πππππππππ ππππ. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
saltburnmods) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
saltburnmods) wrote in draino2024-09-07 10:00 am
Entry tags:
π πππ'π ππππππππ ππππ πππππππππ ππππ β£ SEPT TDM
SEPTEMBER 2024 TDM: LUGHNASADH
Welcome to SALTBURNT, a panfandom smut/thriller game based off the film Saltburn, where characters are encouraged to indulge their deepest desires. The money never runs out and the liquor never stops pouring, so you may as well indulge from the bounty. Of course, things are rarely what they seem, and the manor itself seems to have a consciousness of its own. Throw parties, trash the house, engage in youthful merriment, but remember β dangers come out at night, and no one, no matter how rich you are, is safe from demons lurking in the shadows.
Threads can be considered game canon, provided the players agree. Players can also start fresh upon acceptance into the game. In game characters can post to the TDM directly, using Β« NEW CHARACTER/IN GAMEΒ» in the header. There will be a spot below for new characters to link their toplevels for easy access. Alternatively, prompts on the Test Drive can be used for in game logs.
WELCOME TO SALTBURNT
It's the hangover more than the light streaming in through half drawn curtains that wakes you up, your brain rattling in your skull, your mouth dry and cottony, your stomach churning with whatever it is you drank last night. If self preservation is your strong suit, you might turn over in bed and see a few painkillers laid out for you on a silver dish, accompanied by a glass of water. If it isnβt, stay in bed and wallow β eventually a maid will be in to tear your curtains open, saying, "Breakfast is served," and scurrying out quietly, invisibly. Breakfast? Maybe itβs normal for you. Maybe it isnβt.
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
β momofuku's "cereal milk" β
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
You're drawn from the room, either by the mystery, or an undefinable urge that could be supernatural in origin, or could be your hunger catching up to you. It's almost nostalgic, the walk to the dining room β have you been here before? Were you drawn up to this estate in a car? Havenβt you done all this already? Maybe you mosey around a library, maybe you run into your suite mate in your adjoining bathroom. Regardless, seemingly all hallways, covered in priceless artworks and ancient relics from times long past, lead to the dining room, where a comically long table houses the Balfours and their many guests, some who seem just as disgruntled and confused as you. No matter. "Breakfast will be out in a minute," they say. What's that?
EDIT SEPTEMBER 2024: For those who have attended breakfast with the Balfours before, a change in routine might come as a shock, given how rarely they stray from form. However, as of September, CARMY BERZATTO has taken over Head Chef position, alongside his cousin RICHIE JERIMOVICH and always the bridesmaid never the bride, SANJI. In place of the self-serve style breakfast, there is an elevated menu, including: a self-serve juice bar, with pitchers of various juiced fruit and vegetables, shaved ice, coconut water, green and black tea syrups, potted microherbs, sliced whole berries, and finger limes. There is also, naturally, liquor and champagne available. Guests can make their own drinks, or ask the allocated staff member to serve them one of the "specials" if they're feeling adventurous.
That said, these are world class chefs, so the gold is really in the menu:
THE EGGS
πππ πππππ: one runny boiled egg shelled and recoated in edible gold leaf, seated on a throne of fried bread soldiers, plated with whipped butter and italian parsley.
ππππ ππππππππ: vinegar poached eggs with hollandaise foam on a bed of toasted freekah and baby spinach.
ππππ πππππππππππ: two eggs poached in a ramekin of pureed tomato, served with a crispy grilled cheese cut to dip.
πππ ππππππ: french omelette with a light cheese filling, topped with crushed potato chips and chives.
ππππ π πππππππππ: fluffy scrambled eggs in brown butter, served on sourdough.
πππππππ ππππ: mini-quiche made with caramelized red onions and jamon pata negra ham.
πππ ππππππππππ: bacon, egg, cheese and sausage breakfast muffin that tastes weirdly like it was made at a popular chain with golden arches.
