#not only is he hella hot in the header

[manipulatedstars]

Yeah

Yeah this is pretty fucking amazing

hiiiii <333 I have lovedddd lovvvveeeddd alll of your works I actually spent my day reading each and everyone of them I love it so muchhh!! 😭❤️

I have a request teehee, could you write one where Sannie is like a professor in your college and there’s little teasing here and there and where he ends up having her alas!! DOM - SAN ‼️💋

his favourite

<prof!san x fem!reader>

Prof Choi likes playing favourites.

You’re his favourite.

Genres/Warnings: smut, dom professor Choi San, pwp, face fucking, unprotected sex, oral (m receive) ,mutual pining, age gap, size kink, cream pies, mild jealousy plot, sir kink, light bondage (just tying up reader) teasing, sexual tension, teaching assistantxteacher obv forbidden but we still eat it up anyway!

Word count: 12.3K

a/n: happy birthday to the man of my dreams </3 enjoy this little choi san birthday treat. i put my love into this so please love this as much as i did! and thank you @bro-atz for the tidbits of help as always 🩷

apply for taglist here!

You stare at the laptop screen, scanning through your details on the application form, double, and triple checking that everything was filled in correctly. 

“Which professors are you trying as a teaching assistant for?” Your roommate asks, her neck craning over to see you attaching the file to six different emails, to six different professors within the department, pretty much answering her question the moment she reads off each professor’s email. 

“Why not try for the department chair?”

You scrunch your eyebrows as if it’s the first time you’re hearing that. 

“Who?”

“Professor Choi?”

Your eyes widen, your neck almost getting whiplash from how fast you turned to your roommate at the sound of his name. 

“Why the fuck would I try him?” 

Your roommate shrugs in an attempt to hide her amused reaction from your reaction at his name. 

“Who knows? I’m confident he remembers you even though you spent only one semester with him”, she hums turning away to pour herself another ice drink from the pitcher. “On a serious note, you may as well just get all the help you can get. Besides, what are the chances that Prof Choi sees your email? He’s the department chair. I’m sure his mailbox is just flooded anyway.” 

True, you think to yourself, turning your head back to your laptop, and adding the professor’s email address in. But you still hesitate, staring at the application form, your cursor hovering over the send button. Your roommate looks over at you, and she decides that your wishy-washy behaviour is just being the biggest nuisance on earth, so her hand flies over yours and helps you to press send, and she watches you freak out at her while she giggles and escapes after committing her crime, chasing your roommate around the kitchen island for a good seven minutes.

Settling back down in defeat, you sigh in your hands, giving yourself pep talks. 

Right. 

The chances are close to zero that Prof Choi will see my application anyway. 

The chances of him remembering me are close to zero anyway. 

You shut your laptop, and the applications are completely erased from your mind. 

“Yo, check your emails, babe. The application results are out for me”, your roommate says, her eyes glued to her laptop screen. 

You settle yourself down across her, a chilled drink in your hand, pulling up your email inbox. As you expected, you see the subject headline ‘Teaching Assistant Application Results’, and you expand the email.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me”, you mutter, loud enough for your roommate to hear. Her head pops out from behind her screen. 

“Who did you get?”

“Choi San.”

Professor Choi San. His classes weren’t the bane of your existence—but he, himself was. 

And the fact that it only took one semester to solidify that claim. Almost everyone wanted to get into his class, so fucking many of them just squealing over how he looked almost god-like. You wonder how much of a swoon he would be, how much of the rumours that travelled down the stream were factual, though with thousands of students constantly fighting for a spot in his class, you sure were coloured surprised when you landed a spot in Professor Choi’s class. 

The moment he walked in, the whispers within the confines of the lecture hall erupted into gasps and squeals. Unfortunately, the rumours were right—the moment ProfessorChoi walked in, it was as if your eyes naturally followed his movement—confident strides in his steps dictated by his outfit—a simple dress shirt under a dark gray vest that accentuated his wide shoulders and skinny waist.  

He was so fucking handsome—his hair neatly slicked back, frameless glasses sat on his nose bridge, his sharp and small eyes hiding behind the lens. Undoubtedly, seeds of infatuation began lodging themselves in you. Well, it’s not like you had a chance with him anyway, especially when the gold band reflected from his ring finger being a huge indicator. Maybe keeping him as an eye candy would work out just fine. 

Prof Choi’s classes were interesting, and he as a professor, other than being a distraction during the majority of his classes, held his credentials. However, at times, some sarcastic comments would bubble to the surface, and even though he did tend to commend top-scoring students for tests, he still maintained professionalism for the most part—the content taught wasn’t rocket science anyway. You saw yourself being able to breeze through the syllabus for the most part until you received your grade for one of your essays. You stared at his comments, marked in red lines, circles, and words—tone cold and direct—not that you weren’t used to it, but this time? You felt his comments alongside him marking you down were completely unjustified. 

It was then that you pushed past the group of girls who would stay back after class to shamelessly flirt with him, under the guise of wanting to discuss more about the content taught that day, and you stood before the group, asking to speak to Prof Choi personally. Prof Choi did have people staying back after class to consult with him about grades, although they would stay shortly with him staying stern to his marking rubrics, but when he realised you weren’t backing down on top of the way you approached him so directly, it intrigued him.

His office was spacious, considering that he was the department chair—and without introductions, he had you dive in immediately in consultation. 

You wasted no time, flipping through the spent pages of your essay, pointing out areas where you felt his comments were unjustified. Prof Choi listened, and he refuted your points, some of which you decided to accept but not for one particular part;

“This part had no proper scientific support of your argument for this point-“

“Bullshit”, you cut him off. Prof Choi blinked, shocked at the blunt cut from you. His eyebrows were scrunched in confusion next, wondering if he heard right that a student not only just cut him off, but cussed at him.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s here. A small significance value is still something isn’t it?” You replied, pointing at the paragraph after. He glanced at the paper once more, forcing himself to focus while you fought back that your argument was supported. 

So you made Prof Choi sit before you and listen to your elaborations, and needless to say, he was rather impressed, although he had to hold his expression neutral. 

You came out of the consultation victorious—the day Prof Choi called you over after his class again, handing you your script, and you saw your total marks shooting up to a gorgeous score. Your head was so into the clouds that you returned a smirk along with a shrug—showing off your victory and satisfaction as your thanks—an I told you so, leaving the professor to stare after you in awe while you practically skipped to your seat. 

That sealed your fate. 

From then on, Prof Choi would have his attention on you—recognising which seat you picked to sit in in class, wondering why you hadn’t dared sit nearer. And when it came to picking people to answer questions, his gaze would fly to you immediately—either waiting to call you out once you raised your hand or simply calling you when he felt like it. For some sick reason, he finds the way your face scrunches up in stress when he calls your name in his honey-soaked voice amusing, and even adorable at times, though he would never admit it. But oh, did he love the comments and answers you would give him. 

Despite that assignment being the only one where you decided to consult Prof Choi, following every grade release of an assignment, he would single you out, especially after class, to fucking ask if you had questions regarding said assignment, which honestly started to freak you out—mostly because he never gave you the attention before, and you weren’t used to it. The whispering gossip in the class about you being the teacher’s pet slowly reached your ears too, and even Prof Choi heard it—and he only exacerbated that rumours by constantly giving you his attention. 

Every time you reached your dorm, the words that left your mouth which your roommate could recite verbatim, “I swear to god, Prof Choi has it out for me!”

Not to mention you were fucking relieved when the last day of his class rolled around, but unfortunately, his parting words to you were, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, y/n”. You did everything in your power to avoid getting into his class and even bumping into him, which seemed to work swell. 

Until now that is. 

Now here you are again, standing before the familiar heavy wooden door, staring up at the wooden plate, embossed with gold lettering “Department Chair Choi San” staring right at you. You had to physically drag yourself off your bed to prepare for the first day partnered with Prof Choi. And when your roommate’s words of “oh come on, he can’t be that bad. He’s hot!”, echoed through your ears, it all the more made you want to just ditch your first day by clawing your eyeballs out. 

You had to collect yourself before Prof Choi collected you. 

With a raised knuckle, you rap against the door, taking deep inhales in the process. His voice, which sounded deceivingly like honey, remained the same as you remembered. 

