers blooming, sun beaming down on your face, children playing happily, world peace. It’s home. It’s warm, bright days. It shakes you to your core.

“Not before fucking hell freezes over,” he swears, grinning at you with that thousand watt smile.

You nod, his infectious smile transferring itself onto your face.

“Thought as much.”

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redfurrycat · 5 months

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🤠🥐☕🐓Bakery & Coffee Shop AU Fic Recs🐓☕🥐🤠

(Includes B, CS and the lovely combo of the two)

(May also include AUs close to B and CS but not quite)

Check the Top Gun Masterlist post for the latest updated version. 💕

Ao3 Authors: Bahjrc, Curapick, Dalearden, Fuddlewuddle, Greenstuff, Haridwar, Infinitejaust, Nimuetheseawitch, SunMonTue, Xo_em.

Flower Shop & Tattoo Parlor AU > Mechanic AU

Can I take you to go? by Fuddlewuddle {E}

/☕/

Jake Seresin only went into the coffee shop to get a drink. He didn't expect to meet the love of his life.

The Way to a Man's Heart by dalearden {T}

/☕/

Jake Seresin is a pilot, currently on medical leave from Naval duty as he recovers from injuries sustatined in an ejection during a training exercise. He's grumpy and bored when he takes a chance on a random coffee shop on a rainy afternoon and meets one Bradley Bradshaw, manager and possibly world's best barista. Bradley wastes no time taking such a pretty broken bird under his wing, winning Jake over through pastries and charm and also by being insanely hot. Then therer's an attempted robbery on the premises, and everything accelerates.

The Color of Malibu Blue by curapick {G}

/☕/

Or, simply put, I've liked you long enough to remember all your likings and hope to make them right for you only to bring a smile to your face. But no, I won’t tell you all these… at least not just yet, Bradley mutters to himself. or - in which Barista Bradley's secretly in love with his blond customer with blue-green eyes without him knowing... until one day.

A Brand New Start of It by xo_em {E}

/☕/

“When you asked me out for coffee I didn’t think you’d be the one making it.”

lover be good to me by haridwar {M}

/🥐☕/

Jake picks a random coffee shop to go be pensive in when he receives a birthday card he doesn't want and things turn out better than he ever could have imagined

Extra Hot by greenstuff {E}

/☕/

Of course it’s Extra-Hot-Means-180 Degrees guy, in his absurdly tight black Las Vegas Fire and Rescue t-shirt with his abysmal personal mug that never fails to rub off a smudge of permanent marker onto Jake’s palm once it’s hot. And it’s always Jake’s palm because of course Las Vegas’ hottest man insists that only Jake makes his triple grande blonde latte (extra hot) correctly. Features flirting via coffee cup, hand holding, rock climbing, and a daring rescue.

a spoonful of sugar (helps the medicine go down) by bahjrc {G}

/🥐☕/

Bradley Bradshaw is a tired college student coming home for summer break. All he wants to do is come home, catch up on sleep, help his family's business and maybe figure out what the hell he's going to do with his life. He's not expecting a mysterious man and his weird cat that just moved into the apartment down the street to become a thing in his life. And he's definitely not expecting that golden cat to be such a pain on his ass.

31 Flavors and Counting by infinitejaust {G}

/🍦/

Jake has a terrible sweet tooth. He doesn’t indulge it much - you don’t get to have great abs and dessert every day. But there's something about that little concessions stand down the beach... For the prompt: Meet-cute at the beach! Bradley works at an ice cream shop and meets lifeguard Jake.

Baker Bradley by nimuetheseawitch {T}{G}

/🥐/

Bradley owns a bakery. Jake can't sleep. They meet in the hours before dawn when only bakers and insomniacs are awake.

The Roost by SunMonTue {T}

/🥐/

The Dagger Squadron have put Jake in charge of organizing a cake for Mav's 60th birthday and retirement celebration. Little does he know he's about to ask Mav's son to make it.

Jake's Cakes by SunMonTue {T}

/🥐/

Iceman has tasked Bradley with organising Maverick's 60th birthday cake. This goes as planned until Mav decides to be a gremlin.

#Bakery & Coffee Shop Recs List #hangster #sereshaw #hangaroo #bradley rooster bradshaw x jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #🐈red🐈furry🐈cat🐈tag🐈

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zergula · 8 months

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Welcome To Sims3City!

They say if you can make it here, you can make it anywhere! Celebrities can be found wandering the shops and giving impromptu performances all over Sims3City. There's live show venues everywhere and it's easy to see why they say this city runs on dreams yet never sleeps!

I found this absolutely gorgeous map: Waterfall Beauty and just had to use it to make my own city world save! This map did come with lots already designated so I filled it up with the best townhouses, apartments, and city life buildings I could find or make to make my own version of a mashup of Starlight Shores and Bridgeport.

INTERESTING CHARACTERS

Every sim comes to Sims3City to make it big! With a performance venue on nearly every corner, you're sure to see:

The Warflowers - These twins started a band and pulled some of their reluctant friends into it. They know once they got here to The City, they would make it!

Chloe and Bob Katt - always on the hustle to make people believe in magic again!

The Myth family is here, of course, living in the spookiest house!

Mirage Sable always seems able to make everyone else's wishes come true, hoping one day her only one will, too!