THE SWEETS
β fette biscottate with a sour cherry jam and peanut floss β
β a warm cinnamon bun served with a shot of espresso coffee for dipping β
β a macadamia-marzipan croissant with a wattleseed and burnt-honey filling β
β poffertjes with a liquid nutella injection β
If you want to leave, youβll have to tell Giles, the housekeeper, who will arrange a car for you that mysteriously, or perhaps suspiciously, never arrives. Unfortunately, confronting Giles about it is near impossible, as heβs as good at being invisible as the rest of the house staff. Of course, thereβs no reason why you canβt just walk out. The front gates are easy enough to jump over, even if the walk towards them gives you a strange sense of foreboding, or just outright discomfort, as if the ground itself doesnβt want you to leave. Those more sensitive or fragile might find they canβt make the jump, no matter how physically able, or desperately wanting. Still, a strong person could continue on, over the fence and into the lush English countryside. The feeling doesnβt dissipate, though β this sense of wrongness, almost sickness, like a weight on your back. Walk into the evergreen, carry on, but the strongest will make it perhaps a mile or so before the weight of dread and paranoia brings you to your knees, and then to your face, flat in the middle of a dirt road. What were you thinking? Is this really better?
Wake up with a hangover, in a bed, the curtains drawn, the maid saying, "Breakfast is served," before scurrying out. The painkillers are there, just like you remember. In fact, itβs all exactly how you remember, as if you never left an imprint the first time, or any mess you made was cleared away while your back was turned. Walk to the dining room, find everyone there eating away at their breakfast.
"We dress for dinner," says Portia, with a kind, if discerning smile. "Black tie."
ITSY BITSY TEENIE WEENIE
CONTENT WARNINGS: drugs, alcohol, nudity, potential for nsfw.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
POOLSIDE PLAYLIST courtesy of Robin
It's an innocent enough, offhand suggestion from the mouth of one (1) DIARMUID about wanting to learn how to paint, and honestly, the house couldn't agree more: a party is necessary. As August winds down, it's important to go out with a bang, and what better way than through an explosive end of summer pool party? To say goodbye to the waning summer nights, the manor is throwing a pool party with an artistic neon twist. Per the growing complications of everyone's relationship status in this new age of bisexuality, polygamy, and pegging, glow-in-the-dark bracelets with matching solo cups have been set out with the appropriate labels βΒ TAKEN, SINGLE, OPEN, and IT'S COMPLICATED, depending on your interest. Lounge by the water in your cutest bikini or trunks or nothing at all and engage in some very relaxing full-body painting using the supplies provided β that is, the paint is supplied, though brushes and sponges are few and far between. Better just to use your own body to paint your masterpiece. Put yourself on display as a model by the pool, or engage in a brutally competitive game of chicken fights, wherein the loser loses their clothes and the winner gets to keep them.
Not your style? Sneak off somewhere more private like the twinkling gardens illuminated with multicolored tiki lamps, lakeside decorated with bio-luminescent rocks, or the (perfectly safe, wolfless, we promise) maze to indulge in your inner desires. You might find that certain colors glow beneath the moonlight and unlock desires youβve kept tightly under lock and key. It's hard not to feel impulsive or unrestrained under the full moon's light, with your body paint as armor. People might appear more attractive to you under this witching light like a magic spell cast β but really, you havenβt had any trouble with that, here. Have you?
If youβre thirsty, the house has tasked RICHIE, CARMY, and SANJI (dressed as cabana boys) with an extensive poolside drinks menu, since theyβve been so helpful with breakfast. Thanks, boys. Ask them for anything. In fact, ask them for everything. They're here to serve.
As the night closes out, turn your eyes heavenward for a spectacular fireworks show. Many apologies to those of you who suffer from PTSD; you can head inside for an early night and cover your ears with a pillow, but do be careful not to suffocate yourself, unless you're into that. The fireworks shimmer and shatter, and those watching closely might start to see hidden messages written in the stars for you, though is that your eyes playing tricks? Better ask that friend youβre snuggled up with. As anxiety weighs a little heavier on your heart, you might feel compelled to confess a few secrets on this last night of summer, big or small, something loving or not. Seek out that destructive habit, or take some steps toward healing. Let the fireworks drown out the noise.