“Come in.”

You pause for a moment, embracing yourself before holding onto to doorknob and pushing his door open. 

There he was, Professor Choi, his eyes focused on the scripts on his desk, which had piled up. His space remained the same as you remembered, for the most part—shelves littered with awards and files, the same desktop taking up one-quarter of his huge ass desk, and the couch with the coffee table left to the side of the room. Prof Choi wore a stern look of concentration on his face, still preoccupied with finishing up marking his scripts. 

When his pen pauses and his gaze shifts towards the door, a small smile spreads across his face. He lifts his head and drops his pen, interlocking his fingers on his desk with growing amusement when his eyes meet yours. 

Fuck, he’s still so handsome.

“Professor Choi”, you greet, holding your expression neutral as you bow, forcing yourself not to fidget with your tote bag. 

“Y/n!” Prof Choi greets almost too enthusiastically. “I would assume you would be more than delighted when I picked you to be my teaching assistant.”

“Honoured, almost”, you reply. It’s taking all of your energy not to break his gaze. He’s staring at you with unreadable eyes, and you’re wondering if the fluttering in your chest is from the anxiety or the way Prof Choi is staring at you.

Prof Choi laughs, and it tickles your ears a little too good. 

“Sit. We have a lot to go through today”, he gestures to the seat before him, and you take it.

He switches on his monitor to his course syllabus and turns the monitor slightly towards you. 

“Oh, before we begin, it’s a pleasure meeting you again, y/n.”

Oh boy, was being Prof Choi’s teaching assistant a fucking handful. You knew it was gonna be rough, but to be assisting Professor Choi San? He was on another level—his schedule would be filled to the brim with meetings with the faculty on top of conducting classes weekly. You struggled in your first month, learning the ropes, especially from a busy and challenging professor like him. He wasn’t mean or cold at all, on the contrary, more direct and meticulous. Well, he had to be, considering his position. Nonetheless, it felt like he was always too busy to attend to your questions sometimes, and that would leave you to your own devices. 

You stand in the aisle, looking down at the assortment of foods lined up in the chiller. Has Prof eaten yet? Does he even eat? What does he even eat? By instinct, you pull out your phone and open his chat. 

[you]: Hi Prof. Have you eaten? I’m at the convenience store near the campus. I could grab something quick for you. 

A couple of minutes go by, but your phone doesn’t receive a ping, and you had to reach the office soon. So you pick up another tuna rice ball for the professor alongside yours before making a beeline for the cashier. 

Prof Choi hears the knock on his door and as usual, he utters his usual “come in”. His gaze lands on you, and he glances at the clock. 

“You’re on time today”, he points out. 

You furrow your eyebrows, confused. “I’m always on time, Professor.”

“You’re usually in a little earlier.”

“Right, because I got you this”, you reply, rustling through the plastic bag in your hands, fishing out the rice ball.

He looks up at you, confusion hinted in his expression. He doesn’t take the food yet. 

“What’s this?” 

“Tuna rice ball. Surely only having coffee in the morning is not filling your stomach.” 

You put the food in front of him. “Besides, I messaged you but you didn’t reply. So I just chose something safe. Unless you’re telling me you’re allergic to tuna or something.”

Prof Choi blinks. His hands reach out to take the snack from the desk, unwrapping the plastic packaging as he watches you leave his office to grab a mug of coffee. He glances over at his phone, and sure enough, your name is there with your message.

Since then, his reply would pop up in mere minutes whenever you asked him if he wanted anything to eat. 

Of course, the more you spent time with him, the more you grew comfortable, and all the thoughts you ever stressed about slowly faded off. Prof Choi grew more relaxed around you, internally grateful that you’re able to tank a significant fraction of his workload for him. Undoubtedly, you also come to realise that Prof Choi is human after all—he obviously would make mistakes, even as someone of his caliber, and deep inside, you found it rather cute, well, until you had to stop yourself from developing deranged thoughts. 

Not to mention, another problem seemed to pop up—his flirty banter. He likely picked up that it made you flustered sometimes, and since then, he wouldn’t let it go, relishing at the way pink creeps up your cheeks when he would say something that wasn’t like his ‘professor-self’, and at worst, feeding into your crooked thoughts. 

You stare at him as he types away, particularly, the metal band around his ring finger. You wonder who was the lucky lady who had the chance to be with him. You blink. 

What the hell were you thinking?

“It’s rude to stare, you know”, Prof Choi’s voice snapping you out of your daydreams. 

“I’m just wondering about your ring, that’s all”, you reply, forcing your attention back to your half-marked assignments.

“I’m not actually married”, he suddenly confesses, and for some reason, it makes your heart beat slightly faster. 

“Huh?” Is all you manage to reply. 

Prof Choi chuckles. He pauses his work on the desktop, turning his attention to you. Even though you have worked so closely with him for a while already, you can never seem to find your composure around him. 

Even though you see his face every week, you can’t seem to wrap your head around how insanely good-looking he is, how sometimes you struggle to maintain eye contact with him, because it doesn’t take long before you feel yourself slowly flushing. 

“I wear it on my ring finger so the students stop asking about my marital status”, Prof Choi clarifies. You watch him pull the ring from his ring finger and fit it over his index. 

“So you’re single”, you echo.

He nods, “I’m single.” 

What is this strange feeling of relief?

“What about you?” He suddenly asks. You’re not looking directly at him, and you don’t realise the way he’s looking at you attentively. And if you do, you just might combust.

“I’m…single too”, you answer, trying to meet his gaze, fidgeting with the red pen in between your fingers. 

“And why’s that? Too busy fighting with your professors for grades?”

You glare at him. 

“I think it was my professor picking fights with me”, you reply quickly, jabbing right back at him. 

You watch Prof Choi lower his gaze, a smile spreading across his cheeks—an actual smile—his dimples showing up. Oh fuck. Just when you thought you could depend on your ribcage to contain your heart properly, you found out Prof Choi could actually smile. 

When he looks up at you again, you break the eye contact, your gaze flying back to the papers before you. 

“You know, I’ve met many students, but you were the first to cuss out at me.”

You did? “I did?”

Your professor nods, cocking his eyebrow at the way you had seemed to have simply forgotten something as eventful as that. 

This time, Professor Choi bursts into a chuckle, completely amused by your reaction. 

“Is that why you kept-“

“Giving you chances to answer in class for credit? You should really thank me for that. Your grade for my class was one of the highest you know.”

You feel your cheeks flush. But before you can retaliate, Prof Choi cuts you off.

“Jokes aside, no. I think the discussion we had that afternoon had an impression on me. The cherry on top was you cussing at me. I liked that. Refreshing and endearing”, Prof Choi continues, his attention seeping back to the pile of scripts before him. 

“I think this side of Professor is pretty refreshing and endearing too”, you let it slip.

His pen pauses in mid-air. You don’t catch his gaze completely softening on you. 

As the semester continues on, you began easing into the class schedules. You watch prof get swarmed by a group of students, a usual ritual that happens right when the class ends. At this point, you had grown used to it. Sometimes the students would come and approach you instead, which honestly surprised you, but your heart would feel warm, knowing that these students trusted you.

It was then you became acquainted with another teaching assistant under Prof Choi, who joined shortly after you did—Choi Jongho. Initially, he came off as a rather shy individual, but the both of you warmed up quickly with each other, sharing the workload and bonding over gossip with each other. Gosh, was he fucking amazing with gossip, especially when it came to Professor Choi. Soon enough, the both of you were texting almost on a regular basis, the conversations weighing more towards academic topics sprinkled with a little gossip. 

“You’re going off with Choi Jongho?”

“Yeah”, you reply, bunching the papers in your hands. “I’ve got some things to discuss with him about.” Partially true. 

For some reason, even though your professor has been completely swamped with papers to grade and meetings to attend, you would always find him loitering around your desk from time to time. He seems to especially enjoy doing that when you’re around. 

“You’ve been spending an awfully lot amount of time with him”, Prof Choi points out, looking over your shoulder as he watches you scribble on another student’s paper. 

“Yeah, we get along well actually. Isn’t that a good thing, Prof? Both your teaching assistants are besties.”

For some reason, that makes Prof Choi frown, but you’re too absorbed in your work to notice it.