Candice and Arthur finally made it to The City when Candice got her book deal. Arthur is hoping to make it into the celebrity chef business...with a little help from his friend and now roommate, Derek. This new relationship has a lot of challenges being thrown its way, but this couple is determined to make it here and everywhere!

The Vireowing Fairy Sisters not only have beautiful voices, they love to bestow inner and outer beauty on all of those around them. That's perfect in a city that values beauty!

As with anywhere, crime can be overwhelming in the city but H & H Private detective family, Harmony and Henry, are on the case!

Lots of sims from Starlight Shores and Bridgeport are here: The Drama On TV household, the Crash Pad household, the Atkins Household, the Elson Family, the Sagar Family, the Platt Family, the Hemlock, Schlick and Slayer families, the Belle family, the Art Central household, and the Whitfield family.

AROUND TOWN

38 Community lots

74 Residential lots

This city is ALIVE! Along with all EA rabbitholes, you will find:

CHIPS Casino - a big show venue where you can see the greatest performers and play all games

Across the street, you will find another live show venue - The Locker -

where you can see more live performances. After that, dance the night away at Bubbleworks -

and keep the party going with the late night crew over at The Afterlife Vampire Lounge!

Don't worry about ghosts, though. A recreation of the firestation from the movie, Ghostbusters, is right next door so we ain't afraid of no ghosts! Next to that firestation and hospital emergency center, you will find the Anachronistic Art Gallery and City Hall rabbithole, with some mysterious things to explore in the basement!

In the more affluent area of the city is where you will find the Affluence Golf Club rec park and Tee Off! Sports Bar and Grill -

and some sweet treats at The Big Cheese bakery and shops!

In the center of town, you will find lots of fun for the kids at The Wise Owl Library next to the Aquarium Science Center and the Bright Beginnings Daycare and School center -

Stop by and get some sweet treats at The Plaza Ice Cream Parlor

and then get rid of all of that excess energy at the Big Rock Climbing Centre Gym or The Pac Man Public Pool next to the stadium rabbithole!

Don't forget to visit the Surf's Up Wave Garden at the beach right across the street or the seasonal festival grounds!

Downtown, you can get those extra strings at the DownTown Music Store, play some games at the Laserberry Arcade, and then head over to the Stardust Diner for some drinks and good times!

If you go at certain times of the day to catch a movie at Serena's Community Cinema, you might be able to see some of today's biggest stars working on set! You can pick up whatever you need at the big Sims 3 Market nearby and marvel at all of the old historical residential buildings before you head over to the Double Rainbow Disco Club for more dancing!

For those sims with a more exclusive taste, Club 112 in the historical section is the perfect lounge!

There's The Remaude Coffee Emporium Coffeehouse and Elixir Of Life Coffeehouse and shops for more live venues and fun in Sims3City!

After all of that excitement, the city folks like to visit the Stone Troll Mill Fishing Pond to unwind and maybe catch some dinner if they're lucky!

MORE INFO

This is a world save file. You will need to have the world installed in order to play the save file. In this download, you will find 3 save files and the world file:

Sims3CityCommunityLots - this version of the save is only the community lots

Sims3CityUnpopulated - this is the final version of the save without households

Sims3CityPopulated - this is the final version on the save with all households

I have all expansions, stuff packs, and store content so most of it is probably used in this save. If you do not have the item, the game should generate a similar item. The only expansion not used is PETS so I do not know how this save will run with pets, my apologies. THERE IS ZERO CUSTOM CONTENT IN THIS SAVE. All lots are set as regular lots (not apartments) so if you want to change them for roommates, etc feel free! I hope you enjoy this save as much as I am! Please tag me @zergula or #Sims3City if you share any photos, I would love to see them!

Please check out my other world saves here:

River Falls

Simarellen

Kaodina

Lunestia

Happy simming and green plumbobs for all <3

SIMSFILESHAREDOWNLOAD

#ts3cc #s3cc #the sims 3 #sims 3 world #sims 3 world save #world save file #sims3city

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scoops-aboy86 · 4 months

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(Continued from this, in which Eddie tried to cast a love spell to snag Steve Harrington but it didn’t go right and just made Steve inexplicably popular.)

Anyway, once Steve starts that Scoops Ahoy job, any hopes of retaining his jock figure are toast.

Whenever Eddie visits, Steve sets him up in a booth with a guess-the-mystery flavor milkshake. Every once in a while Steve will swing by during table wiping duties (which his cranky coworker Robin is more than happy to let him take more often than not) and ask what his guess is, and Eddie being Eddie gives the most off the wall answers he can think of. To which Steve will tilt his head, take a sip of the milkshake himself as if to refresh his memory, set it down while smacking his lips thoughtfully (Eddie’s favorite part, he always zeros in on it), and say, “Nope, better luck next guess.” Needless to say, he ends up drinking most of the milkshake, especially since Eddie is a slow drinker and doesn’t like it as much once it’s all melted. (Steve, who has developed quite the sweet tooth, thinks it’s endearing when Eddie insists that ice cream should be chewed.)

Employees can get up to one complimentary item every shift, so Steve also eats at least one full serving of ice cream a day.

There’s a toping limit on that deal, but what management seems to have failed to take into account is that the workers aren’t terribly well supervised in the absence of paying customers. Both Steve and Robin each have their own “spilled toppings” cup under the front counter, although the latter refills his more frequently and sometimes pours chocolate sauce on top before eating it all in one sitting with a spoon.

