#like the whole song what do you say was great because it felt like a town gossiping
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pinazee · 6 months ago
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Becky Barnes has to be the most underrated hatchetfield character. Like her coolness to fandom appreciation ratio is way too low. This bad bitch didn’t accidentally knick her abusive husbands femoral artery, she aimed for it, and left that bastard to bleed out in the woods.
Then she shot Linda in the middle of her forehead with zero hesitation and without any context into the whole wiggly situation. She decided Linda had to go and handled it.
But also she’s a sweet character. She was in that line, probably after work since shes still wearing scrubs, for the kids at the hospital. Plus, I personally, like to believe she didn’t “miss” hitting hannah with that needle, i think part of her knew what was happening and stopped herself.
Ill admit, i under appreciated her myself, but what a great character.
(P.S that stanley guy is still alive somewhere isnt he?!? Tbh, i don’t want him to come back because i dont want becky to have to deal with him anymore. But if he does, I hope another lady stumbles across him and finishes it for her.)
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iniziare · 7 months ago
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Tag drop: Guizhong (don't mind me re-dropping this with the fixed ones, shh)
#tag drop#[ guizhong. ] many things only seem to surface beneath the moon's poignant glow. wherever its light shines; the heart is wont to follow.#[ guizhong: ic. ] wherever her spirit may be among the countless grains of sand and specks of dust between the harbor and the mountains.#[ guizhong: inquiries. ] hmph. she always had a way with words.#[ guizhong: countenance. ] and because they are afraid; they try so hard to become more intelligent. this i understand.#[ guizhong: introspection. ] although she did not live to see the splendid sights of today: she was as much a hero as any other.#[ guizhong: etc. ] it took an elaborate treasure hunt to preserve the commandments that were once the lifeblood of a whole civilization.#[ guizhong: mortals. ] at their full potential; they could be her equal. a human who has as much to teach an adeptus as to learn from them.#[ guizhong: guili plains. ] as guizhong once said: “it takes every blade of grass and every flower to make a homeland.”#[ guizhong: liyue. ] perhaps she will look at the liyue of today and steal a smile when she sees the prosperous land that it has become.#[ guizhong: realm of clouds. ] a voyage to a sanguine sky.#[ guizhong: mechanical arts. ] in one's heart; i knew that she was indeed the superior talent in the mechanical arts.#[ guizhong: glaze lilies. ] they were far more abundant back then. entire fields would appear to the eye as a veritable sea of flowers.#[ guizhong: adepti. ] until the moon set and the sun rose. and only then would the banquet finally come to an end.#[ guizhong: morax. ] whoever it was that revered her so much was very clever indeed.#[ guizhong: morax. ] when our eyes meet; eternity is defined. [ delusionaid. ]#[ guizhong: xiao. ] if darkness comes; colors you with fear; be still and know that i'm with you and i will say your name. [ apocryphis. ]#[ guizhong: marchosius. ] who would dare snub the stove god and his wondrous creations? at the sight of him: we would drop any argument.#[ guizhong: streetward rambler. ] it almost felt like she was back again. sitting right there on the stone stool next to me; chatting away.#[ guizhong: cloud retainer. ] we each had our ideals; and neither one of us would yield to the other.#[ guizhong: osial. ] she would disrupt the silence around them with a hum; as if to sing to the harmony of the water. was this his song?#[ guizhong: sea gazer. ] he was quite the braggart when it came to those collectibles he was so fond of; he always loved to show them off.#[ guizhong: skybracer. ] to who lived by the mountain; he was their savior. in fact; they thought higher of him than the lord of geo.#[ guizhong: ganyu. ] if we planted flowers in the guili plains; do you think that one day we'd be able to recreate the sea of glaze lilies?#[ guizhong: v. descension. ] she descended whose dominion was over dust; and whose reach shrouded the skies for thousands of miles around.#[ guizhong: v. guili assembly. ] it's great to have it back but i want to go back to the world. and start with guili plains.#[ guizhong: v. archon war. ] they fought upon the plains; where black dust choked the heavens and a thousand rocks splintered.#[ guizhong: v. present. ] all wrapped up in a city that has existed for many moons to date. all these things: they are why people chase it.#[ guizhong: meta. ] her manuscripts lie unfinished in her abode. the blank pages give cause for contemplation on what might have been.
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theflyingfeeling · 2 years ago
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Robin was interviewed in the morning television earlier today and oh god I want to hug him 🥺
and not only because his (porko-like) leopard print jacket looked so cosy and soft
#the whole interview had such a...low-key negative vibe somehow?#the interviewer asked some interesting questions alright but it felt like robin was constantly asked to explain himself#first robin was asked why he's in UMK now when years ago he said he thinks eurovision/umk ''distorts the artist's image''#(as in they will from then on be known as ''the artist who went to eurovision'')#then he was asked what he himself had to do with making of his UMK song (as if no one expects him to be in no way part of it)#then he was asked if he was expecting the song to face so much criticism#and it does seem like he at some point realised (before the song was released) that it's not what people were expecting of him#ngl i'm one of them but at the same time i feel a little sorry for robin who genuinely seems to love the song#and thinks it represents him the best. and like. if the artist thinks like that then who am i to argue with it?#robin: ''...and no matter how the song does in UMK i'm still gonna have a great song to perfom in concerts''#the interviewer: ''so you're gonna keep perfoming it regardless?''#(said in a tone that says ''oh so you're gonna be performing it even though it's crap'')#okay well then the interviewer talks about how lordi was not praised either when they were chosen for ESC#to which robin doesn't have much to say because he was so young that he can't remember so that was awkward as well 😂#then he had to answer questions about why he was driving a car and filming a video for social media at the same time#''how did you end up with this decision to film while driving a car?'' (said in a tone that implies he's a little thick)#tbh was stupid on his part and he did apologise again#he said he's so conscientious that he wants to do everything he's promised he would (in this case answering fan questions i guess)#and he knew that was the only time that day that he'd have the time for that and that it was in an area with little traffic#and while i'm also judging him for doing it i also feel a little sorry for him because oh little one you don't HAVE to do everything 😭#sometimes you simply don't have the time and energy. next time i'd rather you don't answer fan questions than do it while driving#then (with no transition whatsover) he was asked if he's planning on wearing mismatched shoes until the end of his career 🙄#(said in a tone that implies he should grow out of it already)#a question i'm sure he's never answered before lol#then they talked about the incident at his new year's gig#and the interviewer asked if they ever found out WHY someone was throwing beer steins on stage#as if robin (or anyone) would go and ask?! 😂 like. come on. the person was drunk out of their ass probably. there is no deeper reason#but the question made it seem like the interviewer was expecting robin to go ''well they said my songs suck and that i'm probably gay!''#just so that they could make a nice headline out of it lol#anyway. don't ask why i'm writing this all in the tags 😅
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the-boy-meets-evil · 1 year ago
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all roads lead back to you | c.sc (scoups)
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(where you take an annual cabin trip with your friends and your ex decides to join this year)
pairing: ex!seungcheol (scoups) x f!reader genre: exes to lovers | angst, smut rating: explicit - minors DNI word count: ~10.6k warnings: these are exes and the relationship ended badly, but we're healing, drinking, midnight kisses, reader is mentioned as wearing a skirt & tights, making out, seungcheol picks reader up, body worship, slight nipple play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. & m. receiving), choking, cheol has a big dick (i don't make the rules), unprotected sex (they talk about it, but don't do this), multiple orgasms & overstimulation (f. receiving), aftercare
a/n: this is for @k-vanity's 25 tips for surviving the holidays. day 11 - cabin vacation. i'm not really sure what happened, something about scoups just makes me blackout and write too much (i only started this 2 days ago). also shoutout to @tbzhub for saying we'd do this together lmao. thank you to @gyuwoncheol, @wonwussy, & @wooahaeproductions for helping me land on cheol for this fic. also, just for fun, tagging some scoups enjoyers because i'm nothing if not a menace: @ugh-yoongi, @seungkwansphd, @wongyuseokie, @beomcoups, @horanghater, @cheolism
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The holidays are usually your favorite time of year. Sure, they’re really hectic and there’s always way too much to do without nearly enough time to do it. But, you still love it. Love being around friends and family. Love how everyone seems to acknowledge that any problems can wait for the new year. This is a time for joy and happiness. A time to celebrate all the wonderful things that did happen and leave the bad in the year you’re leaving behind. 
This time of year also brings around an annual trip that you take with friends. A trip to a secluded cabin where you can all just disconnect. Where you can sit by the fireplace and read. Where you can go to the nearby resort to ski or snowboard. Where you can drink hot cocoa and swap stories and just enjoy the company without the bustle of the city. It’s one of your favorite weekends every time the holidays roll around. 
Not this year. 
This year, your friends decide that they want to make the group a little bigger and spend a long weekend, including New Year’s Eve, together. Which is great, you’re single and there’s nobody else you’d rather ring the New Year in with. Except for one problem. Your ex is also coming. It’s been a little over a year since you broke up, so you know it’s time to move on. Moving on feels a lot harder when he decides he’s going to come to the cabin weekend again this year. It shouldn’t really surprise you. After all, you were friends before you dated. Didn’t think anything could stop you from being friends after. Didn’t actually think there would be an after, if you’re honest. And you’re definitely not going to be the one to back out or admit you’re still not really over it. 
So, that’s why you’re sitting in a car with Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Mimi, headed off to the cabins that your friends booked for an extended long weekend. You’re just thankful that Wonwoo offered you a spot in his car on the way up. Makes it a lot easier. Even if it means Jihoon and Mimi are currently in each other’s space in the backseat as she shows him something on her phone. It’s not that you mind how cute they are together, it’s just still weird to see Jihoon acting like that with anyone. She seems to have waltzed in and melted any defenses he had.
From his position in the driver’s seat, Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your thigh. You look over at him, grateful for the reminder that you’re not alone in all of this. Grateful that he swore up and down to make sure you never felt awkward the whole weekend. Maybe it won’t be so bad, you think, as you queue up more songs for the drive. That’s the best part about being in the front seat. You get to control the music and Wonwoo started the trip by telling Jihoon and Mimi just to roll with it. Not that they’re paying all that much attention, but it was a nice thought all the same. 
The drive up is uneventful. Wonwoo navigates the winding back roads with a practiced ease. You sigh happily, taking in all the trees dusted with snow and the winter wonderland all around as you leave most of your troubles behind. There’s something almost refreshing about being out here. Like the air is crisper and everything is stiller. Wonwoo would make a smartass comment about how there’s more trees, less pollution, and a lot fewer people. So, of course all those things are true. You think it’s more, something about the magic of Christmas and the New Year. 
Your smile falls the second you pull up to the main cabin because you can see that Seungcheol’s car is already there. Figures he would not only drive, but beat you there. You try to set that aside, though, because the place is beautiful. It’s set up with a main cabin where you can hang out, cook, play games, or do whatever you want. Then, there are separate small cabins, mostly just with bedrooms and bathrooms, to sleep in. Nayeon, bless her, took care of figuring out the sleeping arrangements for everyone. At least that would be easy. 
Jihoon and Mimi are out of the car almost as soon as it stops, even if Jihoon grumbles about how his legs are stiff and the air is cold. It takes one smile from Mimi and he’s smiling back, grabbing their bags from the car to head for the main cabin. Meanwhile, Wonwoo adjusts his glasses and makes sure everything is turned off before getting out of the car to stretch. When he meets you at the trunk, his gaze is soft. 
���Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asks. 
You sigh and pull out your suitcase, with a little help from your friend. “No.” 
“We shouldn’t have come,” Wonwoo says.
“Just because I’m being a baby doesn’t mean you should’ve stayed away,” you reassure him.
“You’re not being a baby,” he says with a frown. 
“Still,” you press. “We’ve been broken up for a year. There’s going to be a lot of people here, it’ll be fine.”
“As long as you’re sure,” Wonwoo relents. “He didn’t bring anyone, did he?” 
“No, Nayeon said it’s just him. She’s worried about me too,” you say with a playful eye roll. “She’s got me staying in a cabin with you, her, and Joshua.”
“I’m glad we’re at least staying together,” Wonwoo says.
“I’m gonna be fine, Wonwoo, you worry too much,” you insist. 
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You get through the first night and breakfast the next morning without having to say a single word to Seungcheol. It’s been awhile since you last saw some of your friends, so there’s a lot to catch up on. The group is also pretty large, which makes it easier to blend in. Everything, even something as simple as making a meal, is kind of a process, too. You’ve always been pretty comfortable in the kitchen and offer to help cook. Seungcheol can’t say the same. It feels like maybe it’ll be smooth and you can just do your own separate things without it being a big deal. Like you can both just agree to give each other space during the trip and not be awkward.
That lasts until the afternoon on the first full day, unfortunately. 
Even though a lot of people take time off between Christmas and New Year’s, a decent portion of the group decides a Friday will still be less busy on the slopes. They want to get some runs in earlier in the day before whatever everyone wants to do later. Seungcheol, thankfully, was one of the first to say he wanted to go. Not surprising, you know he likes really anything where he can be active. Wonwoo was also quick to say he wanted to, after asking you if that was okay. You, again, insisted it was fine. 
You’re reading your book by the fire, periodically watching Jun, Nayeon, and Mimi play cards on the other side of the room, when Seungcheol comes hobbling back in. Minghao just behind him, scolding him for not waiting and ruining the peaceful atmosphere. 
“What’s wrong?” Nayeon asks, looking up from the game.
“Nothing, I’m fine,” Seungcheol says shortly.
“He rolled his ankle,” Minghao interjects. 
“Now you see why I stayed behind,” Jun says.
“I’m fine, really,” Seungcheol insists. 
“You should ice it just in case. And keep it elevated,” Minghao says as heads off to the kitchen. 
Trying to keep your face straight, you mark the page in your book and get up. All you want is for this to be as subtle as possible. But, Jun is also in the room.
“Where are you going?” Jun asks. 
“Oh, just back to my room to get something,” 
It’s a lie and you’re pretty sure they know it, but you also don’t care. You’re not going to stay in the room with an injured Seungcheol because he gets pouty when he can’t do exactly what he wants. This is going to be one of those times. There’s no way he’s going to be happy sitting still when he knows his other friends are still out on the trails. Especially when it’s such a minor thing. You hope that they all understand your decision to just let them deal with him and whatever he has to say.
When you feel like it’s been enough time, you venture back into the main cabin, portable charger in hand, for good measure. Not that you think anyone will ask what it is that you needed from your room, but it’s always a good idea to be prepared. Just in case. At first glance, you think the main living area is empty. That makes you sigh in a little relief. Not that you want to be alone when this is a trip for friends. It’s just nice to have a quiet moment in all the chaos. You think you’ll be able to get back to your book, at least for a little, until you notice someone laying on the couch. Not someone. Seungcheol. Quickly, you turn around, hoping he doesn’t see you. And it would probably work, if you didn’t bump into the corner of a table on your way out.
His head snaps up and swivels to look at you. “What - oh.” 
“Sorry, I was just leaving,” you say.
“Can you really not be in the same room as me?” he asks. He sits up so that he can look at you more easily.
“I’ve been in the same room as you plenty,” you point out.
“Not alone,” he persists. 
“What reason would we possibly have to be alone together?” you wonder. 
“You don’t have to be so…” he starts.
“So, what?” you press.
“So…like this,” Seungcheol finishes, somewhat lamely.
“How should I be?” you ask. 
“I don’t know, just, not like this. We were always comfortable with each other, even before…” he starts and stops suddenly.
“Before we dated? Before you shattered my heart? Before you decided it was easier to shut me out instead of just talking to me?” you ask, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. 
“I know,” he admits.
“You just abandoned me,” you say quietly. “I needed you and you weren’t there. I never would’ve left you like that.” 
“I know. I made so many mistakes. So many things I can’t take back,” he says. He actually looks remorseful. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse. “I’m so sorry for that. I would take it all back if I could. I’d do everything differently.”
“This was a mistake,” you say.
“Talking to me?” he asks.
“Coming on this trip at all,” you admit and turn away. “I have to go.” 
With your back to him, you miss the way his face falls at your admission. Don’t see the way he considers getting up to follow after you. It’s for the best, anyway. Your heart's already breaking again just from one conversation. Just from seeing the emotion on his face. The one face you thought you’d always know better than your own. It’s amazing how everything can change in a single moment. How something that took years to build, first as friends and then as a couple, can all come tumbling down in a second. A split second or a fork in the road. One wrong turn and it’s all gone. 
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You make it through to Saturday without any more forced conversations with your ex-boyfriend. Manage to sit on the opposite end of the table from him during meals. Wait until he commits to playing a game or watching something before you decide what to do yourself. Still, you feel very included in everything with different groups of your friends because there are plenty of people there to hang out with. If you take the forced conversation with him out of the equation, it’s actually been a pretty good trip, overall. Not nearly as hard as you expected it to be. 
“I’m gonna go check out the lodge at the mountain, anyone wanna come?” Wonwoo throws out. There’s a smattering of lukewarm responses. Mostly, people say they may hit the trails a little bit later after they’ve had a lazy morning.
“I’ll come,” you offer. 
“Shocking that you two are a pair,” Nayeon jokes from her spot on the couch, curled up with Joshua.
“That’s enough out of you,” you joke back before turning to Wonwoo. “I’ll go grab my coat.”
“Can you grab my hat? I think I left it in my room,” Wonwoo requests.
“Sure,” you agree. 
When you meet Wonwoo in the entranceway, you find your eyes back on the living area. Almost like you can feel someone watching you. But, when nobody is, you figure that you must have imagined it, not noticing the way Seungcheol’s jaw tightens or his mouth turns down in frown. He had just been looking and he wasn’t liking what he saw. Instead, having missed all that, you fall into step beside one of your closest friends and head out of the cabin.
“It’s not a far walk, but we can drive if you want,” Wonwoo offers, sticking his hands into his pockets.
“No, a walk would be nice. It’s not as cold today,” you say.
One of the best parts of being friends with Wonwoo is the sheer comfort you feel with him. It’s always been like this, since the beginning of your friendship. Always just as easy to say the hard things to him as it is to sit in silence. Always easy to avoid the hard things, because he seems to find it easy to to tell when you don’t want to say something. Unfortunately, it’s also easy for him to push you to speak, even when you’re not sure if you want to. Like now, as soon as you reach the Lodge. 
“Are you doing okay?” Wonwoo asks as the pair of you make your way over to a stand selling hot drinks. 
“I’m assuming you don’t mean from the walk over here,” you deflect while you look at the menu.
“No,” Wonwoo answers simply. 
“I’m fine,” you insist, stepping up to the counter. “Peppermint hot chocolate and whatever he wants.”
“You don’t have to…” Wonwoo starts, falling silent at the look you give him. He sighs, knowing you won’t relent. “Just a plain hot chocolate.” 
“Thanks,” you say as you pay.
“You’re not fine. I can see it on you,” Wonwoo says.
You pause when someone calls out your name for the order. “I really am doing fine. The only hard part was getting sucked into a short conversation with him yesterday.”
“What did he say?” Wonwoo asks. 
“Nothing much,” you say and meet Wonwoo’s eyes. You can tell you need to carry on. So, you recount the conversation as best as you can remember.
“He misses you,” Wonwoo surmises. 
“And if he does? What does it matter?” you ask.
“You miss him too,” Wonwoo points out. “That’s why it matters.”
“I don’t,” you argue. “He broke my heart.” 
“What happened? A year ago when you broke up, what happened?” Wonwoo asks.
“You know what happened,” you say with a sigh.
“No, I don’t. I know he left, somehow, but I don’t know what really happened. You’ve always kept that part of the story close to the vest,” Wonwoo says.
“Because it still hurts,” you plead. 
“Maybe it’s time you let someone else take a little of that pain by talking about it,” Wonwoo suggests. You find a table to sit down as you’re considering sharing.