A couple of minutes go by, and you still feel his presence, not that you mind, but you’re starting to find it peculiar that he’s been hanging around your desk a lot recently.

“Do you have something to discuss with me, prof?” You ask, eyes still glued to the paper.

“Yes”, he replies, taking another sip from his mug. “What do you think of Choi Jongho?”

Such a random question to ask, you think. Maybe he’s just making sure you and Jongho get along well?

You pause, giving yourself to think, tapping the back of the red pen against your bottom lip, taken aback by Prof Choi’s sudden question, but the conversations you and Jongho had resurfacing into your brain, and a giggle escapes you, which makes Professor Choi subconsciously narrow his eyes and furrow his brows. 

“He’s fun to be around, and despite how he looks, he’s actually got a wicked sense of humor. Oh god, wait. Let me tell you what you he did that day while we were having lunch together-“

You turn your head to continue to run your mouth, only to slowly trail off when realise his face is just inches from yours, and you swear your heart is on a treadmill from the lack of distance between you and Prof Choi. It’s as if time paused, the both of you sinking right into each other’s gazes. You can’t help but notice how intense his gaze is, and you can’t seem to decipher his thoughts, but from the way this situation played out, you swore he’d just lean in and kiss you. 

Your heartbeat accelerates at the thought—why would he do that?

And when his fingers are on your chin, your rational thoughts are getting flushed out. 

“That’s an awful lot of cute things about Choi Jongho. I’ve never heard you talk about another Choi like that.”

You swallow hard, your body still frozen in spot. 

“What do you think about him then?” 

“Jongho? I was just-“

“No. Choi San.”

Oh god. You could only stare back at him. Prof Choi tilts his head, his eyebrows raised, waiting for his answer. His cologne floats and almost shuts down your senses—has he always smelled this good? 

The corner of his lips curl slightly at the way you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. 

“I t-think Prof-“

“San. Choi San”, he corrects you. 

Another hard swallow the more you try to focus your gaze on him. 

“I think Choi San’s a great professor. He’s really competent, a lot softer than he presents himself as-“

Fuck you can’t think. Not when he’s staring down your eyes to your lips like that. 

“Mmhm.”

“And he’s really so-“

Then a loud knock echoes across the room, breaking the tension. Prof Choi’s body doesn’t shift, but he looks up at the door, shouting “door’s unlocked”, before he stands back upright, adjusting his glasses and walking back to his desk. 

Jongho’s head peeks in, then he bows at Prof Choi before he walks to your desk. You stare up at him with a forced smile. 

“Ready to go? I was waiting for your message”, Jongho says, his eyes glancing over the professor, then you, a strange feeling that he probably interrupted something. 

You nod, while shoving your belongings into your bag, then slinging it on your shoulder. 

Barely being able to look at Professor Choi, you still force yourself to, bowing goodbye to him. 

“Thank you Prof Choi. See you tomorrow.”

He looks up from his desk, right into your eyes. 

“See you too, y/n.” 

You can’t help but wonder how far things would have gone if Jongho didn’t knock the door.

Jongho isn’t an idiot. Initially, he assumes that you and the professor were on much friendlier terms considering that you came in before he did. Granted, the workload he would give the both of you was the same, he would take the initiative to have lunch with the both of you both individually and together whenever he had pockets of free time, but what roused his awareness was the lingering glances Professor Choi would cast at you from time to time, the way he seemed to relish the reactions you would give him whenever he teased you. 

He notices the way your ears would grow red even when you roll your eyes at the professor and jab him with another playful snarky remark. 

Though he wonders how dangerous things could get, Jongho thinks this could get interesting. 

The semester continues smoothly, the only change being that Jongho being absent from the office more often due to his other commitment to soccer. You remember him telling you he had quite a big match coming up, the sparkle in his eyes bright and twinkling whenever he talks about said sport. 

If he wasn’t in classes, he’d be off for training, hopping into the office from time to time to pass Professor Choi marked scripts and reports. Prof Choi pretty much didn’t mind—he stated as long as Jongho did his job, he could be free to do what he wanted outside of being a teaching assistant.

Needless to say, the office was mostly Prof Choi and you, now even more time spent with him with Jongho mostly being absent. By then, the both of you had grown so accustomed to being in each other’s presence that banters amongst each other became the norm—the both of you competing with each other with unserious remarks, laced with almost flirtatiousness, just to see who would back down first. 

Then came the proximity—since Prof Choi would wander over your desk as if he had all the free time in the world, he would somehow strike up another conversation with you, leaning over to hear you better, his arm bumping into yours to look over at the papers you were grading to check if you were doing them correctly. But what he absolutely adores the most is when you’d roll over to his desk to pester him with your questions—sometimes even testing him on his own content. 

He likes the way he gets to be closer to you. He likes the way your shoulders touch his when you lean in to push the paper towards him so he can see the script better. 

He likes the way you would finally look up and meet his eyes when you’re done formulating your question, waiting to hear his opinion.

Today is no different—Professor Choi being so used to the notion that he would only be seeing you in the office, the corner of his lips pull upwards at the thought of the types of banter you would have with him, the kinds of shenanigans you would bring into the office.

He hears your knock at the time you would always arrive, watching the way the door opens, and your head popping from the door, as you greet, “Hi Prof!” 

“Good morning, y/n”, he would greet back, sipping on his morning coffee. 

You walk over to his desk, dropping his tuna rice ball. “Here you go. Enjoy your breakfast, Prof!”

“You can stop calling me Prof”, Prof Choi suddenly says, twirling the pen in his hand. For a second, you wonder what triggered the sudden change. You’ve been calling him Prof since day one, pretty much used to it already, the only time you didn’t was when he—never mind. The thought of it is making your face flush again. 

“Is there something else you want me to call you?” You ask, trying to calm your heartbeat down when that memory suddenly resurfaces. 

“You can call me San. I’m fine with that. I know you’re still my teaching assistant but we’ve been working closely. I think it’s fine to drop the Prof honorific.”

You try out. 

“Sure thing San”, you reply. “Though it’s gonna take a while for me to get used to this.”

“If you’re able to cuss in front of me, calling me by my name should be the least of your worries, y/n”, San teases.

You raise your hand, feigning a stance ready to smack him before you lower your arm, listening to the way San laughs before rolling your eyes and sinking into your desk. 

The day marches on as normal—attending a class or two with Jongho before he’s whisked away to his soccer practice, leaving just the two of you for the rest of the day. 

San is leaning at your desk again, looking at you typing out your report. He squints slightly before he leans down to your shoulder, his finger pointed at one of the paragraphs, asking you about the content. You answer him, and when you turn your head once you’re done, you find yourself looking at San’s side profile mere inches away—his sun-kissed skin, his pretty lashes, his thick, well-trimmed eyebrows, and the way his lips protrude out a little—he always looked like he’s pouting in the most adorable way. 

That’s when you realise a problem seemed to be bubbling up to the surface, try as you might to ignore it, repress it—that you’re falling for your professor. Fast. 

You snap back to reality, finally aware of how loud your heart is beating against your rib cage, and your hand flies up in instinct as a divider between you and San. San blinks at the sudden movement, confused. 

“Y/n, what are you doing?” He’s not moving. 

“I think I’ve got something on my face.”

San cocks an eyebrow. “You do? Let me check-“ 

His palm covers yours, bringing it down to the table, and you’re kicking yourself for sprouting such a self-sabotaging lie.

Why? Because now San has his hand on yours on top of his face in full view of yours, his eyes meeting yours before his gaze flutters around your face, checking for whatever hell you said was on your face. 

His gaze meets yours and for a split second, something else glints in his eyes. 

The door swings open, and San straightens himself up, slightly irritated at the interruption, leaving you to spin your chair away from San, your hands cupping your cheeks, the heat warming you up against the cold air conditioner. The heat from his hand on yours lingers for a little longer. 

Jongho walks in, his duffel slinging on his shoulder with his shoe bag clipped. 

“Hey, Prof. Hey cutie.” 

San blinks. What did he just call you?

“Hey jjongie. Aren’t you supposed to be at practice?” You ask, forcing yourself to focus on your colleague instead. 