Meanwhile, Steve. Is. Loving this. He understands Eddie’s cafeteria table ramblings more, he thinks, now that he’s eating like this after years conforming and shoehorning his appetite into an athlete’s diet.

Also, like… Eddie is totally different from any friend can remember ever having before. Thinking back to their earliest interactions, he doesn’t think Eddie even wanted anything to do with him at first, and doesn’t seem to want anything from him now besides company, even if it’s just in the form of Eddie writing his campaigns in the Scoops parlor while Steve’s working. For another, Eddie’s eyes sometimes follow him the way all the high school girls’ used to, only instead of feeling on the spot or nervous Steve is just… comfortable with it. He’d never been able to figure out why he got all that attention in high school because it had started before he’d even done anything, but with Eddie every step towards becoming friends had been a conscious struggle.

So if Steve starts leaning into whatever gets Eddie’s eyes on him like that, is that really so big a deal? He’s always liked attention, so sue him—and when he ends up realizing that it happens whenever he’s being most himself, well. He’s never felt like anyone really liked him for him anymore, not even Nancy since ‘bullshit’ and ‘tell me you love me.’ The fact that Eddie does drives him wild.

And Steve likes to eat. He feels more grounded in this bigger version of himself. Eddie’s always watching his mouth, his hands, his fingers (especially when he’s licking drips of ice cream off them)—so Steve happily keeps indulging however he feels like.

One day Steve is wiping down tables and bends down a little too far to grab some fallen napkins off the floor. He feels more than hears the fabric of his blue uniform shorts rip, and all but leaps into the booth Eddie is haunting before anyone else sees, sits close to him because he likes the proximity. One glance is enough to know that Eddie definitely saw, his big Bambi eyes open wide, eyebrows anll the way up his forehead… and hair pulled across his face in an attempt to hide flushed cheeks, caught in the act of staring at Steve’s ass.

That’s what gives Steve the confidence to lean in a little bit and flirt, ask to borrow Eddie’s jacket (no one else in this town would wear leather in summer) so he can get back behind the counter and change. Eddie hands it over immediately, and flushes even harder when Steve grins and says, “My hero.”

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but he wants it to.

Part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11

#love spell no go au #scoops words #chubby steve harrington #yeah i thought about it some more #i like my ice cream with some cronch to it don’t @ me #(actually that would be hysterical somebody do that)#(slap fight over dessert textures in the comments)#(bring it on lol)#scoops steve

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bokutosmochi · 1 year

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PUT YOUR HEAD ON MY SHOULDER ♡ MAMMON

mammon x gn!reader

"two orders of astronaut ice cream for mammon and anon please!"

ingredients? mammon was not the avatar of pride, but that doesn't mean he can't have his prideful moments.

what's it? fluff

allergen warnings? some violence

sugar level? 0.8k

regulars? @tokyometronetwork @tahonet

parlor's note? mammon, my love, it's so fun to write for him (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

bon appetit!

"you know you didn't have to do this, right?" you asked, to which he just tsked. he continued to put the dvd into the player with you voicing out your concerns in the background. "i don't want you to force yourself to do something you don't want to do."

"look here, human, if ya think some lil spooky movie's enough to scare The Great Mammon, then you're wrong."

one of the best thing about mammon was how observant he is; you can't help but internally coo whenever he remembed a small detail about you, which is fairly often. other times though, you think that it may be him downfall. that and his pride.

you found yourselves shopping at the devildom mall on a weekend; you've done all your homework the day prior and the both of you aced the exams you had assigned. you deserved a treat. one of the shops you explored was a dvd store selling disks from all genres, plus a few more that you've never heard of before in the human realm. a few movies caught your eye, underworld understandings - a mystery movie that focused on the protagonists making pacts with immature humans -, through the thorns of the rose - a romance movie following the lives of two starcrossed demon lovers -, and lastly, down the valley of rotten skull mountain -- a horror flick about a bunch of travelers getting stranded on rotten skull mountain, a place plagued with monsters heinous enough to frighten demons. the last one was the movie that intrigued you the most.

you didn't end up buying anything from that store. instead you saved the grimm to buy a new stash of mammon's perfume since you heard him complaining about not having a lot left. both fortunately and unfortunately, it was mammon who ended up buying one of the movies you were interested in, and knowing how much you loved horror movies, he made the obviously very wise decision to buy down the valley of rotten skull mountain.

"no mammon, seriously. i know how much you don't like scary movies. we don't have to watch it."

"i wanna." is all he grumbled before grabbing the remote and pressing play. he then plopped down beside you in your comfortable bed and watched the starting act play out.

you could tell he was getting a bit uncomfortable. you could also tell he was not about to stop watching it anytime soon because of how engrossed you are in the movie.

two of the protagonists died in gruesome ways which made you flinch and you'd never bring up the way mammon hid his face behind the stuffed capybara he won for you when you visited the human realm on your latest birthday. but as you progressed further into the film, you found out that their deaths was nothing to the way the supposed final girl was going to suffer.

even by just judging the tense atmosphere of the movie, how this will be the ending scene of the movie, and the string quartet playing in the background creating a heart-pounding tune, you knew mammon would not be able to stomach this. if he was able to sit through it and not look away, he was going to have nightmares for days and that was not something you wanted him to deal with.