FRUITS OF LABOUR
CONTENT WARNINGS: body horror, gore, cannibalism.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
Saying goodbye to summer means welcoming in the new season, and as August nights turn into September mornings, the landscape of the grounds changes from verdant greens to egg yolk yellow and sunburnt orange, a gradient of autumnal colors. To that end, a week long festival erects outside to enjoy the last of the year's good weather β a generous harvest bounty fills up tables and tables of ample displays, full of ripened fruits and fresh baked breads, baked potatoes roasted in the coals of a bonfire, sausages, wheels of cheese, marshmallows, cider and apple juice, tomato soup, apple and blackberry compote, rhubarb crumble, all richly decorated in sunset hues. Among the servings, anyone with a birthday in August or September will find themselves a individualized cake, perhaps with some motif to define them, otherwise just with the harvest decorations of gourds, leaves, wheat, and fruit. Alongside that, a new smaller maze has been made from hay bales on the lawn. During the day it's just a silly and fun maze, but at night it takes on a new form and characters can easily become lost and find themselves in a maze that seems to go on forever, with the ominous lowing of a bull somewhere in the distance. Luckily, everyone is released at daybreak, maybe a little traumatized, but all in one piece.
What would a festival be, without some games to indulge in? Around the celebratory grounds, there are four pumpkins painted gold, hidden around the festival. Anyone who finds one is entitled to a boon from your very generous hosts (join the race HERE). Hunting not to your tastes after the last few goose chases? No worries, there's plenty still to do β from apple bobbing, jumping over bonfires, throwing discus/shotput, horseshoes, and more, it's a festival jam packed with games and prizes to be won, from little jars of handmade jam from France, to stuffed chicken plushies, to tin cans with the labels ripped off, full of ... well, it's anyone's guess, really. Crack it open and find out!
In honor of the handfasting ceremony, characters are selected at random and tied together at the wrist, much to everyone's amusement. Once knotted, the ribbon will not give way under any physical or magical duress, meaning you'll be stuck together until the tie undoes on its own. It could be day, a night, two nights, or more, but it seems like the ribbon is waiting for something in particular βΒ a genuine heart to heart, maybe? Consummating the marriage? Hopefully you like the person you're tied to, because you're going to be spending a lot of time with your temporary spouse, in immediately close quarters.
At the end of the week, there's a final end of summer ceremony, wherein the vampire ARMAND is given special homage for being an especially adored guest, donned in floral regalia and ordained with crowns of flowers, much to his growing malcontent. In fact, he and all the vampires present in house seem to be given the regal treatment from the staff with less grand flower crowns of their own, honored at the head of the festival's final gluttonous table, lined with naked, giggling bodies covered in autumnal produce, sprouting mushrooms, blooming flowers, and distinctly meaty dishes β steak and kidney pie, blood sausage, pumpkins stuffed with zebra meat. It's only after you drink the wildflower tea and locally (Very, Locally) crafted beer that things start to feel a little off. The happy bodies used as serving platters look sometimes, between one blink and the next, like masticated corpses, the gourds and fruits set more deeply in the cornucopia their opened chest cavities make. Despite that, there's no real sense of death in the air β get a better look, and you might find the veins of the dead work more like the vines for the plants, giving them life.
The question becomes: which is the hallucination? The smiling faces or the blooming corpses?
Though hysteria rankles through the crowd the more people come to terms with the visions they're seeing, given the population at the head of the table, it's a fairly easy riddle to crack. Can vampires eat the cursed food? In short: yes, they can. Sorry we made you eat people again.
DIRECTORY
no subject
But it's interesting that she could tell he was feeling that way even when he didn't say it. Even more interesting that she's trying to soothe him.]
Yeah. [and then after a moment he adds:] I always thought he was stupid for wanting you, but never doing anything about it.
[But he's sort of starting to get it now that he's in the driver's seat. She was always waiting for Hyunsu, but he has to wait for her, too. He can't act on what he wants until they're both ready.]
no subject
( at least by her, probably. other people β¦ well, who knows? she wonders if this is the closest a person has ever gotten to a monster that wasnβt killing them. the thought makes her thrilled again, the borderline between fear and excitement. pressing her lips together, she leans back, tilting her chin to stare at him a little imperiously. )
Letβs make another deal.
no subject
I'm being nice.
