#lmao and i ended it there because i needed to stop (i have 3 – THREE – exams tomorrow)

[expectiations]

Thinking of how "left me like a book on a shelf" is from River's POV and therefore does not mean it is the entirety of the story much like how "the Doctor does not and has never loved me" was uttered from a River who was grieving.

Like the Doctor could have spent a long time putting the TARDIS in stationary orbit around the Library. The Doctor could have puttered about with the Library from years before it was shut down to ensure that everything would go smoothly while doing his best not to change a single thing. And on days when it is too hard, he just stares at the Library from his perch on the TARDIS door. Waiting, hoping, thinking. Trying to find a way out for her. For them.

And he does!

He finds a hundred ways to get her out of the data core. But...something always goes wrong. It's somehow never good enough. She's back, but she's not entirely there.

So he scratches it out, slaps himself, and tries again.

And again.

And again.

But his plans always fail.

But they don't. Not really. His plans could work. Could have worked. His beloved Sexy would help him. She'd always help him when it comes to her Water. But he was too scared. Too frightened of failure. Because one single mistake. One. Single. Mistake. And she's gone. He can never get her back. Forever.

So he runs. And runs. And runs. Until centuries has gone by and companion come and gone. Until he met a younger, more alive version of her. And then they had Darillium. And oh the joys of wonderful joys, what a night that was.

But things end. Even for him. They had to part ways again. Had to say goodbye. So he tries again. Picks up what his previous self had shelved. He tries. Oh how he tries.

But still. That fear exists. Is it worth it? Can he finally accomplish what he'd started a literal lifetime ago?

(He doesn't.)

Off on another lifetime with a new body. He's a...she now? Oh and shorter! Wow. That's new! I wonder what Ri–

On the rare moments she allows herself to succumb to sleep she goes to their his her study. She takes a moment to take everything in. It's unrecognizable now – the study that once was theirs filled with warmth and laughter and-

Every single space was taken. Covered by plans of plans of plans spanning...two...lifetimes now. Sexy still kept it just as it was the last time he she had been in there.

Their His Her favorite throw was still where it was – on their his her favorite corner of their his her favorite couch.

Nothing had changed but everything had changed.

She curled up and buried her face hoping it would still smell of her (It did. They never knew how it worked but somehow her smell still lingered anyway. They thought they were hallucinating at first but other people had been able to smell it too. Sometimes they forget but Sexy also lost her too).

She was a he again. The same face they had four lifetimes ago. The same face who was the first to keep the memory of their meeting.

But wh- what? Why? How? Is this it? Is this the body that finally brings her back home? A fitting act really. He put her in there and so he'll also put her out of there.

But... she wasn't there. Nothing was there. Nothing but chunks of debris and ashes and smelted...somethings.

When he blinked his eyes open (when had he closed them?), Donna's worried face greeted him. He blinked again and blinked. Nothing changed. Everything has changed. He had waited for far too long. He had made her wait for far. too. long. He feared of failing her but now he actually has failed her.

Everything was bland now. Was it just him or is everything a bit...on the side of grey? Donna looks at him like he might break. (He won't. He's a Time Lord. Time Lords don't break.) Even Sylvia had taken to treating him a bit more kindly.

He goes off alone with Sexy. His return to the Noble-Temple (Temple-Noble) household becomes fewer and further in between. One day he finds himself in Venice. Wonderful Venice. His Pond and her Roman (who wasn't yet a Roman) had gone here. There were vampires. And running and –

River?

No silly. River wasn't there.

He blinked. And blinked again. Made sure the sky was blue and the clouds still fluffy white. But was that his leather jacket that just whizzed by past him? Wait. Hold on. That was... Was that? Oh no. It wasn't. It couldn't be. Did they? No. They couldn't have.

But of course, apparently they did. Because that was actually his leather jacket wearing self that just passed by him again(?) tugging along his very-much-not-dead wife along running from... Hold on. Why are they running? What- Who's shooting at her?!

[kxsagi]

May I request first time w bllk boys of your choice, but instead of it being steamy, it ends up being comic relief because for some reason the men can't put it in so the night just went on with gf!reader laughing her ass off and bf!bllk men having existential crisis😼 ignore this if you're uncomfortable! I love your works btw!:3 have a great day/night!

“𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐢𝐧: 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝𝐲”

a/n: this was definitely the most suggestive thing i've written so far but it was too funny to not write LMAO

thank you so much and have a great day/night as well!

suggestive and mature content below! all aged-up characters! (MDNI, by choosing to interact, it is your choice despite the warning)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, mikage reo, kaiser michael, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, itoshi sae

isagi yoichi

bro was so determined to win at losing his virginity. he was mentally prepping like it was a soccer match. 

“okay. breathe. visualize. go slow.” 

but the moment he tries to slide it in, he misses. three times. 

you’re trying not to laugh but he looks like a confused puppy with a furrowed brow and everything. 

“wait, i swear i aimed right.” 

“baby you’re not shooting a goal, this is not penalty kicks.” 

he spirals. his entire ego deflates. his internal monologue is screaming: how did i miss the goal this bad, am i even the main character anymore??? 

you’re just curled up in bed laughing while he sits at the edge with a blanket over his lap, muttering, “i need to train more…” 

itoshi rin

he was so serious about it. didn’t speak more than five words the whole time. 

but then. the moment of truth. and it just… 

boink (LMAO). he misaligned. 

“rin, that’s my thigh.” 

“shut up. i know.” 

tries again. ends up poking your belly button. 

“are you aiming by echolocation?” 

cue you dissolving into laughter while rin’s soul leaves his body. 

he gets all broody and dramatic like, “this is why i hate people. and romance. and life.” 

you pat his hair and go, “better luck next time, sniper.” 

nagi seishiro

he was so chill about it at first. like, “yeah. sex. sounds tiring, but okay.” 

except it turns out getting it in requires more effort than he thought. 

he’s just kind of poking around lazily like he’s half-asleep. 

“is this… the right angle?” 

“sei. that’s my hipbone.” 

he lays down in defeat like he just died in a video game. “ugh. i give up. let’s just cuddle.” 

and you’re crying laughing while he burritos himself in the blanket and says, “this is why i stick to games.” 

mikage reo

oh he thought he had it in the bag. mr. smooth rich boy. 

candles lit. music playing. rose petals on the bed. 

then cue 5 straight minutes of struggling. 

you: “babe, you okay?” 

reo: sweating bullets, whispering “i can’t find the entrance.” 

you: “it’s not a bank vault, reo.” 

poor boy looks so offended. “i’ve studied diagrams! i watched tutorials!” 

you’re cackling while he’s looking at the wall like it betrayed him. 

“this is not how it was supposed to go… my legacy…”

kaiser michael

listen. this man walked in like he was god’s gift to earth. said some cheesy german line like “tonight, i make you scream.” 

0 for 1 on that promise. 

because for the life of him, he can’t get the angle right. 

tries. fails. tries again. misses again. 

“i swear this never happens.” 

“you sound like a sitcom punchline.” 

and then you wheeze-laugh so hard you fall off the bed. 

kaiser just lies there dramatically like an oil painting, one arm draped over his forehead. “i’ve been humbled.” 

will not stop bringing it up later. “remember that time my genius was too much for your mortal body to handle?” 

you: “you poked my knee.” 

him: “semantics.” 

shidou ryusei

bro walked in already unhinged. 

smirking like a menace. said “i’m gonna blow your back out” with way too much confidence. 

cut to five minutes later: he’s on his knees, staring at your thighs like they’re a puzzle. 

“where the hell is it? is this a trap?” 

“shidou. shidou. that’s my armpit.” 

“oh. well you were twisted weird!” 

you’re crying from laughing. this man was so loud and proud only to fumble like a rookie. 

suddenly goes quiet. shidou. quiet. 

stares at the wall like he saw god. 

“maybe this is the universe humbling me…” 

you: “finally.” 

him: “shut the hell up, you’re laughing like a hyena. i’m in mourning.” 

karasu tabito

okay so karasu definitely talked a big game beforehand. 

super smug like “you won’t be able to walk after this.” 

tried to take the lead. acted confident. 

then proceeded to line himself up completely wrong. 

you’re like, “tabi. that’s not it.” 

he freezes. “you sure? feels right.” 

“no. no it doesn’t.” 

looks down. stares in betrayal. “oh… oh.” 

you start laughing and cannot stop. 

he lays on his back dramatically like he just got shot. 

“i used to have pride. i used to have a future.” 

you’re snorting, tears in your eyes while he covers himself with a pillow and mutters “don’t talk to me. i’m in my flop era.” 

itoshi sae

sae genuinely thought he was above this. like… this was supposed to be effortless. 

gave you a look like “i got this.” 

spoiler: he did not. 

tries to guide himself in and hits… air. 

tries again. pokes the mattress. 

you: “… are you okay?” 

him: “this is… frustrating.” 

you start giggling. he’s deadpan. 

“don’t laugh.” 

you: “but you’re so SERIOUS. it’s like watching someone try to parallel park and give up.” 

he sighs, rolls off you, and just stares at the ceiling like it offended him. 

“sex is stupid. i’m going to sleep.” 

you’re still laughing while he tucks himself in like a burrito, mumbling “this is why i focus on football.” 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[chubsonthemoon]

It is done! This is The Death of Translation, originally written in English by @landwriter, translated into Mandarin by @thirrith. Binding is dos-à-dos, with English version on one side and Mandarin on the other. Bookcloth was handwoven by me, on my rigid heddle loom :3

More under the cut!

Typeset: Fanbinders are Liars

Full stop, this typeset would not have been possible without Eth and all their patience, enthusiasm, and willingness to do even more translating! I reached out to them *checks watch* nearly a year ago in July 2023 (lololol), asking if I could use their translation of TDOT in a surprise bind I wanted to send along with Gloam's author copy of Flower King. They were kind enough to say yes, and even kinder to answer my questions when I reached out six months later in January, when I was finally able to start work on the typeset.

We talked about the many delicious things that are bound to come up when discussing translating not just from English to Mandarin, but also from digital space to meatspace. Some topics I had anticipated, like font questions, translating the colophon, etc. But even with the topics I thought I'd prepared for, there were still things that came up that both surprised and delighted: for example, while AO3's website allows for italics in Mandarin--

--my publishing program doesn't (or at least, it doesn't without needing to manually tilt every character by about 10 degrees). So as a workaround, Eth suggested changing these cases of italics to the font 华文楷体:

Through no one's fault but my own, this ended up being only slightly less work than manually tilting every instance of italics--I wanted to be sure that I got all of them, so I ended up doing a lot of double-checking manually anyway, instead of relying solely on the Search function. There was a lot of cross-referencing with the Word document that Eth was kind enough to provide, as well as squinting and general swearing. I also did the same for the uses of Latin script, manually styling each instance as Garamond to keep it consistent with the English edition:

The only other time I've had to do font surgery this intensive is probably for my typeset for Tell Me About the Big Bang, which I had to port over from a PDF. Folks, hell on earth. Do not recommend XD I remember squinting at my monitor as I had to visually confirm every instance of italics, thinking I will never do this again. Welp, four years later, here were are: fanbinders are liars, LMAO. At the very least, using Eth's Word document at least allowed me to search by styles, so it was a little easier on my eyes. 🙏

Is there a script that I might've been able to use if I was more code-savvy? Probably. But I figured going at it sledgehammer style would be the least hair-pulling way to get the job done, weirdly enough. Still, despite my best efforts, there are a few instances of PMingLiU to Garamond and PMingLiU to 华文楷体 that I know I missed, and I know I missed them because I caught them after I'd printed/cut/folded/sewn/glued (cue more swearing), so Gloam and Eth, my apologies >.< please consider them artifacts of a uniquely handmade object ajslkdjfs

In addition to the fonts, there were also some other fun things Eth and I discussed, like how to translate the notes I usually provide on the colophons! In addition to information on fonts, I also usually include some variation of:

This private, limited edition published by chubsthehamster (Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing) in 2024. This is chubsthehamster's personal copy. Out of three existing copies, this is the first.

The thing that came up with this, which still tickles my brain to this day, was how Eth chose how to translate "Moonham Press, imprint of Renegade Publishing." To get a better sense of what word to use for "imprint," they asked what the relationship was between Moonham Press and Renegade Publishing, which got me thinking about the relationship between my lil imprint and the wonderful @renegadeguild:

What's all very funny about all of this is that we are now, in fact, going by the name "Renegade Bookbinding Guild," per our most recently updated Code of Conduct. While this renders the wording I asked for out of date (and thus, the wording that made it into the book out of date :'D), I think it's also a testament to how cool the work @renegadeguild is doing--like any artform, fanbinding is alive, with its own evolving language, communities, and ideas about the craft. And I love it, I love it so much. (Was this also a plug for our new-ish website? Perhaps).

There's more I could say here, but this post is already going to be long enough, so I'll move on for now! If you get anything from this section, it's that @thirrith is amazing and very patient and kind, and I'm so grateful that we got to talk shop together. Thank you so much for all your invaluable help with this, Eth! I hope the typeset, though undoubtedly flawed, does your hard work justice!

Binding: Or, SO Much Math. Like, So Much, Guys. (It was worth it, though!)

Whoo, boy! So math was never my strong suit in school, but when I set out to do this bind last year, that wasn't an issue. At first. The dos-à-dos binding, if anything, just requires a little bit of finagling on the usual case-bound format--a bit more math if you want to do an all-cloth cover, like I planned on doing, but nothing I couldn't work out with some trial and error. (My prototype below!)

Then came February, when I took a weaving class with my friend, and then everything kinda exploded.

My original idea was to use some green Duo bookcloth I had on hand (this color, actually)--for those of you not initiated into the Duo cult, Duo is a Rayon bookcloth with a very devoted fan following in Renegade. It's very pretty; the Rayon weave is one color, and the paper backing is usually complementary color, so it has this cool two-toned effect. Duo is in high demand in Renegade circles because sadly, the company that manufactures it went out of business last year. (Although I've heard rumors recently that there's another company making something similar, but the cloth has a really high purchase requirement and is, like, for businesses only I think).

Anyway, I also wanted to have a gold line around the whole book as a kind of bellyband/obi to further connect the two versions of the story (another reason why I chose the dos-à-dos format to begin with heh), as you can see from my scribbled notes here--

But alas! I knew going in that adhering things to Duo is often Problematic, thanks to one very painful experience trying to get some iron-on foil on another bind (the textured surface of Duo just makes it kinda hard to stick or paint stuff on it). So if I wanted a clean, continuous line, the remaining options were to either paint it on a strip of paper that I'd somehow...adhere to the cloth? Or maybe cut different slices of bookcloth and glue them on. I wasn't satisfied with either of those options, though.

Then--the weaving class. I made a scarf, and I love it and I loved making it. But the whole time, I'll not lie, my thoughts were elsewhere.

In short, my decision to weave my own bookcloth kinda came from a few different factors:

The desire to attempt to recreate Duo, that elusive beauty, the one that got away, etc. (I have several yards in my stash, but still). Others have also attempted to recreate it, and I thought I'd throw my hat in the ring.

My current spiral into the deep hole that is fiber arts (it started with crochet, then knitting, then sewing, then weaving, then spinning, and now I'm eyeing quilting! Please help me).

The gold line. It kept bugging me. And when I found weaving, I just thought there was something very neat about the process of actually making the cloth for a dos-à-dos binding from scratch, and especially for this binding. I wanted to bind a story about translation (or rather, the death of it, and yet still the necessity of it--how we must try to communicate, despite of, or perhaps precisely because of, everything that gets lost in the spaces between people, and the tragedy of that loss, and the beauty of what makes it through, and the love always present in the effort regardless), and also, the translation of that story. Weaving is a very meditative process, and with every pass of the shuttle, back and forth, building slowly but surely the fabric that would hold the story that Gloam had written and that Eth had translated, I thought a lot about translation, and the gaps between people, and how we choose our words not just when translating, but when we speak at all. From a design perspective, I used the same colors I would've used had I chosen the Duo bookcloth--green and gold--so the design wasn't too altered in terms of color scheme. But I think the choice to weave the bookcloth--the thing that bound it all together--made the project take on a completely new meaning for me, both in process and in scope, one that hadn't been there when I started. I saw the warp, perhaps, as the original story, laying the groundwork for the weft, the translation; or maybe it was the other way around, with the translation providing the scaffolding for its own, new meaning, choices that Eth had to make with this word or phrase or another building something new, something translated, and the original a live, moving thing that wove over and under each word turned phrase turned story; or maybe it was both. Maybe it didn't matter which was which, in the end. And as I wove, the thing that connected them, that gold line that had started all of this, slowly formed.

All that to say: Good God, was there a lot of math. So much math. That prototype pictured above was actually made specifically so I could calculate exactly how much I needed to weave, lol, because while I certainly had enough thread, I didn't want to have to warp more than once. I'd learned the basics in my class, but the training wheels came off here. I wanted to make my own custom fabric, which meant calculating things like ends per inch, picks per inch, loom waste, shrinkage after washing, the width of that damn gold line, how much I'd need for the hinge, the turn-ins, the boards--the whole nine yards (I didn't actually weave nine yards tho heh). It was all absolutely worth it in the end--so challenging and so, so rewarding!

(And my final reason for weaving the bookcloth? Not gonna lie, It was because I just wanted to see if I could do it LOL. I love trying at least one new thing with each of my binds, and this was it for this project. While I've been bookbinding for a few years now, I'm still very much a beginner weaver, and I'm so excited to continue to learn and experiment! Also, here's a video of me unwinding the cloth from the loom, heh. I used 10/2 Perle cotton in gold and green colors :3)

Also, turns out, you can back handmade cloth the same way you can any other cloth! I backed it using my usual heat-n-bond method, and with some Unryu Tissue in the color Forest. Since the cloth itself is a bit transparent, there are a bunch of really fun fibers you can see when it's held up to the light, but which aren't visible when the cloth is glued down to the boards. Still, knowing they're there still makes me happy :D

Finally, capping all this off, is one final, small detail I really liked: ginkgo leaf endpapers :3 this one's for me and Eth and Gloam specifically <3

Aaaand that's all from me for today, folks! Thus ends (several months late XD) my last Binderary project for the year. This was probably my most ambitious bind to date, and gosh it was so, so much fun.