you knew that he would turn down your offer of turning the movie off, he would also reject the idea of looking away as per your advice, so you just laid a hand on the back of his head and guided it down so he would be facing your shoulder instead. you turned down the volume so he would not hear the intense sounds of her blood-curling screams and the sound of guts being torn apart by the monster's teeth. he had his hands over his ears the entire time and he would have vowed to do anything you asked him to if you promised to keep this a secret between the two of you; his brothers cannot find out about this.

he was only able to speak when the movie was over and the credits were rolling. "h-hah, knew you couldn't resist getting your hands on The Great Mammon. not that i can blame ya though. i'm yer protector and if ya need protecting from a "scary movie"", he did air quotations around scary movie as if he did not agree with the 16+ rating, "then protecting from a scary movie you'll get."

i get: reblog

you get: protection from a scary movie (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧

#order of the day!#order up for mammon!#one black sesame mochi #with a side of coconut italian ice #mammon fluff #obey me fluff #mammon x reader #obey me x reader #mammon x you #obey me x you #mammon x mc #obey me x mc #mammon x yn #obey me x yn #mammon scenarios #obey me scenarios #mammon one shot #obey me one shot #a date with u event

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skz-streamer · 7 months

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The First Date - Jeongin

Simptober First Dates M-List

Pairing: Jeongin (skz) x fem!reader

Genre: Fluff ;))))

Notes: personally I LOVE ESCAPE ROOMS so like imagine going to one as a first dateee-OH MY GOODDD🫠🤭

-please read responsibly, and remember that this work is fiction and meant strictly for imaginative fun. the idols used in fics are more accurately faceclaims and personality outlines for imaginary characters, and should not be interpreted as factual representations of existing people

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

As you entered the detective's office-themed escape room, the challenge ahead was daunting. The room was dimly lit, with an air of mystery hanging about. You both glanced at the various objects and documents scattered across the room, each potentially holding a clue.

Jeongin, ever the optimist, began to explore a vintage filing cabinet. "Hey, look at this!" he exclaimed, pulling out a dusty file. "I wonder if there's something important in here."

You couldn't resist playing along. "Maybe it's a secret agent's top-secret mission report," you mused, your eyes wide with curiosity. "Or perhaps just an old pizza delivery receipt."

He laughed, and you both started sorting through the papers, looking for any hidden hints or codes. However, a few moments later, you found yourselves engrossed in a small argument about which document was the most significant clue.

Jeongin insisted that a weathered photograph must hold the key, while you were certain it was the torn piece of paper with a cryptic message. Your disagreement sparked a playful argument, each of you trying to convince the other of your choice.

"Okay, fine," Jeongin finally conceded with a grin, "Let's try your idea first."

With the challenge of the room slowly unraveling, you continued to explore the intricacies of the detective's office. You deciphered hidden messages, pieced together puzzles, and unlocked hidden compartments. Along the way, the playful banter persisted, occasionally turning into laughter as you worked together to solve the various riddles.

As the final minutes of the escape room ticked away, you found the last piece of the puzzle, unlocking the door to freedom. The sense of accomplishment was palpable, and you both couldn't help but share a triumphant high-five.

you didn't want the date to end just yet. So, with a hopeful smile, you turned to Jeongin and asked, "Do you think we should continue our date? How about some ice cream?"

He grinned, clearly enjoying your company. "Ice cream sounds perfect!" he replied.

With that, you set off on the next part of your date, hand in hand, looking forward to enjoying sweet treats and extending the memorable day you had shared, as you walked to the nearby ice cream parlor.

Tag: @anny-bah@eee5533@mixtape-racha@weedforthoughtz@ren0325@felixvsp@hwangrimi @sanriiolino @painstakingly-juno@herarcadewasteland@dabiscrustyfeet@kai-jilee@sungiesoonie@slvtty4channiee@revelaffee @buckys-pillow, @staygirl86 @chlodavids@jinnie-ret@bbygrlhannie@rebecca-johnson-28@turtledove824@interstellarairwaves@yearofthetiger25@minhos4thkitty@fiqire@backintomykpopphaseagain@liknws@tinyelfperson@aaasia111@yangbbokari@hafsah-ali@sleepyleeji@skzhoes@yamaguchiwestad@leonswifesstuff@nappynapnaps

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ystrike1 · 1 year

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Averted Gaze R - By Rusena (8/10)

I'm not sure if love is involved here at all. This is a painfully realistic horror story. Nothing happens until it's too late. Incest is a heavy topic, but it's handled ok in this case. The one sided attraction is presented as entirely creepy, and unwanted. The obsession also hints at a mystery, and I want answers.

Dahye has blond, wavy, frizzy hair. She constantly straightens it, but it is always slightly messy. She works in an ice cream parlor, and she's trying her best. Money is tight, but her parents are well off. She can live with them until she's ready to leave.

Sexism is a pretty big issue in Korea. Daughters do not get treated like sons. Dahye has to do chores. Dawoon, her brother, does not. She feels suffocated, because Dawoon has always been the favorite.

But...why???

Dawoon is kind of horrible. His grades are shit. He's twenty and he dropped out of school. He has no goals in life whatsoever. He steals Dahye's wallet regularly, and he uses her money to buy gacha rolls. He doesn't have a life. He's the image of a failed son...but...

His parents spoil him. She thinks it's creepy. She tries to be nice to her brother. She tries to care about him, but it's so hard. Every single chapter the situation gets stranger. Dahye has to vacuum, do laundry, and dust for everyone...including Dawoon.