“Supposedly, yeah, but there was a sudden downpour midway so training got cancelled. Might as well get some work done here”, he shrugs, dropping his bag onto the floor. 

San is wrapping his head around the fact that you and Jongho seem to have pet names for each other. 

“Didn’t miss me too much right?” Jongho teases. “‘Cause I did!”

“That’s a first coming from you jjongie”, you reply, surprising a smile. 

“Of course! It’s been a while, how could I not? We should go eat dinner together sometime.”

San only stares on in silence, pretending to sink back into his grading.

Jongho walks over to your desk, taking his turn to look at your report. San watches the way Jongho’s arm is comfortable over your seat, as he asks you about your report, talking to you as if San wasn’t just behind you seconds before. 

The fact you’re entertaining him—hitting his arm playfully and laughing at his remarks—all the more rouses some kind of irritation in San. It’s like a boiling pot. 

He pretends he doesn’t see the way Jongho leans in to whisper something into your ear although it’s bugging him so fucking much. For once, he wishes Jongho’s training didn’t cancel. 

“Oh right before I forget”, Jongho mutters, rushing back to his desk, digging through his bag. He walks back over with a paper in hand and places it before you. You glance down and your face brightens up—it’s a ticket to his game. 

“For real?” You exclaim, your eyes bright, taking the ticket in your hands. “I’ll definitely make time for you.”

“I’ll score goals for you, kay?” Jongho teases, his eyes glancing at San, who is progressively looking more irritated. 

“Ah, Is San not going?” 

“San? Since when were you on first name basis with him?” Jongho wonders aloud, the suspicion only brewing even more. 

“Jongho, don’t you have reports to hand in?” San asks curtly. 

You feel like you are caught in between crossfire for some reason. 

Jongho smiles, then has your head under his arm, which elicits another irritated reaction from your professor. 

You have never had Jongho done this before. In fact, you recall him offhandedly mentioning that he’s never a physical touch person, and that anything with physical touch makes him shudder. 

“Relax, Prof. You’d rather your subordinates get along than not right?”

Just when San is about to reply, Jongho suddenly exclaims. 

“AH, coach is calling me back to the field. Prof, I’ll send you the report by tomorrow okay? See you guys!”, Jongho hums as he runs back to his desktop to turn it off. 

“Has he always been like that?” San wonders aloud, his eyebrows furrowed. 

“I guess. It’s actually what makes him cute.”

“Cute? You think Jongho is…cute?” 

“Is he not? Doesn’t he remind you of a bear? Big and cuddly.”

San clears his throat, and you watch him walk over to your desk, his hand resting on the tabletop. He leans in. 

“So… you find it cute when he gives you pet names?”

“Well, I mean-“

“You find it cute when he plays with your hair?” San curls your locks around his fingers. 

You can’t seem to get words to leave your throat. 

“You find it cute when he has his hands all over you like that?” He’s leaning in even closer this time, arms trapping you at either side.

“Prof-“

“No. It’s sir.”

Your mind is in a whirlwind at the way he’s towering over you, his scent the only thing filling your olfactory senses, the way he’s staring right into you, gaze sharp as a blade. 

“You find it cute when his touches run up your body like this?” His fingers are trailing up your arms, every touch he burns into your skin, and when his thumb pauses at your chin, you realise you’re royally fucked.

Once more, his face is mere inches away from yours. You wonder if you’ll be teased like two previous times before. 

“Of course you don’t. You’d rather I do that to you, right?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“Yes, sir.”

His voice is barely a whisper, his eyes downcast, staring at your lips like it’s his reward to claim. 

“Good girl.”

Of course, he claims it.

His kisses are so greedy—his lips prying yours open, and you feel yourself completely give in to him, surrendering whatever resistance, rationale, repression to Choi San. 

You want more—you want seconds. Every swipe his tongue passes your lip, it makes your head float. How does someone taste this fucking good?

He pauses mid-way—barely a couple of seconds, to pull off his glasses and strew them across the desk—then goes back to devouring your lips. 

San would smile in between kisses when he hears your whimpers. He thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you tremble slightly at his touch. It all goes straight to his cock. 

He thinks you’ll be even more adorable when he ruins you. 

When San pulls back, he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, watching your glazed-out expression with amusement. 

"I'd love to continue messing you up, but I have a meeting to attend. I’ll deal with you later, sweetheart. See you next week.”

His touch lingers on your chin for a couple of seconds longer before he pulls away and shifts to walk back to his desk, leaving your heartbeat wild and erratic, and your thighs squeezed tighter.

Since then, that was all you ever thought about—the slight smile before his lips collided with yours, the way his words rang in your ears. You could barely meet his eyes. 

In more instances than one and with any chance given to him, he’d close up any physical distance he had with you. Worried that your emotions would bubble and overflow when he does that, you developed a habit of avoiding his eye contact. 

Even after classes, you swore he was casting you glances even with lines of students waiting to talk to him. 

“Did you piss Prof off or something?” Jongho asks as he shuts his laptop. 

“Why are you asking?”

He shrugs. “It’s just that he’s been eyeing you down like a hawk recently. Did something happen between the both of you?”

You freeze when the flashbacks of the taste of his lips return to your memory when you remember how hungry he looked just wanting to devour you. 

“Y/n?”

You blink, then force yourself to meet Jongho’s eyes. 

“No. Nothing happened. At least I hope I didn’t make any mistakes.”

“You’re fine. There’s a reason why the department chair chose his teaching assistants.”

You laugh softly at his words.

But when you hear San’s voice from behind you, you almost jump. 

“Y/n, Jongho, the both of you can wrap up here and head back to the office”, he instructs. You feel his warmth radiating from behind, and it only makes your heart jump at the proximity. 

You watch Jongho slowly pack up, small conversations sparking between the both of you about his soccer practice. 

You glance at the door. San isn’t back yet. 

“I think it’ll take him awhile to be back. The students there seem to really like him.” 

No doubt, the female students for this class seemed a lot more assertive, almost always demanding all of San’s time. Well, not that it should matter. It’s not as if he should mean anything-

“Y/n? Are you okay? You seem pretty off recently. Even Prof’s pretty worried”, Jongho’s voice grounding you back to the cold office. 

You force a smile and shake your head. 

“I’m fine. I guess it’s just so much workload to deal with.” 

Jongho places his hand on your shoulder in comfort, “You’re doing fine. You know you can approach either of us if you’re struggling right?”

You feel comforted, even though your messy thoughts weren’t even about the workload, so you return an assured smile before waving Jongho off for his soccer practice. 

You’re wondering what you’re feeling nervous about, because when the door of San’s room opens, you jolt slightly. 

“You’re still here?” You hear San ask. 

“Yeah. Need to reply to some emails and double-check some of their assignments.” Not a total lie. It’s the swirling feelings he’s been giving you whenever that day surfaces in your mind, the small bouts of attention he pays you and the touches he lets linger a little too long that’s all a dopamine rush in you. You can’t help but want more. But in the same breath, meeting his gaze will allude doom for you. 

San nods as he sits back at his desk, going right back to his computer. The silence continues for awhile and you’re surprised that you’re even able to concentrate. 

“Y/n”, you hear San call you. 

Your gaze doesn’t break from your screen. “Hmm?”

“Come here. Help me look at this.”

You walk over, ignoring the way your heart is just pounding so damn loudly. It’s painfully obvious that San is staring right at your face, and it’s also painfully obvious that you’re avoiding looking at him. 

And it definitely seems to be ticking him off. 

Your eyes stay locked to his screen reading off whatever is on the screen, and nothing is processing in your brain. 

“It looks good”, you curtly reply, trying to ignore the fact that you’re being stared down by a certain professor. You turn away, your eyes still not acknowledging San, only for your professor to stop you in your tracks. 

“Now where do you think you’re going?”

He’s making you face him now. 

You’re still not giving him eye contact. 

“Back to my desk?” You say, looking off into the distance. But San seems to have other plans. 

“You know ‘looks good’ isn’t the feedback I’m looking for, right?”

Shit. You know that clear as day. 

Now San has both his arms trapping you on his desk. 

You somehow still manage to avoid his sharp gaze even when you’re backing up against him, easily letting him corner you.

His belongings are strewn all over the desk when he pins you down. By some miracle, only papers flutter down his desk. 