And, of course, thank you so much to Gloam for sharing your story, and Eth for translating it. I can't wait for y'all to receive your copies soon!

All my love! <3

[natailiatulls07]

Because I liked a boy

Max Verstappen x female!Ferrari!reader

Summary - Ferrari's media editor and a redbull driver get into a relationship, something that her team are not happy about

Warnings - fake hate, Ferrari being petty, swearing

A/n - No hate toward Lizzie or Bella!! I love them both soo much <3

Face Claim: Lizzie Machintosh/ Bella Hadid

-

yourusername

Back in paddock with the team ❤️

Tagged: charles_leclerc carlossainz55

Liked by scuderiaferrari and 87,634 others

username I love Y/n in reddd

username Best media girl ever!!

charles_leclerc Did you like your own post through the team account??

= scuderiaferrari Yes I did 😇

username STUNNING

username The Ferrari employment team know what the people want 😍

f1gossip

Spotted: Y/n L/n, Ferrari’s media editor, seen outside her apartment complex, in Central London, holding three bouquets of flowers. Has she found love in the Ferrari garages??

Liked by username and 43,862 others

username Secret admirer??

username Sooo happy for her!!

username Is this a soft launch kinda thing?? 👀

username It’s either from Carlos or Charles for sure!

= username Babes they both have girlfriends, stop being delulu 😃

= username I mean Y/n is definitely the home wrecker type of girl

= username Wtf shut the fuck up!

scuderiaferrari

Just filmed a new C2 videoooo ✌🏻

Tagged: charles_leclerc carlossainz55 yourusername

Liked by maxverstappen1 and 7,537,846 others

username Girl who gave you those flowers?!?

username Their faces LMAO

username Max liked!! Lestappen continuessss

username Three hotties!!

username When will it be out?!?!?!? I need to know!!

username Not Max casually showing his love for Charles 🥹

f1gossip

Spotted: A few f1 personnels attended a party in Monte Carlo just last night; Max Verstappen, Lando Norris, Carlos Sainz and Y/n L/n (Ferrari’s media editor). However, Carlos and Lando were seen leaving early and Max and Y/n are rumoured to be very very friendly together

Liked by username and 45,724 others

username All looking hot as alwaysss

username Max and Y/n, is this some Romeo and Juliet thing??

username She has the most iconic outfits EVER

username Ferrari and Redbull?!?!? 👀👀

username Those heels omfgggg

username Max not in team wear for once!! 😍

yourusername posted a story

username Not Y/n soft launching!! I can’t!!

username IKR I WANNA KNOW EVERYTHING

username What if it’s Max??! 🫢

username Nahh girlll stop being delulu

username Nooo because they were friendly at that party soo it’s not impossible 🤪

yourusername

Well before the f1 gossip pages get to post, our secrets outtt

Tagged: maxverstappen1

Liked by charles_leclerc and 9,327,645 others

username Wait what?!?!

username The cutest ever!!

username Wait explain!!

= username So basically Max just went up to her and kissed her after his win in front of all the cameras!!

username Oh shittt 🤩

username Max was like ‘fuck the soft launch!!😋’

username Traitor

username Bet she’s gonna share all Redbulls secrets to Ferrari

username If I was Ferrari or Redbull I wouldn’t trust her anymore

username Kelly was prettierrr

yourusername posted a story

f1gossip

Rumour has it: Y/n L/n has lost her job at Ferrari. In her recent instagram story she wrote 'living the unemployed life', does this mean her career with Ferrari is over? Many fans made it call how untrust and unloyal Y/n has become since the launch of her relationship with opposing team Redbull racing driver, Max Verstappen.

Liked by username and 57,256 others

username Thank fuck Ferrari dropped her

username Serves her right tbh

username The song!! because I liked a girl by Sabrina Carpenter

username It's the end of an eraaa

username I wonder what she's gonna do now

= username either relay on Max or join Redbull lmaooo

-

[snowball-doie]

୨୧ Poly!7Dream x Jisung ୨୧

| pairing: Poly!7Dream x sub!Jisung x Dom!gn!Reader

| warnings: 18+ MDNI. NSFW link. Orgy activities. MLM behavior. Corruption kink. Bondage. Nipple play. Forced orgasms. Overstimulation. Two instances of tickling (I’m personally not into tickling, but it was applicable here…… This won’t be a common thing in my fics tho).

| words: 3.6k

| aurora's note: squad, this was supposed to be about 500 words max......... idk what happened........... for my followers, this goes into the sooah au... for those who are new, welcome lmao <3

"You can hold my hand, baby, it's okay."

Jisung could be frustrating from time to time. His dedication to his job made it difficult to find free time where all seven boys and yourself were available to hang out and spend quality time together. The boys were always so busy... Mark and Haechan were out of the country more often than not, and with 127 schedules going on the back burner, the Dreamies were so busy that they were hardly home with you anymore, and that sucked-- It hurt, and they all knew that. When they were home, they tried to make the most of it, showering you with love and attention so that you had enough love in your heart and good memories to last until the next time they'd be able to hang out with you. But Jisung... He was pressuring himself too much again, constantly practicing around the house, going to the office on free days for extra help from his vocal coach or his choreographer, and he was at the office before the boys' schedules then stayed late past their schedules. You hated that. It felt like he was choosing to work instead of being with you and the boys, because he was going out of his way to work and rehearse instead of taking a break to relax in your arms or playing video games with Haechan.

“He’s been at it for two hours,” Jeno complained, wiping his palms over his face as he sighs. “How’s he not exhausted yet?”

The boys had practice starting in the morning, so of course Jisung headed out early, and they finished practice around 6PM, but Jisung stayed until 8PM when his choreographer finally sent him home… At which point Jisung continued practicing in the free room at the end of the hall. That had been his schedule for the past three days straight. The boys were sick of it. You were sick of it. While the seven of you were watching movies and tv shows together in the living room, Jisung was always upstairs, playing the same chorus over and over and over again—

“I’m going insane! Can we just tie him down or something so he finally fucking rests?” Haechan said, annoyed.

Even though he had been joking, it wasn’t a bad idea. Jeno perked up first because he was the one who was most eager to get Jisung to stop, and once he started looking around silently for back up, Mark and Haechan moved too, then Jaemin was at Jeno’s side. Chenle groaned as he stretched and mumbled, “Finally,” before pushing himself to his feet. The last two to give in were you and Renjun. The other boys’ reassurance to you were smiles they tossed in your direction as Chenle swung his arm over Renjun’s shoulder and started dragging him along upstairs while they conversed quietly in Chinese.

“I got the ropes,” Jaemin said.

“Grab the gag too,” Haechan commented quickly, just before Jaemin dove into his bedroom. “I’m sick of hearing him yap all night ‘cause he’s still wired with energy when we’re all exhausted…”

On your way to the extra room that had turned into a temporary practice room for Jisung, Jaemin gathered the materials needed for the night. Mark pocketed his phone as you all gathered outside of the door. He told the boys that he pulled a few strings so their practice the following day was delayed until after lunch, meaning they could have their fun and sleep in without worrying about any consequences.

“And this is why we love you, hyung,” Haechan teased. He wrapped his arms around Mark’s neck then started hanging off him. “What’s the plan?”

“I can distract him,” you offered.

“I can grab him,” Jaemin said, passing the ropes to Jeno.

As Jeno accepted the ropes, he contributed with, “I’ll tie him up.”

“And then what?” Renjun questioned.

“We tire him out,” Chenle replied with a grin.

With a series of nods from everyone standing in the hallway, you pushed the practice room door open to reveal the loud music Jisung was dancing to-- From downstairs, all you could hear was the obnoxious bass and the thumping of his footsteps, but the second you were in the room with him, the full force of how loud he was actually blasting the music suddenly hit you like a slap in the face. Once Jisung noticed you, however, immediately rushed to pause the music. His face was flushed from overworking himself all day. Sweat dripped from his dark hair, his glasses were all fogged up, and he was panting through his plump, swollen lips.

"Sorry, was I too loud?" he asked.

Well, the answer was yes, but that didn't matter so much with the boys anxiously waiting outside for their moment to jump him. So you shook your head and approached him. His blue hoodie was soaked in sweat, and his black gym shorts were barely clinging to his hips; you figured the safest place to touch him was his bare waist which wasn't too sweaty.

You shook your head. "No... I just missed you today... Wanted to hang out with you for a bit." When your cold hands made contact with his warm skin, Jisung hissed under his breath before gulping down his reactions. "Did you miss me?"

He nodded.

"You sure?"

He pouted and nodded some more. "I'm just really busy right now, I don't really have time to stop and--"

"And hang out with your partners?"

Jisung fell silent.

"It's okay," you cheered him up with a smile.

Jisung's eyes met yours again, giving you the perfect opportunity to kiss him passionately, your hands still glued to his hips so that he couldn't escape. He teased you by biting your lip. In return, you chuckled and started unzipping his sweaty hoodie to remove it from his body, which he surprisingly didn't protest to even though he was very adamant that he had no time to waste. In the midst of Jisung's habit of closing his eyes while kissing, the boys snuck into the room quietly, and you turned Jisung slightly so that his back was to the door, leaving all of his focus on you. Just as Jisung leaned further into your body and moaned into your mouth, Jaemin grabbed his hands that were headed for your hips.

"Wha--" Jisung pulled back. He looked around, confused, startled. "Hyung, what--" Despite Jisung's attemps to wiggle out of Jaemin's tight grip, his hyung was far stronger than him, making it impossible to escape. He looked at you for help with those big eyes of his.

Haechan approached and started kissing Jisung's exposed collarbone from behind until Jaemin rolled his eyes and pushed Haechan out of the way because he was in the way of their plan, which included Jeno stepping forward to help manhandle Jisung onto the floor so that all the boys could work together to hold him still while Jeno tied Jisung's wrists to his calves so that he was forced to sit down with his legs spread. Jisung whined and continued to thrash around. He asked silly questions and look around for help, but he was outnumbered. All of you were on the same page that he needed to let loose and that you were desperate to spend time with him, even if that meant restraining him to make it happen. To keep him quiet, Haechan took the gag he'd requested and he stuffed it into Jisung's mouth then secured it with the straps that wrapped around his head.

“Hyung, there’s duct tape in my desk drawer,” Jaemin said in Mark’s direction, prompting the eldest to hurry to his feet and scurry to Jaemin’s desk drawer. He dug around for a few seconds before returning with a roll of duct tape. Mark eyed Jaemin suspiciously. “It’s for wire management.” Jaemin took the roll and pulled the end up with his teeth before he began wrapping the sticky side around Jisung’s feet to keep him for kicking anymore. “And for tying Jeno up—“ Jaemin chuckled as Jeno reached over to smack Jae upside the back of the head. “Hey! It came in handy! Look!”

Jaemin patted his work then leaned back. All eight bodies in the room stilled as seven of you stared at the sight in front of you. Wow, Jisung really was handsome. Of course you knew that perfectly well already, but it was times like these where you were specifically reminded of it because there was a lull in excitement and all of the focus was put into every detail of who Park Jisung was. From his fogged up glasses, to his shirtless torso that showed off his hard work via his toned abs that he kept hidden from the public because he only ever wanted you guys to see all of him— He really was just a mini-me of Mark sometimes; to his erection growing in his gym pants, to the ropes tied expertly around his arms and legs… He was perfect. He was amazing. You needed him. Every inch of him. Always.

Haechan laughed as he tickled the bottom of Jisung’s feet to get the reaction he wanted where Jisung jolted, his body tensing, his eyes shooting wide, and desperate, muffled pleas were panted behind his gag. When Haechan did it again, Jisung’s feet fought against the tape, but he had nowhere to go. His struggle was in vain. That right there was the best part— Watching the moment he tried his best to free himself but couldn’t… Watching as all of his defined muscles worked in tandem to find a solution that would never appear.

Jisung pouted and slumped. His breathing was heavy thanks to Haechan who had riled him up, but also because he was anxiously watching all of you, waiting to see what you had in store for him.

“Do you remember what you said to me this morning before you left for work?” Jeno finally began the interrogation.

Jisung looked up through his lashes and vaguely shook his head. He was being extra cautious, you noticed. Perhaps he did remember but didn’t want to confess because it would only land him in more trouble— Or maybe he really didn’t remember and that was why he was so confused to have ended up in the position he was tied up in.

“I told you that you needed to say goodbye to everyone… That you needed to find a way to spend more time with us.”

Jisung gulped. So he did remember.

“And you said, ‘What does it matter?’”

The fear in Jisung’s face was nothing in comparison to the anger washing over half of the people standing in the room. He had said what?!

“Let me at him, hyung… I asked him to play basketball with me two days ago and he ghosted me,” Chenle said.

“You’re ghosting us now?” Mark questioned.

Jisung shook his head adamantly, his eyes pouting and his eyebrows raising like he was trying to tell you something, but it went unsaid.

“He talked back to me, so I get dibs,” Jeno said, which forced Chenle to back down. “But you can help.” Now that brought a smile to Chenle’s face.

Jisung squirmed some more as the audience closed in on him. Renjun went to his side first to ask something about safe words and if Jisung remembered how to put a stop to this even with the gag in his mouth. Jisung nodded. That seemed to ease both Mark and Renjun who were a bit uneasy about ambushing Jisung in the first place. Renjun shifted slightly so that he was at your side instead, leaving plenty of room for Jaemin to take his spot because his job was to try to keep Jisung still while Jeno took the lead and Chenle followed by sitting opposite Jaemin.

"Are these sensitive yet?" Chenle flicked his finger over one of Jisung's nipples. Jisung moaned and rolled his head back against the wall. "They are..." And he did it again.

Jeno ran his palm over Jisung's erection in tandem with Chenle's teasing, and when Jisung jolted upright and pulled against his restraints, Jaemin jumped into action by pressing his hand on Jisung's bare chest before pushing him against the wall. By the time you could bring yourself to pry your attention away from Jisung, Haechan was already kissing Mark who had his hands on Hyuck's hips to keep both of them steady so that they didn't fall back onto the floor. Hyuck was a bit aggressive. He was trying to sit on Mark's lap, but Mark fought by using his grip to roll over on top of Haechan who moaned when their crotches touched over their pajama pants.

Renjun whined beside you. He was looking for attention too but three of the boys were busy with Jisung, Mark and Haechan were busy with each other, and Renjun was getting hard watching everything happen around him. You pulled Renjun onto your lap and slid your hand under the waistband of his pants. He shifted slightly to accommodate your touch. You moaned into his ear once you got a hold on his cock, his pre-cum already leaking onto your hand; and he moaned in return when you used your free hand to hold his chin to make him watch what was happening in front of you where Jeno had fished Jisung’s dick out of his shorts and slowly started jerking him off. Jisung moaned happily.

Though he seemed to dislike being ganged up on and tied up, the fact that Jisung was finally being touched after you’d worked him up in the first place came as a relief to him. You matched Jeno's pace. Whenever he jerked Jisung off fast, you went at the same speed on Renjun-- Both of them wiggled their hips, Renjun struggling adorably in your lap-- and when Jeno slowed down, you teased Renjun's tip until he was begging you for more. Chenle contributed to Jisung by pinching his nipples over and over again as an added measure of stimulation to get Jisung off. Poor thing had incredibly sensitive nipples. All of you liked to take advantage of that because he made the cutest noises when his nipples were teased; but Chenle was doing it with the sole purpose of getting Jisung closer to the edge.

"Jebal--" Jisung moaned behind his gag.

Jeno pulled his hand away from Jisung's cock. While Renjun anticipated you to follow suit and was prepared to beg you to continue, you actually didn't stop touching him. He wasn't being punished like Jisung was. There was no point in edging him and torturing him, which came as a relief to Renjun who continued to moan your name and thrust his hips up into your fist. Beside you, Haechan and Mark were finally going at it like they were in their own world as they rubbed up against each other and Haechan was adjusting to ride Mark's thick thigh.

When Jeno restarted his motions, everyone else continued too. Jaemin and Chenle played with Jisung's nipples, you jerked Renjun off faster, and Haechan was biting Mark's bottom lip to pry more moans out of his hyung. Jaemin did something mean where he kissed Jisung's cheek to keep him distracted momentarily before he pressed his index finger over Jisung's sensitive tip to gather up some of his dropping pre-cum before smearing it over the gag Jisung was wearing.

"Jebal, jebal, jebal--" Jisung moaned as he came.

Renjun's body toppled forward, his hands on your knees, fingernails digging into your skin. "C-Can I--"

"Cum for me, sweet boy."

Jisung's body was still shaking through his orgasm when Renjun hit his peak too. As Renjun's cum leaked down your hand, Jisung's cum painted his stomach and hit Chenle and Jaemin's hands, and both boys were watching each other as content to really make their highs hit harder, as if they were watching porn or something. When there was nothing left to milk out of Renjun, you slowed down before wiping your hand on his thigh then pulling away entirely. He slumped against your chest. For a moment, he caught his breath while watching Jeno who didn't slow down or stop playing with Jisung. The poor guy realized what was happening just as his orgasm faded and the overstimulation began.

"Hold still, Jisung-ah," Jaemin cooed tauntingly with a tigher grip on their maknae.

"Some help would be nice," Chenle called over to you and the three other onlookers.