Ultimately, it would be nice to get someone else’s perspective. To get someone who knows you both, and cares about you both, to weigh in on everything that happened. Even if Wonwoo seemingly took your side, you know he still talks to Seungcheol as well. With a steadying breath, you launch into the whole explanation, at least your side of it. It’s time, past time, honestly, that you get this off your chest.
It was great, at the beginning. The two of you were friends first, for years, before something shifted and you started to see each other differently. Suddenly stepping a little more carefully around each other. Not really knowing what to do or what to expect. Not sure if it would ruin the friendship to admit that there were feelings there. Until one day, Seungcheol finally made the move, asked you out on a date, and made sure you knew that’s what he was asking. It got very serious, very quickly. Far more quickly than either of you expected. But, that’s what happens when you start as friends. There are so many things you already know, so many things you don’t have to ask, so many memories already embedded into your relationship. Things were good. It wasn’t like they were perfect. There were little fights here and there, but nothing that felt that serious. Nothing that felt like a dealbreaker. 
It’s hard to admit, even to Wonwoo, that you saw Seungcheol as your forever. As someone you wouldn’t let go of once you had him. He was your safe space without ever being boring. Your protector without ever being one of those toxic assholes. Your biggest cheerleader without being condescending. It was way too early in the relationship to be feeling like he was your forever, so you didn’t ever say it to him, but you felt it. Felt it deep in your bones. He was also vulnerable with you in a way that he wasn’t with anyone else. At least anyone else that you’d seen. The first time he just let you take care of him, let you see him as something other than someone strong and in control, it made you fall even more deeply for him. It didn’t hurt that he nearly stopped your heart with how stupid hot he was. That gets a snort out of Wonwoo before you continue on. 
Suddenly, everything changed. Seungcheol withdrew into himself and stopped confiding in you. He could always be a bit moody, a little deep in his feelings. Still, he would always talk to you about it. Would always share with you what he was feeling. Sometimes it was something so simple as you getting a little too much attention, which he didn’t like. He could be a little jealous. It was something you worked on with him. Sometimes it was a conversation with a friend weighing heavily or something going wrong at work. No matter what, he always talked to you about it. Until he didn’t. Until he just stopped saying much of anything. Until he got a bit secretive with everything in his life and you didn’t really recognize him anymore. His phone was always turned over. Not fully paying attention to you when you were in group settings. Not making plans the way he used to.
“What did you do?” Wonwoo asks. 
“I confronted him,” you say. Simple. It was so simple. “I told him it wasn’t okay and that I deserved better. That we always got through things together and that we needed to get back to that.” 
“Mature of you,” Wonwoo says.
“I thought so,” you say and take a steadying breath. “He agreed, even. Told me that I did deserve better.”
“So what…” Wonwoo asks, but trails off. Obviously confused. 
“He said that it was too much. That he couldn’t give me the things I deserved. That I would be better off finding someone else who could,” you say and wipe away the stray tear. 
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know,” Wonwoo says. 
“I didn’t want you to. I didn’t want you to look at me like that,” you admit. “Like I was broken because someone didn’t want to love me.”
“You’re not broken,” Wonwoo insists softly, hand reaching out for one of yours. “You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known. But it’s okay to admit when you need help. Or when you need a friend.”
“I know,” you sigh. “It’s just hard.”
“I know, but I’m here,” Wonwoo assures you. 
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Saturday night finds Wonwoo and Seungcheol as the last two awake in the living room, finishing their drinks in relative silence. It used to be easy for Seungcheol, sitting with his friend like this. Yet, it hasn’t been, not in the last year since he broke up with you. Not since Wonwoo made it clear that they were friends, but he was sticking by you no matter what. Not that Wonwoo’s been cold or rude or anything. That would have made it easier, Seungcheol thinks. No, instead he’s been mostly the same. Still just as friendly and supportive. All it does is make him feel worse. Why can’t Wonwoo just say what’s really on his mind?
“How was the lodge earlier?” Seungcheol asks.
“Hmm?” Wonwoo asks, eyes seeming to come back into focus as they look over at him.
“The lodge? You went over there earlier. I was just asking how it was,” Seungcheol repeats.
“Oh, fine. We just ended up getting hot chocolate and talking. Kinda watched people coming and going from the trails,” Wonwoo says like it doesn’t matter. Maybe it doesn’t. 
“Are you two…are you…” Seungcheol starts and stops the question several times.
“Dating?” Wonwoo asks, taking pity on his friend. “No. She’s been single since…”
“I broke her heart?” Seungcheol supplies humorlessly. 
“I wasn’t going to say that.” 
“No? It seems like someone spending that much time with her would say that.” 
Wonwoo regards him for a second, adjusts his glasses like he’s buying time to think. “What happened? With you and her, what happened?”
“I’m sure you’ve already heard it from her.” The answer is short. Seungcheol doesn’t want to play these games, not with someone that’s so obviously close to you.
“I’m not asking to hear it from her. I’m asking to hear it from you,” Wonwoo presses. He’s insistent, but his eyes are soft. It’s easy to wonder if it’s time to share. 
“I got scared,” Seungcheol admits. “And jealous.” 
“Of what? Or of who?” Wonwoo asks.  Seungcheol takes a long sip of his drink and grimaces a little. He isn’t buzzed enough for this. Can’t really believe he’s entertaining sharing in the first place. But, well, isn’t this what he’s hoping for? Another chance?
“Of everything and everyone,” Seungcheol says. “She was so kind, so patient, so good to me. Good for me. Just the best person I’ve ever known. I just thought that one day, she’d wake up and she’d realize that she deserved more than me.”
Wonwoo shakes his head. “Why did you think that?” 
“I don’t know,” Seungcheol admits. “I guess, well I know I can be difficult. That I get in my head a lot. I know sometimes it’s hard to talk about what I’m feeling. She made a lot of that feel easier, which made me fall harder for her. But, then she makes a lot of people feel that way, doesn’t she? Like she’s the only one who will understand. I don’t even think I was the only friend of ours that had feelings for her. I just, I don’t know, it sounds so fucking dumb now, but I couldn’t compete.” 
“It wasn’t a competition, Cheol,” Wonwoo says.
“I know that,” Seungcheol insists.
Wonwoo fixes him with a stare. “Do you? She’s a lot of things, maybe a lot that make people interested in her. But, she chose you. She chose you and kept choosing you, every chance she got. I don’t think that ever would’ve changed.” 
“Do you want me to feel worse?” Seungcheol asks, voice rising a bit. “I already told her that I would go back and change things if I could, but I can’t.” 
“Do you still love her?” Wonwoo asks, voice so quiet. Yet, it carries all the same.
“Of course I do,” Seungcheol says.
“Then figure out a way to tell her,” Wonwoo replies.
“It’s not that easy,” Seungcheol says. “And aren’t you supposed to be telling me to leave her alone? As her friend?” 
Wonwoo rises from his seat. “It can be that easy, if you stop being your own worst enemy. And I’m your friend, too. It doesn’t seem like the chapter is really over for either of you yet.” 
Seungcheol sits and considers what his friend shared. Wonders if there might be something there. He barely registers as Wonwoo says goodnight and calls a goodnight in response. Then, he’s left with his thoughts again. Should he say something? Can he bring himself to say something? Or will you just shut it down again?
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New Year's Eve brings a snowstorm with it that has your group of friends deciding it’s best to just stay in the cabins instead of venturing out to the party they’re having at the lodge. There’s plenty of you for a party, plenty of food, and plenty of warmth, especially close to the fire. The snow falls lightly outside the windows, blanketing everything around with a fresh layer of powdery flakes. It’s not supposed to get truly heavy until much later in the evening. So, you can just get dressed up and have a party with everyone that’s familiar to you. No worrying about mixing with strangers and how they’ll impact the party.
When you and Mingyu go into the kitchen to take stock of what you have and plan out the food for the day, you realize that maybe you don’t have everything that you need after all. You could actually use more food and you definitely could use some champagne to toast with. It makes sense, though, you planned to go into the lodge to ring in the new year. Your smile when Wonwoo, Jihoon, and Joshua offer to go out and do a run is immediate and wide. You hand over a list of what you need (well, you text it to all three of them just to cover your bases) and they’re off into town. That lets you turn back to the kitchen, where Mingyu and Mimi are starting on an appetizer. You’re trying to figure out what you can work on when someone clears their throat. Your heart skips a little when you look up.
“Could I talk to you for a minute?” Seungcheol asks you, face more open than you’ve seen in a while.
It makes your mouth go dry. How are you supposed to turn him down when he’s asking in front of everyone like this? Like it’s just a totally normal thing to ask? All you can do is nod and avoid looking at anyone else around you. Just nod and follow him into a smaller side room off the main living area. 
“Thanks,” he says when they stop walking.
“What was I supposed to do? Make a scene?” you ask. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to ask you to talk,” he admits.
“I heard you,” you say, cutting across his words. He looks confused. “Last night? I heard you talking to Wonwoo. I left my charger in here and came back to get it.” 
“Oh,” is all he says.
“Oh?” you repeat.
“I wanted to actually tell you, not have you overhear me talking through things with someone else,” he says, mouth turned down like he’s upset.
“Then you should have just talked to me,” you press.
“I couldn’t! You won’t talk to me,” he says defensively.
“Not this weekend. A year ago, when it all happened,” you say quietly.
“I know,” he says. You expect him to look annoyed or defeated, but he only looks sincere. “I knew the moment you walked out that I fucked up and I’m so sorry. I’ve tried a hundred times since then to just talk to you, but the words never felt right.” 
“Cheol,” you plead. You’ve been waiting a year to hear this. Except, you finally feel like you’re starting to move past it all and this is only making it confusing. 
“Just, you don’t have to say anything, I just want you to hear me out,” Seungcheol pleads. “I know I have absolutely no right to ask you that, but I’m asking anyway.”
“Okay,” you say, barely above a whisper.
“I fucked up. I knew I did when you walked out, but it took me a while to realize just how bad. I didn’t just drive a partner away, I drove someone away that got through all my walls in a way nobody else ever has. I drove away the person that made me feel comfortable, that supported me even when I was being an idiot, that constantly showed up for me. I was afraid that I didn’t deserve you and always jealous of everyone else that paid attention to you. I thought one day you were gonna wake up and realize that there were better people out there that were less, I don’t know, emotionally closed off. I didn’t realize until way too late that you knew exactly what you brought to the table and what you deserved, but you picked me. I didn’t realize that it’s the only thing I ever needed, was you seeing all of me and picking me anyway,” Seungcheol says. 
“I don’t, that’s…” you trail off and shake your head to clear it. You’re trying to find the words when Nayeon pokes her head in.
“Hey, I’m so sorry to butt in, but Mimi just kicked me out of the kitchen. I was only offering because Mingyu said he needed help,” Nayeon says. “I think they need you.”
“Oh, um,” you start, kind of like a deer in headlights.
“You should go help him. I don’t want everyone hating me for keeping you from helping Mingyu,” Seungcheol says with a light chuckle at complete odds with the situation. 
“Thank you,” Nayeon says with a smile as she grabs your arm to whisk you away.
“Does Mingyu actually need me?” you ask.
“Huh? Yeah, he does,” Nayeon laughs. “I wasn’t trying to save you, you’re good enough at that on your own.”
“I don’t buy that,” you say, pulling both of you to a halt. Nayeon rolls her eyes.
“Fine, maybe I heard what he said to Wonwoo last night from Joshua and maybe I want you to at least consider what he has to say,” Nayeon admits. “I liked you together, sue me.”
“I just might,” you grumble, heading off to help Mingyu in the kitchen without Nayeon in tow.
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After dinner, you and Mingyu insist that you’re not getting anything, for anyone, for the rest of the night. And probably into tomorrow. Mimi got distracted part way through and disappeared for entirely too long with Jihoon. Which would be fine, but there were a lot of people to cook for and you needed all the help you could get. Joshua popped in and out, thankfully, but it was still tiring. The perk has been that you actually haven’t had to lift a finger since. Your drink stays full and someone is always willing to get you something to eat. That lets you settle in to play a game with the group.
The TV in the background steadily counts down as it gets closer to midnight. Occasionally, the performance draws your attention to watch. Mostly, you’re just drinking entirely too much. Somewhere, in the deep recesses of your brain, you know that you’re just trying to avoid thinking about everything Seungcheol said. Or trying to avoid thinking how good he looks tonight. It’s hard to stop yourself from lingering on the way his shirt clings to his chest. Has he been working out even more? Or the way his pants stretch tight across his thighs. Not for the first time, you shake your head to clear it, recross your legs, and focus on whatever game it is you’re playing. Ignore the look Wonwoo gives you from his place next to you. He certainly hasn’t missed your looks. (And nobody else really has, either, except for Jun. But, that’s just Jun for you.)
Everyone sets aside the games when it gets closer to midnight, milling around with varying amounts of energy instead of sitting still. You realize, even with any awkwardness from Seungcheol being there, you can’t think of anyone else you’d rather ring in a new year with. Surrounded by all of your favorite people, what else could anyone ask for? Well, except maybe a New Year’s kiss. As if on cue, your glance drifts over to Seungcheol. It’s a little surprising to find he’s already looking at you, smiling softly. It sends a surge of emotion through you to think of all the reasons you fell in love with him in the first place. When you turn away to take a sip of your drink, you find it’s empty. With midnight rapidly approaching, you really need a refill on the champagne. You’re about to go do that when a voice breaks into your thoughts.
“Here,” he says.
You turn to look at Seungcheol, now very firmly in your space, holding out a new glass of champagne. “Thanks.”
“I just noticed you were almost empty and figured you’d want it,” he offers.
“Yeah, I should make sure this one lasts,” you chuckle out.
The host on TV announces that there’s only a minute left. Everyone around you starts talking excitedly or getting closer to their partners, if they have them. Jokingly, you told Wonwoo that he would be your New Year’s kiss. Now, that’s the last thing on your mind. Seungcheol hovers close by. When you look over at him, though, his eyes are on the TV, counting down along with the host when it gets to ten seconds.
“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” 
Everyone shouts together and starts clinking glasses. Hugging their friends or kissing their partners. Your body makes the decision for you when you turn to the man next to you and cheers his glass. As he starts to turn away, you grab his arm and pull him into you. Press your lips against his before either of you can figure out what’s happening. He recovers from his surprise quickly and wraps his free arm around your waist to pull you against his chest. It’s familiar and also somehow completely new at the same time. 
Breathless. That’s what you feel when you pull away and cheers with other friends. You throw your arms around Nayeon and press a kiss to Wonwoo’s cheek. Pointedly ignore any looks or raised eyebrows about your decision to kiss your ex in a room full of all your friends. It’s fine. Everyone is doing fine. You’re definitely thankful that someone suggests a game and you can all go back to celebrating without talking about the elephant in the room. A very different elephant than when you first got to the cabins. 
There’s another massive difference, too. Instead of sitting on the fringes or carefully leaving space, Seungcheol plops down right next to you. Lets his arm rest along the back of the couch. His arm isn’t around you, but it could be with the slightest adjustment. Several of your friends look at you with the question in their eyes. You avoid all of them, like the true adult you are, and focus, instead, on the warmth of Seungcheol’s thigh when it presses into yours. Actually, you avoid drinking any more, either. The whole night has been a little confusing (read: a lot confusing) and you don’t need an alcohol haze adding to that. It doesn’t escape your notice that he stops drinking as well. 
When you start to get a little tired, you excuse yourself to the kitchen, claiming you need a snack and don’t know what you want. A minute later, Seungcheol appears on the other side of the island. Leaning casually against it like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like he hasn’t sent your entire world into a spiral. Like he’s not still one of the hottest people you’ve ever seen in your life.
“So, uh, I don’t wanna assume anything…” he starts and you hold up a hand.
“I’m going to excuse myself in a minute to go to bed. Give it a few minutes and then come to my room,” you say, walking around him without waiting for a response. 
When you tell the group that you’re going to turn in for the night, you do your best not to meet anyone’s eyes. You’re not naive enough to think you’re fooling anyone. Not that you even want to. It’s just, well, you want this time to figure out what’s happening. It’s a little hard to do that when you know everyone’s eyes are on the two of you. There’s the tiniest bit of you holding onto the hope that you can pass it off as you being overwhelmed by the kiss at midnight. Like you didn’t just tell him to meet you in your room.
Back in your room, you shrug off your jacket and sit down on the bed. The seconds seem to drag by waiting for him to show up. For a second, you wonder if he’s actually going to show up at all. You stop those thoughts in their tracks. He had a lot to say and he kissed you back. Then, he spent the rest of the night pressed up close to you. He’s going to show up. Before you can spiral further, there’s a knock at the door. You’re halfway to the door when it opens a crack and Seungcheol peeks his head inside. 
“Can I come in?” he asks, looking unsure for the first time since before you kissed him. 
“I did ask you to come to my room,” you joke.
“I was a little surprised,” he admits.
“Me too,” you agree. 
He shuts the door behind him, allowing you to really look at him for the first time all weekend. To take in his appearance, as he removes his jacket, without any other eyes on your. Or anyone analyzing the interaction. To just appreciate the man you fell in love with. His hair is a little shaggy and blond, a color you don’t remember seeing on him before. He catches you looking, but instead of a smirk, there’s only a smile. Hopeful and genuine. It’s a little overwhelming to have him in your space. To know you need to talk. To know there’s so much to work through.
Instead, in the only move you can think of, you close the distance, wrapping your arms around his middle. He doesn’t even miss a beat. Just wraps his arms around you, erasing any last bit of space between you. It feels calm, familiar. Like no time has passed. Like you’re not different people now. He kisses the top of your head, so soft you think it might shatter any resolve you have left. 
“I’m sorry I kissed you in front of everyone without talking to you,” you mumble into his shirt.
“I’m not,” he quickly reassures you.
“I really fucking want to kiss you again,” you admit, still talking into his shirt rather than looking at him.
“Then,” he starts, moving a hand to tilt your chin up, “what are you waiting for?” 
“We probably should talk,” you say.
“You’re right,” he sighs.
Except, do you really want to talk right now? Do you really want to stop yourself from kissing him again? You stopped drinking so your head would be clear enough to make this decision. You’re just a little sick of overthinking everything this weekend. Sensing the indecision, Seungcheol presses a feather light kiss to your lips. Enough to make the decision, while also being light enough that you could easily pull away. 
You do, just for a second. “Fuck it, let’s talk tomorrow.” 
Your lips crash back against Seungcheol’s, hungry and desperate, arms wrapped around his neck. It makes him tilt down a little so that you can press against him. There’s no hesitation on his end, either. You find yourself wondering if he was always this good at kissing or if he’s gotten better since you broke up. Or maybe it just means more the second time around. When he picks you up, you gasp into the kiss. Wrap your legs around his waist to feel a little steadier. Not that you think he would ever let you fall. It’s easier than you expected to fall back into this kind of trust with him. 
It’s like you both want to go fast, yet also take your time. Seungcheol deposits you on the bed, then takes his time removing your shoes. Toes his off a little more quickly. You go to remove some of your layers, only to have his hands stop you. He’s so slow, removing the sheer top with painstaking care. Kissing along your skin as he exposes it. The amount of attention makes you squirm. You’re prepared for something quick and dirty. Something more like a one-night stand. You’re not prepared for him to worship your body as he exposes more of your skin. Part of you feels really exposed, because he’s still fully dressed, as he carefully unhooks your bra. The way he looks at you, like you’re the only person in the world he’s ever wanted, makes your heart ache. Makes you second guess if this is right. 
“We can stop. We don’t have to do this,” he whispers into your skin. 
You grab his face so that you can look him in the eyes. There’s something in you that just needs to gauge him for a minute. Needs to really know what decision you’re making. There’s so much love there, so many unspoken words, so much sincerity. Maybe you’re not over him at all. Maybe he meant everything he said.
“No, I want this. Want you,” you assure him. 