And you’re finally looking right at him. 

“You’re finally looking at me, y/n”, he states the obvious. “Now tell me, did I do something wrong?” 

“No, you didn’t, sir”, you reply curtly. 

He leans in closer. 

“Then why are you avoiding my eye contact?”

You shut your eyes and squeeze them. There’s no pure way out of this—your dirty thoughts are seeping into the smallest crevices of your brain, and the more San is prodding you, the more it makes you throb.

“It’s because that evening when we…” you feel your cheeks burn with every word leaving your lips. 

San is waiting for you to continue. 

“When we kissed…couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

“And?”

“It made me want…more.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“Has anyone told you how adorable you are when you’re honest?” He chuckles. “I’m gonna finish what we started sweetheart, like I promised.”

It makes your heart flutter. 

“Am I getting your consent for this?”, San’s voice rings in your ears. You’re finding it hard to focus, especially when his thumb is pushing past the corner of your lips, and you’re just growing wet as fuck. 

This is not right. This is so dangerous. 

“Yes sir”, you reply back, trying to ignore the way your cunt is just tingling from the feeling of San’s thick erection pressing against you.

“That’s my good girl”, he praises before he dives in for a hungry kiss, his fingers roaming around your body, squeezing your tits before he unbuttons your shirt at an agonising pace. He smiles on your lips when he hears your soft gasp, and he presses his lips down to your jaw and then to your neck, sucking and biting the soft skin against your neck, his erection growing tighter against his trousers when he hears you moan and squirm. 

When he’s satisfied with the light marks he decorated down your neck, his lips are pressed against your ear, and his hands are moving dangerously close to your cunt, and inevitably, your bottoms are off in seconds, leaving you in your pretty panties. 

“I would prefer fucking you on my bed instead for the first time, but taking you on my desk? Maybe not too bad.”

Your cunt squeezes at the sound of San cussing. You never thought he’d sound this fucking hot. 

He groans when his fingers press against the soaked patch of fabric hiding your pussy. All that wetness for him. He bunches up the fabric and rubs it against your clit, the friction drawing frustrated whimpers from you, much to his satisfaction. It feels so good but it’s not enough, and it’s driving you crazy.

San’s fingers finally hook against the waistband of your panties, sliding them off your legs, and pocketing them, much to your shock. 

And he doesn’t give you much time to focus on that because when he pulls his cock out from his unzipped pants, it makes your head spin from how thick Choi San is. 

“Sir, I’m not sure-“

“It’ll fit, sweetheart, like it’s made for me”, is all the warning San gives before he lines up to your hole and pushes his cock in. 

You can’t tell what’s fucking you up more—the way his cock is stretching you open or the San groaning in relief when he finally gets to stuff you full. 

You bat away your tears, his cock so fucking full inside of you, pressing against your walls, being squeezed so perfectly by you. 

God, Choi San thinks he’s in heaven. 

His fingers brush across your cheeks, collecting your teardrops. His eyes lack any ounce of empathy. 

“Aw, are you crying because it feels good? You look so fucking pretty crying when I’m stretching you open.”

You barely find the words to reply to him, all stuck in your throat, your mind only flooded by the way San’s cock is buried in your cunt, your thighs trembling from the pleasure. It’s almost sickening. You know you shouldn’t be doing this—not with your professor, not on his fucking desk, but when he has you wrapped you around his finger and cock fucking the daylights out of you, it’s a temptation you can never resist. 

A soft hiccup escapes past your lips when San pulls out almost all the way, his cock covered in a sheen of slick and precum before he pushes himself in once more, groaning when you clench around him for the nth time. 

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart. God, I could just fuck you all day. You’d like that right?”

You’re barely keeping track, eyes rolled to the back of your head while your thighs twitch from the pleasure, but you manage to hold the eye contact, and through blurry tears, you mutter a weak, “Yes sir”. 

“Of course you do”, San hums before he pulls out once more and starts fucking you dumb on his desk. 

No matter how much you try to cover your mouth, bite your tongue or your lip, your moans only come out louder in defiance, the dopamine shooting up your pussy over and over again whenever San’s cock hits your pretty spots. 

Your mind is addicted to the way San’s shirt is buttoned down his chest, his cleavage almost fully out for you to gawk at, the way strands of his hair cling to his forehead because of the sweat, the way his eyes roll back when he feels you squeeze him with every loud fuck, and the way he looks down to you from time to time before he eats up your pathetic moans with hungry kisses. 

He fucked you up so good, you didn’t even realise it until now. 

“S-San”, you manage out a whimper, “please…”

“Please what, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what you’re begging for. 

“Please… you feel so fucking good. I’m gonna cum. It’s so fucking good”, you babble, trying to force your eyes open. 

San can’t help but smirk when his ego is being stroked so nicely like that, especially by you. He’s a good person, of course, he’ll give what his good girl wants. 

His thumb slides south on your body until you feel the ticklish sensation of him on your clit. Cream and precum pooling at the base of his cock makes it even worse for you—with every graze, his finger pressed onto your clit, the knot tightened in your stomach. 

Your nonsensical strings of words only push San to tease you more as he endearingly watches you break slowly when your orgasm builds up. 

Your body twitches, your back arches, your eyes roll back, white splashes beneath your eyelids. Your orgasm burning through you while you cry out San’s name and you twitch pathetically on his cock, letting your cream leak all over his wet cock. 

“Fuck. You’re such a good fucking girl for me, aren’t you?”, you hear San curse. He fucks you through your orgasm, the overstimulation building up. The sensitivity feels so fucking good. 

His hand catches your jaw, and he forces you to meet his eyes. 

“Wanna pump you full of my cum, keep you so fuckin’ full for days on end,” he huffs, “but not now, sweetheart.”

Not that you minded, but there’s a strange tinge of disappointment ringing at the back of your head. 

San thrusts into you a couple more times before he pulls out, his thick and wet cock resting on your pelvis, twitching as his hand takes over. 

Nothing can beat Choi San’s fucking face when he cums. He looks like he’s in fucking heaven, and he’s tearing up the sky because of you. His fingers leave light marks on your thighs, you hear him groan at such a low tone that your cunt flutters uselessly against the air. Translucent spurts land on your skin, but it barely registers in you—you’re too busy swooning over the way your Professor just cummed over your body. 

San’s high dies down, and he catches his breath, casting you a glance, red dusting his cheeks, before he reaches out for the tissue box to clean you up. 

A quick kiss on the lips before he goes on to collect all the papers all over the floor.

That night he drives you home, filling the space with light conversations as if he didn’t just railed you on his desk. 

It’s only when you reach home that you realise one important thing—San still has your panties. 

You know you shouldn’t be telling secrets to your colleague, especially when it’s about your fucking boss. But here you are, facing Jongho, who has his arms crossed in front of you. 

“What’s up with you and Prof?” You predict the words that leave his lips. 

You hesitate to tell him, unsure how you should even say it, where to even start. 

The worst part you knew clear as day was that nothing changed since that day. You chalked it off as San being swamped with assignments to deal with, that’s why the topic was never brought up again, but something still irked you. The only comfort you had was that the semester was ending, and so was your term as San’s teaching assistant. 

Maybe it was how it was meant to be. Just nothing more than that.

But when you realise the dreaded feeling prickling at the back of your eyes, you knew you were fucked. 

“I don’t know how to even start jjong”, you sigh. Jongho scrunches his eyebrows. 

You watch his expression switch from one to the other. You expected him to freak out at you, yell at you for unprofessionalism or something, but he doesn’t. 

“It’s so fucked up. But I just can’t help but wonder if he feels anything”, you mutter. The thought of you not being the only one he’s doing this with makes your stomach churn. But somehow, in the most twisted ways, confiding Jongho made you feel slightly better. 

“Well, looks like we’ll have to play that card I guess”, Jongho shrugs. “But you should mentally prepare yourself for the results, that’s all I gotta warn you. I just need your consent to play along.”

It’s a risky bet you’re playing, but drastic times called for drastic measures, right?

As the semester closes to its end, so does the workload. San feels a lot lighter on his shoulders, and while he’s grateful for his teaching assistants for lifting a significant amount of workload off him, the end of a semester meant the end of the working relationship between him and his teaching assistants. He usually doesn’t feel that much, considering he has had many teaching assistants in the past, but for some reason, he feels a sense of discomfort lodged in his stomach when he thinks about having to let them go.