You inched forward with Renjun still resting on your lap so that you could corner Jisung even more to make it really noticeable that there was no escaping the nipple stimulation or the fact that his cock was still being played with after he'd made a mess. Jisung whined pathetically. He looked around for a savior, but the only two who could have been any help-- Mark and Haechan-- were still preoccupied with each other. You looked down to see Jisung's cum frothing between his straining cock and Jeno's pumping fist-- And much to your surprise, Jisung wasn't softening. He was still hard, and he was leaking cum bit by bit by bit.

Haechan finally sat upright. His brown hair was a mess, his cheeks were flush, and his cum left a wet spot in his pants, and there was another wet spot on his thigh where Mark had cum too. Both of them panted as they looked around to catch their bearings.

"You guys aren't helping," Chenle scolded.

"Sorry," Mark apologized, completely dazed.

Haechan and Mark crawled over to find empty spaces for them to squeeze into. Haechan, to have fun, tickled Jisung's feet again, which set him off with another serious of muffled moans before he opened his eyes long enough to glare at Haechan. That earned him a pinch to each of his nipples.

Jisung started squirming harder and whining louder the closer he got, almost like it was a warning to everyone in the room with him that he was about to tip over the edge if you kept messing with him. The only problem for him was… the seven of you knew exactly what you were doing. You wanted him to cum. Again. And then maybe again for good measure— And fuck it, another time after that. You wanted to pry as many orgasms out of him that his body could provide, and even then you were sure that you could get a dry orgasm or two in there for your entertainment.

Shaking his head, he mumbled behind the gag, "I can't."

You ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly as you cooed, “Shhh, shhh, shhh… You can hold my hand, baby, it’s okay.”

Jisung did just that. His hand grasped yours desperately— Well, he tried to find your hand but kept slipping to your wrist which he held with an iron-tight grip as his hips squirmed some more in an attempt to get away from Jeno.

“I’ve got you,” you said.

A loud moan echoed through the room as another orgasm was forced out of him. His cum leaked onto his chest in a pathetic stream which Haechan caught with his fingers so that he could have Mark clean it up. Both Jeno and Chenle worked Jisung through his second orgasm, Jaemin tried his best to hold him still, and Mark and Hyuck were back to kissing each other. To everyone's surprise, Renjun leaned forward on his knees to roll his palm over Jisung's sensitive tip.

"Hyung!" Jisung cried out behind his gag.

Jaemin put more pressure on Jisung's chest to hold him still for the last minute or so that they continued to bully him with overstimulation.

"Okay, okay," Mark said, pushing Haechan off him in order to catch his breath. He licked his lips. "We should get cleaned up."

"He has one more in him, hyung," Chenle complained, his fingers still playing with Jisung's nipples.

Mark observed Jisung for a moment. His body was slumped with exhaustion, his head braced against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to bear the way Renjun was torturing his tip. He looked exhausted. After working long hours and practicing so much, you'd already milked the rest of his energy out of his body-- For lack of a better word. You pulled Renjun's hand away. When Jeno noticed, he brought his movements to a halt and shot Jaemin a look which told him to release Jisung who panted the second he was shown an ounce of mercy. Chenle, despite what he wanted, obeyed Mark's orders and your silent lead.

"Let's get him out of these," Hyuck said.

Everyone moved to undo the restraints. Jeno's knots were tight, but the ropes were loose around Jisung's limbs, making it easy to wedge the knots loose before untying them altogether. Meanwhile, you moved your weight onto your knees so that you could reach over the boys and take Jisung's gag out of his mouth. He gulped through a heavy breath.

"You okay?" you asked.

Jisung nodded tiredly. "Ne."

A wadded up ball of duct tape made its way into the trash in the corner, thanks to Renjun, and when he returned he had Jisung's water bottle in hand so that once Jisung was free he was able to take slow sips that Mark monitored closely.

"You did good," Mark complimented.

Jisung blushed. "Thanks, hyung..." He turned to face away from everyone.

"I'm going to get him in the shower. You smell disgusting," Jeno said.

"That's what rehearing for thirteen hours a day will do to you," Jaemin added.

Jisung set his water bottle down on the floor. "Okay, I get it, I need to relax with you guys more. I get it. I'm sorry." He hooked his arm over Jeno's shoulder, then on the count of three, he was lifted to his feet. He put all of his weight against Jeno because his legs were shaking and his body was exhausted from the overstimulaton.

You stood to kiss Jisung gently. "Sleep in my bed tonight?"

He nodded.

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[spookysanta]

Chapter 7: Just One More Night

Ongoing tags: [Modern Romance] [Slow Burn] to [Fireworks [Black!Reader] [Younger!Reader] [Reader is That Girl] [Obsessed Michael™] [So Much Eye Contact] [Vacation Fling] turns into [Something Real]

Potential TW/CW: [Swearing] [Light Sexual Tension] to [Eventual Smut]

Read Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6.

helloooo we're offically halfway through! again, thank y'all so much for your love on this fic. i'm really happy with how this story is unfolding, and as my first series since ending my hiatus, i feel really excited to bring this universe to life. i literally can't stop writing for this universe lmao. i can't wait for y'all to see what's in store for when michael meets the rest of the crew. also... this is my last three(ish) weeks of being 23. it feels weird. idk.

--

You could tell it was going to be a perfect day by how the sunlight poured through the windows.

There were alarm clocks, no rushed schedules. Just five women, half-asleep, scattered around the suite’s common area – on the couch, on the floor, and in chairs, warm with the ease of having nowhere to be but together.

Kris was the first one to stretch. Tati was the first to demand coffee. You were the first to check your phone – quietly, a bit too quickly – heart tugging at the possibility of his name.

You smiled into the pillow. A soft, warm kind of smile that bubbled up from your chest. The “he didn’t forget me, even when I’m busy” kind.

–

Melrose Avenue was loud in all the best ways. Your group took over sidewalks and storefronts, music playing in earbuds, fingers trailing over expensive fabrics, squeals from the dressing rooms, “Oh, that’s the one,” erupting from every corner of every boutique.

Lex bought boots she didn’t need. Tati flirted – or, according to her, “asked nicely” – her way into a free tote. Nas found a lip gloss that made her gasp. You tried on a dress that made everyone scream.

“Oh, you’re wearing that when we go out tonight,” Kris said flatly. “I will not be taking no for an answer.”

“I–”

“You’re wearing it.”

You nodded, afraid to rebut.

After the escapade of shopping, lunch was late and leisurely. It was at a cute bistro on the corner, with patio seating that seemed to stretch for a mile – umbrellas on the rooftop deck, cups sweating on the table, and mini flutes of mimosas turning into a carafe of sangria.

You shared plates, hand to fork to bite, not caring at all who ordered what because everything was for everyone.

The lunch was filled with laughter that took over your whole body. You were a little sun-dazed. A little tipsy. But very, very happy. 

And no one mentioned Michael, but he was there: in your phone, in the ache at the base of your spine, and in the way your eyes softened when the girls weren’t looking.

Back at the hotel, the suite turned into a glam bunker, with hot tools on every counter, foundation spilled across makeup bags, and music blasting loud enough for the people down the hall to hear the “heyyy!” every time a new outfit hit.

Tati put on a black leotard with light wash denim shorts and an oversized bomber jacket. Lex was hellbent on wearing the black and red corset she bought earlier that day, pairing it with a deep red skirt. Nas opted for a dark wash denim minidress. And Kris… Kris put on leather pants that made her ass look illegal, hugging her in the right places. She, of course, made it a point to show off to her fiancé, Jamal, on FaceTime, who took no time to say as a warning, “Kris, don’t make me fly out there”.

You stepped out into the common area last. You put on an off-shoulder leather top, paired with tiger print bottoms with a lace-up front. The ass was sitting, and you were showing just enough cleavage to complete the look.

The girls went silent for just a moment.. And then all hell broke loose.

–

Dinner was luxurious: a private dining room on the back patio of a restaurant you didn’t remember booking, all arranged by Nas somehow. The ambiance was fancy to the nines, with a candlelit atmosphere and smooth jazz kissing your ears through the speakers.

Tati told the waiter it was your birthday just to see what would happen, which resulted in the whole wait staff singing “happy birthday” as they brought out a dessert that came with sparklers and a free bottle of prosecco.

You were breathless by the end of it, tired, but the good kind. The kind that meant that you laughed until your abdomen ached and your cheeks burned.

Back in the suite, shoes (and bras) came off immediately. Half-zips of suitcases and purses, makeup wipes, wine glasses refilled. Then someone put on a speaker and yelled, “KARAOKE!”

You all took turns. From “Cater 2 U”, “No Scrubs”, and an especially dramatic version of “Weak” by SWV that had everyone on the floor clutching throw pillows and singing like you were being paid for it. 

By 11:45 PM, you were stretched out in leggings and a tank top, makeup mostly gone, thighs sore from dancing, phone in your hand. Your phone chimed with a text notification that you didn’t even have to see to know who sent it, after having texted him throughout the night.

You padded to your room, rummaging through your suitcase to put on a hoodie, some shorts, and a pair of slides, checking your pockets once again, you palmed for your keycard, phone, and wallet.

Sneaking toward the door, you almost made it past the couch, when: “Where do you think you’re going?”

You’d only made it five steps, turning around sheepishly at the group, still settled into the common room like schoolgirls at a slumber party. Tati didn’t even look up from her phone. “I–I was just–”

“Is that his hoodie?” Kris asked, pointing a manicured finger in your direction, already knowing the answer since she’d seen him wear it at some point during the week.

“Babe,” Lex added with a laugh, “Not you thinking you’re smooth. We heard you leave the room to change.”

You groaned. “Y’all are so annoying.”

Nas shooed you from the armchair, her legs sprawled out across the chair’s arms as she laid horizontally. “Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled, “Be safe, hoe.”

“Text when you get there,” Tati nagged. “We’ll let you live.”

You smiled to yourself and slipped out the door. Once you made it downstairs, he was waiting for you just outside the lobby just as he promised, leaning on the passenger side of the car like he was posing for a cologne ad – hoodie up, one hand in his pocket, the other opening the door like this was already his. “You’re not very sneaky.”

You slid into the seat, scoffing playfully at his statement, “Neither are you. Says the guy pulling up in his Escalade.”

He kissed your cheek, then your mouth – soft, sure. “Jokes on you, I wasn’t trying to be.”

He decided to reserve the penthouse suite in a hotel across downtown, clearly deciding at the last minute to spoil you more than he already had. Part of you thought this was a gesture to reconcile for yesterday, but another part of you knew he was just being over the top. 

The suite was quiet when you stepped inside. Low golden light pooled near the bed, one lamp on, the rest of the room blanketed in shadow. The curtains were drawn, the air cool. Music played low from a speaker tucked somewhere behind the minibar, humming something slow and instrumental, all bass and breath.

Michael didn’t speak right away, but instead watched you close the door behind you. He watched you walk across the room and take in the way everything was already waiting.

There was water on the nightstand. A folded towel. A single robe laid neatly at the end of the bed. “You really weren’t playing,” you said, soft.

His voice dropped, velvet and gravel. “I meant it when I said I wanted to see you.”

You stepped toward him, hoodie still on, hair in a bun, eyes full of a hundred things you hadn’t said yet. “You gonna kiss me or just stare all night?”

He smiled, kissing you slow.

It started soft. His hands cradling your face, lips only just brushing. Fingertips tracing your jaw, your spine, your waist like he’d missed mapping it with his hands. “You had a good night?” he murmured against your cheek.

“Yeah.” You replied with a slight nod.

“You look like you did.”

You laughed a little, breathy, barely there, and buried your fingers in his hoodie. “I missed you,”

“I know,” he said, kissing your temple. “I missed you too.”

Then he kissed you like he meant it. Like the whole day had been aching for this. Like his mouth had been hungry for yours since the second he walked away yesterday.

Your hoodie – it was actually his, but still –  came off first. Then his. Then your tank top, then his shirt.

He eased you on the bed, pulling you on top of him. Your body melted into his, slow and easy, like there was no in-between anymore. His hands mapped your thighs, your waist, the curve of your back, eyes heavy, his voice deeper now. “I wanna take my time with you.”

You nodded.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he added.

“You do.”

He leaned up, kissed your neck. “Not like this yet.” Flipping you gently, he laid you back on the pillows, pulling your shorts off menacingly slow, running his hand up the inside of your thigh. His fingers brushed your pussy and came back soaked. He groaned at the feeling. “This wet for me?”

You nodded, dazed. 

He pressed a heavy kiss to your mouth. “Good. I plan on ruining you.”

And he made good on his promise: first with his mouth, tongue deep and unhurried, sucking your clit with slow rhythm, not rushing the build. Then with his fingers, pressing two inside you, curling against that spot that made your knees jerk and your back arch. “Yeah, right there,” he murmured. “That’s what I wanted.”

He watched you cum, basking in the way your body shook, the way your chest rose and fell breathlessly, the tear that slipped down your cheek when it got too good.

“You feel that?” he whispered, kissing your inner thigh. “That’s me. Doing that to you.”

He stripped himself down, stroking his cock in one hand, spreading the precum over his shaft. He positioned himself at your entrance, the palm of his free hand pressing into the mattress next to your head.

Then he slid in. But it wasn’t sweet – it was deep. Completely filling you to the hilt, pushing against your cervix so sweetly you wanted to cry.

His hand moved to wrap firmly around your throat, his body pressing down over yours. “You love this dick, don’t you?” He grunted, his voice right at your ear.

You moaned in response, but that wasn’t good enough.

“Say it.”

“I love it – I love it, Michael–”

“Damn right, you do. You need it.” He fucked you slow… Then rough… Then mean. Like he’d been waiting months for this. Like he didn't have you splayed out like this 48 hours ago. Like every second away from you had to be earned back stroke by stroke.

He flipped you over, gripping your hips. His thrusts were relentless, and he added fuel to the fire when he slapped your ass and moaned when you clenched around him. “You’re not leaving this bed until I feel you cum on me again.”

You were sobbing now, moaning incoherent babbles into the mattress. You were absolutely wrecked, drool escaping nastily from your mouth, your lips spit-glossed and your body limp.

He reached under you, rubbing your clit perfectly. “Yeah. That’s it.”

Your body tightened, feeling another orgasm wash over you. And just like he knew your body already, he grunted in reply.

“Let it go.”

And that was it. You couldn’t fight the orgasm off anymore. You screamed into the pillow, his thrusts never ceasing as he made you ride it out.

He followed shortly behind you. You, however, were still twitching from the aftershocks when he came – deep inside, groaning against your back, muttering your name like a prayer. Then, he collapsed next to you. “Only you tonight. Only you.” he whispered against your skin

The room was still, just the low hum of the air conditioner and the sound of your breathing, deep and staggered, like your body hadn’t quite come down yet.

Michael shifted, didn’t speak. He reached for the towel he’d laid out earlier – warm now from the residual heat of the room – and slipped from the bed quietly.

You rolled onto your back, your limbs loose, thighs trembling.

He came back, knelt beside the bed. “Lift up for me,” he mumbled.

And you did, slowly, still hazy, and let him clean you gently. There wasn’t any rush. No words exchanged. Just soft touches and reverence.

He tossed the towel into the hamper, pulling the covers back and sliding into bed beside you, bare chest warm and broad, arms open and waiting. You curled into him without a word.

He kissed your hair, then your forehead. “You good?” he murmured.

You nodded. “Better than good.”

“Yeah?”

He felt you nod against his skin. “Yeah.”

The silence stretched. Not awkward, just full of weight neither of you wanted to break. Until you whispered, “I don’t want this to end.”

He took a breath. “It doesn’t have to.”

“I'm going home in two days.”

He shrugged, “I’ll fly out.”

You blinked in surprise, eyes glancing up to meet his.

“I mean it,” he said softly, his eyes boring back into yours with ease. “You’re not just a vacation for me.”

“I didn’t think you were.”

“...But it scares you.”

You nodded.

He ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “We’ll figure it out. Okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

You smiled. A little broken, a little bashful. “I don’t really do long-distance.”

“Then we'll make it short-distance,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll come to you. And you come back to me.”

You stared at him, eyes wide. “You want that?”

“I want you.”

He pulled you closer, pressing your cheek on his chest. The sound of his heart slowing under your palm. And in the quiet that followed, he asked, “Stay with me a little longer?”

You nodded, letting yourself fall asleep in the arms of something that finally felt safe.

–

It was still dark when you stirred.

You weren’t awake – at least, not enough to open your eyes – but felt the soft, drowsy pull of consciousness shifting beneath your skin. You felt the ache first, sitting low in your belly, in your thighs, in the delicate curve of your throat where his hand had held you last night.

You were wrapped in warmth. In blankets.

His chest behind your back, breath slow and deep at your shoulder.

You felt safe. Like… you could do this. With him.

You settled there for a while, letting the memory of hours before bloom against the silence. The way he had touched you, the way he had seen you. Not just your body, but the way you’d kept your voice low when you were scared. The way you tried not to ask for too much. The way your breath caught when he said your name like it meant something.

He hadn’t let go of you once.

And by the time you turned to face him, the room had shifted just enough to catch the first edge of daylight. Michael was already awake, propped up slightly against the pillows, one hand beneath his head, the other resting gently across your hip. His eyes, warm and quiet, were on you like they’d never left.

“You weren’t gonna say anything?” you whispered.

“I didn’t want to break it.”

“Break what?”

“This,” he murmured. “Us. Here. Now.”

Your heart skipped as he reached down, the backs of his fingers brushing your cheek. “I know you have to go back… There’s still a lot we haven’t figured out,” He sighed. “But right now, you’re the only thing I care about.”

You didn’t speak. Or rather, couldn’t. Not with the way he was looking at you like you were something he’d been praying for without knowing the words.