[Isn't he? He's making an effort. He didn't kill any of those people that touched him. Then again maybe calling his other self stupid isnβt nice, but it's not like he'd let anyone else get away with calling him that.
But then she has him intrigued again. He blinks.]
Oh? What deal?
no subject
If I can convince you back inside, I can convince him back inside, too.
( maybe. itβs a ploy. ultimately itβll be hyunsuβs decision on where he wants to be β but she canβt deny that playing both sides of him feels cruel if she isnβt interested in both. and she is. so, )
I wonβt do anything to him that I donβt do to you, first. ( she squints. ) So if you want more, youβll have to bring Hyunsu out.
no subject
He huffs, impressed.]
Huh. You're pretty good at this. [He cocks his head, curious.] Do you want me to go back inside now?
[He's not necessarily offering, he's just wondering. Because the position they're in is...well, it's something isn't it. Hyunsu's not complaining. And he doubts his other self would either (surely, he's not that stupid). But Eunyu might have a different perspective.]
no subject
so. the question is less do you want him now? and more are you ready for more? it's barely even a question. she nods once, a firm yes, flattening her hands back on his chest.
wryly, )
Should I hit you again to make it easier?
no subject
The fact of the matter is, Hyunsu talked a big game about holding the human side of him back, but in reality he's not sure how this works. Especially here, in this place, where the energy makes everything strange. He knows he tends to wake once Cha Hyunsu--the human in him--has reached a certain limit, either physical or emotional or both. The ordeal with Yi-kyeong took a lot out of him. Essentially, he's dormant because he needed to rest, and neither side of Hyunsu has ever woken the other side on purpose, because he wanted it. It was always a matter of desperation or necessity. Or headbutts.
So it's almost tempting to take her up on the offer. At least it's proven effective.
He doesn't, though. It would be pretty embarrassing if he made a deal with her and couldn't follow through properly without her punching him in the face. Instead he concentrates, his gaze going distant for a few moments. It's not as hard at the moment to find his humanity as it might have been even just a few hours ago. And it's easier than expected to give it a little nudge, too.
Eunyu will see his eyes go black, dark veins creeping outward for a second or two before fully receding back inward and his eyes fade into his natural brown.
He doesn't say anything immediately, because this is a little disorienting. He blinks a few times, trying to focus and make sense of what's happening.]
no subject
( it's a crystalline moment, so pointed it's like she could reach out and grab it, clutch it in her hands, forever. she didn't expect it to work, really β it seems far more likely his monster would laugh at her getting her hopes up than actually follow through with anything. but β he's there. the monster can be reasoned with and hyunsu is there, his coffee brown eyes, his placid, unemotive face. eunyu's eyebrows pull together, eyes lining with water, because β
his monster did this. he did it for her, because she wanted him to, because he trusts her. it means more than the entire world, to have it. it's such a gift.
immediately, she winds her arms around his neck, squashing herself into him. her eyes squeeze shut to fend off tears, which is embarrassing, because his boner is still digging into her, a little. but βΒ he's back. he's back. eunyu never doubted, but it's still like an emotional gut punch, every time she finds her faith not misplaced within hyunsu. )
You came back.
no subject
He's here. With Eunyu. Because Eunyu is here. Here and safe. She doesn't seem to have been hurt because he ended up here instead of finding her in the woods. The relief he feels is profound.
But it's only when she's clinging to him that he manages to find his words again.]
I'm sorry I kept you waiting.
no subject
( it's more of a high pitched, squeaky sound, well intentioned assent that gets pushed out through the clog of emotion in her throat. ultimately, she's just grateful. she's been grateful every time someone hasn't allowed her to be alone, no matter how she pushes and shoves and throws people away. chanyoung didn't let her. hyunsu has never let her. she wasn't lying when she called him kind β to a fault some might say, but not eunyu. hyunsu's kindness is the best part about him, and maybe the most inherent part too, because his monster is as kind as he is, for giving her this no matter what it cost him. it might've cost him everything. )
It's fine.