When she vacuums his room she notices a lot of issues. Big ones. Dawoon has been painting creepy faces on his bedroom walls. His parents seem to think he's interested in art...but...um...Dahye looks at his computer and sees something much worse. Her name. The word die. Rip. Tear. Slave. According to the notes she finds her brother wants to steal her, lock her up, use her, and kill her.

The next scene is heartbreaking. Dahye tells her parents and they don't believe her. Dawoon tells a paper thin lie. He says he was reading a horror novel online. The victims name is similar to Dahye's. That's all. You're overreacting. She knows that's not true. The notes were not written like a novel, and she saw her name several times. He deletes them. The parents don't pressure him, and Dahye has to keep living like everything is normal.

Dahye tells her best friend. Her best friend is...well...the best! She's supportive and she knows Dahye's home life is hard. She says Dahye has her full support, no matter what happens.

Dawoon starts to get worse, because he knows he can get away with acting out now. He was caught red handed with hand written incest porn and his parents defended him. When Dahye speaks to him he lashes out, and he becomes even ruder than usual. Things escalate. Dawoons mother approaches him. She says she's worried about him. She wants him to stop playing games every day, so he pushes her. He shoves the mother that defended him to the ground, and she actually gets injured. She has to wear heat packs and visit the chiropractor...but still nothing happens.

Auntie steps in. Auntie is the only adult with sense. She knows that Dawoon's mental health is in the toilet, because he doesn't go outside. Auntie thinks he should see a therapist and get a job. She wants his parents to shape up and act now, before it's too late. She tried to confront Dawoon, but he locked his door. Auntie peeked through his window, and she saw him...pleasuring himself...standing up near the wall covered in painted faces. That's not a good sign. He also didn't stop, even when their eyes locked. Auntie is extremely worried for Dahye. Dahye doesn't want to move out. She's not ready, but the situation is pretty dire. Auntie probably can't financially support Dahye, but she may have to find a couch to sleep on soon.

Dahye hears Dowoon on the phone. Apparently, it's his girlfriend. He looks at Dahye, and he says he's disappointed.

If he didn't have a girlfriend he would totally (bang) her.

First of all I'm worried about this girlfriend.

Second of all Dahye needs to leave, now, but she's worried that Dowoon will attack her parents.

It seems like Dowoon got a girlfriend to replace his sister, for now, but he's getting bolder.

(My theory is pretty sad. Dahye might not be her parents daughter. She's the only one with blond hair, and that would explain why they're so obsessed with Dowoon. He's their "only" child. If that's not true life is just unfair, and Dahye has been taking shit her entire life just because she's not the favorite. Her parents are very cold to her most of the time. It sharply contrasts with the way they treat Dowoon. I'm curious, and I hope Dowoon doesn't win.)

#yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended #webtoon #Averted Gaze R

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viviennevermillion · 2 years

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Going to a mall with him

notes: had this idea for a while. I feel like taking the fae prince who doesn't have much experience with human society to a mall in a big city.

Also feel free to join our twst discord!

contains: malleus draconia x gn!reader

warnings: none

Every second thing confuses him.

He has never been in a place with this many humans before, the closest thing would be the Scalding Sands bazaar. Fascinated at how many people there are. A little overwhelmed too. At every corner there are people just going about their daily lives but he doesn't really know what a lot of them are doing.

Stares too much. You have to drag him along by his hand to make sure he doesn't bump into people.

Your first stop is a large ice cream parlor with over 50 different kinds of ice cream. "What is pretzel ice cream? I'm not even sure what a pretzel is", Malleus stares through the glass at the ice cream. You chuckle and tell him then he has to find out. He orders an ice cream cup with the pretzel ice cream, blueberry and something that was just labeled "mystery"

Super hyped when you suggest you could go through the shops for him to try on modern clothing. He tries on everything ranging from leather jackets to colorful shirts to basic t-shirts to suit jackets with interesting patterns. Has never tried high heels before but he's seen Vil use them so he's curious. Almost falls over. "I better put these away again", he chuckles. You wrap a scarf around him and cup his face to give him a kiss.

Wants to sit in the clothing shop for a while just to listen to the music it's playing on the radio

You eventually exit the shop with Malleus. Malleus and his 10 bags full of colorful clothes that he couldn't be separated from. "I'd never get to buy something like this in Briar Valley", he argues, floating the bags with his magic.

He curiously inspects the electronic store and you wrap your arm around his waist to gently guide him away from it. "We're not out for collateral damage today, sunshine", you remember the last time he accidentally zapped his phone with lightning.

Stares at a life-sized lego sculpture of the King of Beasts in the toy store like he's just seen an interdimensional rift. "People made this solely by using these tiny plastic bricks?", he wonders.

He's absolutely fascinated by the escalator. Super happy when you go one or two steps up the escalator to be able to press a kiss to his forehead and his lips. He buries his face in your neck and lets you hold him for a while

Your worst best decision is just letting him run wild in the grocery store. He just throws everything that intrigues him into the cart including waffle cups, a whole mozzarella, sour gummies, the overpriced Bane & Jeremy ice cream, pickled fish, cup noodles, spray cheese and a bag of frozen chicken wings. Comes out of the store just gently taking bites out of his mozzarella and you watch him with a questioning look on your face. "Is something the matter, my dear?", he asks. "No, I'm glad you're having a good time", you smile at him

You stop for dinner at Burger Queen and Malleus is so surprised that they make a meal so fast without using magic. He doesn't know what all the things on the menu are so he just orders based on the pictures. He orders a burger, chicken nuggets and chili cheese fries. Loves it. "I wish they would serve that in the royal palace as well", he sighs.