His eyes sparkle a little. There’s no time to dwell on it, though. His mouth is on your skin again. Kissing the spot on your neck that he knows drives you crazy. Kissing the beauty mark on your shoulder. Kissing across your collarbone. When he works his way down to your nipples, he’s not being so soft anymore. He pinches one between his fingers without warning.
“Fuck, Cheol,” you hiss. 
“Too much?” he asks. You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smirking, but you do anyway. That knowing smirk sends desire coursing through you.
“You’re such a little shit,” you whine. 
He pinches the same nipple again. Watches you as he flicks his tongue over the other. Actually smiles when you arch into his mouth. “You don’t seem to mind it.” 
You wind your hand into his hair in response, pull a little harder than normal. He groans against your breast, sending a little vibration into your skin. “You don’t seem to mind a little pain, either.” 
There’s no answer. Not that you need it. One of his hands moves down your body, mouth still focusing on your chest, until he gets to your thigh. Your skirt is bunching up around hips from squirming on the bed. “How much do you like these tights?”
You look down at the sparkly tights you bought just for the party. That you’ll probably never wear again. “I mean, they’ve got sparkles. Wasn’t planning to wear them again.” 
“Good,” he says. 
You’re expecting him to rip them on the spot. Instead, he returns his mouth to yours, kissing you hard, and lets a finger run over your entrance, through both tights and underwear. It’s not enough. There’s entirely too much fabric in the way. He’s teasing you, he has to be. There’s no other reason that explains this kind of torture. 
“Jesus, Cheol, please,” you beg. 
“What are you trying to do to me?” he groans. Seems like he still likes it when you beg for something.
In either case, he carefully rips a hole in your tights, too focused on you to figure out pulling them down. Seemingly in one motion, your underwear is pushed to the side and he’s got a finger running up your entrance. Feeling that you’re turned on from the way he’s been kissing all over your body. Thankfully, you don’t have to beg again. At least, not yet. He presses his fingers at your mouth and you suck them in eagerly. Swirl your tongue around them. He almost looks reluctant when he withdraws them to press one inside your cunt. 
“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” he groans. 
“Forgot how good your fingers felt,” you answer, squirming underneath him.
“Bet I could make you come just on my fingers,” he says as he adds a second one.
“Fuck,” you draw out. He’s not being gentle with you anymore. “Then you don’t get to taste me. And we both know how much you love that.”
He leans in closer, you’re assuming to kiss you. Instead, his lips find your ear. “Who says I can’t do both?” 
You bite down on your fist to keep from screaming out when he thrusts faster. Try your best to hold on when his thumb brushes over your clit. All you want is to prove him wrong. Prove that you can hold on and that you’re not putty in his hands. Except, your body remembers. It remembers just how good he makes you feel. Remembers how well he knows what makes you crazy. Nobody has ever known your body like him. And it’s a little annoying. With his fingers inside you, it’s easy to realize that nobody feels as good as him. You could never get yourself off like he could.
It’s an embarrassingly short time before you’re coming on his fingers, fighting not to scream out. Trying anything you can not to make it more obvious just why you decided it was time to head to bed. Seungcheol guides you through the high as you fall back into the bed, sinking deeper into the mattress. After a moment, you prop yourself up to watch him remove his shirt. You’re no longer the only one that’s overexposed. Then again, you don’t feel exposed being half naked around him. It only feels comfortable. Once he removes his shirt, he moves back to your body. Actually takes the time to remove your tights and underwear now. His breath ghosts across your cunt. That action alone is enough to send a little shiver through your body. You’re definitely sensitive. 
Seungcheol positions himself between your legs and looks up when you suck in a breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
He’s so pretty like this. You’ve always thought that. Pushing his hair out of his eyes and looking up at you from underneath his lashes like he’s never seen anyone more beautiful in his life. So caring. The little bit of caution you get from him in the middle of him ruining you. You clear your throat to remember he asked you a question. “Yes, Cheol. With you, always.” 
It’s immediately more honest than either of you are expecting. Instead of breaking the moment, though, it seems to spur him on. The kind smile dissipates into something much more confident. He spreads you open and looks up for a last time before his tongue licks a strip up your entrance. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been since the last time he was between your legs, your entire body remembers. It’s like muscle memory. The way your back arches. The way your hand knots in his hair. The way the praises fall from your lips. You’re sensitive. So fucking sensitive. And he knows. It’s always been one of his favorite things with you. Pushing you to the edge and then over again.
“God, I forgot how fucking good you taste,” he says when he takes a breath. 
“Well maybe, fuckkkk,” you start before cutting out. 
For once, he’s not a demon. He doesn’t ask what you were about to stay. Just keeps alternating between fucking his tongue into you and sucking your clit into his mouth. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Your entire body feels like it’s on fire. When his nose bumps against your clit as he’s buried deep in your pussy, you lose it again. Come all over his tongue and his face. Come harder than you remember coming in a really long time. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 
By the time the last shock works through your body, he’s laying next to you on the bed. You can’t help it. You have to lean over and kiss him. Want to taste yourself on his lips. It’s almost like you need that to know this is all real. That it’s all happening and it’s not just some weird, horny dream. (It’s not like that would be a first, either. You’ll never admit it, but you’ve thought a lot about him since you broke up. Especially when you were horny and needed a release. That’s your business, though.)
“Fuck, Cheol,” you utter when you pull away from the kiss.
“I’ve missed hearing my name on your lips,” he admits. “Specially when you call me Cheol.” 
“I’ve missed saying it,” you share, equally honest. 
You’re a little weak already. It’s hard to imagine what tomorrow is going to be like. But, you move down the bed anyway. Seungcheol tracks you with his eyes as you position to undo his pants. He moves his hips up to help you pull both his pants and briefs down. His stare as you pull your skirt down and discard it at the side of the bed is almost possessive. It sends something through your body. 
It’s your turn to remind him that he’s not the only one who remembers. You also remember just what drives him crazy and just how to get him going. You remember every place he likes to be kissed. So, you start there. Run your lips along every part of his body, like you’re committing him to memory again. As if you could ever forget anything about him. You delight in the sounds you pull from him just with your kisses. Maybe he knows, though, that you’re working your way down. 
“So hard just from getting me off,” you comment. 
“Because I know that nobody can make you come like I can and it’s fucking hot,” he answers.
It’s the same answer he’s always given and something about the familiarity makes you bolder. Even though you know there’s a conversation for tomorrow, it feels like the easiest thing you’ve ever done. You take his dick in your hand, run a finger over the tip and feel a little bit of the precum there. When you lick a stripe up the underside of his shaft, he shudders. Closes his eyes for a second before they snap back open to watch you. He’s always been like this. Always wanting to watch. This time is no different as you slowly take him into your mouth. You know he wants to fuck into your face, know you’d let him. But, you’re thankful he doesn’t. Even if you remember, he’s still big and thick inside your mouth. You need the time to get used to him. Once you do, though, you start to bob. Slowly, at first, before you let him take control. Relax your throat and let him find purchase in your hair. Encourage him to jerk his hips up as you keep your eyes on him as much as possible. You know how much it drives him crazy, even as the tears form and you gag a little 
“Fuck,” Seungcheol utters. 
He pulls you off his cock and up to his face so that he can kiss you. This is your favorite version of him. When he’s needy and desperate and completely putty in your hands. Like he can’t possibly imagine being anywhere that you aren’t. It’s when you know that you’re not crazy, that he’s just as far gone for you as you are for him. 
“I really need to fuck you,” he says. His lips are swollen from kissing you and his pupils are completely blown. “Fuck, I don’t have a condom on me.” 
“It’s fine, I’m still on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since you,” you say. 
That seems to catch him off guard. “You haven’t?”
“No,” you answer.
“I haven’t either,” he admits.
“Then, we’re fine. I trust you,” you tell him. 
“Thank god, I really miss being inside you,” he breathes out.
“Think you just miss me,” you grumble as you reposition to straddle his lap.
“You and that smartass mouth of yours,” he retorts.
“I’m about to ride you, Seungcheol, and you just fucked my smartass mouth. So, maybe, pipe down,” you warn him.
This has always been your dynamic, swapping back and forth for who’s in control. As much as he says he likes control, you know he likes giving it up to you just as much. You know that he hasn’t ever let anyone else be in control apart from you. He looks up at you as you position yourself over him. There was a time when you hated this position. Felt really self conscious about how you must look from this angle. The second you admitted it to him, he was quick with his praise. Assuring you that you’re beautiful to him and there’s nothing to worry about.
He stops you before you lower yourself onto him. Puts his fingers in your mouth again and you obey without a second thought. Then, he runs his fingers along your entrance. Slides a finger in before quickly adding a second. It’s an awkward angle, but you get what he’s trying to do. Appreciate that he wants to make sure you’re at least a little prepped. When he pulls his fingers out, you’re only a little embarrassed at the moan that slips through your lips. If you completely ignore the smirk that he throws your way, well, who can blame you? The smirk is gone a second later when you finally lower yourself onto him.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans. 
You know him so well. You know his instinct is to buck his hips up into you. You know it’s hard for him to let you adjust. But, you also know that he wants to be gentle, even if it’s just for a moment. 
“I forgot how good you felt, jesus fuck,” you moan out. 
“Please, I need to feel you move,” he begs. It’s nice, when he’s the one to beg for something.
And who are you to deny him anything he asks for when he sounds so pretty asking? You do move, entirely too slowly. You need to find your rhythm, though. Need to find some place to anchor your hands. They settle on his chest, at first, and you actually can’t believe how much muscle he has there. He’s always liked to work out. Always wanted to be in shape. This is even more than that. You’re still appreciating the way his chest feels when he grabs one of your hands. Without a word, he moves it to his neck.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
He nods. It’s been awhile since you choked him, even lightly, but it turns you on. It’s easy to see that it turns him on, too. As you apply a little bit of pressure, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your hips. You do everything that you can to pick up the pace. To move faster on top of him. It doesn’t take very long until he’s planting his feet so that he can set the pace. He takes over the rhythm and it gets a lot harder. Bodies slapping together with each movement.
“Fuck, Cheol,” you say, trying not to scream. 
You move your hand from his neck so that you have a better grip. He’s moving too fast for you to feel comfortable that you won’t press too hard into his neck. It’s insane, you know that it’s insane, but you already feel like you’re getting close again. You start to clench around Seungcheol, making the stretch feel that much more intense. 
“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna come if you do that,” he groans. 
“Then do it,” you force out. “Wanna feel it inside me.”
“Jesus,” he groans. 
Everything happens so fast. You can feel him everywhere and your body is on fire. He’s still fucking hard into you, but he’s also rubbing your clit. Helping you get there with him. Somehow, he doesn’t seem to realize you’re already on the verge of your third orgasm. Oversensitive and overstimulated. Your body starts to shake and it’s hard to keep yourself upright on top of him. 
“Fuck, Cheol, I’m coming,” you hiss out. 
“I’m about to come too, fuck,” he answers. 
His thrusts get a lot more erratic and you feel him let loose inside you. You feel the way he moves to try and support you even while he’s working through his own release. When he stills, you collapse forward onto his chest. Breaths shallow and heavy. Your whole body’s exhausted, yet so happy at the same time. Carefully, you pull yourself off him. You’re sure a little bit of cum slides out with the loss of his cock inside you. Not that you care. 
It’s several minutes of silence. Seungcheol lays on his back and you’re on your side next to him. It might be a mark of how much he really did miss you that he doesn’t flinch when you start tracing patterns onto his stomach. It’s not like you just stop being ticklish. Eventually, you realize you need to get up. The last thing you want is to go to bed crusty. 
“Come on, I got lucky and I have an attached bathroom,” you say when you get up off the bed. You reach a hand to him and smile when he takes it without question. 
It’s quiet again as you help clean each other up. A comfortable kind of quiet. The way it used to be. This is another favorite of yours with him. Aftercare has always been his thing. No matter how rough he is with you in bed, he’s impossibly gentle when he cleans you up. It makes your heart ache a little because you’re so fond. It’s a weird mix of feelings.
“We should sleep in my room tonight,” he says. 
“We’re already here,” you point out. 
“With sheets that are probably soaked,” he teases back. 
“What are the chances we can get to your room without being seen?” you wonder. 
He shrugs. “It’s late. Probably better than the chances nobody heard us.” 
Your cheeks flush a little. Sure, you definitely tried to be quiet. You’ll have to wait until the morning to see if you succeeded. 
“Come on, my room has a door to the outside,” he says. 
So, you follow. You put your layers back on and grab something to sleep in. And you don’t actually see anyone before you’re safely tucked away in his room. That night, falling asleep tangled up in Seungcheol, is the best night of sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. 
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Morning comes and brings with it the need for an actual conversation. As you stretch in bed, you appreciate the soreness in your body with a smile. Anything you’re feeling now is surely worth it. That is, until you realize you’re in bed alone. Dread creeps in. Could last night really have meant something different to Seungcheol than it did to you? Did you just make a massive mistake? You’re starting to wonder if you’re only going to break your own heart this time, with nobody else to blame, when the bedroom door opens. Seungcheol steps inside with a thermos and a bag that looks like it might have some of the pastries Wonwoo brought back from the store yesterday.
“You’re awake,” he says with a smile. He sets down the thermos and removes his jacket to hang it up. 
“I was worried you’d left,” you admit when he finishes taking off his shoes and sits next to you. His face looks hurt for a second before it settles. 
“No, I just went to get coffee and figure out what we were walking into before you got up,” he says. 
“And?” you prompt. 
He pulls out a pastry and hands it over. “Nayeon asked where I slept last night and if I knew where you were. I don’t think she heard anything, but who knows with her? Wonwoo wasn’t in the main area, so I don’t know. They said they all knew I was following you, though.”
“Guess we can’t really avoid it,” you joke. 
You’re expecting him to smile, too. Instead, his face is serious. “Do you want to? Avoid it, I mean.”
It makes you serious. Maybe a little too honest. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
“I don’t expect you to believe me, not right away, but I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you,” he says and takes your hands in his. “If you give me another chance, I’m never letting you walk away from me again. I’ll prove that I’m worth everything you give me.”
“You’ve always been worth it, Cheol,” you tell him. 
“I realize that now,” he agrees. “I also realize it’s up to you to know what you deserve and what you want. That wasn’t ever my decision to make and I’m really sorry for doing that to you.”
“It hurt, for sure, but not having you around hurts so much worse,” you admit. It’s hard to meet his eyes, even though you know you’re safe. 
“It hurts so fucking bad. I hate it. Last year was the worst year of my life,” he says. 
“You got a massive promotion, though! Wonwoo told me,” you say. 
“This is going to sound so cheesy, but I’m done caring. That promotion didn’t mean shit without you being there to share it with,” he shares with you. 
“I guess we’ll have to celebrate it this year,” you say. 
His face lights up. “Really?”
“I want to give us another chance. I don’t think either of us are over it,” you acknowledge. “Last night aside, I want to take it slow. I want to take our time instead of rushing in like we did the first time around. I want to get it right this time.”
He nods immediately. “We can go as slow as you want. I mean it. I’m not letting you go again.”
“Good, because I don’t think we should wait to see if the third time’s the charm,” you joke. 
“I’m glad I came this year,” he says as he grabs the thermos. 
“Me too,” you agree. 
It’s funny, you think, how someone can feel so familiar and yet so new at the same time. Seungcheol feels like home, like your favorite sweater, or like curling up with a book by the fire in winter. But, he feels entirely new, too. Like maybe you both changed over the past year. Maybe you both grew into the people you needed to be to love each other better. To love each other right. Later, you’ll have to break the bubble and face your friends. Right now, though, you can just appreciate that this silly little cabin trip brought you peace. 
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this was a lot of fun to write and i hope you liked it 💕
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alllgator-blood · 12 days ago
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'FOGGY STREETS AND CHRISTMAS LIGHTS'
(part 3/3)
I'm gonna infodump about the backstory of this comic, don't feel obligated to read it because it's not cotl related it's just personal stuff, I just want to be able to write about it somewhere cause I can't really talk to anyone about it.
As always, thanks for reading this far, sorry my stuff has been such a bummer so consistently. This comic goes out to all my "christmas induced depression" homies, I left my house maybe like ~5 times all month and it was NOT pleasant hearing "IT'S THE MOST WONDERFUL TIME OF THE YEAR!!" on the radio when I'm so ready for it to be over. Gonna take it reaaaaal easy til the year ends, you guys take it easy too!! Got some asks I have to respond to when I'm more stable but probably no new comic pages til january
Alright uhhh so this part of the comic is pretty much taken directly from the last time I saw my great-grandma alive, a few days before christmas. She didn't remember me, but at the nursing home there was a piano, and I sat down and played some stuff because I didn't know what to say. I was really into lisa the painful rpg at the time, and I played that "I've got the joy" song that the villain sings without realizing it was an old christian campfire song. She didn't really say much or move that whole night, just kind of gave me a polite blank smile, but started singing the words when I played the notes to that song.
I kinda stopped in shock, my dad frantically asked me to keep playing, so I did. While the comic I made is way more sappy than the actual moment was, I wish I'd cherished the moment longer. I didn't know it was the last time I'd see her alive. Every family christmas was held at her house when she was around, so it's been weird the past few years. I actually lost another dementia-addled grandma to cancer on christmas eve in 2009, so the holiday was already kind of weird for me on top of everything else that makes me sad this time of year. That's what part 2 was about, I'll spare the details but I wrote leshy to act out how I felt back then. Why are we all sad? This is supposed to be a happy time, all the decorations are up and we're almost all here, so why is everyone smiling yet everything feels so wrong? I feel like since leshy's canonically the most ignorant one to things lurking below the surface, he'd be the one to try and make everyone feel better but not quite understand why everyone is so miserable. My first memory of having self injurious behavior came from then, hence why I had leshy pull his leaves off in the last comic. It was confusing and frustrating and I was just old enough to comprehend something was wrong, but not old enough to understand the depth of it, it DEFINITELY didn't help that nobody helped me back then so I made leshy's siblings actually come in clutch instead of grabbing him/yelling at him.
That night with the piano was something that's stuck with me the few years she's been gone, but I felt kind of strange when I asked my dad and my sister about it and neither of them remembered it. The room we were in was completely empty so nobody else witnessed it but us three. I myself have a history of head trauma and memory loss (plus, native americans are disproportionately more likely to develop dementia... lucky us) so if I ever forgot about that moment, there'd be nobody left to remember it. Sometimes when I do comics, it's my way of going "this happened at some point, and the only evidence it ever happened was me witnessing it, so if something happens to me I want the memory to stay alive in some form."
Anyway. The autistic urge to overshare, am I right? Idk what my religious ass great-grandma would think of me drawing demonic comics about my last memory of her, she'd probably think it's funny though cause she raised my dad whose interests have always been "death metal and devil worship". I'm not sure if anyone read this far, I just hope my dumb comics can convey the things I can't say with my voice and struggle to say through text. None of this was supposed to be "feel bad for me!! Woe is me!!", it was supposed to me more like...cathartic? Healing? I almost didn't post this comic because it felt kinda weird, but seeing people connect with it made it worth it imo. Thank you
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totalswag · 3 months ago
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a little too much fun — RAFE CAMERON
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authors note hiii lovies!! hope you like this short fic. sorry for being so m.i.a for bit, school has been very busy for me and wanting to get all that out of the way first.
taglist ⤕ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set.
summary going out with your girlfriends on a friday night, having too much to drink, and rafe coming to the rescue to take you home safely.
warning(s) reunion with friends, drinking, cursing, jealousy girls.
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Tonight, you are going out with three of your girlfriends to the local bar to have a few drinks and chat it up. Since you girls work during the week, it was best to finally meet up together.
The dimly lit bar casts a warm, inviting glow over the hustling crowd. The air was filled with laughter, clinking drinks, and the thundering bass of music. It was a perfect night to be out.