Especially one of them. 

He sighs, removing his glasses from his nose and shutting his eyes while reviewing the exams. San feels like a fucking idiot when his eyes land on your empty desk, his frustration bubbling when you cross his mind again. 

Even though he pretends to keep himself busy by flooding his mind with work, somehow, you would bubble to the surface once more, pushing him into the pits of frustration when he’s reminded of the way you get a kick arguing and refuting him just to get a reaction out of him, the way you taste like sweetest thing on earth he’s ever tried and the way you completely unravel when San fucks every single thought out of you—

He bites his cheek. 

No. He has to keep it professional. At least, until the term is over. 

He just doesn’t know how to tell you. 

He knows he’s entered deep waters when he crossed the line that evening, the sight of you undone right before him snapping all his rationale. More than anything, he’s suffering the withdrawals, maybe that’s the punishment he has to bear. 

He glances at the colourful ticket at the corner of his desk. It’s Jongho’s big game. Even though he usually doesn’t let himself intertwine with his subordinate’s personal interests, it’s hard not to. 

In addition, you’ll be there. Maybe he’d snag you after the game and talk to you properly. 

The meeting ran overtime, San glances down at his silver watch, realising he’d missed almost thirty minutes of Jongho’s game. Despite the exhaustion, he pushes it aside and heads to the stadium. 

He watches the brightly lit scoreboard as he takes a seat on the bench, Jongho’s team is in the lead by one point. 

Somehow he gets wrapped up in the game, cheering when Jongho’s team takes championship as the benches all burst into loud cheers too. 

He gets up to leave, already thinking of drafting a text to congratulate Jongho in his head, maybe get him a small congratulatory gift on the side. 

Then he spots you, just rows below. Now, he’s walking down as if on instinct, to get to where you are.

San pushes past the crowd to approach you. He’ll offer to drive you back—he knows it’s all an excuse but anything to get you into his space once more. 

His arm outstretched, reaching out to tap your shoulder, then suddenly stopping when he sees Jongho appear right in front of you. That’s fine. San could just congratulate him at the same time—

Which all of those thoughts immediately disintegrate when he watches Jongho cup your cheeks with his hand, his eyes widening in complete silent horror as Jongho leans into you for a kiss. 

You seriously doubt that Jongho’s plan would work. Didn’t San decide not to come anyway? You heard it with your own ears too. 

Nonetheless, you pushed it to the back of your mind, focusing on cheering for your friend, watching the leading scorer jump from one team to the next. You couldn’t help but erupt into cheers when Jongho’s team won, screams echoing through the open stadium. 

You watch Jongho walk up to the benches where you are, and his arms wrap around you, his smile big and bright, competing with the stadium lights. 

“Congratulations, baby bear”, you tease, pushing against his shoulders lightly. Jongho inches close to you. 

“He’s behind you by the way”, Jongho mutters, loud enough for you to hear, but not long enough for you to process, because his hands are cupping your jaw, his thumb pressed against your lips. 

He hears you muffle some kind of question but your lips stay sealed. 

“You owe me one for this,” is the last thing you hear before he leans in. Your eyes widen in shock, and you freeze in your spot, even though his lips don’t meet yours, evidently separated by Jongho’s thumb, his action had caught you off guard.

You barely have the capacity to process what had just happened, and you feel someone’s warmth tightening against your wrist. 

Jongho lets go of you immediately, but you’re staring right at your professor, who is staring right at Jongho with an unreadable expression, with his fingers curled tightly against your wrist. It feels like an eternity since you saw him. He’s not wearing glasses today and his hair is down instead of his usual slicked-back look, donned with a simple dress shirt and tie which framed his wide shoulders so perfectly.

“Congratulations on your win, Choi Jongho. I believe you should be with your team to celebrate right?”

Jongho only smirks back. “Right. See you babe. Thank you, Prof. See you next week.”

Jongho casts you a glance, the mischief twinkling in his eyes before he turns his heel down the stairs and back to the field. 

What the fuck just happened?

And you find yourself staring up at the male before you, his gaze piercing into yours. 

“Prof—San?” You blink. “I thought you weren’t-“

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, sweetheart. Why would I not want to see the cute relationship my teaching assistants have right?” His voice is laced with venom. 

San doesn’t really elaborate further, leading you to his car, sealing your fate once more when the passenger doors close shut. 

He’s all over you. His body is burning up, maybe just as fast as yours is, and it’s making you feel dizzy. His moves are aggressive, impatient and you swear you feel something else too—desperation. 

“S-San—“ you gasp, in an attempt to take control of something.

“It’s sir to you, sweetheart”, his voice low and gentle, but commanding. Goosebumps scatter across your skin, making you shiver in response when his palms slide up your waist. 

You never saw it coming—from the second his hand grabbed yours, pulling you away from Jongho, his eyes locked into yours for a moment before he turns to Jongho, then to the car ride back, where you noticed the way his knuckles turned pale from gripping the steering wheel. On the walk to his car, you asked him where you were going, and all he did was turn to you and reply, “We’ve got things to talk about, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Now you’re becoming undone once more under San’s touches, trapped beneath him like the first time, now at his place, on his fucking couch instead. 

“It was just foolish of me to just let it be, wasn’t it?” He asks. “Fucking you dumb on my desk wasn’t a good enough indicator, was it?”

“S-sir…!”

“And you think it’s cute getting all cuddly with Jongho? Letting him kiss you all over, touch you all over?” San mutters, his fingers wrapped around your throat, his grip tightening slightly and you’re sure he’s about to leave light imprints. 

But oh, was it so fucking exhilarating—the thought of Choi San riled up like that, a sight you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure if fear or excitement running through your veins right now, but what you do know, is that if he finds out that your panties are completely soaked through, you’re fucking done for. 

His lips collide with yours again, branding himself as some kind of oxygen thief when he’s turning your mind into complete mush. 

“I’m not sure if it’s a little game to you sweetheart, but if it is, I think you need a reminder.”

You breathlessly look up at him, and he looks ethereal even when he’s panting and looking pissed as hell. 

“What reminder, sir?” You dare ask back. 

The side of San’s lips tugs upwards. His hand leaves your throat and trails down your blouse, effortlessly unbuttoning the apparel until he tugs it off you, panting at the sight of your tits hugged by your lace bra. Your bottoms are off again on the floor of his bedroom, alongside any ounce of rationale. Your soaked panties are agonisingly pulled off your legs, and before you know it, his hands spread them open too. It takes all of San’s self-control to not stuff you full. At least, not yet.

“It’s my cock you’re gonna cum all over. Even when you have another guy’s lips on yours, it’s my name you’re gonna fucking scream.”

Oh. Oh god. 

The pieces of what Jongho was trying to do suddenly come together, unfortunately, the realisation doesn’t last long because San has his lips greedily on yours again on top of the way his full-blown erection is pressing onto your pussy. 

“Sir”, you manage out a weak mutter when he finally pulls away, trying to press and grind against his clothed dick for some friction or anything to rid the burn that’s going through your body. But San remains still. 

“Use your words since you love using your mouth so much.” Like kissing Choi Jongho. 

Your mind is a complete puddle. 

“I really…fuck. I really need you to fuck me right now, sir”, you beg, red flushing your cheeks, but it’s not from the shame. There’s a feral glint in San’s eyes that you don’t miss. 

“No”, is all he answers, and you feel your heart drop to your stomach. 

“Not until I’ve fucked your mouth full, sweetheart.” 

All you can do is watch him speechlessly as he hooks his index finger on the knot of his tie and loosens it, unraveling it back to its original form. 

“Hands together”, he commands you, and you do so immediately, basking in the scent of his cologne while he leans into you, his hands tying knots around your wrists with his tie. “Don’t let it loosen, got it?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now on your knees.” 

You’ve never dropped to your knees so fast.

San forces you to watch him unbutton and lower the fly of his trousers, and you’re just doing your best not to get drool on his expensive carpet. 

When his cock springs out, you’re also forced to watch him fuck his palm at a slow pace, drinking in his groans, slick staining your inner thighs, and the fucking floor next if you don’t do anything. 