Is very thankful for this trip and that he could get to know humans and their way of life a bit better

#twisted wonderland #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia x you #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x y/n #twst malleus #malleus draconia headcanons

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tilly-tilly-2827 · 25 days

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Midnight Sanctuaries (Side B & Side C)

Reimaging An Offer from a Gentleman#3

Synopsis: Maria Beckett should know better. But there was nothing she could do. She craved love, she craved for warmth. And Richard Gunningworth didn’t know better.

But how Benedict Bridgerton knew better.

But how he was, a bit of a fool.

⚠️Trigger Warning: Mentions of sexual assault/ rape/ suicide.

AO3 post from here

Part one from here

“What is it, to woo a woman?”

Benedict Bridgerton spurred on his fifth glass of whiskey, contemplating if he should take the sixth.

“Not a lady, you mean?”

Alice eyed the man suspiciously, wiping the glass with a cloth. She was quite worried, seeing the second son of the Bridgerton family almost drown himself in whiskey. It was true that he had been dwelling in the stalls of the bar for years with a glass in hand, but he seemed to be improving.

“After a refreshing stay in Wilshire, I have gained a new perspective,” explaining to her happily a few days back.

“Well, yes, yes…a lady.” He added hastily.

“You must be at a loss, for a Bridgerton to be suffering in the process of a courtship!” Will laughed wholeheartedly, placing an arm over his shoulder.

“Might I ask who the lucky lady is? Which young debutant has captivated the eyes of a melancholic artist?”

Alice had expected Benedict to burst out in verse, declaring forever love and devotion to a young debutante somewhere in the ton, but his reaction was quite the opposite; instead, he sunk deeper into silence, dipping himself in another glass of wine.

“Isn’t she the one you talked about for years?” Alice asked a little hesitantly, “The women in silver you talked about-”

“What?” Benedict jerked from his intoxication. “No, no, no. Not her. Definitely not her.”

“Then who is she?”

Benedict decided to ignore the question altogether. He knew that he was being selfish, but anger and frustration had been slowly bubbling up in him. As he watched the young John Stirling whisper something teasingly to Francesca as her face flushed crimson pink, as they promenaded in the park arms in arms, giggling away happily about who knows what, Benedict couldn’t help thinking why he couldn’t do the same with Sophie.

He wanted to fill her room with flowers and bouquets.

He wanted to take Sophie to ice cream parlors.

He wanted to ask her for the second Walz at the end of the ball.

All the jealousy, all the longing, all the desire were flaming stronger day by day, and the overwhelming craving was killing him, making him lose his mind. How much he longed to just take her down in the closet or even the hallway, how much he longed to bury himself inside her arms…

“……Why does she keep rejecting me?”

“…So you are being rejected by this mysterious lady of yours? Hence this drinking?”

“How do you know that she’s rejecting me?”

“……You said those words seconds ago, Mr.Bridgerton.”

Benedict softly touched his mouth, regretting that he had let it slip. He knew what others would think of him if they knew he was trying to seduce a maid to be his mistress. He was seen as a respectable gentleman, and he didn’t quite want to lose the reputation he had from his fellow men. Not like Phillip Cavender.

“Well, …I…”

“So she has been rejecting you.”

Alice stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

“Perhaps, you are not her preference,” Will teasingly added, giving a pat on his shoulder. “No need to pounder, Bridgerton. There will be someone who would appreciate your looks.”

“No, no. No.” He denied quickly, “I am definitely in her preference.”

“How can you be so sure of that, Mr. Bridgeton?” Alice arched her eyebrows.

“Well…”

She said I look like her Prince Charming.

“I just know.”

Alice sighed deeply. Men, she quietly thought. So sure of themselves, not doubting any bit that they could be the reason for rejection. She quietly felt sympathy for the poor girl in question; imagining Benedict Bridgerton trying to wear her down with his charms.

“Have you been sending gifts to this lady of yours?” Will asked nonchalantly. “Perhaps she does not like what you have offered to her…”

Gifts…Gifts!

It suddenly dawned on him that Benedict had never given Sophie Beckett anything, maybe except for an ill-cooked breakfast.

One doesn’t have to be a mistress to be receiving gifts, don’t they?

“Mondrich, you are a great man!”

Already planning out a perfect scheme in his head, Benedict hurriedly slipped down from his chair, quickly grabbed his jacket, and ran to the door. He’ll tip the florist double the amount, he knew how to sneak into Genevieve’s shop at night….

“He’s going to do something awful.”

Alice murmured under her breath as Benedict disappeared from their sight. She wrote down his bills on the piece of paper sighing at the amount. He will have to pay, soon.

“……Why didn’t you stop him then?”

“Because,” Alice replied as she took a glass of whiskey from his hands, drinking it in a swig.“Men can’t realize their mistakes until they truly experience how bad one screwed it up.”

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

Sophie was exhausted to the bone.