Friday nights are the busiest nights at this bar— tonight happened to be the busiest. People were all around and luckily this was a decent sized bar. Security stood outside in case of an emergency too.
You hadn't let loose in a long time, and the drink had flowed freely, leaving you all with a happy, carefree buzz. They knew you well enough to know when you had reached your limit.
Ava, Bella, Emily, and you sat in a booth with food and drinks around the table throughout the night while you caught up before moving to the floor where more people were.
"It's so glad to be back with my girls" Emily announced, smiling with so much joy, "I can't remember the last time we all hung out" she went on.
"I know right, I missed us being together and getting drunk" Bella responded.
Remainder of the time in the booth, you girls had multiple conversations about multiple things that made time even more special. Whenever you get the chance to meet up, there will be conversations about almost anything.
"Another round?" Ava inquired, raising her glass, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol. 
"Sure!" you said, raising your glass in toast. Bella and Emily joined in, and all four of you broke out laughing.
The four of you headed to the dance floor as the night wore on. Everyone began to sing along with the music blasting from the loud speakers and dance to the beat. Color-changing lights gave the bar a pleasant atmosphere.
Drink in hand, you relaxed your body and threw your head to one side while singing out the song's lyrics. At that moment, you felt great.
The girls knew you haven't gone out in awhile and this much to drink in awhile. You told them your password in case Rafe, your boyfriend, needed to pick you up. They watched you throughout the night— four of you looked out for each other regardless.
"I'm having so much fun right now, I missed you girls so much," your sentences slurred, and you felt off balance. Ava caught you right before you collapsed to the side.
Ava whispered "Call or text Rafe" to the girls, pointing to your purse in your grasp— Emily nodded, reaching in your purse for your phone, then texting Rafe to pick you up. He answered quickly, saying he was on his way.
"I'll have my sister pick us up too," Bella said, grabbing her phone from her handbag and messaging her sister.
Rafe showed up shortly after, his towering presence effortlessly slicing through the crowd. He saw you almost instantly, lost in your own world as you swayed to the music, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. With gratitude for his attendance, your friends gave him a warm welcome.
Not knowing your boyfriend is behind you, you swap his hands away from your waist, turning around about to go off on who you thought wasn’t Rafe. That scowl became a happy smile when you realized it was Rafe the whole time.
“Aw baby, what are you doing here?” You ask excitedly but confused at the same time.
"To take you home because you've had to much to drink" Rafe explains carefully, pulling the strand of your hair behind your ear.
"But I'm not ready to go home" you pout.
Rafe understands that you don't want to go home and would rather hang out with your girlfriends, but he doesn't want anything to happen to you or your friends on such a busy night. Behind your drunken glance, you realize he is looking out for you. It shows that he cares.
"Baby, I understand you do not want to leave right now. The girls are about to be picked up by Bella's sister. Plus, there's always the remainder of the weekend and next weekend," he says loudly enough to be heard above the speaker's loud music.
You turn your head over your shoulder and look at your friends with sadness. You swivel your body around and extend your arms for a group hug. You felt your body relax.
"Thank you for calling Rafe," you say, holding them tightly. "Please text the group chat when you arrive home safely." 
"Of course, we love you," Emily replies.
Reluctantly, you let Rafe guide you towards the exit, your steps unsteady. Just as you reached the door, you noticed a group of girls at a nearby table. They were staring at Rafe, their eyes wide with admiration. In your drunken state, jealousy flared up, and you couldn’t help but flip them off.
One of the girls, a blonde with too much attitude for her own good, called out, "Who does she think she is?"
You stopped dead in your tracks, your drunken bravado kicking in. "I'm his girlfriend, bitch," you slurred, glaring at her. "And he’s taking me home. So, enjoy the view while you can."
The girl’s mouth snapped shut, her face turning red with embarrassment as her friends snickered. Satisfied, you turned back to Rafe, who was trying to hide a smirk.
"Let's go, tiger," you said, leaning heavily on him.
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eraenaa · 8 months ago
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So High School
Inspired by the song "So High School" by Taylor Swift
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Athlete Rafe Cameron x Scholarly Reader Tag List
Summary: He knows how to ball, you know Aristotle
Warnings: Jealousy, Dry-Humping, Fluff, Not Proofread 
Word Count: 4,638
A/N: Re-upload because I wanted to add a bit of spice and a few more elements inspired by the song. And I wanted to clarify that the Rafe here is heavily inspired by Zach Maclaren
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You’ve never considered yourself as a cliche. You did love to read, watch, and think about cliches, you would sigh longingly when you see the differing variations be reproduced in media. The kisses in the rain, the jocks getting with the nerds, the popular girls kissing the geeky boys. All of them were great in theory, but you could never see yourself taking part in one of them. Not until you met him. Rafe Cameron.
You’ve never had a high school romance, nothing that even resembled it. If you recall your high school days, nothing remote to a teenage romance was achieved. You went to balls without a date, only the company of your friends; no flings were made nor ambiguous relationships achieved and could be added to your trophy case. You were not even certain you had a crush— sure, you would find someone attractive, but not so much that you would look forward each day to seeing them in the halls or classroom. It sounds horrid and sad now that you say it out loud or when you share it with any of your uni friends, but you truly did not mind. You were just not destined to have a high school romance. 
In truth, you preferred it that way. You’d rather avoid immature attachments. The shallow jealousy and petty fights you had witnessed over and over again. However, you were always curious about how they felt. How did it feel to look forward to going to school to see the one you liked or even loved? How did it feel to be a blushing mess just because they glanced back at you? What did it feel like to hold the person you wanted’s hand as you walked down the hall? What was it like to have your friends tease you for being so love-struck that it went straight to your heads? How does it feel to be down bad for someone while still being filled with the naivety of youth? But you suppose you don’t have to wonder at all anymore. The cliche things they say in the movies; your stomach filled with butterflies, your heart pounding hard on your chest, your skin tingling with electricity— you thought were just exaggerated reactions, romanticizing further the romances they produce, but they were right. Those are the exact things you felt with Rafe. 
You never saw him coming. He was an exchange student from the States, admitted into your university’s football team. He was a few years older, but with his commitment to the sport, he was taken back a few years and started off in the second year. He was your seatmate on the third day of class of the term. He took a seat by your right and sheepishly asked you for a pen at the start of the lecture. You were set to mind your own business, lend him the pen, and focus on the lecture, but you could not help but notice him leaning closer to you, trying to copy down the notes you typed furiously on your laptop. You thought twice before you decided to be a good samaritan, shifting your laptop screen more clearly toward his view. 
You tried not to get in between him and the professor as he was grilled to answer a question about Aristotle’s Poetics, the whole class’ eyes upon him as he stuttered and flailed to answer the lecturer’s question. You sighed and bit your lip, quickly typing up the answer as he was being shamed by your professor for not doing the readings. You tugged at the hem of his shirt, motioning for him to look at the screen and recite out loud the answer you had written. “Thank you,” Rafe whispered, leaning closer to you, who saved him from further embarrassment. You just nodded, but Rafe did not return to his place; he kept the rather close proximity of the both of you for the rest of the class. You just took his actions as his way of copying more of your notes.
When the class ended, you quickly gathered your things and tried to exit the lecture hall, but Rafe blocked your way. “I’m Rafe, by the way,” he introduced himself, letting out his hand for you to shake. You did, and he swore he felt electricity at your touch; you, too had felt it but mistook it for static. You quickly introduced yourself and tried to sidestep to get to your next class, but he was quick to block you again. “I just wanted to say thank you again,” Rafe said, trying to catch your eye, but it kept flying towards the door. You flash him a small and almost forced smile, “It’s just recitation. It’s no problem.” You said and finally looked him in the eyes. You felt your heart stutter at the smile that crossed his lips, and you once again mistook it for something else, anxiety, perhaps that you might be late to your next class that was all the way on the other side of the campus in a building without an elevator and your classroom conveniently placed on the top floor. 
That was when you noticed that Rafe had still not let go of your hand, nor did he have the intention of letting you go too quickly. “I’m sorry, not to be rude or anything, but I really have to go to my next class,” you say, the tone of your voice a bit frantic so he’d buy into the guilt and finally let go of your hand. Rafe bit his tongue to prevent a grin from slipping his lips; you had the most melodious voice and the most adorable accent he heard while he stayed in your country. “Yeah, no problem… see you next week,” Rafe finally unblocked your path and let go of your hand, watching as you hastily walked out of the classroom, leaving him grinning at himself like a fool. 
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You were walking down the halls of your university the next day. Your headphones covered your ears and made you a tad oblivious to the surroundings around you. Rafe caught you by the side of his eye, and quickly ended the conversation he was having with his friends to get to you. He was calling your name, avoiding the sea of students who were venturing to their next class. Everyone’s head turned to him, their attention on him as he called for you, but you were oblivious to him. Rafe finally caught up behind you, grabbing the headband of your headphones to finally get your attention. You yelped in surprise at the sudden actions, turning behind you, ready to take the blow of your attacker, but you were only met with Rafe, who had an amused grin by our wide-eyed and startled state. 
You breathe out a quiet sigh of relief when you realize it was not a complete stranger who had done that abrupt and rather rude action. You watch with a slight furrow in your brow as Rafe wears your headphones, momentarily listening to the song you were listening to. “What is this?” He asked with a confused look, “Patti Smith,” You answered as he returned to you your headphones. “Never heard of him,” Rafe shrugged, and you bit your tongue, “He’s a she,” You said and looked around the corridor only to realize that the two of you stood by the middle of it. Earning curious and even annoyed glances from other students because you and Rafe obstructed the pathway. You stepped to the side, and Rafe followed; you looked up at him in curiosity, “Did you need something?” You asked, wanting an explanation from him for startling you in the middle of the hallway. 
“I…” Rafe trailed, not truly having a concrete reason for calling for you. “Uh… where are you going?” He asked instead, and you felt your brows twitch into a quick frown before you recomposed your expression. “The library,” you say, and he nods. “Come on, then,” He said, taking hold of the handle of your shoulder bag and carrying it for you. Your lips agape, not at all certain what is happening; you watch him walk a few steps forward, but he stops in his tracks and turns to you. “You might wanna lead the way; I’m kinda new here,” You bit your lip as you wanted to laugh. You nodded, and the two of you walked side by side on the way to the library. 
“What’s your degree?” You asked him as you walked through the hallowed halls of your university. Rafe still carried your bag, and you could not help but notice the curious glances pointed at the two of you. “Finance,” you nodded but grew rather curious as to what he was doing in your literature class, so you then proceeded to ask him the question swirling in your mind. “Oh… I ran out of units; either I take that class or be underloaded,” he shrugged and opened the door of the library for you. “So you have no idea nor interest about what we were talking about the other day?” You asked and felt your stomach weirdly twist when he pulled out the chair for you and assisted you to sit. “Not really, no,” He said and took a seat across from you. “Thanks again, by the way, for giving me the answer,” Rafe said in gratitude once more. You flashed a quick smile and took your bag from him, taking out the readings for your other class. It took a few minutes of you reading your course material before you realized that Rafe was just sitting there, watching you. “Don’t you have any requirements to do?” You asked him, eyes locking with clear ocean blue ones. “Nope,” he shook his head, his lips popping the ‘p.’ 
“Then what are you doing here…?” You asked. Rafe refrained from letting his grin turn wider. He just shrugged and watched you furrow your brows; a cute little pout of confusion appeared on your lips. He was uncertain if you were truly oblivious or just pretending to be. What was supposed to be a productive day of reading and staying above your requirements turned into a day of laughing fits and jokes. You both tried to stifle your laughs caused by your random conversations and anecdotes, but it was proven impossible, resulting in both of you being ushered out of the library. “Oh god—“ You laughed as you recalled the stern look of the librarian as they pushed you and Rafe out. In other circumstances, you might have died in embarrassment for having to be escorted out of the library, but somehow, right now, you felt thrilled. 
Rafe watched you as your laughs died down. His gaze studied the crinkle on your nose and the sides of your eyes, the way you would bite down on your lip to stifle them, but it would be to no avail because your melodious laughs still blessed his ears. “Do you want to go to grab lunch?” Rafe suddenly asked, and your laughs finally halted. You looked up at him, his expecting gaze on you, hopefulness in his ocean-blue eyes that you could not shatter. You smiled and nodded, your heart stuttering when he took the bag on your shoulder once more. His warm hand brushes with your skin, causing a jolt of electricity in you that you never thought could happen. You followed him out of campus, your mind in a hazy battlefield as to where this was leading. 
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You bit your lip as Rafe waved at you during their practice; you could barely make out his face through the obstruction of his helmet, but you would guess there was a boyish grin on his lips. It had been a week since the incident in the library, and quickly after that, you two found a deeper understanding between each other. You realize the cliche they insisted upon that said ‘you'll find love when you least expect it’ was quite true. You never expect to meet anyone like Rafe. 
“There you are,” you hear your friend arrive, having him see you on the football field because he needed to brow your notes for a class. “What are you even doing here? I practically had to drag you here the last time I wanted to watch a game,” He asked in deep confusion, entirely uncharacteristic of you to be by the field. “Uhm…” you trailed, not having told him about Rafe yet. “I met someone,” You started, watching as his eyes grew wide in surprise. “A player?” He asked, and you nodded, “Which one?” He asked in great interest. You squinted your eyes and looked for Rafe’s number, not wanting to have to point. “The one from the States!? You’re dating a Yank?” He asked as if it was a scandal. “A Yank? Seriously? They’ve stopped calling Americans that for almost a century,” You said, trying not to laugh.
Rafe turned to you, surprised you were no longer alone on the benches. Instead, you were laughing along with some dude who sat a bit closer to you. It made him rather… curious. A good alternative feeling as he did not want to overstep with his emotions and admit to himself that he was quick to grow jealous. “Hey, good game, mate,” Rafe’s teammate complimented and clapped his back, and he returned the compliment, but he could not help but notice that his teammate’s gaze was flying over to you. “What is it?” Rafe asked as he removed his gloves, "Are you… with her?” He asked hesitantly, and Rafe turned to you, who was still enveloped in conversation with the man who was a stranger to him. 
“Yes.” He said even though it was too soon and neither of you had a discussion about where the week of dates you two went on would lead. Rafe watched as his teammate’s brows shot up in surprise. “Do you know her?” Rafe asked, and his teammate nodded. “Yeah, I went to secondary school with her,” He said, and Rafe was in the midst of thinking another question to ask when his teammate spoke once more. “Good luck to you; the word is she has very high standards. A bit stuck up if you ask the other lads in our school.” His teammate and Rafe frowned in confusion. “What?” He asked, “Yeah. She was notorious in our school for being the girl no one could get. A lot of blokes fancied her rotten, but not once did she pay them mind. She was never in any relationships or flings, for that matter— and if I remember correctly, she did not even take a date to the balls.” Rafe’s teammate explained, his gaze flying to you, remembering how the boys at your school would always follow you around or try to get your attention, but you’ve always ignored them. “Anyway, congrats to you, I guess. Never knew her type were Yanks,” Rafe heard his teammate mutter and once again clapped his back before leaving. 
You turn away from your friend as you hear Rafe approaching, flashing him your beaming smile that you only bestowed upon the most deserving of people. You’ve only known him a week, but you felt that your genuine smile was made to be pointed at him and as well be caused by him. “You ready to go?” Rafe asked, ignoring the presence of the guy who sat next to you because he knew himself, and if he acknowledged the guy next to you, his jealousy might shine through. “Uh… yeah, this is my friend, by the way,” You say as you see Rafe was a bit reserved at the moment. “Hey,” your friend greeted and stretched out his hand for Rafe to shake, “Hey,” he muttered and barely turned to your friend. There was a pause of steely, awkward silence that you were not certain the cause of. “I’m gonna go… thanks for the notes,” Your friend quickly excused himself, and you turned to Rafe. “Are you okay?” You asked, and you heard him let out a grieved exhale. “Uh, yeah, just tired,” he fibbed, not wanting to bring out the subject of his jealousy that was quick to stew. 
“Oh, that’s a pity. My friend you’ve just met— he and his boyfriend are throwing a party tonight and I was gonna ask you if you wanted to come. But if you need to rest, that’s completely fine,” You said and watched as his lips agape slightly, “He… he has a boyfriend?” He asked slowly, realizing his jealousy was completely out of place. “Erm, yeah, why?” You asked and found it odd how the almost grumpy expression on his face quickly turned into a smile. “Nothing. Of course I’ll come with you to the party,” Rafe smiled and draped his arm around your shoulder as you two walked off the stands. 
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You came to the party with the thought that perhaps you could help Rafe mingle with the others in your year. He could find other friends in this foreign land, but as cliche as it was, you two were lost in each other. Everything faded, and all the two of you could focus on was each other. It was later in the night when you and Rafe’s close proximity was interrupted by your friend. “Come on, we’re going to play spin the bottle,” Your friend pulled at you, who reluctantly stood and stepped away from Rafe. “Spin the bottle? Isn’t that a bit juvenile?” You asked as you were forced to sit on the floor; Rafe was being led by your friend’s significant other to sit across from you. He flashed you his charming smile. You bit your tongue to not let the giddiness in you shine through.
“Rules first,” Your friend replied. “As always, whoever the bottle lands to, you must kiss that person, but if you do not want to, you can play for truth or dare. Your friend says, and all in the circle nod. “Okay then. Who goes first?” Rafe asked, and you turned to your friend, “Well, seeing you are the guest here in our lovely land, you get the honor to go first,” Rafe shrugged and smirked, leaning forward to spin the bottle and prayed that it would land on you, it didn’t. You turned to where the bottle pointed to a girl from your secondary school who licked her lips and looked positively excited at the prospect of kissing Rafe. You bit your lip and sat quietly in your seat, making sure that your face was rid of any reaction. 
Rafe warily shifted his gaze between you and the girl, “I’ll do a truth,” he announced and saw from the corner of his eyes as the strange girl pouted and her shoulders deflated in rejection. “A truth it is,” Your friend said; there was a quick silence whilst he thought of a question. “Why did you choose truth?” They asked Rafe, and you fiddled with your fingers, raising your gaze towards the boy you had been seeing for the past week but had no label to call him. “Just… just didn’t want a kiss,” He shrugged, his gaze flying to you, who quickly avoided his. “Okay then, next,” Your friend said, and you waited for your turn, already knowing in yourself you’d skip the kiss part if it did not land on Rafe. 
“Truth or dare?” You were asked and paused for a moment. Usually, you would quickly pick ‘truth’, not having the nerves to choose the other option, but somehow, right now, you were leaning towards picking ‘dare’, so that is what you had done. You hear ‘oohs’ from your friends, surprised by your boldness. “Dare, then. Okay… I dare you to kiss the person you fancy in this circle the most,” Someone cruelly said, and your eyes widened, cheeks blooming with color as you quickly regretted your choice. “No! I chose ‘dare’ to skip the kissing part! That’s unfair,” You countered, but they only shrugged and replied with “Rules are rules,” 
You pursed your lips and looked around the circle. You already knew who you wanted to kiss, but you lacked the courage to do so. “Okay, everyone, close your eyes, and you pick who you want to kiss,” Your friend decided, showing you kindness, for he knew that the situation was quite too much for you. Rafe chewed on his cheeks, heart beating loudly in his chest, praying to anyone who would hear that you would choose him. 
You took a deep breath and glanced as everyone had their eyes closed. You gathered whatever courage and nerve you had to stand from your seat and lean closer to Rafe. Admiring his handsome face for a moment before placing a quick, chaste kiss at the corner of his lips. You feel him twitch in surprise, and you quickly return to your seat as he opens his ocean-blue eyes. His lips were agape in shock, and he was being tugged into a wide smile that showcased his dimples. His eyes crinkled as he beamed at you, filled with romantic giddiness. The game went through a few more rounds until everyone eventually got bored, and you and Rafe were left in each other’s company once more. 