“And I know it’s been quick,” he continued, low and steady, voice never faltering. “But I already know that you’re it for me. I just want to make sure you know that.”

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes. You touched his face, the pads of your fingers tracing his jaw, drawing a line to the soft fullness of his bottom lip. “I know,” you whispered back. “I feel it, too.”

He kissed your forehead. Your cheek. The corner of your mouth. Then, he held you close again. And you stayed that way, even as the sun crept in. Like time had finally slowed for just the two of you.

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[causenessus]

foggy days . . . | chuuya + dazai

chuuya x gn!reader + dazai x gn!reader (seperate scenarios!)

"...god loves you, but not enough to save you. so good luck taking care of yourself." (sun bleached flies / ethel cain)

↑ you don’t have to take care of yourself alone. people come into your life and you enter those of others' so that everyone helps take care of each other. to be human is to love more than god can. more than god ever intended. - ness <3

3.2k words

notes: my og title was super long for this work so i’ve split it up into three parts each with their own song lyrics bc i’m in my yearning era. hopefully everything makes sense :> there is no longer any continuity between the formats of any of my posts and idrc. a little suggestive in chuuya's, a little bit of tongue action, once again i'm a whore for manga-chuuya so don't be offput by his eyes being described as brown LMAO. lots and lots of comfort, basically scenarios of chuuya/dazai + you on a foggy day,,, enjoy <3

thank you to @osamucide for helping me w/ dazai's choice of song <3 this ones for u <3 smooching u <3 ily <3 my life is dedicated to u <3 what a coincidence the lyrics you associated him linked directly back to the ending line i wrote for his scenario before i had even asked you for suggestions <3 we're just soulmates like that <3 mwah <3

. . . kisses on the tip of your nose (chuuya)

“hey, do you wanna see the west with me? ‘cause love’s out there and i can’t let it be." "...love’s never meant that much to me, but i’ll come with you if you’re sure it’s what you need.” (thoroughfare  / ethel cain)

on foggy days, chuuya finds you on a bench underneath the warm flood of light from a lamp post above. air is transparent; it has no color, the phenomenon behind fog is simply that the air has become denser, increasing its visibility while lowering the sight lines of others. yet the humid air eagerly reflects and intensifies any color that shines through it, which allows for the sight in front of him now: like a flickering candle in the middle of a dark room, the throw of the single beacon of light on what must be yokohama’s foggiest day frames and spills atop the crown of your head, making you look more angelic than you already always do. if he had a camera on him, maybe he’d try to take a picture, assuming that the fog wouldn't harbor the clarity of the lens.

you think he looks cute, standing there lost in his own thoughts for a moment, hands stuffed into the pockets of a coat lined with that prickly, stiff, woolen fabric no one like but, regardless, cannot complain about because it keeps them warm. he’s finally abandoned his normal attire for something that's still classy, of course, but more appropriate for the weather.

a scarf is tied around his neck, the way you taught him to so that he wouldn't complain about how itchy or tight it felt, and he’s buried the lower half of his face deep inside the warm fabric, trying to keep his nose from freezing off.

you want to hold his face between your hands, nuzzle the tip of your nose against him, kiss the tip of his nose, then maybe the bridge of it, then the space between his brows, then over each of his eyes, then his cheeks, and then finally, his warm, warm lips.

but you'll do that after he stops scowling at you, shoulders hunched up to try and shield his ears from the nipping cold as best as he can.

he's also, of course, wearing that hat of his. you almost tell him to go back inside in case the moisture of the humid air affects the worn leather it's made of.

but he's braved the cold and stepped out of the house to find you, and you know it's useless to try to suggest the idea to him unless you're following him back in.

"what're ya doing out here in this weather?" he's not scolding you or upset with you, just utterly confused. he steps closer, removing his gloved hands from his pockets to pick up your bare hands that you had resting in your lap, holding them between his warm ones. "shit, i can feel how cold you are through my gloves, doll. you okay?" even if he happened to be irked by something you did, he could never stay mad at you for very long before he was overwhelmed with how much he loved you. now his eyes are warm and soft, focused on your own, brows laced with concern and the scowl gone from his face.

this is where you kiss him all over his face.

and that's exactly what you do, humming a small "yes" to his question before escaping the grip of his hands, locking your arms around his neck and using all the strength you have to pull him on top of the bench you're on.

it's harder than you expect, although maybe that's on you for thinking it'd be easy. he's an executive of the port mafia and most certainly their strongest; no matter how much he typically lets his guard down around you, it's only natural that he tenses up at your sudden attack.

but it's an attack of kisses, to his surprise, and he exclaims as he comes toppling onto you, your back hitting the spindly worn wood of the bench below you. his legs are tangled with your own, and he's placed his arms on either side of you on the bench to support himself, but you don't let him move another inch away from you, running your hands (warming by the second thanks to all the heat your stealing from him) up his neck to caress the side of his cheeks, pulling him close.

whatever he's been chiding you about now dies in his throat when you pull him close. when only your noses touch, and you look into his pretty brown eyes with those flecks of amber and blue, the prettiest eyes you've ever seen, his breath is warm against your lips, his own curling into smile as he huffs. "don't tease me now, sweetheart," whatever consequence he was going to threaten you with falls silent again when you ignore the jeer, shifting his face down slightly so that the tip of his nose meets your lips, and then you're kissing him all over, small murmurs of "i love you"s whispered between every other kiss. his eyes are squeezed shut, cheeks warming by the second despite your freezing hands, unable to keep himself from getting flushed from your overwhelming amount of love he swears he’ll never get used to.

he’ll always get worked up just from the sight of you, overcome with his uncontrollable amount of desire to kiss you and hold you in his arms, and he’ll never be able to stop his eyes from always tearing up the slightest bit along with the stir of his heart in his chest every time you tell him you love him. he'll never get used to your love, he swears, but he doesn't want to.

when you finally place your lips to his, he hums in pleasant surprise, pressing against your lips with just as much fevor, shifting one of his arms to rest himself on his forearm so that he can run his fingers through your hair.

the fog and cold weather pricking your skin through your layers of clothes fade away when you feel his tongue swipe against your lips, asking to be let in. and when you part your lips and his warmth pulls you inexplicably closer, you don't think even the coldest of temperatures could freeze you to death.

not when you're with him, virtually and inexplicably the sun of your life. melting away any ice in your heart and mind with the warmth that comes from the brightest star that's always giving to others; all in the form of the single man who's in your arms right now.

the slight push of his knee against your legs, nudging them farther apart as he finally parts from you, leaving your mouth empty once again, your chest heaving while he takes to trailing burning kisses down your neck, acting completely unaffected, has you running your hands through his strawberry blonde hair, tugging him ever so gently up so that your faces are mere inches apart again.

"chuuya, we're in public," you rasp, and it seems it's your turn to scold him.

"are we now?" he's only grinning at you, fingers grazing the side of your cheek as he brushes a strand of your hair away from your face. "should've thought about that before ya kissed me like that, then. since we’re 'in public.'" he mocks your words and you can't exactly argue back. you’re racking your head for a comeback but he doesn't give you the time to reply before going on, "there's not even anyone around. that's why you came out here anyway, is it not?"

he knows you too well, and all you can do is give a small smile back, bringing a hand up to caress the side of his face. he leans into your touch letting your warming hands mold to the shape of his heated cheek. 

"it is," you murmur, feeling the need to explain yourself as if he doesn't already know you. but you keep talking anyway, and he doesn't stop you. he likes hearing you talk. "i just recently started to like this weather, around the same time i met you. i like how this weather makes everyone disappear. i like how I can't even see two feet in front of me, i think it's beautiful in its own way— like i’m stepping into the unknown, but i'm not scared. and maybe that’s because i know you’ll find me in it no matter what. you’ll be with me, and i’ll be with you. i like being with you. the only reason i left this morning was just to enjoy the silence... but i'm ready to go back in."

his face is nestled back into the crook of your neck, placing light butterfly kisses over your pulsating temple ever so often as he listens to you speak, feels the rumble of your voice through your throat with how closely he's pressed to your skin.

"we can stay out here, i don't mind. i like that it makes everyone go away, too. everyone but you. i like coming out here to find only you; the only one i want to see, anyway," he whispers back, letting his lips place a longer, more firm kiss than before on your neck, sending shivers down your skin. "wherever you want to go, baby. like you said, i'll always be right behind you. no matter how heavy the fog, i swear i’ll find you." 

. 

. 

. 

♡

. . . and muddied knees. (dazai)

“...don’t wait too long. i don’t want you to get tired of me. am i just that damn hard to love?” (golden age / ethel cain)

sleeping with dazai is always an experience.

every night, you both cuddle under the same futon and yet his hands and feet are ungodly freezing. he whines and blames it on poor blood circulation (but not because of his bandages! they aren't that tight, he made sure to add the first night you shared a blanket and fell asleep in each other's arms) leaving the responsibility to fall into your hands–or, more realistically—you’re the lucky one whose been chosen to be his personal heater, cold hands sneaking up your shirt to rest on your navel, his long legs coming to tangle with yours.

usually, he warms up after getting to hold you so closely, and that's why waking up to a cold spot beside you is all the more shocking.

a little bit of light is spilling in from the nearby curtain of his dorm and you're willing yourself to slip out from underneath the warmth of the futon, in search of something–someone more important than the heat. you shiver as you look outside, trying to assess what time it is.

the sky is a light hazy gray, there's no sun in sight, and the trees and ground are darker than usual, soaking wet with the drizzle of rain that had pattered down on the roof above the two of you last night as you fell asleep.

there had been two beating hearts underneath that futon when you closed your eyes.

but when you opened them, you could only hear the pulse of your own life in your ears. and after a little bit of tip-toeing around his small dorm, you were fairly sure it seemed that he wasn't hiding anywhere in the dorm, either.

slipping on the nearest pair of shoes you can find, wrapping one of dazai's heavier jackets tightly around you, you brace the nipping cold as you open the door of his dorm, peeking your head out.

he’s not out taking in the view of the ground below him, leaning dangerously far over that old, worn, metal railing of the dorm’s building as you sometimes find him doing, so you start your usual trail of places you're bound to find him. it's not surprising that he's wandered off alone, lost in his thoughts. in fact, it's at least a weekly occurrence and by this point maybe anyone else would have gotten used to his sudden disappearances, knowing he was bound to show up back on the doorstep at some point, but you cann't help chasing out after him. you don’t want him to be alone, you don’t want there to be a time that comes where he never returns, and maybe it’s all because you weren’t there with him when he needed you.

you’re his partner; the one he wraps his arms around when he finally, after an entire day being the strong one, relaxes and just becomes osamu again. your osamu. you're the one osamu lets undress him sometimes, let's kiss over his skin, and help him wrap his bandages if he needs. if they exist, you're fairly certain osamu's your soulmate. and if they don't exist, he's surely the closest he can be to one. and maybe he doesn’t see you the same way back, but how could you not go out looking for your soulmate, the one you love, every time he wanders off alone? is always being by your boyfriend's side not what it means to love him? how could your heart not be eating away at you, knowing how far apart your other half, crying out to you to find him?

there’s no need to justify why you’re wandering through the humid mist of the early morning. if dazai asked why you always came after him, you’re not sure you could say all of that to his face. all you could probably say is, “because i love you.” and that’s what it all really boils down to in the end, isn't it? doesn't everything you do for him stem from a place of insatiable love? one that you’re not sure he’s always ready to accept, but one you are always willing to give him more of whenever his mind allows himself to let you love him as you want to. fully.

he's not near the bridge he's often teetering off the edge of and sometimes falling into. he's not found on the boardwalks of yokohama either. the shore is especially ghostly today, absent of any people, and the heavy fog that lays over the rippling blue water doesn't help with the eerie atmosphere.

but you find him at the third spot, which on a day like this, you felt was where you would find him from the start, anyway. 

you climb up the concrete steps quietly, seeing that familiar head of tousled brown hair leaning against a headstone. the engraving of a name that's been etched into it, the grooves aged and soiled with time, faces towards you.

you bow, placing your hands together and paying your respects as always to osamu's friend. the one you’ve never met, but by this point perhaps know just as well as osamu with all the stories he's fondly spoken of, lulling you to sleep on countless nights. after a moment of silence, you pass by the gravestone to join osamu on the dewy grass.

"[y/n]," he says your name, lolling his head against the curve of the top of the gravestone to look towards you.

his eyes are bright and wide, and you almost go as far to say he seems especially energetic today, but you know that no amount of light in his eyes can promise that he's doing well.

your eyes flick down to his hands, bandages just barely peeking out of the beige coat he's wearing, and you kneel next to him, not minding the way the soil sinks against your knees when you do, slightly leaning over him as you take his hands into your own.

"are you not cold? it's freezing out here and you're not even wearing an extra jacket. i should have brought a scarf or something—" you're half speaking to yourself, half speaking to him, and he only continues to watch you as if in admiration of something, which you come to understand with his next words.

"don't you ever get tired of warming me up? do you get tired of having to come find me? are you tried of getting your hands dirty because of me?" his words are gentle, still spoken lightly as if he’s simply telling you about the exciting day he’s had, not asking you questions that have you pausing for a second. in this moment, his tone only speaks volumes to you about how much of his true feelings he's hiding, but none of that works on you anymore.

"no, osamu," you look up at him from where you've been focused on his hands, clamped between your own as you try your best to give him everything you have, willing the warmth of your hands to transfer to him. it's not exactly how science works, but you'd bare the cold for him, freeze your very hands off and give him all of your warmth down to your beating heart if it meant he was warm and well taken care of.

"i'm never tired of you, or anything you do. i'll never get tired of you. i'm happy i get to warm up your hands every night. i'm happy i'm the one that gets to do that and wander around looking for you. you make me so happy, osamu, i don't care about these clothes, or how dirty i get, as long as i get to be by your side. as long as i get to be the one to hold your hands tonight." the curved smile he greeted you with is slowly dropping by the second, but that doesn't mean your words are upsetting him. it's the opposite; his facade is slowly peeling away. "do you see, osamu? you make me so happy. i'll dress warmly and take care of myself just to make sure that i'm always able to warm your hands because i love you. all i hope is that i can make you happy, too."

one of his hands, now slightly warmer, reaches up to slide against the side of your face, brushing the upper ridges of your cheekbone with a thumb. "you do make me happy, angel. sometimes i just have to get out, like my love for you is too much. i don't deserve so much happiness, so i have to return to places that once depressed me in order to force everything to settle down. i don't want to overwhelm you with how i feel, whether that be an emotion good or bad."

"don't hold yourself back or water yourself down for me, osamu. i want to love you through the good and the bad. i want to be there for all of it. i want to warm you up every night, not just on the ones where you feel deserving of it. you're always deserving of love, in my eyes. i don't want just the good parts of you, i want all of you. and if you still have to wander out and return to old places, then i'll come along with you, if you'll let me. i'll keep you warm wherever you go. i love you."

he lets out a breath that sounds like he's been holding it in for hours before he's smiling softly. it's genuine this time when his lips turn upward while he's pulling you onto his lap, your muddied knees straddling his own. "i love you, pretty. i'll do my best to keep you warm, too. with happiness, love, and whatever else you need. i hope you never get tired of me. because i will surely never tire of you." 

.

.

. 

♡

[etherealstar-writes]

I WANNA BE YOURS | LIONESSES X READER | PT 3

pairings: lionesses x reader

summary: in which you're accidentally added to a random group chat, not knowing they're all actually famous footballers, and obliviously end up having many of them competing for your love and attention.

part: three

part one here

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

THE NATIONAL DIVING TEAM

brightness

we have training tomorrow

just a reminder

the REAL karate kid

ughh

kie

what's the bet leah and georgia

are gonna be a show off

while niamh's gonna be off in her own world

neev

hey! no need to call me out like that

i do focus

stairway

i am not a show off

willybum

me neither!

door knob

you guys need proof?

the imposter

damn

you guys got that athletic build 💪

the REAL karate kid

......

willybum

.......

stairway

.......

elton

.......

earpsy

.......

brightness

.......

neev

.......

lotte

.......

maya

.......

daily

.......

the imposter

YO

HOW MANY OF YOU ARE ON THIS CHAT??

elton

i think the rest are asleep

the imposter

are you guys all part of some cult omg

and why do you guys have like

group training together?

that's kinda sus

the REAL karate kid

honestly it's kinda fun and chaotic

lotte

are we all gonna ignore the fact that

nobbs has photos of georgia's and leah's muscles?

door knob

are we just gonna keep referring

the imposter as imposter?

or if anyone's gonna ask her name?

the imposter

your name's nobbs??