She had been running up and down the house all day long, preparing for the Bridgerton Ball that was coming up next Wednesday. After helping Miss Eloise with the dress in the morning, she also assisted Lady Violet with the penning of the invitation and also helped Hyacinth with her Latin and French. She also secretly mended the tear Miss Eloise had made on her secret escapades, secretly washed the cigarette stain on Eloise’s nightdress, and secretly delivered the letters Eloise had firmly told her; that it is a secret.

She truly adored and admired the Bridgertons.

But she was truly exhausted. Her feet were sore from bustling around London with Eloise’s secret errands in ill-fitting shoes that she had been wearing for years, her hands were cramped from all the writing and the mending she did for the day, and her fingertips were filled with cuts for every time Benedict Bridgeton came into the room.

Sophie wished she could be more calm in front of his presence. Sophie wished Benedict would not look at her so longingly. With his ardent, morning-dew eyes. His warm, sweet, eyes.

Sophie shook her head fervently, trying to erase the fantasy that dwelled in her mind. It was almost midnight, and what she needed was a good night’s rest, not the passionate gaze or the warm arms of one Benedict Bridgerton. Sophie staggered herself up the stairs, wanting to lie on the bed and curl up in her sheets. But before that, she had to mend a hole in her stockings, iron out her apron, wash herself up, and change into her nightgown…

Benedict Bridgerton was the last person she wanted to see in her room that night. He was sitting on the corner of her bed, his face lighting up as he saw her open the door. With the crooked, teasing smile on his face, normally his expression alone would bring her to her knees, but that night Sophie was just goddamn tired. Just so, so, so tired.

“Why are you here, Mr. Bridgerton?”

“You look tired, Sophie.”

“Mr. Bridgerton, why are you here?”

“Can’t I be here?”

“You can not be here,”

“So hostile.” Benedict tutted, pouting his lips ever so slightly. “Aren’t you pleased to see me?”

“No, Mr. Bridgerton.”

“Come on, Sophie, I know…”

“Do you not hear me, Benedict?” Benedict finally noticed how cold and stern her voice was. “I am saying that I do not want you here.”

“Sophie, I just wanted to…”

“Did you not think that some could have seen you?”

“No, I didn’t think-”

“No, you didn’t think,” For the first time in her life, Sophie snapped, letting her anger get the better of her.

“How would the other servants think of me if they saw you in my room? They would think me as a self-serving whore-”

“Sophie, no-”

“And I would be fired from this position and…and…and…it would be very convenient for you, wouldn’t it?”

“Sophie, that’s not what I wanted to-”

Sophie glared at him with her moss-green eyes, and he noticed that Sophie’s eyes were filled with frustration. He staggered back, unable to say anything at all.

“Then what did you want to do?”

“I…I just…”

“Take me down on this bed, mark me as yours?”

It was exactly what he might have been planning to do.

“…And you call yourself a gentleman when you are no better than Phillip Cavenderー”

The next moment, Sophie was pinned up against the door, his hand grabbing her waist strenuously, his other arm slammed above her head, hovering against her by the door.

“You don’t mean that, Sophie”

His voice was dangerously soft, but there was a stroke of pain and fury, and Sophie realized she had gone too far with her anger. How could she ever compare him to Phillip Cavender? Benedict was far more sweet, far more caring, far more…

“I’m here because I love you,”

Sophie felt tears coming up to her eyes.

“…Please don’t say that.”

“I love you, Sophie.”

“You don’t know what you are saying.”

“I mean what I say, Sophie.” Benedict replied angrily, gritting his teeth, “I’m saying that I love you, and I want to take care of you…”

“If you truly loved me, Benedict,” Sophie was falling apart as she broke out in a sob, feeling the tears running down her cheeks. “Why would you ask me to be your mistress?”

But people have mistresses and by-blows all the time, Benedict stupidly found himself thinking despite his fury. What was wrong with having a mistress, if he loved her just the same, if he cared for her just the same?

“You’re hurting me, Benedict, don’t you know…”

“You have never thought how much you hurt ME, Sophie?” Benedict was almost losing his temper, he wanted to scream and roar if he could. Benedict tightened his grip around Sophie’s waist, knowing that his nails were biting into her skin, hurting her, scaring her. The awful side of him was wanting to hurt her, wanting her to feel the pain he had been suffering ever since Sophie had rejected his offer.

“I cannot breathe, Sophie,” Benedict’s words shook with anger. “I cannot breathe, I cannot live without you Sophie, knowing that you feel the same for me.”

He pressed his forehead against her, trying to regain his breath, trying to calm down the immense anger he felt towards her. He let go of his grip and instead placed them on the door, his nails biting the wooden plank.

“I love you, Sophie.”

“Benedict please don’t.”

“I love you.”

“Just…just, don’t, don’t Benedict”

Benedict slowly leaned in, softly nuzzling his nose against hers. Their lips were almost an inch apart, and if Sophie leaned in just an inch, he would have her sweet lips on his in a second.

“Tell me that you love me, Sophie.”

“I can’t.”

“Tell me,”

“Benedict,”

“….That you love me.”

Sophie’s lips were about to reach his, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the sweet sensation to reach his lips.

The next moment, he felt an immense pain slap across his cheeks, tasting the blood in his mouth. He staggered back, perplexed by the power she held.

“…….You’re drunk.”

There was a striking coldness in her eyes he had never seen before. Her hard, cold gaze was enough to sober him up in a second, but it wasn’t enough to deny her words.

“Sophie, Sophie, Sophie.”