The music was blaring; the chatter was loud, but not a single noise was heard by the two of you as you had been enveloped in conversation. You quickly grew entranced by how random your topics were. It could be a deep, philosophical engagement, one where you were both perplexed and engrossed by the subject, then the next, you were clutching your stomach because you were laughing so hard at one of his jokes.
“Where’d everybody go?” Rafe suddenly asked as he reluctantly rested his gaze on anything else other than you. Your lips agape as you saw the flat was cleared out, the remnants of the party and the mess it caused still present but not those who had caused it. You let out a bubbling laugh as you two were now the only ones present; not even the hosts of the party could be accounted for. “We should probably go home, huh,” You say, your eyes shifting between Rafe’s gaze and the floor that was riddled with confetti and spilled drinks. “Yeah, come on, I’ll walk you home,” He said as he stood, reaching out his hand for you to take as he assisted you to stand. 
“Rafe,” You called as you two stood by the entrance of your flat. “Yes, pretty girl?” He asked with a grin, and you bit your lip to hinder yourself from grinning like a lovestruck fool. You took a deep breath before you spoke, “Not to sound so high school, but I… I really like you,” You confessed. You did not know how to relay how you felt seeing he was the first one to spur this type of giddiness in you. You gazed up at him, watching as his eyes twinkled with mirth and the smile on his lips widened. You held your breath as he leaned in and kissed your lips. It was a chaste kiss, just like the one earlier, but it was still capable of leaving you both grinning. 
Your eyes alight with newfound affection as you and he stood below the pale moonlight. You sighed happily as Rafe placed his warm hand on your cheek, caressing your skin before ultimately leaning in to kiss you once more. A different, more fervent, and deeper kind of kiss than the first one shared. You feel your heart flutter and your body turn warm as his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him downwards to your height, feeling him smirk against your lips.
When you parted for air, you bit your lip as a wide, cheek-aching smile spread upon it. “I think like you more,” He said against your lips. You knew it was a line, a cheesy one at that, but your stomach flipped in violent delight, and you stood on your toes to feel his lips against yours again. “Do… do you wanna go in?” You asked him as your lips parted again, your mind spinning from the way he kissed you and pulled on your waist. “Yes,” he said a bit too eagerly, the tips of his ears growing red a he realized the slight desperation in his voice, but you simply found it endearing. 
When in the privacy of your flat, you grinned against Rafe’s lips as he gently pushed you against the wall, his large frame flushed against yours. Your fingers reached to run themselves through his hair as his hands on your waist strayed hesitantly higher. “You sighed as his lips moved to place kisses on your neck, “I hope you know I didn’t offer to walk you home for this,” Rafe sighed against your neck, breathing deeply your scent as his need for you bulged painfully in his jeans. “I know,” You smiled and whimpered as you felt him nip your skin. 
You were not certain if you should warn him of the truth that you’ve never done anything such as this and that you have never reached this level of intimacy with anyone. But you swallowed the words as you feared you would run him away. You gasped as Rafe effortlessly hoisted you on his waist. Your mind spun as he deeply kissed you and led you to your sofa, him sitting on the cushion and you straddling his waist. You panted as you felt his need against your core. 
Rafe swallowed thickly as he gazed at you, your lips swollen and eyes filled with need for him. “I… I don’t have protection,” He sheepishly, regrettably said, and you could blink. “Oh,” Was all you could say, uncertain if you should move from the position you both were in even though your body screamed for you to stay put. “I’m sorry, I—“ He started to speak, and you shook your head, “No, don’t be,” You rested your palm on his chest and felt the erratic beating of his heart, a rhythm that matched yours. Rafe took in a deep breath and lowered his gaze as if in shame; you chewed on your lip and spoke. “Maybe uhm… maybe we could do something else?” 
“Like what?” He asked hesitantly; you couldn’t really verbalize your intent, so instead, you showed it to him. Rafe’s jaw slacked as you started to grind your hips, your core rubbing against his length. You hid your face in the crook of his neck and placed small kisses on his skin as you tried to stifle your sighs of pleasure. 
Rafe’s hands found home at your rear, guiding and aiding your movements. Rafe let out a hiss as he felt himself quickly be led to climax. You finally vocalized your moans as you, too, were on the precipice of your peak; your hand moved to grip Rafe’s dark blonde locks as you came, calling his name. Rafe moved to take your face into his hands and intertwine your lips as he came undone, his seed spilling out in his trousers. He never thought he could come undone so harshly with ought actually being touched by someone. 
When your lips parted, and the hazy want in you subsided, you grinned widely at Rafe, who let out an amused breath. The both of you stayed silent, but Rafe’s thoughts screamed loudly in his head. Would it be cliché of him to say that he had fallen so quickly? That seeing you in the lecture hall was love at first sight, and now, even only knowing you for only a short time, he knew you were the one. 
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jjoongiesbetter · 5 months ago
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✎ᝰ. mon's ateez fic recommendations (part 1)!
mdni!
│hi there! i haven't read much lately so the first part came across as a bit shorter than i expected but the next ones will surely be longer!
— as a writer myself, i just wanted to take a moment to thank all the authors for sharing such incredible writing, your hard work is truly appreciated! thank you for sharing your writing with us! ♡
──────── ♡⸝⸝
⤷ kim hongjoong x reader
♡┆ugh, as if by @ennysbookstore; the whole mini-series is just amazing and i enjoyed each part a lot! once i started i couldn't stop reading! loved how well hongjoong was written! the build-up of the first part was top-notch! and the character development... i should thank the author on my knees for writing this masterpiece. one of the best authors out there! definitely will read again!
♡┆swapped by @daisykihannie; the prompt is just so fun and interesting, one of the most creative ones i stumbled across! i haven't read something like this before. enjoyed it very very much!
♡┆punching bag by @mulloey; i must admit it was so just so undeniably hot, angry hongjoong and also so well-written! you will find me re-reading it an unholy amount of times.
♡┆clumsy hearts, steady love by @edenesth; WHAT IF I TELL YOU I CRIED? i already commented on this one on my main but im going to repeat myself! incredibly written, hongjoong suits the concept so well, my heart hurt a bit while reading but it's hongjoong, of course, i forgive him. somehow still very cute.
⤷ jeong yunho x reader
♡┆active recovery by @k-hotchoisan; y'all so i was always so shy about commenting on smut but tbh don't we all read it? author killed it yet again! got me hot, bothered and i am starting to consider a gym subscription!
♡┆the drill by @byuntrash101; look i know this one was posted last year, and i am so mad for not reading it sooner😭 i loved the storyline, wooyoung as a side character was just so funny, yunho without rizz altered my brain chemistry. i can't lie i was thinking about this fic for days after i read it! it's the perfect blend of fun and smut.
♡┆private lessons by @bombuni; i must admit i love professor yunho and it is always a pleasure finding and reading such fics, especially when it's as good as this one! (would love to see a part two one day)
♡┆muffled by @desirehorizon; the plot!!! the writing!!! the smut!!! and it was funny too!!! what more can i want? perfect!! imma say it once again but i enjoyed every word of this fic!!! can't wait to read more from the author!
⤷ song mingi x reader
♡┆still your biggest fan by @byuntrash101; good god it was just so incredibly hot, we need to appreciate the idea because it surely is creative! who doesn't just love teasing mingi? let's agree that we all do.
♡┆sour candy by @0097linersb; loved the idea🙂‍↕️ needy mingi is my favorite mingi, it was very very hot. you better find the time and read it!
⤷ choi jongho x reader
♡┆minor nuisance by @everyonewooeverywhere; i tell you they are in love love! trust me, you definitely need to read this one! jongho was just so sweet, a great fluff/smut combo and now i need jongho in my life even more :(
♡┆freestyle lap by @bro-atz; we all should know by now that bro is just simply one of the best when it comes to smut and they never, never disappoint. i definitely needed to read this one after i saw that pool jongho pics. if you haven't read it yet, what are you even doing?
♡┆falling and sleeping by @seonghwaddict; it was posted earlier this year but i just had to include it :( it was just utterly cute, jongho is adorable. well-written, and melted my poor heart.
multiple members:
⤷ choi jongho x kang yeosang x reader
♡┆the post show high by @bombuni; i must shamelessly admit while reading it i felt like the author somehow got into my brain and just picked one of my fantasies, hope it's not tmi. so saying i loved it it's an understatement! one of my favorite authors for real!
pairings:
⤷ kim hongjoong x jeong yunho (hohong)
ao3 ♡┆darling, you will bury me (before i bury you) by SunshineAndRayne; cute cute cute! i loved every letter of it, yunho is so whipped and i am living for it!
ao3 ♡┆waiting for you by marspacz; i absolutely loved this one so much! my heart needed this, had me smiling the entire time i was reading! and then the shotgun scene—damn, that was hot!
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ynsvnte · 6 months ago
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The dance of the ballet ! — Park Sunghoon
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pairing: ballerino!hoon x ballerina!reader
genre: friends to lovers, smut (18+ MDNI), fluff, one shot
word count: 2.4k
warnings: kissing, swearing, blowjob, handjob, boob-sucking, pet names, piv, unprotected sex, degrading, cunnilingus, creampie. a bit of aftercare
Synopsis: with a show coming up soon. You and your partner decide to take one day and practice alone together. A bit of teasing goes along the way, causing more than practice to happen.
Quick note: apologies if there are mistakes as I have no idea how ballet works (I know very little about it) and tried doing some research on this before writing — also not proofread umm bc it’s 5 am and I wrote for an hour just to finish this.
Masterlist
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Upon arrival, you can already hear the music.. Swan lake.. of course everyone knew this. You set your bag down and watch as your partner.. dances by himself.. admiring him.. as it goes silent the next moment.. you cough slightly, catching the male’s attention.
“Oh hey..” Sunghoon says while heavily breathing.
“Hey.. ready for practice?” You asked hoping to ease the awkwardness surrounding the both of you. “I guess so..” It’s that you and Sunghoon are practicing alone. Usually you would only practice with the whole group but not today. You take a sip before changing your shoes to pointe shoes. You prepare your feet before slipping on your toe pad, and sliding your feet into the shoe. You adjusted yourself before walking up to Sunghoon who seems to be warming up. “There we can start..”
He just nodded his head before starting the music. As soon as you hear the first instrument.. you become slightly nervous.. you try not to pay attention to the male right next to you. You didn’t know what it was but you felt some kind of attraction towards him. Not that you told anyone yet about your feelings for your partner.
You wait off on the side as the infamous “Swan lake 1. SCENE” plays.. you watch as you wait for the next song to be over so you can start your part. Just like magic.. the next song plays, Sunghoon continues to dance as you watch.. You prepare yourself as you finally start.. Sunghoon is far away, watching you.. Your part is towards the end so you only have a short moment.. and as you stand there the next song starts.. you begin dancing again.. points shoes.. holding you up.. as you twirl.. then Sunghoon begins.. as he “chases” you in the dance.. then he finally catches up to you.. grabbing you arm and turning around.. you both make eye contact. And as everything seems to go fast you separate yourself apart and soon it’s Sunghoon “protecting” you from Rothbart.. in usual rehearsal.. everyone would be here but because it’s a private rehearsal it’s only you two..
Then the third song finished. You breathe for air.. and fall flat on your feet.. you could feel the pain slowly coming.. as Sunghoon pauses.. you take a seat on the floor exhausted from dancing non-stop for 5 minutes.. feet in pain.. you lie down before closing your eyes.. but once you open your eyes Sunghoon is above you staring at you..
“Need something..?” You asked him. He shakes his head before lying down right next to you on the floor.. “Exhausted..?” He asked, looking at the lights. “Hell yeah my feet fucking hurt from standing in point for minutes straight..” you could feel his eyes on you. You tried to ignore it before.. turning your head to the side.. making eye contact. You look into his eyes.. his eyes are on something. Your lips.. “Is something on my lips..?” Sunghoon's face looks surprised.. “N-no nothing..” he sighs before getting up and walking away.. Great way to ruin the mood. But his gaze looked like he wanted to do something.. maybe even kiss you.
You shake your thoughts off and sit right back up. The silence between you two gets louder if even possible. You stare at yourself in the mirror. Slowly gaining back your energy. You could see Sunghoon from the mirror seemingly drinking some water but you focus your gaze back onto yourself.
“What if we never got our roles..?” You asked out of the blue. “What do you by that?” Sunghoon looks at you. You turn your head to face him. “What if we never got our parts we have now we both wouldn’t be here.” You kept a blank face. Giving Sunghoon a hard time to figure out your true intentions on the question. “And what makes you ask that?” You keep quiet for a bit before answering. “Nothing, just wondering. Like what if someone else got your part with me.. or the other way around. Or maybe we both didn’t get the parts.” You rambled on. Sunghoon could only help smile a bit. “You’re so cute.” Sunghoon doesn’t realize he said only after your reaction. Your eyes widen as your voice slowly fades out. You feel yourself sweating. “What did you say..”
“I-nothing..” It’s too late, regardless. “You said I’m cute..” you point at him then yourself. “Is there something you’re hiding, hmm..?” You look at him in an amused expression. Sunghoon Can feel the tip of his ears slowly becoming warmer, probably even a bit red. “Why would I be hiding something.. that would be weird.” He states, defending himself for your accusation. “Sure like anyone would believe you, now tell me.” Of course he couldn’t hide anything for shit. “I did say you’re cute but it was by accident, it just came out of nowhere.. I’m not denying you aren’t cute or anything I just-“ Sunghoon sighs giving up on explaining himself.
You could help but laugh.. “and what if I said the same thing about you.” You stare into his eyes, expression turning into a slight confident one. His own eyes widened, surprised. “Me..?” He was too stunned. Frozen in place. Your smirk widens as you stand up and walk towards him. “Correct..” You could tell you made him extremely nervous and shy. “Why..? Do you like it.?” You teased him. “I-what no why would I..I like it.” He rambled, making you believe the opposite. “Sure like I would believe you. Now tell me the truth. Do you like being called cute?” Sunghoon stared right into your eyes. Noticing the glint of lust in them. “And what if I say yes?” Was he now trying to annoy you or what? “I don’t know.. say it and you’ll find out.” You won’t give up. You really want him to say yes, but you don't know him that well to really know what answer you'll end up receiving.
Sunghoon's heart beats quicker than before. The look you’re giving him causes something in him to quite enjoy it. But he had an ego of course. Not wanting that and his pride to get damaged at all. But he rather shocks himself once the words leave his mouth.
“Yes..” Oh he wished he could take it back but it was a little too late for that. He watched you as you slightly laughed before smirking.. you approached him closing the space left between you two. Bodies against bodies. You look right up at him. The move takes him aback. Lips against each other as you start kissing him. Sunghoon couldn’t help but kiss you back enjoying the feeling of your lips on his. A perfect fit. He thought. He tries to bring you closer. Arms wrapping around your waist as your arms begin to go around his neck.
Lips sloppily moving against each other. You get pressed back onto the wall as you both continue making out. You shiver as his hands start to make way down your thigh, fingertips grazing against your inner thighs. You open your eyes, staring at him before he pulls away from your lips feeling your eyes on him.
“What’s the staring for, hmm?” He places an arm above your head onto the wall, caging you in. You get flustered.. His other arm is now on your hip. Softly pinching it a bit. “Nothing.. Just couldn’t help it” You state, eyes on each other. Your heart starts to fasten, being this close to Sunghoon was not on today’s plan. “Is that so? Or is there something more that I just don’t know..” Sunghoon could feel there’s more to it..
Smirking while staring right down at you, admiring you. “What if.. I wanna fuck you” You pull him down by his neck bring your lips to the shell of his ear, whispering. Sunghoon pauses a bit, a little taken aback at your statement. “Like right now?” he says in disbelief, but not also hating the idea of fucking. “Of course right now..” You whined, hand resting on his growing bulge. You give it a light squeeze causing him to lean his head back, groaning. “Fuck the things you do to me.” his voice turned raspy. “Are sure..?” He asked you, making sure you don’t feel uncomfortable. “When it comes to you.. I’m always sure..” you tease him a bit.
Sunghoon could only scoff before kissing you again. At this point you forgot the whole point of being here. Your hands slowly start making their way under Sunghoon’s shirt. Sunghoon pulls away before pulling off his shirt. Seeing him shirtless for the first time, you could only smile. He seemed to rush you a bit, pulling you closer to him embracing you in his arms. He pulls your shirt off you, leaving you in your bra. His hands unclasp your bra. As your bra falls to the ground, He cups both of your breasts, before lightly sucking on one. You leaned your head back in pleasure. “Heh-eager?” You looked down at him, getting more wet by each second passing by. Sunghoon only nodded his head, too busy to respond.
“Who knew princess had cute boobs hmm..?” He smirks at you. Enjoying your reaction. “Oh shut up.” You glared at him. Sunghoon drags you to the floor, back against the wall, and you straddle him. Feeling his rock hard cock pressing up against your clothed cunt.
“Excited much..” you murmur, your hands grip the band of his sweatpants, he lifts himself up a bit helping you pull them down. You throw his sweatpants somewhere else in the room, admiring the view right in front of you. You rubbed your palm over his covered cock. Placing kisses on his neck. “What do you want me to do?” You whispered in his ear. “You know..” he quietly responded. “What I am supposed to know?” Sunghoon glares at you before holding you in place.
“Knowing how much I want you.” He says, patience clearly running out. “Yeah pretty obvious” you scoff, making your way back in front of him. You slightly pull down his boxers, cock jumping out, pre-cum leaks from the tip. Slight veins decorate the surface. You smile before looking right back at him. Eyes meeting, you keep your eyes locked as you open your mouth bringing his cock closer and closer. Finally once his tip touches your tongue, he hissed, enjoying the feeling of your tongue alone.
You take more of him in your mouth, moaning softly to get him worked up. Few more seconds and you fully have him in your mouth, gagging a bit. Sunghoon only moaned loudly. “Shit you feel so good. Such a little slut huh?” He stares you down. You moan around him. You back away. Cock now covered in saliva, you start lightly sucking on his balls, while stroking his cock, hand wrapped around his base. Sunghoon reaches out, his hand covering over yours. Helping you out with his length. The sounds of his moans bounce off the wall. Both of you are lucky to not have any cameras in this practice room. You stop sucking before licking strokes of his base, getting him closer to the edge. His fastens the pace of your hands. On the spot he begins coming.. letting some fall onto the floor, both of your hands covered in his release.
He removes his hand over yours, forces his cum-covered fingers into your mouth. “Suck. C’mon now sweetheart.” You obey him and begin to lick his fingers clean. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth grabbing your hands and making you suck your own. After that he forces you onto the floor on your back. Cold floor hitting your bare back, making you shiver. Sunghoon quickly undoes your beaten pointe shoes, getting them out of the way and pulls down your leg warmers.
“Damn why so much clothing?” You only laugh at his comment. “Gotta kept myself from feeling any pain.” He finally removes your leggings. Exposing your soaked underwear. “Excited much” Sunghoon says, mocking you from earlier. He spreads your legs, placing kisses on your inner thighs. He kisses your covered core. He licks you from your underwear.. you let out a sigh, enjoying the feeling of him tasting you. He pulls down your underwear and hurriedly begins to eat you out. Slurping your juices, he moans burying himself into your cunt. “Hah-more..” your toes curl as the feeling of pleasure.
Sunghoon gives your clit one more kiss. “Hey what are you doing?” You glared at him, confused why you didn’t finish off. “You think you’ll be coming on my mouth. Sweetheart. The only thing you’ll be coming on is this cock.” He says in a deep voice turning you more on. He pushes inside you. Welcomed with the tight, warm feeling of your cunt squeezing him. “So tight, just for me.” He starts off slowly, letting you adjust. “You can go faster..” you say quietly. Sunghoon hears you, increasing his pace immediately. You close your eyes. Taking in the feeling. Few more minutes of getting pounded down pass by. “Holy shit- close sweetheart.. hmm how about we come together.. wouldn’t you like that.” You nodded your head. Taking one hand starts to rub your clit. Hoping to hurry up. Sunghoon goes even faster chasing his own high.