LMAO THE DOOR KNOB MAKES SO

MUCH MORE SENSE NOW 😭💀

also

my name's y/n

neev

that is such a pretty name

the imposter

thank you!

elton

you know

you never really answered

lotte's question nobbs ....

willybum

it's because i'm her favourite duh

stairway

um it's actually me

hence why she sent a photo of mine first

meado

and here we go again

✦ ——— ✦ ——— ✦

elton

oi

hello

@everyone

why is everyone so dead right now

earpsy

maybe it's the fact that we just finished training

the REAL karate kid

and because we actually have lives

elton

that's a lie and we all know it

the imposter

how was training?

neev

tiring

feeling quite dead rn

willybum

funny actually

lessi slipped and slammed

face first into the training mat

elton

that was the highlight of my day

the REAL karate kid

glad to know my misery

causes you guys happiness

rusty metal

guys

i stumbled upon the best photo ever

my eyes have been blessed

stairway

omg

bronzy in her active era??

daily

ooh do show

lotte

it's intrigued my interest now too

rusty metal

neev

LMAO

willybum

WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THIS

the REAL karate kid

CRYING RN 😭💀

elton

STOP 😭

this is a masterpiece

i'm saving this

stairway

she's a barbie gurl 💅

earpsy

PLS 💀

willybum

i'm blocking yall

stairway

your eyes just can't handle this much art

the imposter

hello friends of y/n!

i was trying to take photos of y/n

and accidentally clicked into here

neev

hello friend of y/n

the imposter

WHAT IS THAT PHOTO OF LEAH WILLIAMSON 😭

is this some kind of football fan cult??

some of your usernames are familiar in a strange way

idk why i can't seem to place it

elton

hmm quite strange

don't you all agree?

stairway

hmm very strange indeed

brightness

yes

daily

indeed

willybum

very

the REAL karate kid

where's y/n?

the imposter

standing in front of me

has no clue i'm on this chat

i'll send a photo

hang on

(lets just pretend they can see your face in the photo)

now she wants her phone back

goodbye strange strangers

elton

......

stairway

......

willybum

......

the REAL karate kid

......

neev

......

rusty metal

......

brightness

......

daily

......

doorknobs

......

meado

......

kie

......

earpsy

......

maya

......

lotte

......

lauren 1

......

stairway

the whole chat rn:

elton

i was not expecting this today-

the REAL karate kid

toone, this is literally the best

most dumbest thing you've done-

neev

honestly

lotte

my eyes have been blessed twice today

willybum

wow

the REAL karate kid

you can get my number wrong

anytime toone

part four here

[aevellewritessometimes]

It's Us Who Made This Mess

Part Three, at last; the bitch that didn't allow me to have any good ideas for a week straight only to suddenly give me a burst of inspiration so strong that I managed to write this whole thing within one sitting. So if this ends up being the worst one, that's why and I apologize lmao.

Content Warnings: It's the alleyway scene, so Vere jokes about eating you. Canon-typical swearing and mentions of death. Vere has a panic attack and there is a very, very brief implication of accidental self-harm.

Other: And the overuse of italics returns! Word Count: 2k

This work may be edited in the future if I discover any previously missed typos or content warnings. This work will not be cross-posted anywhere and I will make a direct announcement if that ever changes. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

The streets behind the Wick were as dead as the bar was crowded. A cold breeze cut through the humid air. The further they walked, the more muffled the Wick's racket became, until the only sounds were their subtle breaths and footsteps.

He stopped at an alleyway. They were alone. Nobody would bother them, and nobody would bear witness. His shadow stretched over the cobbled street in the moonlight, practically devouring the outsider whole.

"You had questions. Ask." His breath misted in the cold air as he spoke, "Quickly. I've got a show to attend. Heavenly lutist, as I'm sure I mentioned."

He already knew for a fact that he did. He simply wanted to test them; to see if they ignored everything he said earlier or is they only ignored his warning.

They were clearly peeved by his attitude---they had been since he met them, actually. But clearly they needed information, and he was happy to provide some. Of course, it would only be vague details, but if all went according to plan, it would be enough to bait them into telling him a secret or two of their own.

He expected the outsider to ask about the Senobium. Or about him, at least. Instead, they wasted his precious time by asking about the others. As much as he disliked thinking about most them---other than Ais, that is---in general, something about the outsider's curiosity of them had him particularly irked.

Vere didn't want to look too closely into why their interest in the others pissed him off so much. He just told himself that it was because he was in a hurry, and they were wasting his time.

It didn't take long for him to grow bored of it, letting out a growl. "Don't you dare ask me about another soul. I haven't got all night for idle gossip."

"But I wasn't finished asking---"

"You get two more questions. Make them count."

He wasn't actually planning on counting any questions. The poor thing just happened to look somewhat cute when their brows scrunched up in frustration.

Their eyes narrowed slightly, exasperated, as they asked their first question "Leander told me that the Senobium imprisons people. Did he mean you?"

Of course, he gets stuck talking about Leander anyway. "Leander's a moaning fool with a throbbing victim complex. He loves to see himself as a savior, but the only difference his cronies and the Senobium's stooges are the uniforms."

A subtle wince spread over their features, showing some mild concern at his words. Fair enough, considering where they're apparently sleeping tonight---if they make it out of the alleyway alive, that is.

"You're asking who, when you should be asking why." Maybe that will be enough o a hint for them to actually ask about him directly.

"Says the asshole counting my questions." Their scowl returned to to their face.

Vere only smirked in response, and they rolled their eyes at him.

They sighed. "Fine. Why were you imprisoned?"

"For the same reason they'll disappear you given half the chance; I'm something special." He gathered up his hair, pushing it behind his back and craned his neck, inviting them to have a closer look. "See this collar?Looks unremarkable, doesn't it?"

They didn't say anything. Instead, they started reaching towards the buckle.

Wrong move.

His hand lashed out, grabbing their wrist before their hand could get too close. He could've easily snapped their bones, but he chose to be merciful, and instead only held their wrist with just enough pressure to scare them a little.

It was the second mercy he's granted them tonight. And no matter how interesting they were, he wouldn't be granting them a third chance. Really, they were lucky he was even generous enough to offer them the second.

He tutted like a scolding teacher. "Don't you know better than to touch without asking?"

"You didn't ask first, so why should I?"

He grins. "because I said so."

"That's not very fair."

A surge of anger began to slowly rise through him at that. "Fuck fairness. Life's not fair."

If life were, he wouldn't even be here, talking with the pesky little outsider. If life was fair, he wouldn't even be Eridia. Shit, Eridia probably wouldn't have even existed. If life were fair, then he wouldn't have been imprisoned by those fucking mages. If life were fair, he wouldn't have killed you that day. If life were fair, you would've died from either old age or some incurable illness, because he would've been able to protect you from an unnatural death.

He closed his eyes, silently pushing his rage to the back of his mind. He's had years to hone and sharpen it into a weapon deadlier than he was, and it wouldn't do him any good to waste it on one, insignificant human when there were plenty others more deserving of it.

"Patience… I'll tell you when and how you can touch me." He opened his eyes, staring into their startled ones, getting another view of the agony writhing within their soul. "Behave, or I'll make you bleed."

"…Is that a threat, or a promise?"

It was both, but he didn't say that out loud as he released their wrist. They began to smooth down the bandages covering their arm, glancing at him though the corner of their eye.

"Are you saying that's what'll happen to me if the Senobium finds out I'm… different? I'll be collared?"

"Doubtful. they keep me around because I'm the best at what I do."

They were looking him straight in the eye now. "And what, exactly, do you do so well?"

"Killing." His answer wasn't hesitant in the slightest. "As long as I wear this collar, I'm made to hunt the Senobium's dizzying array of enemies: Monsters, Soulless, noisy dissidents who grow overbold… I'm bound by their will until the day I die."

He liked to pretend that he was only saying that last bit for dramatic flair. He didn't like to acknowledge just how little hope he had in any chance of freedom.

"That's… awful."

Hah. They have no idea.

"It is, isn't it?" He internally shook off his brooding mood, "And that's all you're getting from me. I really must leave now. I'll be late."

"That's it? Why'd you bring me out here if you weren't going to explain anything?!"

He laughed, allowing it to sound a bit more like his genuine laughter as opposed to the smooth chuckle he's been practicing over the years. "Isn't it obvious? I wanted to lure you out here alone so I could eat you."

They tensed up immediately. "You're lying again."

They were only half-right. Less than that, really. There's been a pit of hunger that's been growing within him since he was captured, and flesh was usually one of the best ways to sate it, even temporarily.

"And you're asking far too many questions for hiding so much."

They quickly hid their hands deep into the pockets of their cloak. "What makes you think I'm hiding anything?"

"Would you like me to list the obvious indicators first?" He asked sarcastically, staring pointedly at their arms, "The bandages, to be specific. Not exactly subtle, after all." He glanced back up at their eyes, "I'll be going… unless you're willing to share some morsels with me?"

As much as he talked about wanting to be elsewhere, he really wasn't actually planning on leaving until he got something out of them.

They hesitated. "I can't tell you anything."

He felt his ears flatten on his head. For fuck's sake. "Wrong. You can start with what you are."

They step backwards, trying to get away from them, bumping into the wall behind them. Vere moves forward in lockstep. They try to turn, but instead of a way out, they only find his arm, trapping them against the wall.

Finally, they were right where he wanted them.

He reached for them, lifting their chin and forcing them to meet his eyes.

"Would you believe me if I said the eyes are the windows to the soul?" Their eyelid twitched, and he smiled, "Cliche, I know, but let me tell you a little secret..."

He leaned in, close enough for his eyelashes to flutter against their cheek.

"There's nothing you can hide from me."

He was staring straight into their eyes now. Straight into them. Straight into the sweet, agonizing suffering that wrapped around their soul the way a ribbon wrapped around a box of chocolates.

"The betrayal, the loss of hope, the sheer desperation that drives you still to search and search to no end…"

All that from which he listed only came from the more recent suffering they've endured. It was almost like a thick shield, hiding both the true nature of their soul and the strange, seemingly ancient suffering that seemed to be latched deeper in.

"I could give you something new to live for…"

It was a dangerous promise, but it wasn't like they could do anything to force him into keeping it.

They swallowed, skeptical and afraid. He didn't mind their lack of response; it only allowed him to focus on looking deeper.

The ancient strand of suffering was particularly enticing; like nothing he's ever seen before. He could practically feel it trying to pull him closer.

"All that suffering has made your soul so irresistible…"

He searched deeper through the wall of suffering, just trying to catch a better glance at what was being hidden behind all the betrayal.

Then, at last---

A chain clinking as he was escorted through the dim, dank hallway.

A door hinge creaked as a cell was opened, revealing a familiar figure chained to the far wall.

An order to kill.

The sounds of screaming and bones snapping and flesh ripping.

The sound of someone's last breaths

---he had his answer.

He was wrong. This strange, ancient suffering; ancient betrayal… he had seen it before.

He saw it in your eyes as you died in a puddle of your own blood that day.

His blood froze. His heart started to speed up. The fur on his tail began to stick up.

No. No, no. Nonononono---

"Y-You're late… the l-lutist!"

Their---your---panicked little reminder was enough for him to snap out of it.

He blinked, desperately attempting to recompose himself before you noticed anything was off. "Shame."

He let go of your chin and backed away. You slumped against the wall, now gasping for air.

He could only hope he didn't look the same way; frightened, like a rabbit caught in a hunter's snare.

He wracked his brain, trying desperately to find something to say or do that wouldn't give him or any of his emotions away; then he heard Leander' voice, calling out your name, echoing through the empty streets.

Once he noticed that it grabbed your attention, he quietly made his way to the shadowy back end of the alleyway, disappearing into the dark before you could even blink.

-=-=-=-=-=-

He didn't have to run for too long; he knew the city well enough to find somewhere both decently distanced from the alleyway and hidden enough for it to be unlikely for someone to stumble on.

He found himself behind a bakery, trembling; his heart pounding so loud he was almost afraid that the stray cat sleeping in the gutters above him was able to hear it. Chills raced through his blood. His chest heaved from lack of air, but his lungs refused to let any more in. He felt dizzy, and had to slump down to the muddy ground in order to avoid falling over.

He hated this feeling. He could only recall feeling it twice: the first being after he killed you, and the second being when a century had passed without there being even half of a solid chance of real freedom.

Even though he didn't get the feeling often, he still hated it. The fear. The loss of control. The weakness…

He needed to get his shit together. Preferably before his claws accidentally dug deep enough into his arms and drew blood again, since it was too late to stop before he could feel the tears forming.

But no matter how he tried to aim his thoughts into a different direction, they always circled back to you.

You're here.

You're not supposed to be here.

You're here.

You're not supposed to see him like this.

You're here.

You can't be here.

You're here.

You need to get away, they're going to take you again.

You're here.

You need to get away, they're going to make him kill you again.

A trembling, almost manic laughter burst through his gritted teeth, accompanied by breathless sobs.

In the beginning, he wanted nothing more than to see you again. But as time passed, he was happier that he hadn't been able to see you; that you couldn't see him in the state he was in. Nothing more than a particularly exotic and useful pet for some bastards who were too afraid of getting their own hands dirty.

He never did manage to figure out why it was you they ordered him to kill that day; if it was mere coincidence, or if it was intentional.

And if it was intentional, did they already know you were here? Were they already planning to grab you?

He growled involuntarily at the thought; both at the image of them keeping you locked in a cage for them to do as they pleased, and at the fact that he would be powerless to stop it.

And the worst part of it all? For whatever reason, you were apparently planning of walking right into their cruel, merciless hands; desperately searching for something that, apparently, nobody else in this damned city would be able to provide.

Amongst the chaos whirling through his head, he tried to find a solution to your being here:

He could ignore you completely, but somehow he felt like that wouldn't work.

He could try to free himself again, take revenge, and try to fix what he had done to you; heal that betrayal-inflicted wound that he apparently dealt so deep that it still stuck to your soul well over a century and who-knows how many lives later.

He could try to free himself again, take revenge, and then leave you, so that he'd never have to risk hurting you again, and you wouldn't make him weak again.

Or, he could try to free himself again, take revenge, and then devour your soul so that you'd never get to live another life ever again. It would be cruel, sure, and it would probably hurt, too. But somehow, it might just be the most merciful option for both of you…

He focused on these ideas until, finally, he felt his heart stop hammering and his lungs start to take in the appropriate amount of air. He was no longer trembling, though he felt his nerves vibrating as he made himself stand.

He felt restless and his head hurt. He needed to tear into something---into someone---before he made his way back to his dungeon for the night.

He was irritated by the mud clinging to his clothes, hist tail, his hand, and now his face as he wiped the tears from his eyes. But he couldn't bring himself to care about that.

The only thing he could care about right then was his potential plans.

He had no idea what he should do. But he swore to himself that he'd make his choice by tomorrow morning.

For now, it was the best he could do.

< Part Two | Good Ending (WIP) > | Neutral Ending (WIP) > | Bad Ending (WIP) >

[saucerfulofsins]

I haven’t seen any posts comparing Buck’s coming out to Eddie and Tommy breaking up with Buck, which is a shame because the similarities drive me insane.

Or well. I say similarities, but that’s wrong. What I should be saying is: these scenes mirror each other. This post is more about the highlights than shot by shot comparisons – for that, I’d recommend you watch them side by side yourself.

Let’s start with the first and most obvious structural parallel: both scenes happen around 32 minutes into their respective episodes/between two-thirds to three-quarters in.

Now, for the scenes themselves. They follow the same basic outline, which I’ll discuss one by one. I’m following the same structure throughout: I discuss the coming out scene, then the breakup, and then give some analysis. At the end, I’ve included a section on further things of note that I couldn’t neatly fit into this structure and my final thoughts. Is this the first time I’m using the media analysis I was taught during my minor in Arts, Culture and Media with a focus on film in 2019? Yes, yes it is.

Buckle up, because this meta/essay is nearly 3k. For that reason (i.e. accessibility/readability and the amount of work I put in), this entire piece has been cross-post to AO3 (CLICK FOR LINK).

Opening shots

Seating 1.0

Buck in the kitchen

Seating 2.0

POV shots (both perspectives)

Eddie and Tommy leaving

Miscellany

Final thoughts

Analysis under the cut:

1. Opening shots

This part includes some of the most noticeable differences between the scenes, which explains why they feel different – at least at first.

CO: Eddie’s phone comes into view first – this is his chat conversation with Marisol, which the first part of the CO scene is about (note how this mirrors the gym scene, where Buck intended to come out before the conversation lingered on Eddie and Marisol). Eddie is also closest to the door during this part of the scene – which is where he will remain throughout.

BU: The first shot is of a closed door, which Buck opens for Tommy, i.e. Tommy certainly has no keys to Buck’s place, and this might well be a callback to doors as a recurrent theme. They greet with the briefest kiss possible. I rewatched this several times to make sure it really happened – it happens immediately after a cut and it’s filmed in such a way this could easily have been an air kiss lmao. (No seriously, I had to watch this screen by screen to properly catch it, and the audio is a lot more obvious than the visual). They make small talk about the movies and Tommy having ordered an uber (clearly a throwback to 7x05), and they switch positions so Buck is actually closest to the door.

As for clear similarities: Eddie and Tommy are standing up and remain mostly in the same place; Buck is moving around the loft – it’s an expression of his nervous energy, and the major changes in these scenes are about Buck, not Eddie or Tommy.

2. Sitting down

I made this a separate point for one reason, and one reason only: In CO, Eddie takes his own initiative to sit down, while saying he should go home and Buck offering him a beer, so clearly he won’t be leaving to go home any time soon(ilu Eddie but I’m begging you, stop putting yourself and also us through this 😭). In BU, Buck tells Tommy to sit down... which is in part to signal they need a more serious talk than can be done on the way to the cinema, but also shows a massive contrast in terms of familiarity and comfort, regardless of what Buck tries to tell Tommy later.

Both Eddie and Tommy sit down on the leftmost stool (closest to the door, i.e. it’s easiest for them to leave and Buck can’t get between them).

3. Buck in the kitchen

Fun fact! Before writing this post, I checked the scene where Buck confesses to Taylor that he kissed Lucy. During that scene, Buck is sitting down at the kitchen island, while Taylor lingers in the kitchen proper (i.e. with the island between them). She has moved in at that point – kitchens represent ‘being at home’ – but there’s a physical barrier between her and Buck, and it doesn’t actually keep from her leaving (even while saying she has nowhere to go).

CO: The camera uses a dolly shot to follow Buck throughout the kitchen – to the fridge and then back to the head of the kitchen island. He’s attentively listening to Eddie complain about Marisol and God watching him have sex (cursing God while sluttily drinking his beer).

BU: Buck walks out of view of the camera, through the kitchen, and there’s a dolly shot to the right to focus on Buck finding his place on the head of the kitchen island. He leans on the counter at this point. He does have a pretty open posture (identical to CO); Tommy sits with his hands/fingers folded together but he’s turned to Buck i.e. paying attention.