Benedict instinctively reached out his arms, wanting to soften her, but Sophie stepped back, clutching to her shoulders as if she were protecting herself from him.

“No, no, don’t you dare touch me, Benedict.”

Benedict finally noticed that he was the stupidest man in the world. Benedict stood foolishly by the door, not knowing what to do or say, as he watched Sophie take another step back, shrinking into the corner of the room.

“I will tolerate, you dwelling on hallways,” Sophie said quietly. “I will endure you stalking me, sneaking and jumping up on me from hidden corridors.”

Benedict was beginning to notice how childish he had been acting as she spoke.

“But I can’t have you in this room, Benedict. This is out of the line.”

“…I apologize, Ms. Beckett.”

His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I’ll …I’m going to leave these here.”

Without even a glance, Benedict left Sophie’s room, quietly shutting the door behind him.

Sophie collapsed to the floor, hardly processing what happened over the last few moments. It was too much, too overwhelming to think with her drained body, but his desperate voice echoed through her mind.

“I love you, Sophie. Tell me that you love me too.”

Sophie staggered to her bed, the very place Benedict Bridgerton had been waiting on a few minutes earlier. He had left her something on the bed, and Sophie finally realized that there was a bouquet and a beautiful small box placed softly on her sheets. It was Lilly of the valleys. Her favorite.

Of course, he would have remembered.

During their stay at My Cottage, Benedict had insisted on her accompanying on his walks. “What if I collapse on my way? I have just recovered from sickness, Ms. Beckett,” Benedict had asked her teasingly. “I would need someone to run to Mr. Crabtree.”

Long walks they took on the country streets of Wiltshire, talking about their favorite authors, plays, and paintings. Benedict would ramble about his siblings and she would laugh, and Sophie remembered how much she loved the countryside; enjoying the wildflowers that bloomed in the side, enjoying the peaceful breeze that surrounded her. As she glanced at his warm smile, she remembered how much she was in love with him.

“You like Lilly of the Valleys?”

Benedict asked as Sophie softly took the blossoms in her hands.

“Yes,” she answered. “We had them around the garden when I was a child. It was my mother’s favorite…”

“Quite suits you,” Benedict had softly said.

“Why so?”

“Do you know what they symbolize, Ms. Beckett?

“I’m afraid I do not know.”

“Return to love, Ms.Beckett,” Benedict whispered, softly kissing her fingertips as he reached for her hand.

With quivering hands, she opened the white box, covered with oriental embroideries. Inside was a beautiful pair of shoes, laced in silk ribbons and white velvet .

Why wouldn’t he know servants can’t afford such things?

Such a foolish, foolish man,

Still feeling the warmth of Benedict Bridgerton against the sheets, Sophie sobbed silently, clutching to the warmth he had left on her bed.

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

“Mrs. Gibbons?”

Annabel sighed as she saw a crack open at the door, seeing a petite figure in the shadows.

“Go back to your nursery, Sophie.”

“But I can’t sleep, Mrs. Gibbons.”

“Go back to your room, Sophie.” Annabel patiently replied, glancing at the clock as it struck midnight. She knew she needed at least four more hours of sleep, before starting another day. “Go back to bed, and close your eyes, and if you count to three hundred…”

“But it’s so cold and dark,”

Annabel rolled her eyes, cursing under her breath. God in heavens where is the governess? It should be her, or at least her father that should be tucking her to bed, not the bloody housekeeper as herself…

But when she looked at her soft almond eyes that loomed too large for her face, she felt a stroke of pain and regret.

“All right, Sophie, come here my dear girl.”

As Annabel pulled back the covers, Sophie climbed desperately onto the bed, clinging to her arms as if she were saving herself from drowning. Annabel noticed how cold her hands and feet were, and her cheeks stained with tears. Poor, poor girl, she thought to herself.

“I can’t stop shivering, Mrs.Gibbsons,”

“You’re all right now, my girl.”

As she put her arms around the poor girl, softly cuddling her against her back, she noticed that she should have done this years ago when she heard her young, petite roommate sobbing under the sheets every night. At that time, she would ignore her desperate sobs, covering her years with her pillow, trying to get some sleep. She wondered how the story would have changed if she had stopped and listened to her deepest vulnerabilities.

“Why can’t you reject him, Maria?”

“Annabel, he loves me. And he is so lonely, ”

“Sophie, are you asleep?”

“……..No.”

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, all right?”

“Yes, Mrs. Gibbsons.”

“You can come here every night, Sophie. If you feel sad or have a bad dream, or you can’t sleep, you’ll come to my side. I’m going to hold you tight, and we’re all going to have a nice peaceful doze. Do you understand that, Sophie?”

“Yes, Mrs. Gibbons.”

“But I don’t want you crawling into anyone else sheets except me. Nor do I want anyone else sneaking into your sheets.”

“Why would I have someone in my sheets, Mrs. Gibbons?”

“I’ll explain to you when you’re older.”

“How old Mrs. Gibbons?”

“Old Enough, Sophie.”

“Old enough for what, Mrs.Gibbons?”

She was quite at a loss for words. Instead, Annabel tightened her arms around him, hoping to warm up the poor child.

“You are going to be a strong smart beautiful lady, Sophie.” Softly stroking her golden locks, she felt a tear dropping down her cheeks. “Your mother would have wanted you to be strong, strong enough to keep yourself warm at night…”

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