( she pulls back, turning her head towards her shoulder and lifting a hand to press the wet streaks of her tears as subtly as she can, forcing herself calm. when she looks back at hyunsu, it's still pretty obvious, but she's at least not dripping tears, watching him carefully. )
Did you hear everything we talked about?
no subject
Right.
He's suddenly acutely aware of the position they're in. How her body feels pressed against him as she holds him. How hard he still is.
It's not that he was completely unaware before, it's just that he had other priorities. Now that he's focused on it, the flush in his skin is back stronger than ever, deep pink crawling up to his neck all the way to his ears.
For a second Hyunsu feels like that sad, awkward boy again. The one who didn't know what to make of a pretty girl talking to him, let alone how to speak to her himself.]
I remember.
[His voice is husky and a little breathless. He's tempted to touch her face, maybe wipe the tears away, but he was aware enough during the little game they were playing. He understands the rules. She still hasn't told him she wants him to touch her.]
no subject
she sniffs, picking up his hands and pressing the palms to her cheeks. he doesn't look disappointed β he looks flustered. it's actually extremely attractive, how much harder it is for him to hide his blush than his monster. )
Well? ( she props her cheek up on his palm, nuzzling. ) Aren't you going to say something?
no subject
And now he's simply not sure there are words to express how he feels about her and about what she's done for him. Not just now, in this moment, but in the past, as well. When she was the only one to try to defend him or when she encouraged him to stick up for himself. She's never given up on him. Never even wanted to.
And when she puts his hands on her face it's like she's reading his mind, she knows exactly what he wants.
So, as he watches her nuzzle his palm, he says the truest thing he can think of:]
I'm yours. [He swipes gently at the tear tracks on her face with his thumb.] Whatever you want from me you can have.
[It's the easiest thing in the world to offer, because he can't imagine it being wrong. Whether it's his humanity or the monster or even something else, some part of himself that has yet to be discovered, he'll give it to her if he can find a way.]
no subject
God. ( more of an exhale that an exclamation. it's her turn to let her eyes fall closed, bowing into hyunsu's warm hands. ) When did you get so bold?
( she can't honestly think of anything she'd want from him that isn't βΒ be close to me, here like this, forever. it's not a small ask, but it isn't anything malevolent, nothing she didn't already intend to take from him. his time, his company. well β there is the addition of kisses, she supposes, a thought that makes her own cheeks pinken, not from kissing but from hyunsu being the one she does it with. her head shakes some more, at herself more than anything, and she squeezes his wrists to keep them in place, lashes fluttering. somehow, she's nervous, despite already having done this with him moments ago. )
Close your eyes again.
no subject
It's her. She's the one who taught him to be bold.
When she tells him to close his eyes again he does so easily, even though he likes looking at her, likes seeing the pink tint on her cheeks and knowing that she has the same reaction to him that he has to her.
Once they're closed he asks:]
Until you tell me to open them, right?
no subject
( lazy confirmation. it's easy to take action when he isn't looking at her β sliding her hands down his arms, retracing a path she made with his monster to trace his collarbone, that suggestive bit of skin unveiled by his opened buttons. eunyu really doesn't get tired of touching him, watching her fingers brush his tan skin, outlining the strong line of his throat, up to his chin. it's a languid, luxurious touch. she takes her time feeling the warm patch of his blush across his cheeks, enjoying feeling him, but also enjoying that he lets her explore. if this is a test, a push against an invisible boundary to see how much hyunsu will let her take, he passes with flying colors.
when she kisses him, it's less tentative than it was before. one hand at the side of his neck, the other flat against his chest to feel the rhythm of his heart, her mouth presses over his, waiting for him to ease into it. her mouth opens into a shy but starved kiss, longer, more drawn out β easier once she falls into the rhythm of pressing against him, a soft sound pushed into his mouth.
she bites at his lips before they break away β not meanly, but enough to be felt. she kisses his upper lip sweetly. wonders if he'd let her just kiss him all over. a smile presses into the corner of his mouth giddily, eunyu nosed in close to him. )
I can do that whenever I want?
no subject
He leans into her hands when he can, wanting to encourage her, urging her to keep going. And when she kisses him he returns it, eager but doing his best not to push for too much. He's more than willing to follow her lead in this.