At last he comes inside of you, triggering your own orgasm. You moan out loud only to be quiet down by Sunghoon kissing you. As you shake a bit from your own orgasm. Sunghoon kisses your cheek. “Shh, quiet down a bit sweetheart.. we’re not the only ones here remember.” Oh right. Sunghoon pulls out before dressing up. He grabs a tissue from his own bag. Cleaning you up. He hands you your clothes helping you dress up.
After cleaning up. You put on your boots. Only to feel a pair of arms around your waist. “I’ll take you home sweetheart..” he kisses your cheek, you giggle. “So what are we?” you say pulling away, and picking up your bag from the floor. You both exit the practice room. Hand in hand. “What do you mean ‘what are we?’ Yn we’re boyfriend and girlfriend now” he pouts.
“Hm? I don’t recall. You never gave me a heads up” you say holding back your laughter. “Okay fine. As you exit the building he stops and grabs both of your hands.
“Yn do I have the honors to be your boyfriend?” He asks, blushing. You smile, kissing his nose. “Of course..” Sunghoon smiled widely, grabbing your arm and dragging you to his car. “I think I’ll take you home with me now, girlfriend.”
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Author’s note: LONGEST FIC I WROTE IMAGINE ME WRITING A LONGER ONESHOT BYEEEE ! Do I hate it? Yes the smut part but the ending giving my brain a good smooch. Me and hoon in other universe mate.
© ynsvnte copyright 2024
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obae-me · 8 months ago
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I have been asked to expand on the MC with trauma scenarios, and you know what, I need the comfort, so let's do it! (No these are not based on myself, I don't know what you're talking about....)
Also I've seen a ton of people's responses to the last one and just know that I am spiritually patting you all on the head and wrapping a soft blanket around your shoulders.
--
MC with ~Trauma~ PT 2!
Imagine an MC who has been mocked, berated, or criticized for their joys and hobbies. They don't do those things anymore or go to great lengths to hide them.
They never share their writing or their art with anyone. They are surrounded by demons and angels much more talented than them. The thing that they felt they were moderately talented in is below average compared to these beings... Everything they create is hidden in secret digital folders or kept in notebooks under their mattress or tucked in secret spots on their bookshelves.
They never sing or dance or play their instruments. They almost avoid the music room altogether. It's almost too painful for them to think about. If they attend a dance they just stand off to the sides... They don't participate in karaoke. They don't hum to their favorite songs.
They hardly cook, or garden, or read, or edit, or color, or knit, or crochet, or embroider, or anything else that they might enjoy.
Imagine some of the nosier brothers not realizing the pain that hides behind their passions and either playfully spying on them or digging up their secrets. Their hearts are fully destroyed when their human breaks down in tears. Now, every single day, every character encourages them to do what they love and giving them private time and space to do it in a place where they feel safe. They all hope that maybe one day MC will feel comfortable enough to share what they love with them but they will never pry it out of them, and all the while giving them the support they need behind the curtain.
Imagine Satan, Levi, and Mammon grouping together and creating a PowerPoint presentation. With Satan's organizing skills, Levi's technological know-how, and Mammon's morally grey skills of espionage, they gather all the characters together and teach a class on what to do and not to do around MC. Things like having a clear voice in text messages to keep them from having anxiety. Or not slamming doors, not entering their room without knocking, reminding them to drink water, knowing when to give them time to breathe etc. Everyone takes it seriously (some might say too seriously), including Belphie who didn't even sleep for a second during the whole thing.
What about an MC who takes on too much and never says anything about it? At first, Lucifer, Barbatos, and to a lesser degree Diavolo, are pleased that they've found a human with a strong work ethic and a love for responsibility. Little do they know that while part of that might be true, they are doing it because they are non-confrontational, a people pleaser, or try to prove their worth through success (or all of the above). They burn themselves out and forgo their other needs to conserve all their energy for the work that's been given to them, and it's not until it becomes a serious health issue that anyone really notices. They all take a blow when they come to know how much they had been pushing a human beyond their capabilities. So they tell MC to do less, not expecting the human to try and convince them that it wasn't an issue, maybe even apologizing for failing. Now they all have to keep an eye on MC and make sure they don't take things too far, and make sure that MC knows that their worth isn't tied to how much gets done in a day and they don't think of them any less for taking breaks or time for themselves. And maybe they all learn to take care of themselves a little more for it too. Especially one work-a-holic demon known as Pride.
How about an MC that hates the way they look? No matter what that might be. Body size, shape, height, skin-tone, skin-color, scars, blemishes, freckles, etc. What if it was drilled into their head since they were a child that they were not beautiful? What if they can't look into the mirror or take any photos of themselves without feeling sick? How about being around a demon like Asmo? Maybe resenting him, maybe avoiding him, maybe wishing they were like him. It probably would hurt Asmo to see someone hating themselves and their body so intently. Maybe it's because it reminds him of himself. Maybe they both have to sit down and rethink what beauty really means? It's a long process for both of them.
All of them work with the human with their image and not in a shallow way like trying to deny the things they have and who they are. They find ways around pictures, because there are more ways to keep memories rather than selfies and commemorative photos.
Or what if:
Beel: *In MC's room.* Alright, we'll just do some basic stretches.
MC: Okay, just tell me what to do.
Beel: Well, if you want, you can put on some music to make it more relaxing.
MC: Music? *Looks a little nervous.* If you want...
*MC then turns some music on their phone on the lowest setting and sets it on their bed.*
Beel: Um...you can turn it up more than that if you want.
MC: Louder? Really?
Beel: Don't you think it's a little quiet?
MC: Oh...um...okay... *turns it up by one more click.* Is- Is that okay? I can turn it down again.
Beel: *Opens his mouth, confused for a moment before shutting it again. In the quickest second, he's in his demon form.* Who do I need to find?
MC: B-Beel?!
915 notes · View notes
rottiens · 8 months ago
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NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA
✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.
✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+
✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.
✮ wc. . 18K
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Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance. 
You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden. 
You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.
You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.
The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy." 
Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing. 
The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground. 
Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.  
This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music. 
One, two and... up!
You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—
"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear. 
You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid. 
Don't throw up, don't throw up.
You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background. 
This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop. 
You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once. 
Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally. 
You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly? 
Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom. 
You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still. 
"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near. 
"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't. 
"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity. 
His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference. 
Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly. 
"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes." 
"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus. 
His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose. 
"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."
"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?" 
"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen. 
“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?” 
Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you. 
“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.” 
Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body. 
You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure. 
You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature. 
Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest. 
His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.
Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.
Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.
Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.
“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”
You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.
“Nothing.”
“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...” 
“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat. 
Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.
Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him. 
“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”
When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him. 
“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.
“Are you hungry?”
“No.”
As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.
“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”
Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.
Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.
“I don't need your fake kindness.”
Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.
“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”
“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.
You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.
You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.
“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.
“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”
Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.
You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.
“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.
You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.
“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”
“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.
“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”
"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."
You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.
Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable. 
“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.
“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”
You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.
“I don't think that's really any of your business.”
You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.
Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”
Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.
With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.
You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.
The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.
When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.
“Let's go.”
“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.
You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.
Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.
“Where's your car?”
You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.
Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.
The realization dries your throat.
“Is that yours?”
“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.
Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.
“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.
You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.
“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.
You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes. 
“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”
You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.
Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh. 
“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.
You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest. 
The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears. 
You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.
“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.
Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.
“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.
Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.
You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.
“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.
You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.
“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.
“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.
“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.
The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.
“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.
Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”
You fold your arms. “If...?”
He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.
“If you help me with something.”
“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly. 
“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.
“What kind of favor?” you insist.
“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.
“What's in it for you?”
“Can't I help a partner?”
You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.
“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step. 
Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.
“Why me?”
“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”
You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.
You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”
“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”
“Okay.”
“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts. 
Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.
There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.
Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM — 
You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size. 
You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.
Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.
His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”
He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you. 
Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it. 
Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.
Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.
Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.
“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”
“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”
Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.
“You said you were helping him —  is this his business?”
Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”
You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”
“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.
You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.
“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—
“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”
You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.
“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.
“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”
“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”
“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.  
“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”
“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes. 
“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”
You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.
“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”
“It's just the two of you?”
You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.
You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.
As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:
He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?
The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.
“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.
“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.
He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”
“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”
Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.
Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.
You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.
“You live here?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I thought we were going to practice,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space. 
“We will.”
“But...”
“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”
You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.
The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.
He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.
You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so. 
“I knew you were a rich kid...”
He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”
A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.
You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.
When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.
The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture. 
Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.
Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.
“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”
The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.
To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.
“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.
“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.
“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”
Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.
“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.
Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.
“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”
You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face. 
Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.
When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.
“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.
“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.
“I really mean it. Thank you.”
Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.
“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.
“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”
You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.
“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.
“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.
“I'll get an uber.”
Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.
What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?
Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm — 
The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing. 
As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.
With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.
With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.
Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it. 
Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.
Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.
“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”
“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.
“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.
“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull. 
Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.
“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”
Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”
“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.” 
Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine. 
The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle. 
“Again,” he orders you. 
Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence. 
The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.
The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.
“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays. 
"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension. 
He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness. 
“Sir...” 
He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.
“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.
“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.
“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.
“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.
“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”
“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage. 
The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”
You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.
“Be a good girl then.”
“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this. 
“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.
“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling. 
“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”
He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile. 
Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you. 
Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know. 
“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.” 
Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly. 
“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director. 
“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.” 
Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.
The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.
You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.
“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.
Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.
Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.
In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.
“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.
“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.
“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.
You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.
Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.
Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.
“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.
You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it. 
Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.
“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.
“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”
You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.
“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”
“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.
“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.
You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.
“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”
You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.
You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.
“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.
“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”
You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.
“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.
Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.
“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.
“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”
His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.
“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”
The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.
“I'm so sorry.”
His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”
You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.
“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”
“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.
“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”
��I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.
“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”
Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.
“We can report him,” he suggests.
“They won't listen to us,” you reply.
“Not with that attitude.”
You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.
“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.
“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.
“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.
With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.
With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.
“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.
“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.
“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.
“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”
“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”
You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.
“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.
“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.
Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.
“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.
“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”
“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.
“I never said that.” You defend yourself.
Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.
“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.
“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?
“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.
Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch. 
“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.
“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.
“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.
“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”
“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”
You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.
“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.
“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.
You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”
“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”
“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.
“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”
Sat. 4/15 • -:- am— 
You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.
It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.
The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers. 
The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home. 
You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.
R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)
Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.
You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.
You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.
“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.
Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.
“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.
“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.
“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.
“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”
You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.
“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to. 
“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.
“I know.”
“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.
“He's much better, actually.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.
“There's just one little problem.”
Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.
“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”
"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend. 
“That's where you come in.”
“Excuse me?”
“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”
You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.
“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”
You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?”
“Yes, just once or twice.”
“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”
“Yup.”
You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.
“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”
You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.
It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.
“I have to go now.”
You have a lot to process.
“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.
“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.
You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.
Thurs. 5/10 • 
Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.
Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.
On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar. 
On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.
The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.
“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.
“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”
“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.
Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.
As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.
At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.
As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”
You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”
Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”
You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.
“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.
At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.
“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”
After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.
Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.
“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.
“Is it the money?”
You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”
Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.
“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”
His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.
“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.
“Fine. I'll be with you.”
“Why didn't you tell me before?”
“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”
You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.
“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.
“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.
“I've never smoked,” you confess.
“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”
“...Yes.”
“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”
You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.
You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness. 
His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out. 
“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue. 
Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.
“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.
Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.
“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.
“Then let's go somewhere more private.”
Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat. 
“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”
He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.
“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.
“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”
“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”
Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.
The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are. 
As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.
Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.
As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire. 
“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.  
Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.
“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down. 
Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath. 
More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art. 
“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté. 
Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan. 
“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down. 
You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.
“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?” 
Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers. 
“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?” 
It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good. 
“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed. 
He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs. 
As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is. 
“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle. 
From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip. 
“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.” 
His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you. 
Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.
The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply. 
The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation. 
“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet. 
“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”
“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror. 
Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.
Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress. 
“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...” 
“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.
Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you. 
“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”
His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet. 
“Ryōmen...”
“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.
“Yes, oh my god, please.” 
Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time. 
“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”
Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.
The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.
Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth. 
. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.
With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy. 
You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.
“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.
“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.
“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.
“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.
“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.
“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”
“Is it okay if I come with you?”
“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.
"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.
You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.
“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”
My girl. You feel like you might burst.
“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”
“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”
And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.
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Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡
I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.
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urfavlarry · 7 months ago
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hi! can u write about a drunk love confession lolll 😭🎀
Why’d you only call me when your high?
Joost Klein x fem!reader
warnings: swearing, bad grammar, mentions of alc0hol
summary: you and Joost have been friends for a few years now but ever since he got more recognized after his song ‘friesenjung’ came out you both became more distant. What will you do after he calls you for the first time in months, drunk?
A/N: this is um.. long .. enjoy!
。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ 。
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╰┈➤ ⋆。‧˚ʚ 🐦 ɞ˚‧。⋆
You were alone in the house, your parents went off to the neighbours to go grilling. You decided to not go since you were doing things with them the whole day and you just felt exhausted. You went to cook yourself a quick meal, just some toast with whatever on top. You looked at the time, 10:28PM. Joost was performing currently in Amsterdam, not that you knew anything about it. He was probably going to get a few drinks with friends after it like he usually did after his last concert of the season. He has probably long forgot about you, probably replacing you with someone else by now. Ever since he became more famous, you both stopped reaching out as often. There wasn’t any hate behind it, Joost wasn’t the type to cut people off because of fame which you loved about him and you missed him dearly you just.. drifted apart?
You went back up to your room, deciding to go to sleep early tonight, opening the window for some cool air to come into the room. The covers called your name, snuggling into them and getting comfortable. You fall asleep a few minutes later, the room was dark and the wind entered your room like an unwelcome guest, goosebumps appearing on your skin.
A buzzing noise wakes you up, your phone lighting up and blinding your tired eyes. You try and get up, body still a bit weak since you woke up about 5 seconds ago. You grab your phone and your heart skips a beat, the name “duck” appearing on your phone. It was a nickname you gave to Joost years ago. You were teens, trying to make up nicknames for each other and you just took the word dutch and turned it into duck. You watch it ring for a few seconds and then sigh, cursing a bit then pick it up. “Hello?” You say, your voice raspy and very tired sounding. “Hallo?” You hear the dutch accent you oh so loved come through the phone. “Hello, hello.” You turn around and lay on your stomach, waiting for him to speak. The noises in the background were loud and clear, loud music coming through the phone. “Is dat het meisje waar je het over had?” (Is that the girl you were talking about?) “ja ja ga nu..” (yea yea, go now.)
He shifted around before he spoke again. “Sorry, what’s up?” You raise a brow, was this some kind of phone call you get from your dad once a year? “Nothing much, why are you calling me?” He chuckles, voice deep and handsome like always. “Can I not call mijn liefde?” (my love) “What are you on about Joost? Are you drunk?” “No, no.” He slurs, making you scoff. “Yeah, yeah.” He was mumbling things in dutch you couldn’t understand; “Ik wil niemand anders dan jou.. mijn lief meisje.” (I want no one else but you.. my sweet girl.) “Fucking hell Joost.. where the hell are you? Is Apson with you?” He nods, which you barely heard but at least he gave you an answer. Apson would mostly stay sober, only having a few drinks so you decided to call him. He picked up, voice cheerful like always. You told him to take Joost home since he sounded like he had enough for the night and he kindly agreed. You thank him, ending the call with him before trying to go back to sleep.
3:07AM, another phone call wakes you up. “What the fuck is wrong with him..” You ask yourself before picking up. “Joost it’s 3AM can you go to sleep?” You demand and he just smiles. Oh yeah you were on face time now, great. You looked like a zombie compared to him, he looked more energetic than you did, his hair wet and it looked like he was shirtless. Probably just got out of the shower. “I wanted to see your stunning face schatje.” He says, laying down on his side, the side of his face resting against a pillow.
You sigh, watching him like a hawk. The light coming from his side of the phone blinded you, making you groan. “What do you want? I’m exhausted from your bullshit.” You say and he pouts; “Why are you so mean, hm? Do you not miss me?” He asks, smiling, his adorable, genuine smile. “Joost stop it.” He chuckled, moving around in his room when he suddenly turned his lights off, the only light that let you see his face was from his LEDs. He started mumbling things again, his voice lulling you to sleep but you fought back the urge to sleep. “Jij bent zo schitterend..” (you’re so stunning) “Joost I’m hanging up.” “No, no.. Blijf bij me.” (stay with me) “Ik wil je Y/N.” (I want you Y/N.) “Ik krijg je niet uit mijn hoofd.” (I can’t get you out of my head.) All of these things meant nothing to you. You didn’t speak dutch, maybe a few phrases and words but you weren’t fluent. You brushed off all of those phrases, when he said the one thing he taught you during your time as close friends. “Ik hou van jou lieverd.” (I love you sweetheart.)
You face turned bright red, quickly hanging up and flipping onto your back. Your eyes were wide eyed, staring at the dark ceiling above you. You internally scream, maybe he meant it in a friendly way? But the nickname?? It was weird. He was just drunk after all, it probably didn’t even mean anything. You try to fall asleep, tossing and turning before finally succeeding.
Morning came quicker than usual, making your stomach turn and face feel hot. You didn’t even dare open your phone, deciding to pack your things and head home to Amsterdam a little earlier than expected. You booked a flight, canceling the one you were supposed to take 3 days later then this one.
The minute you got home you opened the messages. Some were from last night and some were from a few minutes ago. You tried replying but no words were coming to mind, your fingers just hovering above the cold screen.
———————————————————
Duck🦆💙
Y/N
Y/N
Hello??
why did u hang up hm?
blijf bij me
please
ik krijg je niet uit mijn hoofd
sent 16 hours ago
————————— new messages —————————
Y/N
Im so sorry I woke u up yesterday
I was drunk haha
hope to see u soon, today Im performing in that club we used to go to as teens
ill look for u after
———————————————————
You contemplated whether to go or not. You wanted to see him, but another part of you didn’t. Why should you be the one running back to him? It made no sense to you, yet you went. It was like you were in a daze, getting ready, taking the train to the city he was performing in.. it all felt forced in a way. You got stopped by a few fans then made your way to the barrier. You bought a ticket last minute most people already in the club waiting for their idol to come up on stage. 15 minutes until it started, you felt disgusting. Sweaty fan girls who never heard of a shower were all around you, all you wanted to do was curl yourself into a ball and dissapear on the spot. It will be so akward talking after almost a year of barely knowing of each other’s pressence yet you still wanted to see him, hug him.. kiss him.
The concert went by fast, you and Joost making eye contact several times which made you even more anxious than you were before. You walked back stage, most of the security recognising you and letting you pass which surprised you. The halls felt endless, walking in front of his door you gently knocked almost instantly hearing footsteps. And there he was. He changed a lot. His hair was now longer, looking more mature but he was still there. Your Joost. “Weren’t you supposed to be the one looking for me?” He rubbed his neck, chuckling awkwardly before pulling you into the room. It looked like he was trying to find the right words to start which made you count down the dreadful seconds going by.
“Well, what I said yesterday was true. I don’t remember all of it but from the messages I said it was pretty obvious. I really do love you and I hate that you aren’t by my side. I hate that I can’t wake up with you in my arms. I miss you. I miss your smile, your energy, I miss hearing your thoughts, I miss everything about you. Liefje please I need you I can’t live without you.” He looked at you with those beautiful ocean blue eyes, looking desperate but it was obvious he truly meant every single word. You smile softly, cupping his cheeks. “I love you too. You have no idea how much I’ve been missing you. It was like a part of my heart was taken away from me.” He kissed your forehead, smiling down at you. “I promise to never leave you. Never.” “Promise.”