His cock is heavy against your cheek when he taps it there, and your tongue slips out of your mouth by instinct, given experimental kitten licks on his slit, before his fingers catch your chin, and he forces you to look up at him. 

“Look at me”, he instructs. 

You do. You do your best not to break the eye contact, trying not to be sidetracked by his big fucking cock, but your eyes can’t help but dart to his appendage. 

“No, keep your eyes on me”, he redirects once more, his fingers fixing your head in place. 

Then he slides his cock into your mouth and pulls out a choked moan from you. 

“That’s it. Good girl”, he grunts when you start bobbing your head, fucking his cock with your mouth. 

His fingers trail to the back of your head, but he’s using all of his strength not to force your head down. 

But as you pick up the momentum, it’s an automatic reaction to push your head down so his cock hits the back of your throat. Your eyes are watering but fuck you feel like you’re in fucking heaven. Your head spins whenever his wet cock is forced down your tight throat, and you break eye contact a few times, which San has to tap your jaw to make you keep eye contact while he fucks your face. 

“I’m cumming, sweetheart. Fuck. Keep that pretty little mouth open for me yeah?” He groans, bucking his hips, letting streaks of warm white paint your throat and mouth, watching the way you’re looking up at him with doe eyes, taking his cum in your mouth like a good girl. His good girl. 

He smudges his thumb against the corner of your lips before his arms carry you up, only to dump you on the couch.

Your back is on the couch again, hands still tied behind your back and legs up with San pressing his body weight on you.

He props your leg on his shoulder, and he stretches you open inch by inch. You gasp when he fills you up, your walls immediately clenching around him. 

“So fuckin tight for me, sweetheart. You take me so well.”

His thrusts are growing more aggressive mixed in with the possession that’s bleeding in and it’s setting your whole body on fire. Your words are caught in your throat when he’s buried into you to the hilt. He groans at the way your pussy is fluttering pathetically against him. 

It feels so fucking good that nothing but stars engulf your vision when his cock stuffs you full to the hilt again. His name leaves your lips like a mantra on top of broken moans and whimpers, and it only makes San fill up the space in your pussy all the more better. 

His shoulders are so wide that he’s towering over you, his fingers forcing you to face him whenever you’re drifting because of the pleasure, his eyes feral when you look so fucked out for him. And when he combines his heavy thrusts with a squeeze around your throat, it makes your mind shut off and your cunt cream all over his dick.

“Good girl, looking all so fucked out for me.”

 His cock is hitting all the perfect spots, and it’s driving you insane with the knot tightening in your stomach at such a fast pace. You think you’re sliding off the couch but San isn’t letting you—especially not when his thrusts are keeping you on the couch. His name continues to leave your lips in broken moans every time he fucks you. 

San snakes his fingers to your scalp and he tugs sharply, enough to force you to look up at him. You’re tearing up again, and it feels so fucking good with the way he’s keeping your hair tugged while he fucks the ever-loving shit out of you.

“My name does sound much better when you’re crying it doesn’t it, sweetheart?”

You choke back a moan when he hits your g-spot once more.

“Y-yes sir.” 

“How are you feeling?”

“Full. So full sir. Want more. Please. Need you to ruin me”, you beg once more, your mind floating in an endless euphoria.

“Oh, I definitely will”, San hums, watching in sheer pleasure as your eyes roll back when his cockhead presses perfectly against your g-spot over and over.

Before you realise it, your orgasm hits you like fucking train, spreading through your body like a fucking wildfire, engulfing every crevice of your body. 

He’s gonna break you, and you’re fucking loving it. 

“San-“, you cry out, not registering the way he’s wiping the tears off your eyes. “So good. You feel so good. Cumming so much-“ 

“I know, sweetheart. It feels so fucking good doesn’t it?” He asks with a smile, satisfied when you nod frantically while he rubs your thighs.

Your thighs are shaking from how good this all feels, cream staining your inner thighs and his cock when he pulls out. 

“I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart”, San reminds you. 

He turns you over, keeping one hand on your tied hands, while the other pressing your head against the back of the couch. He lines his cock back to your cunt, pushing into your hole once more. You choke on your moans again, tears gathering at the corner of your eyes until he’s fully seated in you once more. 

The sounds are even wetter now, especially when you’re overstimulated, pussy just being so perfectly abused by Choi San. You fucking love the way his hands are around your neck, forcing you against the cushions when he fucks you dumb from the back. 

Your stomach is in knots once more, the feeling building up faster than the previous time, and all you can mutter is that it feels so good. San thinks you’re so fucking adorable when you’re not having banters with him and being this cock drunk for him. 

Then he pulls you off the couch, letting you catch a breath before he sits you on his lap, his cock still buried in your cunt, and starts bouncing you off his cock from below.

He alternates between melting your brain with his pornographic moans right at your ear and planting more love bites down your jaw. 

“Gonna cum again. You feel so fucking good in me. Oh god”, you hiccup through your tears, the sensitivity pushing your limit. 

“Cum as hard as you want, sweetheart. I’ll let you milk me dry, fill you up so fucking good that you’ll be leaking with my cum for the next two days.” 

That was enough to set you off. Your pussy convulses when your second orgasm hits, fireworks bursting in your eyelids, long drawn-out cries while San fills your tight cunt with his warm and thick cum, while his groans fill up in your ears. You feel his fingers massaging your thighs, coaxing you from your high. 

You’re dizzy, and light-headed as your head slumps against his shoulders, too spent to acknowledge the male behind you leaving more marks down your neck. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart,” San breaks the momentary silence, well aware that his softening cock is still in you. 

Your hand flies up to his chest to stop him, even though you’re still recovering from seeing stars. 

“We need to talk-“

“After we clean up”, he cuts you off, lifting you off his cock and carrying you bridal style to his bathroom. 

But you’re stubborn. 

“N-no. It wasn’t what you thought it was”, you say, feeling your tears well up in your eyes on top of the weight. 

The prickles are starting to form at the bottom of San’s heart, but he’s more focused on trying to hose you down with warm water. But he’s listening you run your mouth, not that he minded. 

“We didn’t kiss”, you reiterate. 

Now he’s just confused. He stares at you. 

“We just had sex, y/n”, San reminds you, trying not to let the red reach his cheeks. 

“No—I mean Jongho and I. We didn’t kiss”, you clarify.

San doesn’t really know if he should believe your words or his eyes, but now he’s focused on lathering your hair and body. 

“That wasn’t what I saw”, he replies, avoiding eye contact. 

“That’s cause we did this-“ you huff, turning his head to face you, imitating the way Jongho had slid his thumb between your lips and his, demonstrating San the fake kiss. 

San only stares at you wordlessly when you pull back, only more questions than answers. 

“But why would he do that for?”

“He was trying to rile you up.”

“For what?”

“To see if you felt anything for me?”

“By kissing you?”

Oh god. It felt like the more you explained, the more San was getting the wrong ideas. You let your head sit in your hands, unsure if it’s from the embarrassment or the fact that you don’t even know where to start. 

“It wasn’t a kiss, Choi San”, you groaned, your hands leaving your face, suddenly self-conscious that San is staring intently at you. “After we, um, fucked the first time, you acted like nothing happened, and I felt like shit about it, and I told Jongho and then…” you trail off, feeling your cheeks heat up again. It’s probably the hot water, at least that’s what you try to convince yourself with.

“I don’t kiss people I’m not in love with, San”, you sigh in defeat. Your eyes are downcast, but you feel his fingers cup your cheeks, and his lips press onto yours. You swear you could go another round again. 

The silence hangs in the air for a while, only the sounds of the shower filling the emptiness when he pulls back. 

“I didn’t do anything since after that evening because I wanted to properly tell you after the term ended.”

“Tell me what?”

“That I’m in love with you, too.”

You blink. Somehow that shocked you more than the both times he fucked your brains out. 

You don’t answer him because your head is just swarming with so many thoughts, and San lets you do so, satisfied that he’s finally have you quieten down so he can finish washing you up. 

Even when he’s dressed you in his oversized hoodie, San peppers you with kisses, basking in the way you sometimes cover his face with your hands to stop him, which only rouses him to continue to attack you with his lips.