By the time she's done and asking her question he's breathless and aching. His voice is raw when he speaks.]
Mm. [A soft hum of agreement.] Anything.
no subject
leaning back, her hand pushes further in, carding through his hair. she gives it a little tug. )
Open. ( when he does, eunyu's expression is a little serious β not the seriousness that comes from a severe topic, but the kind of serious born from arguing pizza toppings, or where they should go for dinner. ) You shouldn't say "anything." Then how will I know if you really want something? ( she clicks her tongue. ) You're important, too. It shouldn't all be about what I want. You should tell me β "Eunyu, why not kiss me? Why not do more than that?" Try it.
no subject
At her command his eyes flutter open and he meets her gaze. She looks serious in the cutest way possible and he feels another smile tug at the corner of his lips. It had never actually occurred to him that she might do something he doesn't want. He's liked everything she's done so far and he trusts her.
But he understands her point, the reassurance she's asking for.]
Eunyu, I want you to kiss me. [It's not exactly what she asked him to say, but an echo of it. There's certainty in the way he says it.] And I want to do more than that. [His gaze drops briefly from her face, down her body to her bare legs before he meets her eyes again.] I want to touch you, too.
[He's just waiting for her to tell him that's okay if he does.]
no subject
still, the trust isn't nothing. she sifts lazily through the hair curling around and over his ear, feeling a smile curve up on her mouth. )
You can. ( she leans back a little, moving hyunsu's hands to her knees before leaving them there, letting him move on his own. ) You can touch me. I want you to.
no subject
It's a light caress, gentle and curious, undemanding. He wonders if it's strange that he liked it when she was rough with him (the tug on his hair, the fork pressed into his throat), but he wants so badly to be careful with her. He knows some of what she's been through and he thinks she deserves to be treated like she's precious. Because she is.
He traces a path up to the hem of her hoodie, but doesn't try to push any further than that. Not yet, anyway. He likes taking his time, he thinks, savoring the feel of her skin beneath his palm. He can feel the muscles in her thighs, solid first from her time as a dancer and then from all the running she's had to do since her last performance on the rooftop. He can remember that clearly now.
His hands find her way down to her calves next and he massages the muscles there gently before lifting them just a little, urging her to wrap them around his waist.]
I like this. When your legs are around me this way. [Bold words again, even if the blush continues to give him away. He can't help it, though. He likes the idea of being surrounded by her.] Is that all right?
no subject
Uh. Yes.
( yes, a lot of yes. pressing in taunt to him makes his erection more obvious up against her, and eunyu is forced to acknowledge that even with the hoodie, she's not wearing much in the way of clothing. it's better that way, though. she likes feeling what she does to him β and likes the subtle circle of her hips as she maps it out, just slight enough to not be on purpose, though they both know it is. her core muscles all engage, flexing while her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shoulders firmly. )
Get ready.
( it's not a huge difference between sitting on the cook top, and hefting herself up in his arms β just a few inches, and then her weight is fully on him, hiking herself up for a vantage. lazily, she tugs his face up to hers again, tilting her head when she bends down to kiss him. eagerly this time, suddenly experienced, sinking her teeth into his lip and pulling. )
no subject
When she kisses him again he's glad for it, quicker to respond and more confident, hungry for more of her. And when her teeth dig into his lip it causes a spike of arousal so heady that it rips a groan from his chest. Fuck. He didn't think it was possible for him to get harder than he already was, but he thinks he was wrong. It would be embarrassing if he wasn't fairly sure by now that Eunyu doesn't mind. They wouldn't be in this position if she objected.
He's still inclined to be gentle with her, though, even as she bites at his lip. One of his hands kneads at her thigh lightly, while the other slides slowly up her back in a caress, a silent plea for her to continue.]