。 ⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚。⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚。⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ 。
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tavolgisvist · 1 month ago
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Paul about the breakup of The Beatles in The Lyrics, 2021
The four of us just knew how to fall in with each other and play, and that was our real strength. That made it all the more sorrowful to think that our breaking up was almost inevitable. So there’s a wistful aspect to ‘Get Back’. The idea that you should get back to your roots, that The Beatles should get back to how we were in Liverpool. And the roots are embodied in the style of the song, which is straight-up rock and roll. Because that was definitely what I thought we should do when we broke up – that we should ‘get back to where we once belonged’ and become a little band again. We should just play and do the occasional little gig. The others laughed at that – quite understandably – because by then it was not really a practical solution. John had just met Yoko, and he clearly needed to escape to a new place, whereas I was saying we should escape to an old place. Reviving the old Beatles just wasn’t on the cards. It was too late to be recommending that we not forget who we were and where we once were from. If my dream at the time really was to get back to where we once belonged, John’s dream was to go beyond where we once belonged, to go somewhere we didn’t yet belong. I’ve already mentioned how in September 1969 we were in a meeting and talking about future plans, and John said, ‘Well, I’m not doing it. I’m leaving. Bye.’ In the ensuing moments, he was giggling and saying how this felt really thrilling, like telling someone you’re going to divorce them and then laughing. At the time, obviously, that was wildly hurtful. Talk about a knockout blow. You’re lying on the canvas, and he’s giggling and telling you how good it feels to have just knocked you out. It took a while, but I suppose I eventually got with the programme. This was my best mate from my youth, the collaborator with whom I’d done some of the best work of the twentieth century (he said, modestly). If he fell in love with this woman, what did that have to do with me? Not only did I have to let him do it, but I had to admire him for doing it. That was the position I eventually reached. There was nothing else I could do but be cool with it.
(Paul McCartney about Get Back (1969), The Lyrics, 2021)
That was coupled with the business problems at Apple Records, which really were horrible. The business meetings were just soul-destroying. We’d sit around in an office, and it was a place you just didn’t want to be, with people you didn’t want to be with. There’s a great picture that Linda took of Allen Klein, in which he’s got a hammer like Maxwell’s silver hammer. It’s very symbolic. And that’s why we have the little nod and a wink in the middle section to ‘You Never Give Me Your Money’, in the lines ‘I never give you my pillow / I only send you my invitations’. That whole period weighed on me to such an extent that I even began to think it was all tied in with the idea of original sin. Even though my mum had christened me as a Catholic, we weren’t brought up Catholic, so I didn’t buy into the concept of original sin on a day-to-day basis. It’s really very depressing to think that you were born a loser.
(Paul McCartney about Carry That Weight (1969), The Lyrics, 2021)
The Beatles stuff all got too heavy, and 'heavy' at that time had a very particular meaning for me. It meant more than oppressive. It meant having to go into meetings and sit in the boardroom with all the other Beatles and with the accountants and with this guy Allen Klein. He was a New York spiv who had come over to London and talked to The Rolling Stones and persuaded them he was the man for them. Prior to that, he had persuaded Sam Cooke he was the man for him. I smelled a rat but the other chaps didn’t, so we had a fight over it and I got voted down. I was trying to be Mr Rational and Mr Sensible, and it all went haywire. It was early 1969, and The Beatles were already beginning to break up. John had said he was leaving, and Allen Klein told us not to tell anyone, as he was in the middle of doing deals with Capitol Records. So, for a few months we had to keep mum. We were living a lie, knowing that John had left the group. Allen Klein and Dick James, who sold our publishing in Northern Songs without giving us a chance to buy the company, were both hanging around in the background of this song. All the people who had screwed us or were still trying to screw us. It’s fascinating how directly we acknowledged this in the song. We’d cottoned on to them, and they must have cottoned on to the fact that we’d cottoned on. We couldn’t have been more direct about it. ...
Contracts were written on funny paper. Lying behind the song is the idea of the contract as a relationship between two people. The negotiations are at once business negotiations and romantic negotiations; I’m thinking of the lines ‘And in the middle of negotiations / You break down’. The breakdown in negotiations is also a kind of nervous breakdown. The problem was that, by this stage, everything was up for negotiation, and miscommunication was the order of the day. We weren’t really writing together anymore. Each person was bringing in little bits of this and little bits of that. And we all knew that phase of our lives, of being The Beatles, was coming to an end. We were working towards an album, knowing it was probably going to be our final fling. Though Let It Be was released later, Abbey Road was indeed the last album we recorded in the studio. There was an upside, however. I’d got married to Linda, and our relationship offered some respite from the dreary infighting and the financial stuff. The lines ‘One sweet dream / Pick up the bags and get in the limousine’ were a reference to how Linda and I were still able to disappear for a weekend in the country. That saved me.
(Paul McCartney about You Never Give Me Your Money (1969), The Lyrics, 2021)
This was just after The Beatles broke up, and I was trying to establish myself as a solo artist with a new repertoire. If it was going to work like the Beatles repertoire had worked, I had to have a hit. One in two songs had to be a hit. So, this was a conscious effort to write a hit, and Phil was very helpful. We knew that if we had a hit, it would cement our relationship and we would keep working together, which we did with the RAM album. It would prove that we were both good – he as a producer and I as a singer songwriter. Releasing my first solo song after the breakup felt like a big moment. Thrilling, though tinged with sadness. It also felt like I had something to prove, and that kind of challenge is always exciting. The song went to number two in the UK singles chart and number five in the US Billboard Hot 100, so it did pretty well. Of course, this was still a time when there was a bit of tension between John and me, and this sometimes filtered into our songwriting. John made fun of this song in one of his own, ‘How Do You Sleep?’The only thing you done was yesterday And since you’ve gone you’re just another day One of his little piss takes.
(Paul McCartney about Another Day (1969/1971), The Lyrics, 2021)
This song was written a year or so after The Beatles breakup, at a time when John was firing missiles at me with his songs, and one or two of them were quite cruel. I don’t know what he hoped to gain, other than punching me in the face. The whole thing really annoyed me. I decided to turn my missiles on him too, but I’m not really that kind of a writer, so it was quite veiled. It was the 1970s equivalent of what we might today call a ‘diss track’. Songs like this, where you’re calling someone out on their behaviour, are quite commonplace now, but back then it was a fairly new ‘genre’. The idea of too many people ‘preaching practices’ was definitely aimed at John telling everyone what they ought to do – telling me, for instance, that I ought to go into business with Allen Klein. I just got fed up with being told what to do, so I wrote this song. ‘You took your lucky break and broke it in two’ was me saying basically, ‘You’ve made this break, so good luck with it.’ But it was pretty mild. I didn’t really come out with any savagery, and it’s actually a fairly upbeat song; it doesn’t really sound that vitriolic. If you didn’t know the story, I don’t know that you’d be able to guess at the anger behind its writing. It was all a bit weird and a bit nasty, and I was basically saying, ‘Let’s be sensible. We had a lot going for us in The Beatles, and what actually split us up is the business stuff, and that’s pretty pathetic really, so let’s try and be peaceful. Let’s maybe give peace a chance.’ The first verse and the chorus have pretty much all the anger I could muster, and when I did the vocal on the second line, ‘Too many reaching for a piece of cake’, I remember singing it as ‘Piss off cake’, which you can hear if you really listen to it. Again, I was getting back at John, but my heart wasn’t really in it. This is me saying, ‘Too many people are sharing the party line. Too many people are grabbing for a slice of the cake, a piece of the pie.’ The ‘sleep in late’ thing – whether that was accurate, whether John and Yoko actually slept in late or not, I’m not sure (although John often was a late riser when I would drive out to Weybridge so that we could write together). They were all references to people thinking that their own truth was the only truth, which was certainly what was coming from John. The thing is, so much of what they held to be truth was crap. War is over? Well no, it isn’t. But I get what you’re saying: war is over if you want it to be. So, if enough people want war to be over, it’ll be over. I’m not sure that’s entirely true, but it’s a great sentiment; it’s a nice thing to think and to say.
I’d been able to accept Yoko in the studio, sitting on a blanket in front of my amp. I’d worked hard to come to terms with that. But then when we broke up and everyone was now flailing around, John turned nasty. I don’t really understand why. Maybe because we grew up in Liverpool, where it was always good to get in the first punch of a fight. The whole story in a nutshell is that we were having a meeting in 1969, and John showed up and said he’d met this guy Allen Klein, who had promised Yoko an exhibition in Syracuse, and then matter-of-factly John told us he was leaving the band. That’s basically how it happened. It was three to one because the other two went with John, so it was looking like Allen Klein was going to own our entire Beatles empire. I was not too keen on that idea. John actually had Allen Klein and Yoko in the room, suggesting lyrics during writing sessions. In his song ‘How Do You Sleep?’ the line ‘The only thing you done was yesterday’ was apparently Allen Klein’s suggestion, and John said, ‘Hey, great. Put that in.’ I can see the laughs they had doing it, and I had to work very hard not to take it too seriously, but at the back of my mind I was thinking, ‘Wait a minute, All I ever did was “Yesterday”? I suppose that’s a funny pun, but all I ever did was “Yesterday”, “Let It Be”, “The Long and Winding Road”, “Eleanor Rigby”, “Lady Madonna”, . . . – fuck you, John.’ I had to fight them for my bit of The Beatles and, in fact, for their bit of The Beatles, which many years later they realised and almost thanked me for. Nowadays people get it, but at the time I think the others felt they were the ones who were victims, who were being hurt by my actions. Allen Klein already had a history with The Rolling Stones. I just thought, ‘Oy oy oy, no, this guy’s got such a bad reputation.’ And good old John says, ‘Oh, if he’s that badly talked about, he can’t be all bad.’ John had this kind of distorted thinking, which was amusing sometimes. But not when someone was going to take everything that John and George and Ringo and I owned and had worked really hard to get.
So, I stood up as the sensible one and said, ‘This is not good.’ Klein wanted twenty per cent, and I said, ‘Tell him he can have ten, if you have to go with him.’ ‘Oh no, no, no,’ they came back. ‘No, he wants twenty.’ It seemed to me they were just fucking out of it and making no attempt to do anything sensible. A lot of hurt went down during that period in the early 1970s – them feeling hurt, me feeling hurt – but John being John, he was the one who would write a hurtful song. That was his bag.
(Paul McCartney about Too Many People (1971), The Lyrics, 2021)
Towards the end of 1969, John had quite gleefully told us it was over. There were a few of us in the Apple boardroom at the time. I think George was away visiting family, but Ringo and I were at the meeting, and John was saying no to every suggestion. I thought we should go back to playing smaller gigs again, but the answer came back: ‘No’. Eventually John said, ‘Oh, I’ve been wanting to tell you this, but I’m leaving The Beatles.’ We were all shocked. Relations had been strained, but we sat there saying, ‘What? Why? Why? Why?’ It was like a divorce, and he had just had a divorce from Cynthia the year before. I can remember him saying, ‘Oh, this is quite exciting.’ That was very John, and I had admired this kind of contrarian behaviour about him since we were kids, when I first met him.
He really was a bit loony, in the nicest possible way. But whilst all of us could see what he meant, it was not quite so exciting for those left on the other side.
(Paul McCartney about Dear Friend (1971), The Lyrics, 2021)
This is one of my favourite songs. It's a ballad with a brass section, but it’s always felt Victorian in style to me. It’s very heartfelt. ‘A love so warm and beautiful / Stands when time itself is falling’. I like that idea, instead of just saying, ‘It will go on forever.’ I got a good feeling writing this song, and listening to it now, I still do. ‘Love, faith and hope are beautiful’. The brass solo is lovely for me because it harks back to the brass bands that were so common when I was a kid; there would often be brass bands in the park or in the streets. My dad played trumpet, as I never fail to mention, and he had his own little band – Jim Mac’s Jazz Band. The first instrument he bought me was a trumpet, and he taught me the scale of C which, when you go on the piano, becomes B-flat. It’s all very complicated. That’s why we didn’t even bother learning music. I realised that I wanted to swap the trumpet for a guitar, so I asked his permission, and he said, ‘Yes, okay.’ ‘Warm and Beautiful’ was written well after the demise of The Beatles, and at this time we knew sadness. I knew about delving into your mind to look for help and looking for some sort of solace in a song. I liked the idea of writing a song in a universal way that dispels the sadness. You write about the wonderful things you know in the world, and you try to write so that it will sing well and be well received by people dealing with grief something that inevitably surrounds all of us at one time or another. On a more personal level, the main inspiration for the song was Linda…
(Paul McCartney about Warm and Beautiful (1976), The Lyrics, 2021)
After The Beatles thing became so depressing, Linda and I decided we’d get out of London and start living full-time on our small holding in Scotland. It was quite a difficult period because of the band’s breakup but it allowed me to see another side of myself. First and foremost, we did everything for ourselves, and at this point it was Linda, Heather, Mary – who was still a baby – and me. If we needed something to eat, we’d go into town in the little Land Rover, come back up, and cook it. We didn’t have anyone helping us, except for one guy, the shepherd, because it was a little sheep farm. It was an experience that allowed me to be a man. <…> I’d grown up in Liverpool and gone on the road with The Beatles around the world and then around again, and now here I was on a farm in the middle of nowhere, and it was sensational. <…> This was the kind of thing I’d never done, ever, in my life, and it was amazingly liberating. I got to do all the things I think a lot of young people still dream about today – the famous ‘gap year’. I sense a lot of people want that freedom, escaping the rat race…
(Paul McCartney about When Winter Comes (1992), The Lyrics, 2021)
After the breakup of The Beatles, I wouldoften just sit around a lot. Sometimes I sat in the kitchen while the kids were playing. Maybe they were drawing. Maybe they were doing bits and pieces of homework. In this case, I came across the chords and I just felt optimistic, and I liked the idea of a song saying that help is coming and there’s a bright light on the horizon. I’ve got absolutely no evidence for this, but I like to believe it. It helps to lift my spirits, to move me forward, and hopefully it might help other people move forward too.
(Paul McCartney about Great Day (1972/1997), The Lyrics, 2021)
Wings, which we began in 1971, was in many ways an experiment to see whether there was life after The Beatles, to see whether that success could be followed. It was the result of asking myself, ‘Am I going to stop now?’ The Beatles were so wonderful and all-encompassing, so successful. Now, should I stop and look for something else to do? But I thought, ‘No. I like music too much, so whatever the something else is, it will be music.’ <…> But it wouldn’t be The Wings, like The Beatles. Just Wings. My problem after The Beatles was, who’s going to be as good as them? I thought, ‘We can’t be as good as The Beatles, but we can be something else.’ I knew that if I were to go ahead with this project I’d have to tough it out, but I had reserves of courage from being part of The Beatles when pennies were thrown at us at the village hall in Stroud, when we were still starting out. <…> Starting off a new band is always a lot of fun, but it’s a lot of hard work too; you have to establish yourself. Following The Beatles was one of the most difficult things for me, just trying to live up to those expectations. It was even more difficult for her [Linda]. I started to write songs for Wings from 1971 onwards, when we got started, and I tried to keep them away from The Beatles’ style. There were avenues I could go down that I wouldn’t have gone down with The Beatles, like bringing in the influence of reggae, which Linda and I got into in Jamaica. I fancied doing something crazy, and Wings allowed me a little bit more freedom. So, this is a love song in which Cupid’s arrow is referenced, but it’s a malevolent arrow. It’s possible I’d seen an illustration of Cupid and thought, ‘Cupid fires a bow, but I’ll switch it. It won’t be love; it will be the opposite.’ The character in the song has been wounded. He’s been cheated on. And it could’ve been a great relationship, could’ve been fantastic. As things stand, you couldn’t ‘have found a more down hero’, because there was nobody more down than me at that moment. So, get it together and bring your love. I have always had a soft spot for this song. There’s a nice horn riff in it, and it’s funky. Sometimes you write to get a sort of feeling rather than a perfectly ‘correct’ lyric. Sometimes the lyric can be secondary to the feeling. This one has as much, or more, to do with the feel of the song, the groove.
(Paul McCartney about Arrow Through Me (1979), The Lyrics, 2021)
John described ‘Coming Up’ somewhere as ‘a good piece of work’. He’d been lying around not doing much, and it sort of shocked him out of inertia. So it was nice to hear that it had struck a chord with him. At first, after the breakup of The Beatles, we had no contact, but there were various things we needed to talk about. Our relationship was a bit fraught sometimes because we were discussing business, and we would sometimes insult each other on the phone. But gradually we got past that, and if I was in New York I would ring up and say, ‘Do you fancy a cup of tea?’
(Paul McCartney about Coming Up (1979), The Lyrics, 2021)
It’s very possible that I’d been feeling down in London. I was back in the solace of family and Liverpool, and what with the Beatles troubles down south, I was likely thinking, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to get home and have that comfortable feeling again?’ So, there may have been some of that in the background. I wouldn’t rule it out. When I wrote the song, I hadn’t been back home to Liverpool for a long time. But now I was at my dad’s house, which wasn’t quite home because it was a house I’d bought him when I got some money – a five-bedroomed mock Tudor place in Heswall near the River Dee. But it was still Liverpool, and it was ‘homeward’. So I added, ‘Once there was a way to get back homeward / Once there was a way to get back home’. The song turned out to be quite soulful, and I think that’s what attracted me to those lyrics in the first place – that notion of consoling a baby or reading kids a bedtime story. ‘Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry / And I will sing a lullaby’. Those are lines – or something with a similar sentiment – that most parents probably say to their children to soothe them when they’re growing up.
(Paul McCartney about Golden Slumbers (1969), The Lyrics, 2021)
It became a refuge of sorts, and it was nice to get away from London and everything – both the good and bad – that comes with the city. I would drive a Massey Ferguson 315 tractor and mow the hay, and I loved that because I’d been a nature fiend as a kid, and this freedom just gave me time to think – ‘Down to Junior's Farm where I want to lay low’. It was such a relief to get out of those business meetings with people in suits, who were so serious all the time, and to go off to Scotland and be able just to sit around in a T-shirt and corduroys. I was very much in that mindset when I wrote this song. The basic message is, let’s get out of here. You might say it’s my post-Beatles getting-out-of-town song.
(Paul McCartney about Junior's Farm (1974), The Lyrics, 2021)
The context in which the song was written was one of stress. It was a difficult time because we were heading towards the breakup of The Beatles. It was a period of change partly because John and Yoko had got together, and that had an effect on the dynamics of the group. Yoko was literally in the middle of the recording session, and that was challenging. But it was also something we had to deal with. Unless there was a really serious problem – unless one of us said, ‘I can’t sing with her there’ – we just had to let it be. We weren’t very confrontational, so we just bottled it up and got on with it. We were northern lads, and that was part of our culture. Grin and bear it. One interesting thing about ‘Let It Be’ that I was reminded of only recently is that, while I was studying English literature at the Liverpool Institute High School for Boys with my favourite teacher, Alan Durband, I read Hamlet. In those days you had to learn speeches by heart because you had to be able to carry them into the exam and quote them. There are a couple of lines from late in the play: O, I could tell you But let it be. – Horatio, I am dead I suspect those lines had subconsciously planted themselves in my memory. When I was writing ‘Let It Be’, I’d been doing too much of everything, was run ragged, and this was all taking its toll. The band, me we were all going through times of trouble, as the song goes, and there didn’t seem to be any way out of the mess. <…> Around the time we recorded ‘Let It Be’, I’d been pushing the band to go back out and play some club dates – to get back to basics and just bond again as a band, end the decade like we’d begun it, just playing for the love of it. We didn’t get to do that as The Beatles, but that idea did inform the direction of the Let It Be album. We didn’t want any studio trickery. It was supposed to be an honest, no-overdubbing album. It didn’t exactly end up that way, but that had been the plan.