This is the position Buck has when he comes clear to Tommy about having dated Abby in the past; it’s also when his phone comes into the picture. Well. Pictures. Of Buck and Abby.

4. Seating 2.0

This is the longest section of analysis, and contains the part that makes me SCREAM but let’s start at the beginning. From the moment Buck sits down, the conversation turns serious in both scenes. This dialogue consists of mostly POV shots (which I will discuss next), and these medium shots that show Buck and Eddie, and Buck and Tommy.

CO: Buck sits down while Eddie says, “You and Tommy have the right idea, stay single.” This very clearly introduces a new section of the scene. Overall, the lighting of the loft is muted besides the yellow for visual interest and gay Eddie, thank you for your hard work Buddie colour theorists. Buck’s dining table is unlit and barely visible, so the space really takes a back seat and allows us to focus on Buck and Eddie. Please take note of the chair between them – this serves as a physical barrier, where someone is getting between them (a place for Marisol and Tommy, respectively).

BU: Here, the segway happens right after Buck’s come clear about being Abby’s ex 2.0. He sits down on the middle chair, but it’s quite obvious he’s shoved it away from Tommy. In fact, compared to CO, Buck is almost at the same distance from Tommy as he is from Eddie. There’s a barrier between Buck and Eddie, but there’s space between him and Tommy. This is emphasized by the lit dining table, which draws even more attention because of the white decorations: the loft is a space to be distracted by, focus on or even flee into.

Now. This is what kickstarted my obsession with these scenes, especially the coming out scene. The chair between them? Buck reaches out to Eddie, leans his arm onto it and in the process drawing attention to it. He actually leaves his arm there for an extended period, throughout several of the following shots, and only seems to pull back when he says he and Tommy were on a date.

The following shots – of Buck’s coming out and Eddie’s initial response – are back and forth POV shots. The first shot from medium distance, is this:

Do you see it. DO YOU SEE IT. Do you see what drives me crazy! Eddie is mirroring Buck’s earlier posture – also this is immediately after Buck says Tommy left him on the curb (i.e. Eddie realizes there’s no Tommy getting between them). Eddie’s not just opened up, he’s reaching out, extending his arm back onto that empty chair between them. And again, like Buck, he leaves it there for several shots. It’s still there when he tells Buck to call Tommy, although he briefly vaguely gestures to himself during the “He’ll love you! We all do!” It’s not clear when he takes his arm away; no shots show it and then he’s getting up.

This just. This drives me insane.

For comparison, Buck doesn’t reach out to Tommy during the BU scene. And, compare Tommy to Eddie:

5. POV shots

Okay, the section header is a bit of a misnomer because the scene consists mostly of dialogue and therefore has POV shots. Like I said, there’s also overlap between the POV shots and the wider establishing shots I used in section 4. The bulk of this part of the scene, however, shows a lot of over the shoulder close ups with quick POV switches. In both cases, this is where the subject at the heart of the scene is discussed.

Now, these differences are pretty small and they could be a consequence of these episodes having different directors. However, there’s zero doubt in my mind that Chad Lowe closely studied the CO scene for its sheer number of cinematographic parallels and therefore it might be entirely on purpose too YAY.

There’s some variation in the distance of these shots, but the most intimate ones look like this:

(Still not over that face he’s pulling here, dear Lord). Buck takes up most of the screen – his shoulders are visible, but the top of his head isn’t. I guess this is technically still an over the shoulder shot, but barely. Eddie is out of focus, just enough there to be a blurry ear. These shots are intimate. This is almost what Eddie is seeing – and actually these shots make it feel like they’re sitting a lot closer than they actually are.

"Until now.” Buck’s entire face (including hair) is in the shot, and we can see Tommy’s shirt. This is the closest/most intimate we get to see him (and Tommy, in reverse). For both sides, they’re very clear over the shoulder shots. Yes, this is intimate – but it is not intimate. A quarter to a third of the screen (esp as the conversation moves on) is dedicated to the other person. Buck is more visually interesting too. He has more colour in his face and his background is more clearly white than in CO, whereas Tommy blends in more with the brown coat rack background (shout-out to @sparklespiff for pointing out that difference while I was trying to figure out why Buck felt more noticeable, btw).

SIDENOTE: I know some posts have already been made about the pictures on Buck’s fridge and Eddie’s mantelpiece, like they seem thematically relevant (or perhaps not yet, but soon). Buck’s walls in general have more pictures on them in S8, which is evident both in Buck’s background and Tommy’s. I am nowhere near talented enough to identify them, but going by their general colour and composition, I believe all of Buck’s wall art pieces are that, art, not family photos.

6. Eddie and Tommy leaving

These scenes have some of the clearest parallels, and of course an incredibly clear difference in how Eddie and Tommy are leaving Buck.

CO: Eddie leaves not because of Buck (well, not technically), but because he has to go do something: “I gotta go talk to Marisol.” Buck is smiling while Eddie gets up and is on his way out. Of course, this is when Eddie stops, turns around, and Buck looks up. In fact, Eddie says “Come here” but he’s the one to walk up to Buck to give him a hug. Buck just stands up from the chair. During the hug, we get shots of both Eddie’s and Buck’s faces, and of course Eddie holding Buck’s shoulder. When Eddie leaves, we hear the door open and shut – the focus stays on Buck.

Again, when Tommy leaves, we only hear the door while the camera cuts to Buck. The show then picks up his response (with the same expression) during his arrival at Eddie’s, where Eddie lets him into his home.

BU: Of course, Tommy has nowhere he needs to go to (hello, return of the failed cinema date) – when he says “I should go” it is because of his conversation with Buck. There’s a medium wide shot of him getting up while Buck looks confused, looking like he’s about to reach out for Tommy – the first time during their conversation. The camera uses a slow dolly to the left, which is when Buck calls back Tommy to ask for clarification: “Did you just break up with me?” Tommy says, “Yeah, I guess I just did.” This has been pointed out before, but they’re clearly not sure. Tommy also says, “Believe me, I didn’t see it coming either.” (Was LFJ speaking from Tommy’s perspective in that interview?). That line is fascinating, actually, because only moments ago, he was incredibly adamant about being Buck’s first, not his last. This feels like a throwback to “Enjoy it while it lasts,” leaving them both overwhelmed/confused.

Look at how similar these shots are! Also, the reason I was adamant about calling these scenes mirrors and not parallels is because Buck and Tommy greet each other with a moment of physical affection (which, as I mentioned before, is incredibly short and barely visible). Eddie wouldn’t have ordinarily but feels it’s important to hug Buck to show him nothing has changed. In terms of meaning and cinematography, their interaction is a lot more substantial and reciprocal. They’re also making sure to leave on good terms – whereas Buck and Tommy meet on good terms, but part essentially as strangers. Buck and Tommy ending the scene like truly feels like an end. Buck and Eddie’s scene feels like a significant shift in their relationship, and for me part of that is a result of Eddie hugging Buck, and shaking up their routine.

7. Miscellany

Just some bits and bobs I couldn’t fit elsewhere in the analysis!

“I like him too. Just not the same way as you.” 7x05 was truly out there foreshadowing 8x06’s “I am not gay.” (I want to do a full 7x04 + 7x05 parallels post at some point, but that’s going to be a fuckload of work and possibly even larger than this post).

Like I pointed out, Buck and Eddie drink beer during their scene (which they often do during their conversations). Buck and Tommy are breaking up without accoutrements. Of course, we know Buck brings over beer to Eddie after the breakup. Because the scenes mirror each other so closely in every other aspect, it feels incredibly poignant: Eddie again fills a role in Buck’s life Tommy should have had. I also figured I’d check their fake brands, and they are different labels. I would assume Buck brought a new flavour, considering Eddie’s looks.

Speaking of continuity, Buck opening the door to Tommy in a sense mirrors Eddie opening the door to Buck at the end of 8x06. The key differences in their cinematography is that during BU, the establishing shot of the entire scene is of the closed door without a peephole shot. When Eddie opens the door, it follows his Risky Business tribute so the door takes up less presence, and even when it’s closed, Buck is clearly visible through the peephole.

Phones clearly are connected to (past) female love interests; Eddie is interacting with Marisol but it’s through text and impersonal – we don’t see the messages, we just hear Eddie complain. On the other hand, Buck is out of contact with Abby but he still treasures that relationship – otherwise he wouldn’t still have those pictures on his phone after 7 years. I guess that’s kind of cute? Idk, I never really liked Abby or how she treated Buck, but Tommy’s speech has turned me into an Abby defender lol

Like Buck, Maddie also stands at the head of the kitchen island during her conversation with Chimney. Chimney’s in the kitchen proper, though, and Maddie walks up to him so they can actually stand face to face and be happy about the new pregnancy together! (I genuinely missed that scene the first time I watched the episode, I was so caught up in the bones of it all SORRY MADNEY I LOVE YOU FOREVER).

8. Final thoughts

I mean. Are we really surprised? I’m not! Actually that’s a lie. I saw the similarities but was shocked at just how close these scenes are in full. However,I do think this scene in particular does a lot to show just how deliberate these parallels between S7 and S8 are (and between S8 and previous seasons in general – we’ve seen similar/near identical cinematography a couple of times now), and how deliberate the parallels are between Eddie and Tommy (who are literally taking up the same position in these two scenes).

And just. The fact it’s the coming out scene between Buck and Eddie, which was about opening up & telling the truth, and it doesn’t change anything (allegedly), versus Buck and Tommy, which is about opening up & telling the truth, which changes everything... it reaffirms how I feel about the coming out scene – this is a major moment of change, and that change is deeply entwined with their respective romantic relationships. AAAAAAAAAAHHH!!

[tactical-jellyfish]

Breakup day drabble! (Part one: Johnny)

I missed Valentines day, I know. I planned to feed you guys but I ended up sleeping fourteen hours almost consecutively. Sorry gang, my bad.

This is gonna be a longer drabble, split into parts for each Tf141 member (and others, if requested and I can write for them), and one final poly breakup (separate from the others, obvi). I haven't fed y'all and I feel like an absent father lmao

Warnings!: Big sad. Yelling (it is VERY regretted), terrible boyfriends (all four of them are fumbling the bag like CRAZZYY)

Also I wrote this tired as fuck, so if I made any oopsies here, absolutely correct me <3

You've got no issue with a little fire in a partner. In fact, it's something you've come to seek out as you grew up.

It's only logical, isn't it? You need someone who can keep up, someone who's not going to be holding you back from getting orders out of the way.

Work hard, play harder.

Of course, you liked Johnny for many more reasons than just that one.

He was an absolute sap at just the right state of drowsiness, he drew you like you were a downright deity, he... he really fucking cared.

You didn't regret making it official, getting to know damn well that Scot was yours when the day was over and it was time to sleep.

That being said, every relationship has its rocky patches, and you've got the feeling you're about to be in the middle of an ugly one.

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

You don't regret making the call. Not even a little bit.

This mission wouldn't have made time if you hadn't buckled down and pointedly ignored both Johns in your headset calling you a moron in a strained whisper from cover.

The objective was secured. There were a good chunk less terrorists in the world because you put them down. A little gash in your side, but that's no issue, so you'd deem it successful.

Unfortunately, Johnny doesn't seem to think the same way. You can feel the roiling, stirred-up and not calming back down like usual.

You let him stew on the flight back to base, quietly bandaging your own wound with a small antiseptic wipe Gaz had wordlessly put into your hand when he first saw you trotting up.

Price is tired, but he's not as upset as he used to get over this sort of stunt from you. It's a fatherly sort of exhaustion, you're half-sure at some point he said that you're giving him gray hairs.

You earned three days' work cleaning the bathrooms for snorting, but no more. You would have earned many more days if you asked if he was finally going soft, even if he was.

Still, after a few hours, Johnny doesn't seem to have cooled down. He's pointedly silent, fuming in his little corner.

It takes a special sort of bitchiness to make Ghost look like a put-together, social man. You've long accepted that your man is a little bit of a child on occasion.

So, as any reasonable partner would, you leave it alone. Let Johnny sort though these feelings, because you know he doesn't want to hear it from you right now. If he wanted to talk, he could ask.

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

Well, lo and behold, it only took five hours.

The knocks on your door are familiar. A three-beat rap-tap-tapping. Firmer than usual.

"Luv? You ready to talk about it now?"

You open the door to a sight. Not a great one, mostly because you know it shouldn't make you giggle a little.

A grown-ass man. Not just that, a sergeant, pouting.

"Bayonet."

He must see the way your brows pinch at your callsign being used instead of your name, but Johnny doesn't do a thing to stop himself.

"Are ye feckin' stupid, or jus' having a little craic on the clock?"

"Callsigns stay at work, Johnny. Unless you've got full intentions of this being a professional meeting."

That long-standing agreement was something you really did like. Johnny had agreed to use it a long time ago, and the only lapses (before this one, of course) were simple mistakes, easy to excuse and forgive.

"Och, this is professional alright, what the fuck were ye thinking?!"

His voice is raising, but it brings no fear, just annoyance.

"If I have to remind you, it worked. We wouldn't have made it back to Nik on the clock if I hadn't. No major injuries, either."

Johnny's starting to fume. His brows are knitting together, usually-bright face drawing down into some ugly mixture of anger and something else you don't quite have a word for right now.

"Are ye actually-"

"MacTavish, it fucking worked. I only take risks when I know it's something I can handle, and frankly, if you're upset about me doing my job, then you should handle it the way we agreed to handle it."

Calmly. Slowly working through the issue, training together, anythinig as long as it wasn't a screaming match or a contest. Not this.

"You're a fucking liability is what I'm trying to tell you! Your callsign is Bayonet fer a feckin' reason, you daft cunt!"

You're not sure who made him think he could talk to you like this, but he just. Keeps. Going. It makes your chest heat to a fever, though you keep your face measuredly ice-cold, flat so Johnny can't gleam anything from your expression.

"Ye're a gamble at best, a last resort, ye should'ave stayed off the line an' let someone else handle it! Ye got hurt because you dinnae listen to th' orders!"

Ohhhhh, that's not professional anymore. A slight on your own callsign, when he wasn't even there to see you earn it.

Asshole.

"Watch it, Soap." Is the only warning you can bring yourself to offer, glaring into those baby blue eyes with the vitriol provoked by the man before you.

"Nae, ah'm not gonnae watch it! Ye pull shite like this, an' I have to come o'er an' pretend I wannae patch yer stupid arse back up!"

You've never been in the business of cutting someone off before they can finish their sentences, but you're starting to doubt your ability to be civil.

Soap's refusing to meet you on any agreed-upon grounds, he's not separating your relationship from work and that's a slippery slope.

And you're fucking upset. This anger isn't something you can tamp down, it's the worst kind.

The sort that twists you in the guts and makes your eyes hot. The sort that makes a headache sparkle to life and the small wound in your side throb and ooze into the bandages a little bit more.

The sort that makes you want to scream. But you won't do that. Not to Soap.

"This isn't how we agreed to handle conflicts. Come back when you can sort your feelings enough to keep yourself from screaming."

Icy, you know it is, but Soap grabs the door before you can finish.

"Close this fucking door on me, and I will skin you." The threat rings hollow. Oddly similar to the sound of the plywood door sliding shut.

Soap moves his fingers away just before they gain a set of new joints in all the wrong places.

There's a frustrated growl, and a series of footsteps thumping away, in the direction of the gym.

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

You slept awfully that night.

The frustrated tears cleared easy, but the anger itself didn't, because really, how dare he. Showing up to your space, calling you a dunce, and breaking the most fundamental rule of your relationship.

Luckily, a small ping pulls you from the continuation of this spiral. A text from one Kyle "Gaz" Garrick.

What did you put up Soap's arse? Just asking.

You snort.

Nothing. Reckon he'd be in a better mood if I had.

The three dots appear, vanish, reappear before you get a response.

He's being a cunt today. Think you should steer clear.

That dampens the mood a bit, but again, it's not too far from your expectation. Johnny had his feelings big, and loud. It was honestly overwhelming sometimes, but you'd learned to handle it over time.

You hated it most when he made issues he had with you a team issue.

Girls' night then? I got that oil for your hair

...I'll bring the bonnets

You smile despite yourself, and rise from bed to get yourself ready for an easy day.

Unfortunately, the next notification is one you miss until you come back to your room, exhausted but satisfied after writing the mission's postmortem.

I'm done wie yer shite

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

Most of the "girls' night" Kyle wanted to share with you is making sure you don't cry so hard you pull your stitches.

[strwberri-milk]

Not sure if you take these types of requests but oh well. (Jokes aside, please tell me if this is not something you’re usually open to doing)

What would Xavier, Sylus, and Caleb do if reader tried to back away from the relationship/avoid them altogether because they see themselves as the men’s vulnerabilities. What I mean is, for instance, all 3 of these men have a very harsh and demanding job in a world where showing the slightest vulnerability can lead to their fall from grace. For instance, if Xavier prioritised reader’s safety over his mission (or his own), it may lead to a catastrophe (assuming they couldn’t eliminate the wanderer). If word got out that Sylus had a lover, people could try and abduct them to squeeze Onychinus of all their resources. Same goes for Caleb. If people find out that the Colonel has a weakness, they’d exploit it to initiate his downfall.

Knowing this, what if reader tried to back away and disappear because they truly care for the men and don’t want to become a weakness that would drag the men down from their lives?

[I know it’s otome and you could imagine the men would change their jobs for reader’s sake, but I’d like to think realistically. Xavier is protecting Linkon, Sylus is protecting the N109 zone and I doubt he’d let the legacy he worked so hard to create fall because of this, and Skyhaven’s fate and his own kinda relies on how smoothly he executes his duties. I heavily doubt that realistically speaking, they’d just let it all crumble for reader]

SORRY IF I YAP ALOT!!

i do take requests like this but i also approach stuff like this more like a discussion LMAO

i do think otome logic would just. make them change their jobs LMAO but like. i like the fact that you want me to approach it realistically so im gonna tackle that too

in my head, i do think realistically all of them BUT caleb would quit which acc i talked abuot this here (this post speaks to their jobs more as moral objections but i also kinda was vague so it still applies here in my head)

i think tho sylus lowk would just become more brutal and i can see caleb doing the same thing. its like, deterrant to stop people from trying to nap you - think about it. if kidnapping you means brutal death no matter how unharmed you are then the cost of kidnapping you is severely outweighed by jsut awnting to stay alive. i think basiaclly like, people could try it or try to make threats against your life and then they end up with a hand in their mail or something thats just. horrifying happening to them and all they did was look at you funny

xavier i think would be able to beat up anything bc hes pretty strong + has been doing this for a long time but he definitely would chosoe you over the lives of others every time. you know this and you could try to leave him bc of it but honestly breaking up with him does nothing he'd STILL choose you over others

you have to rmr that the main crux of their conflict is truly how in love they are with you, meaning that i do think that while none of them would straight up quit their job, they may resort to dramatic measures to keep you. he wont want to let you go. i dont think theyd let it crumble but also, you breaking up with them doesn't really change anything bc their goal is ultimaetly to keep you safe and at his side.

i thiiiink that like. for these three in particular, hes willing to let things fall if it means protecting you. zayne and rafayel are a little different - rafayel DID choose you over lemuria but idealstically i do think hed rather have both. zayne i think wouldnt erally be in a position to need to choose you over something else but i also think he would never let himself be put in a position like that and would rather take himself out lolol

[jungkoode]

OFF-LABELS | O5

→ PAIRING : Med Student!Hoseok x F!Reader (Brother’s Best Friend AU)

→ RATING: Explicit, 18+.

→ DATE POSTED: February 18th, 2025. (Hobi’s birthday special — 2 chapters! <3)

→ SUMMARY: You’ve spent four years convincing yourself that your brother’s best friend is just being nice when he remembers your coffee order, quizzes you on neuroanatomy, or lets his touch linger a second too long. Because there’s no way that the golden boy of Seoul National’s medical program might actually be flirting with you. Especially when he keeps saying things that could be perfectly innocent… if only he didn’t say them in that voice.

→ TAGS: second person perspective, female reader, medical school au, brother’s best friend trope, age gap (4 years), pining, touch starved, overthinking reader, confident hoseok, gentle dom hoseok, medical terminology as flirting (lmao), study sessions, domestic moments, innocent (but not really), plausible deniability king hoseok, anxiety, internal monologue, guilty crushes, subtle teasing, emotional edging, gentle manipulation, praise kink undertones, intellectual attraction, competency kink, hand fixation, voice kink, medical intern hoseok, first year med student reader, home setting, casual intimacy, unresolved sexual tension (for now), secret attraction, nervous rambling, self-doubt, intrusive thoughts, anatomy lessons with ulterior motives, competent hoseok, flustered reader, close proximity, accidental touches that aren’t accidents, virgin!reader.

→ CONTENT in this chapter: After-hours anatomy lab demonstrations, oral examinations taken to new extremes, medical supervision that's definitely not just supervision, educational objectives getting thoroughly derailed, practical assessments of oral capacity, and empirical proof that some lessons are better taught hands-on | after hours encounters, anatomy lab setting, oral examinations, size kink, medical supervision, practical demonstrations, educational roleplay, academic authority, late night studying, clinical instruction, private tutoring, teaching kink, clinical corruption, throat training, oral capacity testing, deepthroating, oral sex (m).

→ MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQ | WORDCOUNT: 2k

→ MINI SERIES: PREVIOUS | NEXT

→ A/N: So… this happened. Started writing a normal anatomy lab scene and somehow ended up with… whatever this is. Shoutout to everyone who's ever stayed late in a lab for "extra credit" - this one's for you. Also, apologies to actual medical professionals - I promise I'll stop corrupting medical terminology eventually. (No I won't.) Anyway, if you need me, I'll be in confession.

PLAYLIST

The anatomy lab in SNU Medical's west building feels different after hours. 

The place where he assists Professor Kim with first-year dissections now seems more intimate without thirty other students around.

Emptier. 

Like a liminal space where normal rules don't quite apply. 

The preserved specimens float in their jars, casting distorted shadows under fluorescent lights that seem too bright, too stark without the buffer of other students.

You hesitate in the doorway, fingers curling around the strap of your bag. The clock reads 6:47 PM. Late enough that most faculty have left, early enough that the cleaning staff hasn't arrived.

Perfect timing. 

(Too perfect?)

Hoseok looks up from the desk, glasses reflecting blue light from his laptop screen. His smile is warm, welcoming—the kind that makes you forget why you've been avoiding this.

"There you are." He closes his laptop with a soft click. "I was starting to think you'd skip again."

Heat crawls up your neck. "I wouldn't—"

"No?" His head tilts, curious. "Three weeks of creative excuses suggest otherwise."

You clutch your bag tighter. "That wasn't—I mean, I had—"

"Commitments?" The word curves around his mouth like he's tasting it. "Other obligations? A sudden bout of seasonal allergies?"

Your face burns hotter. You had used that excuse last week.

"I—"

"Relax, Chip." He stands, rolling up his sleeves with methodical precision. "I'm not upset."

But there's something in his voice—something that makes your stomach twist even as he maintains that gentle smile.

He gestures to the empty lab bench.

"How's the paper coming along?"

You blink. "What?"

"Your vagus nerve study." He moves closer, each step measured. "The one requiring... practical assessment."

Oh.

Oh.

"It's—" Your voice cracks. "Fine. Good. I mean—"

"Citations?" 

You nod too quickly. "Working on them."

"Mm." He's closer now, close enough that you catch the faint scent of antiseptic and something warmer underneath. "Still need to conduct those clinical trials?"

Your lungs forget how to function. Because he can't mean—he doesn't mean—

"The gag reflex data," he clarifies, innocent as morning. "We never finished collecting your baseline measurements."

You should say no.

You should absolutely say no.

Instead, you hear yourself whisper: "I thought—the lab equipment—"

"Is right here." He reaches past you—so close his chest almost brushes yours—and opens a drawer. The metal tongue depressor catches the light. "Unless you'd prefer a different method?"

"No!" Too loud. Too fast. "This is—this is fine."

His smile softens at the edges. "Hop up then."

You stare at the lab bench. It's higher than the exam table in his office, cold steel instead of crinkly paper.

Your thighs will definitely stick to it.

(Why are you thinking about your thighs?)

"I can grab a stool," he offers, reading your hesitation wrong. Always wrong. "Though the height differential might affect data collection."

You shake your head and boost yourself onto the bench. The metal is freezing through your thin scrubs, making you shiver. Or maybe that's just him—standing between your knees now, adjusting his glasses with one hand while the other tests the depressor's weight.

"Cold?"

You shake your head again. Lie again.

"Your skin suggests otherwise." His knuckle brushes your jaw, clinical and devastating. "Goosebumps."

You can't breathe.

"Open," he murmurs, and you do—automatically, embarrassingly fast. His thumb settles at the corner of your mouth. "Wider."

The metal slides past your lips, cool and smooth and nothing like what you've been imagining late at night when you can't sleep. Not that you've been imagining anything. Not that you've been thinking about his hands or his voice or—

"Focus, Chip." The depressor presses deeper. "You're distracted."

You make a strangled sound that might be denial.

"Breathing's irregular." His thumb shifts, almost slipping past your teeth. "Try to relax. Like last time."

Last time.

Last time, when you'd gone home and touched yourself until your fingers cramped, thinking about his voice saying good girl and his thumb so close to—

"Swallow."

You do. Your throat works around the intrusion as his eyes track the movement.

"Again."

Saliva pools under your tongue, threatening to spill. You swallow harder, fighting the urge to gag as the depressor slides deeper.

"Remarkable improvement." His voice stays perfectly level even as his thumb edges closer to your tongue. "Your oral cavity seems more... receptive today."

You whimper.

"Pain?" Always concerned. Always gentle.

You shake your head minutely.

"Then what?" His glasses slip slightly as he leans closer, examining your reaction. "Excess stimulation?"

You can't answer with your mouth full. Can't tell him that you're thinking about other things that might stretch your throat this way. Can't admit that you've been practicing with your own fingers, trying to suppress your gag reflex for reasons that have nothing to do with medicine and everything to do with the way he's looking at you right now.

"Your pulse is elevated." His free hand finds your wrist, thumb pressing against your racing heartbeat. "We should document these physiological responses. For research purposes."

The depressor shifts angle slightly, and you—

You moan.

The sound echoes in the empty lab, bouncing off specimen jars and steel surfaces. Mortification floods your system as Hoseok goes very, very still.

"Interesting," he breathes, and something shifts in his expression—pupils expanding until only a thin ring of brown remains. His throat works as he swallows, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

The depressor pushes deeper.

"Let's... test your limits." His voice sounds different—rougher, like it's being dragged over gravel. "See how much you can take."

You whimper as the metal hits the back of your throat. Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes, but you don't pull away. Can't pull away. Not when he's looking at you like that—intense, focused, hungry.

(No. Not hungry. Clinical. This is clinical.)

"Good girl," he murmurs, the words falling heavy between you. "Just like that."

Your vision blurs as you gag around the intrusion. His thumb catches a tear tracking down your cheek, the touch impossibly gentle.

"Breathe through your nose." His own breathing sounds uneven, which is... strange. Hoseok is never uneven. Never anything but perfectly controlled. "Focus on relaxing your throat."

You try. You try. But all you can focus on is the way his chest rises and falls too quickly, the slight tremor in his usually steady hands.

"Perhaps..." He withdraws the depressor slowly, watching your lips drag along the metal. "We should try something different."

Your heart stops.

"Different?"

His teeth catch his lower lip—a gesture so uncharacteristically uncertain it makes your stomach flip.

"Something more... anatomically appropriate."

Heat pools low in your belly. Because he can't mean—

"The depressor's angle is too rigid," he continues, setting it aside. "We need something with more... give."

You're going to die. You're actually going to die right here on this lab bench.

"What—" Your voice cracks. "What did you have in mind?"

His eyes drop to your mouth. "Something longer. Thicker." His thumb traces your lower lip. "Something that can... adapt to your oral cavity."

You can't breathe.

"For accurate data collection," he adds softly, but his voice has that breathless quality you've never heard before. "If you're willing to participate in a more... thorough examination."

Your thighs press together unconsciously. His gaze tracks the movement, pupils blown so wide they look almost black behind his glasses.

"I—" You swallow hard. "Yes."

"Yes?" 

"For... for science."

His smile is different now—darker, hungrier. "For science," he echoes, stepping closer between your spread knees. "Then open your mouth, Chip."

You do.

His thumb slips past your lips.

It rests heavy on your tongue, pad rough against sensitive flesh. You stay frozen, unsure, until his voice drops to a whisper:

"Suck."

The command shivers through you. You close your lips around the digit, drawing it deeper as his other hand grips the edge of the lab bench. The metal creaks under his white-knuckled grip.

"Good," he breathes, watching your mouth work with half-lidded eyes. "Just like that."

His breathing grows heavier as you hollow your cheeks, tongue testing its path around the pad of his thumb. A muscle jumps in his jaw—it’s the only tell he’s not fully unaffected as his expression suggests.

"Your oral fixation is..." His voice catches as you try sucking harder. "...remarkably developed."

You whimper around his thumb, heat pooling between your thighs at the strain in his voice. His free hand moves to his belt, the buckle clinking softly in the quiet lab.

The metallic clink makes your breath catch. His eyes flick over his shoulder, landing on the chair by his desk. A soft chuckle escapes him as he gestures toward it.

"Perhaps we should continue somewhere more... comfortable?"

Your thighs clench involuntarily. 

Is this happening? Is this actually happening?

He raises an eyebrow, waiting for your response. You nod—too eager, too fast, probably looking desperate but you can't bring yourself to care because holy fuck this is real.

The belt slides free with a whisper of leather. He settles into the chair with easy grace, legs spreading to make space for you. Your knees hit the floor before he can even ask, positioning yourself between his thighs like you belong there.

His cock strains against his slacks as he works open his fly. You stare, transfixed, as he frees himself.

Oh.

Oh god.

Your mouth goes dry.

Because he's—he's huge. Thick and long and already leaking at the tip. Your hands look tiny where they rest on his thighs, and the thought of fitting him in your mouth makes you dizzy with want.

"Having second thoughts?" His voice stays gentle even as his cock twitches under your gaze.

You shake your head frantically. "No, I just—" Your voice cracks. "You're... big."

His thumb traces your lower lip. "We'll go slow. Test your limits gradually."

You sigh softly, leaning into his touch as his other hand wraps around his base. The sight of his surgical fingers barely meeting around his girth makes your cunt clench.

"Ready for your practical exam, Chip?"

You lean forward, tongue darting out to taste the precum beading at his tip. His breath hitches almost imperceptibly.

"Start shallow," he instructs, voice remarkably steady despite the way his cock jumps against your lips. "Focus on breathing through your nose."

You obey, wrapping your lips around his head. The taste is heady—salt and skin and him. His hand cups the back of your head, not pushing, just resting there as you take him deeper.

"Good girl." His thumb strokes behind your ear. "Now hollow your cheeks—yes, just like that. Notice how your soft palate accommodates the intrusion?"

You whimper around his length, the clinical terminology somehow making this filthier. His glasses fog slightly as his breathing grows heavier.

"Careful with your teeth," he murmurs, removing his frames. His eyes look darker without them, pupils blown wide as he watches you struggle to take more. "Use your tongue along the—ah—along the ventral surface."

Your jaw already aches from the stretch, but you press forward eagerly, wanting to please him. Wanting to be good. Drool escapes the corner of your mouth as you bob your head.

"Perfect form," he praises, voice growing rougher. "Though your technique could use... refinement."

You pull back to catch your breath, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his cock. "Show me?"

His hand tightens in your hair. "Eager student." His thumb wipes saliva from your chin. "Okay. Let's test your gag reflex properly now."

You stare at his length, anxiety bubbling in your throat. "I don't—I don't know if that’s going to fit—"

"Hm?" His eyebrow lifts, expression mildly puzzled. "That's unlike you. Don't you always aim for perfect scores?"

Heat floods your face as he cups your cheek, thumb pressing at the corner of your mouth.

"Think of this as another practical exam, Chip." His voice carries that familiar teaching lilt. "Open wide."

You comply, jaw stretching as his thumbs press into your cheeks, guiding your mouth wider. His cock nudges your lips, hot and heavy.

"One inch..." He slides in slowly, watching your lips stretch around him. "Good. Just like that."

Your tongue flattens to accommodate him as he pushes deeper.

"Two..." His thumb wipes away drool from your chin. "Excellent oral cavity expansion."

Three inches in and your jaw already aches. He tuts softly.

"Three... Remember your breathing exercises."

You whimper as he continues, your hands clutching his thighs for stability.

"Four..." He pauses, stroking your hair. "Halfway there."

Your eyes snap up to his in panic. Halfway? That can't be right. You're already so full, your mouth stretched impossibly wide, and he's saying there's more?

"Five..." His voice grows rougher. "You're doing so well."

By the sixth inch, you're gagging, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Your throat spasms around him as you fight the urge to pull back.

"That's cute," he murmurs, thumb catching a tear. "You’re struggling, aren’t you? Ah—don't pull away. You can take it."

You whine, chest heaving as he holds you steady.

"Two more inches, Chip." His tone is gentle but firm. "You can handle that, can't you? Wouldn't want to disappoint me."

You make a desperate sound of agreement, even as your throat protests.

"That's what I thought." His fingers card through your hair. "Seven..."

Your vision blurs with tears as he pushes deeper, your throat stretching to accommodate his girth. Drool runs down your chin, but he doesn't seem to mind, just wipes it away with tender attention.

"Just one more," he breathes, voice finally showing strain. "Almost there. You're being so good for me..."

His thumb traces your stretched lip, pushing down slightly as you struggle to accommodate more. The burn is delicious—your jaw protesting as he inches forward. Saliva keeps pooling below your tongue, carving paths down your chin.

"Tsk." He clicks his tongue softly. "Swallow first. Need to keep the airway clear."

His palm settles against your throat, feeling it work as you obey. The contact makes you fuzzy—his surgical fingers spanning your neck, monitoring your every swallow.

For the first time, his exhale sounds unsteady. Sharp. Almost accidental.

"Good girl." The praise makes your eyelashes flutter. "Now—"

His hips shift minutely, cock head pressing against the back of your throat. You gag instantly, tears springing up.

"Angle your chin." His voice stays gentle despite the roughness creeping in. "Opens the passage."

You tilt your head back, letting him guide you with careful fingers. The new angle lets him slide deeper, breaching your throat properly. Your eyes water immediately, gag reflex fighting against the intrusion.

"Breathe," he reminds you, but his own breath catches when you hollow your cheeks. "Through your nose. Steady."

You try. You try. But it's so much—too much—your nostrils flaring as he pushes that final inch past your lips. A choked sound escapes around his girth.

His thumb catches another tear. "Almost there. Just relax..."

Your nose brushes his abdomen as the final inch disappears. He holds you there, thumb stroking your distended throat.

“Perfect depth achievement,” he notes clinically. “How does that feel? Tap my thigh once for manageable, twice for overwhelming.”

You tap twice, desperately.

“Mm.” His smile curves like a scalpel. “We’ll work on your endurance.” His hips roll slightly, testing. “Now… let’s practice sustained accommodation.”

The door’s distant rattle barely registers—you’re too focused on not choking as he begins to move. 

“Look at you, stuffed full like a cream puff about to burst.”