(Paul McCartney about Let It Be (1969), The Lyrics, 2021)
This song is also an analogy for when something goes wrong out of the blue, as I was beginning to find happening around this time in our business dealings. Recording sessions were always good because no matter what our personal troubles were, no matter what was happening on the business front, the minute we sat down to make a song we were in good shape. Right until the end there was always a great joy in working together in the studio. So there we were, recording a song like ‘Maxwell’s Silver Hammer’ and knowing we would never have the opportunity to perform it. That possibility was over. It had been knocked on the head like one of Maxwell’s victims. Bang bang.
(Paul McCartney about Maxwell's Silver Hammer (1969), The Lyrics, 2021)
In much the way that Linda wanted to flee from New York society– the constrictions of Park Avenue and Scarsdale – I wanted to flee from what The Beatles had become. I was hoping to escape, she was hoping to escape. So we had this feeling that we had each pulled the other ‘out of time’. Though the song was written immediately after The Beatles’ breakup, it was somehow included under the Lennon-McCartney rubric, where it doesn’t belong. It was one of my first solo songs, but because of the deal, it got caught in the publishing net. That was very annoying. <…> …the central idea being that there’s so often a split between the inner and outer. <…> The elements of fear and loneliness are very much to the fore. ‘Maybe I’m afraid of the way I love you’ is itself a troubling idea. While it’s true that Linda is the person I’m addressing, it’s also true that I’m dealing in fiction. Starting with myself, the characters who appear in my songs are imagined. <…> In any event, this song isn’t the conventional way of presenting a relationship, or of some of the contradictions that can arise from being in love. <…> It shows the fragility of love.
(Paul McCartney about Maybe I’m Amazed (1970), The Lyrics, 2021)
John went to the exhibition, and I think that was when he and Yoko met, towards the end of 1966. He climbed up a ladder to see what she’d written on the ceiling, and got close enough to it to read it, and it said, ‘Yes.’ So he thought, ‘That’s a sign; this is it,’ and they fell madly in love. Once they were an item, there was the whole Beatles recording thing, where she would be there too. I think this started at the beginning of the ‘White Album’ sessions – so, around the end of spring in 1968. And at first we all – all of us except John – found it pretty intrusive, but we went along with it and worked around her. And eventually I came to the realisation that, look, if John loves her, we’ve just got to let it be, and we’ve got to support this relationship. That was basically my feeling. Then, a year or two later, The Beatles broke up, and it was a bad period, a real low point, where everyone was taking potshots at everyone. And I felt that John and Yoko were particularly good in the potshot department, saying things in interviews, or comments that would make their way to you. They would say not always very pleasant things, and looking back on it, I sort of think, ‘Why? You’re annoyed, so say something unpleasant?’ Over time, the situation eased off and my relationship with John got better, and I used to see him in New York or speak to him on the phone.
(Paul McCartney about Golden Earth Girl (1993), The Lyrics, 2021)
I’m not sure I thought of it at the time, even though this was well after The Beatles disbanded, but I can’t help connecting the oppressiveness associated with that phrase to the oppressiveness that coincided with the end of The Beatles. Not that The Beatles are over exactly. It’s not like we were some little band that never had another record; even though half of us have died, the phenomenon continues stronger than ever. Everything I do seems to be painted with ‘Beatle’…
(Paul McCartney about Put It There (1988), The Lyrics, 2021)
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gardenwalrus · 14 days ago
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Paul McCartney at Wings' Christmas photo shoot, 1979(?)
PaulMcCartney.com Q&A (19 December 2022):
Q: When you first released ‘Wonderful Christmastime’, did you think it was going to be a Christmas hit that would come back every year? Or does it surprise you that it’s still so popular now? Paul: I like the idea of Christmas songs purely because they only come around at Christmas! They remind us of the fun atmosphere of the whole season, and when I was writing ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ I was trying to capture that party aspect. I did hope it would keep coming back – which it has. Sometimes people will go into a shop and hear it a little too much, but I don’t care! I’m happy!
Q: We really wanted to ask you about this ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ fan theory that has gone viral on social media. The theory suggests the song is about people practising witchcraft, chanting ‘the moon is right, the spirit’s up’, and when someone walks in, they must play it cool and pretend they are ‘simply having a wonderful Christmastime!’. Is this theory true? Paul: Oh yeah. Well, thank goodness they found me out. This is completely true and in actual fact I am the head wizard of a Liverpool coven. (Paul laughs) Either that… or it’s complete nonsense. And you know it’s the latter! Q: This theory may have come from people mishearing the lyrics. Could you confirm if the lyric is ‘the moon is right’ or ‘the mood is right’? Paul: It’s ‘the mood’! This is the mood; I’ve gathered together the witches and wizards… I’ve got ‘the mood’, which is what we in wizardry call it (laughs). The thing is about this stuff, it’s so easy to convince half the people in the world. You do have to be a little bit careful! No, it’s ‘the mood’. And you know what, I’m thinking about Liverpool Christmas parties, that’s really all I’m doing with that song. “The mood is right, let’s raise a glass, the spirit’s up” – you know, all the stuff you do at Christmas. Particularly with my old Liverpool family parties. Q: You’ve spoken before about singing around the piano at parties in Liverpool, and in ‘Wonderful Christmastime’ the choir ‘sing their song’ - but do you have any memories of going carolling at Christmas? Paul: I can’t remember ever having done it, so I probably didn’t. The fun thing about Christmas carolling, that probably would have influenced my decision NOT to do it, was that my dad always used to make fun of them. He'd say, ‘Here’s a shilling to go sing in the next street’. He was not a big fan of Christmas carols. I quite like them! Q: Are there any Christmas traditions from your childhood which you have continued into adulthood, and shared with your own children and grandchildren? Paul: I have actually started some new traditions. When the kids were little, I suddenly thought there wasn’t the ideal Christmas record, in my opinion. There’s some great Christmas records like the Phil Spector one, and Nat King Cole and Bing Crosby on the old standards, but I just wanted an instrumental of all the tunes. So, I ended up recording one for the family in my studio. And Eddie Klein, my engineer at the time, helped me. I now have this album I pull out every year, and it’s a bit of fun for the kids when we’re carving the veggie roast. I’ll stick it on and it means Christmas is here. It’s quite a cute little record actually! But it’s just for the family. Q: Some fans already know this exists, it’s part of the Paul McCartney folklore! I think they’re hoping to hear it one day. Paul: I’ve often thought it’s good enough if people would like it released, and I’ve thought I could do it for charity or something, but never really felt strongly enough to make a decision. It’s just a family record, and I’ll pull it out again this Christmas. My main job is to carve the roast. That was one of the things I liked when we became veggie years ago. I said it would be nice for me to able to do what I thought of as the traditional ‘dad’ job, so that’s the carving of the turkey in the old days, and now it’s the carving of the veggie roast. I normally do that – unless someone gets in there first, and I get miffed! Steady on! So yeah, I put on the Christmas record, carve the roast, and then we do all the normal Christmas things. Christmas crackers and reading out all the terrible jokes and trying to really be happy with the little gift that comes inside, which is something you’re never going to use or keep. This is the spirit of Christmas! We mainly do all the stuff that everyone else does at Christmas time.
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chlorinecake · 10 months ago
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Okay this is my first time doing one of these but could you do like how the enhypen members would react to seeing you practice their part in the choreography of one of their songs
「 ✦ enha reaction’s WHEN YOU LEARN THEIR PART IN A DANCE CHOREOGRAPHY ✦ 」
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𓂃 𓈒 or when they see you dance for the first time
idol bf ! 엔하이픈 x non idol ! f. reader ⃘ 🎧
contains ∿ 🧋 pet names, kisses & teasing genre fluff, crack, est. dating 1192 words
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𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 ✴︎
He would be quite impressed honestly, taking pride in his sweet girlfriend wanting to mirror his talent in some way.
“You gotta get the head isolation down at this part, though,” he critiqued, putting a finger to his lips while dancing Sweet Venom.
“Well, if it looks wrong, blame yourself, because that’s who I’ve been copying this whole time,” you teased, poking him in the side of his waist and making him chuckle.
“Hmm… maybe your performance just needs a little bedazzling... Be right back!”
Your boyfriend ran out of the dancing studio, telling you to close your eyes once he came back before nestling a cowgirl hat atop your head like an angel on a Christmas tree.
You reacted immediately upon seeing your reflection in the mirror, a now smiley Heeseung standing behind your frame, “What?! Wait- When did you get this?”
Literally your face right now: 😭 
“People don’t call me an ace for nothing, babe. Now c’monnn, let’s dance together this time…,” he urged in a sing-songy voice, playfully tugging at your hands while spinning you around, “I wanna see my pretty cowgirl dance for me some more...”
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 ✴︎
“Yeah, I literally have the world’s coolest girlfriend now…,” Jay huffed proudly, giving you a kiss on the crown of your head after catching you dance in the living room.
“Now? What do you mean now?!?!,” you asked offendedly, pouting at him slightly.
“This wasn’t exactly how I planned to bring this up, but are you ready to become my Mrs. Park?”
“I've been ready since the day we met, Jay,” you smiled, burying your face in his chest while hugging him, “But I would've danced your part in a song a lot sooner if I knew it'd get me a ring...”
“Oh? So a diamond is all you want me for now? Wowwww, babe-”
You gave him a look that automatically let him know you weren't too fond of the comment he just made, “Kidding” he said, ruffling your hair playfully, “I know you love me... enough to copy me, apparently.”
“Should we break out in synchronized dancing now?” You offered, playing Sacrifice Eat Me Up from the beginning on your phone.
“Yes… but only if you can keep up with me, of course.”
*Insert Jay's infamous Roblox smirk*
𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 ✴︎
The definition of 🧍‍♂️when you pulled him aside to show off the new choreography you'd been working on for the past hour.
Goofy laugher pt. 1
“Is this actually happening right now?,” he asked while laughing shyly, just after you finished ✨performing✨ for him…
“What do you mean? D-did it look bad?,” you asked worriedly, part of your heart still feeling warm though from hearing his shy giggle earlier.
“No, no, you did great, it’s just… why my part?” He continued, hoping to draw the conversation in a different direction, given how flustered he truly felt.
“Because you look hot while doing it... I felt inspired,” you said cheekily, walking up to Jake and placing your hands on his chest, Jake’s hands wrapping around your waist as he looked back down at you.
“Babe, you can’t say stuff like that then act all playful without expecting my brain to short-circuit,” he sighed, face heating up as he looked back down at your giggling frame within the hug.
“Well, did I at least do your part in the dance any justice or did that make your brain-malfunctioning even worse?,” you pouted with puppy-dog eyes as if to persuade his anger, even though you already could tell he liked it.
“No, love… I'm just in shock, honestly... you did criminally well.”
*Insert second-hand embarrassment from Jake's corny ahh pun*
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 ✴︎
Sunghoon was initially kinda salty about you having locked yourself up in the garage all morning on his day off, but all those feelings went away once he caught on to what you were up to.
“Hey, I didn’t say you could come in here,” you yelped, just as your boyfriend barged in the garage, catching you mid dance move.
You had been practicing Chaconne because you knew it was one of his favorite songs and you figured it'd cheer him to see you supporting his interests.
“Don’t mind me,” he started, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, “I’m just observing... please, continue.”
“God, Hoon, you’re embarrassing me,” you whined, covering your face from the way he was staring you up and down in this moment.
“It’s cute, though… watching you stress yourself out trying to dance like me when the pro's been one call away this whole time.”
The pro?, you thought to yourself, the self-proclaimed title being enough to snap you out of your bashfulness.
“I might’ve been practicing for a while, but I’m already doing some parts better than you,” you scoffed competitively, making him laugh at your words to the point where his dimples started showing.
“Cocky and shy? What an interesting combination… did you get that from me, too?”
𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐎𝐎 ✴︎
Sunoo smiled knowingly as he walked into the dance studio, grabbing a nearby rag to pat-dry the sweat on your face, “you’ve been avoiding me all day and working out like crazy, so what’s going on?”
“I’ve been working on this tough choreography, actually … but since you’re here, maybe you can help?”
“Oh, okay,” he chirped, watching as you started to dance out the steps to Fever, stopping when you got to the part you’d been struggling with.
“How do you do this part? It just looks so much better when you do it…,” your voice stalled as you saw his cheeks expand with a smile on the mirror, “SUNOO!?”
Goofy laugher pt. 2–
The guy was quite literally laughing his ass off at you right now, feeling both a mix of embarrassment and flattery at your actions.
He noticed you pouting, covering his mouth to stall his giggles before speaking, “I’m sorry babe, you just looked so cute while dancing, I couldn’t hold back!”
“It’s supposed to look sexy though,” you whined, knowing that it’d get him to hug you in response.
𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍 ✴︎
“So is this your new idea of teasing me?,” Jungwon asked upon getting back home from work, the first thing in sight being you in front of the TV, quite literally passing the mic to one of his fancams.
You audibly scoffed at his words, pausing the video and giving him a look, “This is hardly teasing, Wonie… just ‘cause I’m your girlfriend, it doesn’t mean I can’t fangirl over you from time to time…”
He sat his duffel bag on the ground, walking up to give you his usual ‘I’m home’ kiss and hug before responding, “Fine then… but you definitely need to keep practicing that footwork if you want me to take you seriously.”
“Heyyy,” you whined, playfully smacking his shoulder which only made him laugh at how adorable you look, “now who’s teasing?”
𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈 ✴︎
“Okay, I do not stick my butt out like that when I do it. Watch,” Niki corrected, initially having cringed upon catching you dance Bite Me, but had now turned your little activity into a whole ass dance-off.
“Yes, you 110% do... you always have to babygirl-ify the dance moves,” you replied matter-of-factly, starting from the pre-chorus and flipping your hair more than necessary just like him.
“I know you’re about to start spewing trash whenever you use made up words,” he scoffed with fake annoyance, trying to hide the smile tugging at his lips after seeing you dance so passionately.
“Stop, I can tell you’re smiling! Just admit that you’re impressed by me, Riki, and take the L… or W since you have a talented girlfriend…”
“Fine… you’re right… I am highly impressed… both by your dancing skills and choice of vocabulary,” he confessed playfully, giving you a side hug and kissing the top on your head.
“Maybe we should work towards debuting as a couple duo now... I just know that everyone would bias us…,” he thought out loud, making you giggle at his words.
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tysm for reading this quick lil fic ✗⚬メ𝟶 a/n ℓօⓥe always ⋆⋆⋆
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𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @nikisdubblchococake @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @watamotee33 @addictedtohobi @microwvdstrawb3rri3s
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21280 · 1 month ago
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warnings for age gap, no pronouns used. sfw. toshinori's insecurities are explored a bit.
there’s something about the older pro heroes having a controversially young partner that makes them feel young again.
when it comes to toshinori yagi, he feels like a 20 year old breezing through life. scratch that, you make him feel like a dumb teenager. he stumbles over his own feet, mixes up his words, and he constantly sweats at the thought of being around you. it feels like he’s suddenly trapped inside a romcom, where he’s head over heels over his new workmate.
the day you moved into the teacher dorms was the day you were introduced to him. the great all might. the symbol of peace, and also the hero whose posters are stuck decorating the walls of your childhood room.
when you began your work as a teacher at ua, he was the first to ask you out for lunch in his office. and who are you to deny, when the muscly, steaming hot man of your dreams is leaning against his office’s doorframe, the famous, million dollar smile plastered on his face. with a small bento box in hand.
a part of him feels like he has to care for you. it’s a small gesture, one he would’ve liked to have at his early twenties. he’s just doing what anyone would do, right? there’s obviously not a part of him that is intrigued by you. no, not one bit.
and to say you’re interested in uncovering what’s behind all might’s strong front is an understatement. in your eyes, it’s clear that he’s struggling, and you’re more than willing to become the one he can rely on. though, it takes time. your patience is about to be tested well beyond its limits. so, you start off slow.
yagi might think of himself as self centered, but there has to be something going on. that's what he thinks, at least.
you fix his tie when it’s slowly slipping, and straighten the collars of his shirts. you twirl the two beautiful blond strands of hair decorating his face, and always have your hand grazing his when walking with him around campus. his desk is next to yours in the teacher’s lounge, and you always offer him your post its and stickers for him to use when grading. he’s grown so comfortable, in fact, that he takes them without asking. there’s a comfortable silence, except when you’re softly humming whatever 80s song pops in your head. he thinks he’ll faint because you enjoy the same music he did back in the day.
you’re just being you. you’ve done the same with mic, and eraser too. he has to be too full of himself for even considering the fact that you feel something for him. which brings the question, does he feel something for you? if he doesn't, then why is he spending time analyzing his every interaction with you? your expressions, actions and reactions are on loop as he tries to figure out what he feels.
is it even okay? he’s well into his fifties, and you’re still a long way from there. his morality begins to chew at him, because you’re a young spirit, and he’s already seeing himself in a grave. it’s harsh, but yagi's mind goes to the extreme. he doesn’t want to take away your youth.
but hasn’t he been selfless his whole life? it should be time for him to think for himself. he’s come to recognize that you may be sending signals, because there’s something so adoring about the way you look at him—he’s certain there’s a spark. and it's then when he realizes he's fallen. very hard.
and there’s no way for him to be straightforward about it. would it be abuse of power if the all might went and confessed everything he felt towards his younger, new-in-the-field pro hero and coworker? would you be pressured into reciprocating because of who he is?
he’s assuring himself that if you were to be interested, you’d be interested for what he once was. he was the symbol for everything: peace, hope, sex—you name it, he's been it for decades. he's sure that you're chasing the idea of him, and not what he has become.
the best way to push someone away is to show what makes you ugly, right? the next thing you know, you're calling him by his surname because he asks you to, and when it's two in the morning and both of you can't sleep...
you see him outside the dorms. sitting down, lanky arms wrapped around his legs. you knew the teaching faculty was a bit secretive with him around you at first, and this was why. when he asks if you can't sleep and you nod, he looks at you with the most melancholic expression, daring to ask a single question.
he gestures to his torso. “you want a bedtime story, kid?”
toshinori yagi talks. he talks a lot. he’s telling you of the gruesome fight five years ago, of his declining health, and his fears for the future. he talks so much, in fact that he’s asking you if you can keep a secret, and talks about how his search for a successor had come to an end when he came to ua. it’s during this moment that you realize there’s more to your attraction to him than your brain let on.
and he realizes something too. he feels comfortable with you, and you remind him of home. but what’s home to toshinori yagi? he doesn’t have a clear answer, but he knows you resemble it. you’re easy to be around, and as he would come to find later on, you’re easy to love.
yet he pushes every happy thought away, his mind clouded with doubt. you scoot closer to him, and his hand unconsciously reaches for yours. as soon as he realizes it, though, he's pulling his hand away and muttering an apology. and you insist, because you don't mind if it's him who does it. and his mind wanders.
"i really like you, yagi."
he's been broken out of his trance. he stares at you in disbelief, "you like me?"
you nod. "are you sure? you probably like the old me, like everyone else. it's just in your head, kid—"
"god fucking damn it i'm in love with you, toshinori."
and to toshinori yagi, it's hard to believe. his mouth falls agape because there is no barrier left to protect him now. you've broken every wall with a single sentence. so you continue.
"i love the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, i love how your two hair strands frame your face, i love the way you're always looking out for others, and how you go into your muscly form to cheer people on. i love your patience, and how dedicated you are when you truly love something. more than a great hero, you're a great person. you need me to go on? because i—"
"do you pity me?"
"do i need to pity you? i'm being genuine, yagi. kinda sucks to get brushed off like that, y'know?"
he stops for a moment.
"...i like you too. like—a lot. it's just hard. to process, i mean."
you look at him enamored. toshinori finally takes the first step and intertwines his fingers with yours. and for the first time in the whole night, he smiles. so wide.
"let's do this step by step, yeah? now let's get some sleep, old man. we have a class to teach tomorrow."
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