You whine, the sound muffled by his cock stretching your throat impossibly wide.

"Shh." His touch remains gentle even as your eyes stream. "We'll practice until you get it right."

Your tongue tentatively explores his length, tracing the prominent vein on his underside. His composure fractures—just for a moment—as he hisses through his teeth.

"Christ—" His fingers pull your hair suddenly, holding you still as his hips stutter. "No sudden movements, Chip. You'll choke."

But his own control is slipping. His thrusts grow erratic—shallow, desperate things that make your throat flutter around him. Precum leaks steadily now, salty and thick as it mingles with your drool.

"Precious thing," he breathes, thumb collecting the mess from your chin. "Bet I could fit a dozen seeds in that pout… but you’d still beg for the whole fruit.”

The commentary makes you moan around him, and the vibration finally, finally pulls a proper groan from his chest.

“God, Chip,” he groans, “you’re like taffy stretching around my cock. So soft, so pliant. Bet I could mold you into anything I want.”

His hips snap forward suddenly—harder than before—and you gag violently as he bottoms out. He freezes instantly, cursing under his breath as he withdraws.

"Too much?" 

You cough, shaking your head even as saliva drips down your neck. "N-no, I—"

"Shh." He tilts your chin up, examining your face with clinical attention. His thumb probes your stretched lips, pressing down on your tongue. "Swelling here. We should stop."

Panic floods your system. "Wait, I can—"

"Patience." His smile softens, thumb still working your abused mouth open. "We'll build your tolerance gradually."

His other hand wraps around his cock, stroking lazily as he studies you. The wet sounds fill the lab—obscene and perfect.

"Watch," he orders, and you can’t look away from the way his fist glides—slick with your spit, his precum, the absolute ruin you’ve made of him. "This is the proper rhythm. Steady. Controlled."

But his breathing betrays him—ragged and desperate as his pace increases.

"Your turn next time," he promises, thumb pressing against your clenching lips. "Need to monitor your technique."

You nod eagerly, mouth watering as he speeds up. His hips jerk off the chair, teeth sinking into his bottom lip to stifle sounds you desperately want to hear.

When he comes, it's with a choked groan—hot spurts painting your waiting tongue before you can process it.

“Such a sticky mess…” He tuts softly, almost a chuckle. "Like you face-planted in cotton candy.”

You whimper at that.

"Swallow," he grits out, hand gentle on your jaw. "Don't spill."

You obey, throat working around the bitter tang. His thumb swipes the corner of your mouth, collecting a stray drop. 

"Perfect," he murmurs, pressing the digit between your lips. "Clean-up is crucial."

You suck obediently, watching his spent cock twitch against his thigh. His laugh sounds wrecked.

"Insatiable," he chides, but pride colors his tone. "We'll schedule another session. Thursday work?"

You nod, tongue laving his thumb. His eyes darken as he retrieves his glasses.

"Good. Bring your notes on esophageal motility." He tucks himself away with trembling hands. "We'll... review the material thoroughly."

His glasses fog slightly as he helps you up on shaky legs. Always the gentleman. Always in control.

"Thursday," you whisper, voice hoarse.

His smile is pure sin wrapped in medical precision. "Don't forget your notes, Chip."

You won't. You absolutely won't.

Though you doubt either of you will be reading them.

→ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @cannotalwaysbenight @livingformintyoongi @itstoastsworld @somehowukook @just-reading-dany @sanarin @billy-jeans23 @stuti2904 @chloepiccoliniii @kimnamjoonmiddletoe @annyeongbitch7

© 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓.

no reposts, translations, or adaptations

[littlemissmaples]

PAC || Have you met the one? + Advice

Pile 1 = Bear

Pile 2 = Candy

Pile 3 = Flower

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

• Pile 1

Have you met the one?

Of course you have! But I feel like you have only ever seen them in your dreams. It's possible that this is someone that you know of although you haven't met them yet. I dont believe this is a celebrity, so I'm sorry if you were hoping it was (but that may be the fhace doe some of you).

Advice

I feel like in order for you to meet the one you need to become more organized, you need to let go of the things that no longer serve you, specially in the long run. This is a divine connection that can happen at any time but you will only end up making this journey far more troubling for yourself (perhaps you're impatient and meeting the wrong people often) if you do not, and I mean this with love, get it together.

I believe in you, hang in there. You know what to do 🌸

• Pile 2

Have you met the one?

I don't know why I wanna make the joke "have you met the two, the three and the four" lmao, you may be black or perhaps african, if not dont worry take what applies, you remind me of a friend. There's an energy here of "fun-ness" for some of you this is your future spouse coming in, he's a funny man. I'm not getting a more fem-presenting energy here. There's a chance he's the one who's black or of african descent (Asian for some of you). I don't believe that any of you have met this person yet but he's really excited to meet you, some of you are likely to meet him very soon, like very very soon, he wants to say that he's "tall, dark & handsome" and that he "writes music", perhaps he plays an acoustic guitar even, haha, he also says he smells good, there's so much he wants to say here. Perhaps I'll do a future spouse reading next after this one. But if you need me to summarize this.

Yes, you have met the one, you have either met them already/recently or you're about to meet them very soon or in a surprising way (I feel like they're right in front of you but you just dont see them, haha, you'll notice each other soon enough. For some of you this will bet at the mall, at work, bank or like a public space where you're busy with something.)

Advice

I'm not getting any advice for this Pile. All I'm getting is messages from whoever's fs this is. He says "get ready, sexy." Lmao he is a riot.

• Pile 3

Have you met the one?

No unfortunately you have not, the reason I say "unfortunately" is because I feel like for some of you you have recently gone through a break up. You thought they were the one, but they're not. For some of you I'm getting that this person's friend is the one or perhaps someone who was (or is) friends with you. Some of you have soulmates that are friend but you confuse this for romantic love. I'm also getting for some of you that you pursue romantic love only to find that you're stuck in toxic places. I'm sorry you've had to go through this but you're not alone, and things will look up for you, but you have to give up on this search first, you're more likely to meet the one if you stop seeking shiny things in dark spaces, the entire world shines for you, everything is light by sunlight and I know that makes it harder for you to figure out what's good for you if "he's the one" and all this when everything outside shines so much. But this doesnt mean you gave to go to such cold spaces to find something warm. Maybe you dont have to be warm, maybe the temperature outside is enough. What I'm saying sounds cryptic but this is how I'm getting these messages. Stop seeking love outside of yourself, I promise that you'll find it, but you dont have to go to odd places to bump into it. Sometimes the most precious things are found in the most regular places. Learn to love the mundane things in life, I know the slow-paced-ness of it all fan be kinda frustrating but slowing down is not what you need to do, just let yourself be and what how everything flows to you. Some of you live in New York, idk why I'm seeing the park, but there's a chance you'll be finding yourself in the right place at the right time, meeting this perfect someone, after following a string of events that lead you to this "sunny place." (I kept hearing "sunshine state" I looked it up and I got Florida, someone might be from Florida, some of you might move to Florida or perhaps be meeting the one in Florida or maybe the one IS from florida, haha. Either way there's something here about Florida. ((California & Arizona too for some. Take what applies, my love 💛)) )

Advice

Do not be so hard on yourself, you're very strict with how you are. Perhaps you need a routine that's more simple on you, take a walk outside but dont expect anything insane, just take the time to move about at your own pace and see what catches your eye. Follow your instinct. Drink something nice at a nice place. For some of you I'm getting a cafe, maybe you like matcha. Either way, take it easy today. You deserve a break, your mind is too heavy. Some of you might be autistic or perhaps you're in your head often, whatever it is, please let your mind rest, you think too hard, you'll be okay if you take a break for a day. Things dont have to be so complex. (I know this has nothing to do with "the one" but I feel like being kinder to yourself can really help speed that up.)

Take care, y'all 🌤✌

[yingdu-lover]

It's Kinda Nice to Help People Find Their Precious Thing : The timeless journey of love, regret, trust, death and hope through Shiguang's life in Link Click Yingdu Episode 1

part -1

It's a very personal rambling actually, not a very critically sound one, if you still wanna read, just letting you know, you are not alone, I went through a lifetime of emotions while watching this.

What’s wrong with the timeline? : Before discussing this, I want to talk about Lu Guang’s age. I have this formula,

Lg’s age : X + 3n, X= his original age, n= the number of times he has dived back in the past to reach the situation of our timeline where Cheng Xiaoshi survived season 1 and made it to the end of the season 2. I am presuming that ‘n times Cheng Xiaoshi dies’ stopped in our timeline, so let us denote our timeline as ‘n*’, which has successfully changed Cheng Xiaoshi’s fate. (For people thinking, where did I get that ‘3’ in my formula, the episode of the lost child in season 1 says that the kidnapping of that little boy happened three years ago, when Shiguang were supposed to be in Yingdu. Basically Shiguang first met and went to Yingdu in 2018.)

The first four minutes of the episode 1 (Successfully made me cry like a wounded hyena left in the middle of a cold desert): What timeline is it? It is one of those timelines of ‘n’ where Cheng Xiaoshi died. Cheng Xiaoshi dies in every nth timeline, except n*. The first time he dies, let us call that timeline ‘n0’. And the first four minutes, let’s suppose it is nEp-1. Is n0 = nEp-1? If yes, then why Vein is punishing Lu Guang for changing the past? It implies that Lu Guang attempted (and succeeded kind of? since he is accused of changing the past) to change the past before? Why would he? For what reason? I have an answer to this convoluted question – Vein is punishing a past Lu Guang (‘innocent’ Lu Guang who didn’t dive and do shit) for the deeds a future Lu Guang committed. Eh? Every theory I suggest contradict with the thing I say next.

Still what I feel is that the narrator Lu Guang who gives the ‘butterfly effect’ speech is not the one who dives in the given visual. The hesitation in the visual suggests that Lu Guang is diving for the first time. I don’t have galaxy brains to understand the timeline theory anyways. And it is probably too early to start guessing.

Basketball symbolism: Life, death, trust, partnership.

I think now we all understand that the basketball motif really stands for a deeper philosophy of life and companionship. And Haoling actually puts that theme in big fat words in case someone missed, “It is so precious to have a trustworthy partner in life”. It is not about basketball. The exposition of first 1 minute 25 seconds deals with it.

1:26 – I howled. That’s not the point. The point is that Vein is actually interested in shooting Lu Guang, he wants his life, not Cheng Xiaoshi’s, he just physically defeats him. (My poor kitty, what the fuck did you do to deserve this, if my theory is right then…). Cheng Xiaoshi fucking dives to take the bullet.

Now, um. Why am I re-watching this? Cheng Xiaoshi dies and transfers his diving power to Lu Guang, the basketball symbolism recurs. Qiao Ling is dead and captain Xiao is dead too. Good. Cheng Xiaoshi says sorry for some reason and asks Lu Guang to save ‘them’, it’s his death wish. So, I am presuming that Lu Guang started diving because it was Cheng Xiaoshi’s last wish to Lu Guang (I need ibuprofen). From my perspective, Lu Guang when he dives, he is not sure what he is able to achieve. He probably goes back to the past just to relive those moments, those three years again. If everything goes well (LMAO my audacity) and Cheng Xiaoshi survives in this Yingdu arc, I am presuming that is our story then will be directly continuing in the two seasons.

Now let us heal a bit. First of all, congratulations to all, Lu Guang is gay. I don’t care what anyone opines, he is gay. He is the owner of that freaking Shakespearean sonnet book and he is the literal tsundere, come on, guys, it should be canon now.

Lu Guang holds his hand as if trying to say, “Please, don’t go”.

You are in acute denial if you say the visuals are not romantic. The white butterfly sits on the basketball he is holding.

That visual is so pretty! The butterflies remind me of tgcf ngl.

Bro, what kind of house does he live in. He is damn rich.

Cheng Xiaoshi : Partner, lets play basketball together again tomorrow. And the content smile Cheng Xiaoshi gives.

Still, somehow, The Eye is the most moving piece of animation I have ever seen, it feels like life with all heartaches and smiles present. I will carry this song with me till the end of time.

Oh, also. How are Vein fans doing? Just checking :D

This song is causing me physical angst.

I wish I can cosplay in my uni’s anime club’s event one day.

Okay so, a friend of mine pointed out that Lu Guang cosplayed as the hero of that RanXi chronicles when there was an attempt to dress Xiaoshi as the heroine. Ok.

Lu Guang checking that damn watch once in a while breaks my heart.

Parallel narrative, foil characters again – metanarrative, two-folded narrative embedded within the narrative (that girl’s story about perseverance, hope, regret, passion, taking the damn risk and further hope, story of RanXi chronicles and Lu Guang explicitly saying how he relates to the story of RanXi’s heroine)

Now I am saying again, I am Sapphic and Qiao Ling, that is Sapphic behaviour, my love, me and my Sapphic friends approve. “That girl is so lovely” the way she says it. AND YES QUEEN! Link Click never forgets to address social issues. Btw, I personally related to that girl when she was rebuked vehemently for voicing her career choice. My acceptance of what I really wanted to do in my life and pursuing it changed the trajectory of my life too. Life is not a flower path but “there are no regrets in dedicating your life to something you care about” – again it echoes the central theme of link click.

Also, (with a shiver) I am realising how the interpretation of the first and second season is rapidly changing (and I like it).

Cheng Xiaoshi, are you jealous?

The chibi shifts are so cute!

Lu Guang has this deep sense of lack of agency, understandable because it arises from the agony of the death of a loved one and this depressive existentialist mood makes him conform to the ‘power’, even though he can be rebellious but that threshold is only initiated with Cheng Xiaoshi’s active intervention.

Again saying, idk what kind of concept of queerness people (most of them who are not queer at all, how do they know what queerness is? How are you dictating?) have, but your friend’s image reflecting in your eyes when he brings a moral and ideological change to your mind and shatters your conformity, that surely is. This continuously happens in season 1 and 2, but we don’t get to know, you know why? Lu Guang’s pov was silenced deliberately. Without him soliloquizing, it’s impossible to know what his real emotional undercurrent is. The way Haoling crafted Lu Guang as a complex and delicate character, man. Man, I would die for him.

Btw, I too agree that putting a hand over his mouth is the second best option to silence him.

Ik it's bittersweet, but princess Guang-guang, don't run away from your fated prince! ( HOW THE FUCK AM I CRYING AGAIN)

this roughly wraps up to 34:30. I can't do more pain today, maybe tomorrow.

[krystella-shifts]

Hi holy shit ok. Idk who else to send this too because I'm unsure about the new blogs on here but I used to be a big blog on loablr before I deactivated in 202...3 I think. Anyway. I recently got back into this because I fully crashed out and decided I wanted my dream life more than I ever have. I made a Pinterest board called "peep game lock in fr" (lmao) and filled it with my dream body, life, friends, money, job, etc etc. I've looked at it religiously since about 3 days ago. I listened to Edward Art again as a refresher, and because I've been around here before it was easy to get back into the swing of stuff. Today was a slightly doubtful day but nothing much.

I am being deadly serious here, I'm not manifesting or scripting, I swear on me and my dog's life here: I have two money-related pins, one showing 10,000 pounds and the other showing 20,000. TELL ME WHY. TELL ME WHY my boyfriend suddenly texts "babe. I'm getting paid at the end of the month and I would never usually do this but I'm going to send you 10,000 pounds to put in your savings." FUCKING WHAT. He has a part-time job and the most I've ever seen in his active account was 2,000. (I was crying real tears going "oh my god. Oh my god it worked.") Bear in mind I don't have a job, I am (was) completely down-to-pennies broke, I'm a uni student, and I've been manifesting for ages but this time. This time it worked within 3 days.

I was like "oh my god babe why??" And he was like "I've been saving to give you stuff so we can buy a house." AGAIN. FLOORED. I have two house-related pins. I'm crying while texting him. He goes "I've been saving my own, and together we'd have 20,000 thereabouts." FUCKING GAGGED. I'm laughing and crying at the same time. How has this worked????? How has he revealed this to me when I started living from the end?

Ok, but what about my other pins? Again, I'm swearing on me and my dog's life; my skin's cleared up after ages, I'm skinnier, I finally have plans to go to the gym after manifesting it for ages, I am getting a ps5, I'm texting a potential new friend, and my brows and lashes have gotten thicker. I am being an adult about this; this isn't wishful thinking or confirmation bias but all of this has been dumped on me since I started 3 days ago. THREE DAYS. THREE. Some things haven't manifested yet but I'm goddamn sure they will after this lmao.

Somehow there are still doubts like "did I really do this????" But the timing and amounts are just... Too perfect. I'm excited for the future, when 3 days ago I was depressed. I'm going to stick around here but oh my god. It worked. I'm in disbelief.

Anyway my advice would be to make a Pinterest board lmao. It worked for me!!!

GIRL YOU SLAYYY 😭🫂💞 And thanks for choosing my blog for this OMG??? And don't mind DMing me cuz WHICH BIG BLOGGER ARE YOU 🧐 (Jk you don't have to tell) I think the deactivation of your acc was like a break you needed 😭 (stop overconsuming y'all it's better to focus on actually living your dream life (I'm looking at you my bestfriend 💀)) and YOU DID MANIFEST IT SLAY GIRLY QUEEN BESTIE don't doubt it! Doubt the doubts cuz "i doubt that it's just a damn coincidence. I definitely did it!!!" And that's exactly what I talk aboutttt 😭 you don't have to lift a finger bro just do what you like (eg making a pinterest board or scripting etc) IT'S SUPER EASY AND EFFORTLESS MANIFESTATION IS SUPPOSED TO BE FUNNNN! And yeah live in the end who cares when you have your desires stop overthinking.

THANK YOU BESTIEEE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR NEW HOME 👏🏻🥳🎉 Goodluck

˚˖𓍢ִ໋💞˚.✨⋆🦄