San’s arms are tight around you when the both of you are finally on his bed. You smell like his favourite body soap and he can’t seem to get enough of it—nuzzling against the crook of your neck, muttering sweet nothings. You think this is probably your favourite version of Professor Choi. 

Your fingers twirl around his splayed-out locks, and you speak. 

“Prof Choi”, you tease, and San looks up, and it’s the first time you actually see him pout—it almost makes you combust. 

“I told you to stop calling me that”, he frowns, burying his face, feigning trying to cut off physical contact from you, which only makes you laugh in response. 

“I just wanted to disturb you”, you respond, trying to yank him back into your arms. “I do have a question though.”

His head pops up from his pillows and he stares at you, waiting for you to speak. 

“When did you realise you had feelings for me?”

He pauses, giving himself a couple of minutes to think. 

“The moment I received your teaching assistant application.”

📚 Bonus Epilogue 📚

“Prof Choi!” One of his teaching assistants calls out to him. 

He turns his head and attention to her, pushing up his glasses. 

“Yes?” 

“I need help with this part of the assignment. Could you help me check that I’ve marked it correctly?”

San nods, taking the papers from her. 

As he scans through her work, the teaching assistant’s eyes glance down at the band hugging his ring finger. 

“Prof, you’re married?”

San pauses his writing to glance at the glistening gold on his finger, and a small smile spreads across his cheeks. 

“You know, I used to wear a ring on my ring finger so students would stop asking me if I was married or not.”

She raises her eyebrows, her curiosity piqued. “So you’re not?”

“I am.”

Her eyes brighten, invested in her handsome professor’s love story. 

“Tell me more then”, she asks. 

San scoffs playfully, turning his gaze to her. 

“All I can tell you is that she’s always been my favourite.”

taglist: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @pre1ttyies @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @ywtf @woojirang @yuyusgirl

@jeon-ify @itza-meee @miss-fallon @hwallazia @bunnyluvr25 @eggyboy5 @hourswithoutyou @iwishiwasthemoontonight @yunhogrippers @watermelon2319 @vampiregirl215 @kibs-and-bits @s-h-y-a @liyahbug05-blog @luvt0kki @httpseungmxn @vic0921 @sanhwajoong @bitejoongie @no1likevie

network: @atzhouse @cultofdionysusnet @cromernet

[mandiemegatron]

ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜʟᴇꜱꜱ

Trafalgar Law x Y/N ficlet

Fluff, general care, hella smooching, slightly toasty 👀, hand massage, Law being a softie✨️💖

A/N: Something I thought up after seeing @kittycatzuka post here, it gave me the feels and this is what my brain thought up.

I hope you all enjoy! ✨️💖

Also, I just spent like an hour beta-ing it so if you see any mistakes, no you don't. 😎 okay love you my lil tangerines! ✨️💖

Header by @baka-tsuki / @baka-tsuki-2 💖

It was supposed to be a quiet night for the captain. All the man wanted to do was finish his paperwork, read some Sora and pass out into a restless sleep.

Since Y/N showed up, it never seemed to work out the way Law wanted. Every night, she'd knock on his office door to say goodnight, no matter the amount of times he tried to tell her she didn't have to, that she could just simply go to bed and he'd see her in the morning for breakfast. It never deterred her, her smiling face always popping in through the cracked door with a small wave.

This night was different.

Law glanced over at the clock on his desk, frowning to himself as he realized you were late, not showing up around the time you usually did. He then paused, curiously irritated at realizing the fact that he was worried, immediately thinking the worst had happened you.

He let his pen drop to the desk as his other hand ran through his hair, his eyes closing as he took a deep breath. God, he was exhausted.

There was a soft thunk as ceramic hit his desk, his eyes snapping open to see you placing a fresh cup of tea right above his incomplete paperwork.

"Y/N-ya."

You cracked a tired smile of your own before hiding a yawn behind your now free hand, lifting your mug in a silent cheers to him as you sat in the chair opposite his desk.

"Saw your light was on, thought maybe you could use a little something," your voice was soft as you spoke, unable to hide how tired you were from his prying eyes.

"While I appreciate it, you should be in bed already. We have a big day tomorrow," he replied, gently picking up the hot mug with a sigh through his nose. Yeah, he definitely needed this.

"So should you, dear Captain."

He huffed gently, staring you down before taking a long sip.

"I'm not done my job for the day."

You cracked a grin at the sight of him complaining, his distaste for the job showing itself very clearly.

"I can give you a hand, if that'll help?"

He hummed in disagreement into the mug, taking another sip before replying,

"You'd only make it take longer."

While there was teasing in his tone, you couldn't hide the way your grin slowly slid from your lips, your eyes glancing down at the mug in your hands. He kicked himself as a pain clutched around his chest, hating that he made you look that way.

"... I appreciate the offer, Y/N, thank you. Your company helps more than enough."

Your eyes flickered back to his at his words, your cheeks tinting pink as you murmured,

"... glad to help."

It was only for a moment but it felt like ages, the way his eyes bored into yours. It was like you were a puzzle he was trying to slove and couldn't, his frustration showing in his gaze. Your heart jumped into your throat, your mind screaming at him to just kiss you, to say something, to tell you everything you wanted him to say-

The moment broke as he went back to his scribbling, one hand around his mug while the other scratched away. You made yourself more comfortable in the large chair, your eyes wandering his face, not knowing he could feel your very hungry gaze on him.

Pride washed over him, his ego flaring as a smirk ticked up his lips. He did have a feeling you liked him, but this moment here proved to him that he was right.

"See something you like, Y/N?"

There was a heavy silence as your eyes widened, unsure of how to respond so you remained quiet, simply watching him for any signs of a joking manner.

You were incredibly confused when you could only sense a serious air around him.

It took a moment to gather courage but you did finally respond, looking down at your mug for a moment before glancing back to him as you commented lightly,

"Surely it's obvious that I do."

The air was so thick it could have been sliced with a butterknife. You both stared at each other for what felt like ages before you looked away first, unable to handle the heat of his gaze on you like this.

"... good to know."

His response caused you to grin, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you bit back a happy sound, not wanting to feed his already giant ego. A more comfortable silence covered you both as he went back to his work, now motivated to finish it quicker than before.

You'd drank your entire tea by the time he finally finished. You'd been slouched lazily in the chair, glancing around his office with mildly bored eyes, having already taken everything in to the point you could name off each book and it's order on the shelf. He yawned loudly, rubbing his face with both hands before standing, placing his completed work off to the side before coming around his desk to stand by you, leaning on it for support.

"You should get some rest," you started, giving a yawn of your own and going to move before you noticed him massaging his hand. You looked up at him, his exhausted expression filling your chest with a ache you didn't enjoy.

You had to do something.

Placing the empty mug beside him, you then reached out and gently took his writing hand into your own warm palms, you began massaging his own, your thumbs pressing down to the point where he grunted softly.

"Yeah, I know it sucks but this is what happens when you don't take proper breaks," you murmured, focusing on doing your best not to look up at him, your cheeks burning so hot that you began to worry you gave yourself a fever.

A particularly illicit groan left your Captain when you pressed at one point, your eyes finally flicking up at him for just a moment and you couldn't help but smile at seeing his relaxed expression. His eyes were shut, his chest rising and falling as he took slow, deep breaths.

Your heart clenched - you wished he looked like this more, so quiet and tender -

Your thoughts stopped as you looked back to his hand, your thumbs working down to his wrist and forearm, not noticing him leaning closer to you to give you better reach.

It took only a few minutes, letting his arm gently drop to his side as you held your hands palm up out for his other one.

"Other hand, please!"

He was silent the entire time, lifting his hand to you as you did the same thing, starting at his palm before going to his long fingers, showing them love and stretching them before moving down to his wrist and forearm.

You were so focused that you didn't noticed his free hand coming catch your chin, his long fingers lifting your face gently. Your eyes met and your stomach churned, knowing your face was still bright red as he looked over your face. Your fingers had stopped, clamped gently around his forearm.

You couldn't place the look he was giving you, trying to convince yourself that he was not giving you bedroom eyes - the man was exhausted, for fucks sake! But you couldn't help how your body warmed at his touch, wanting so desperately to lean into his touch.

The sudden fear of rejection hit you like a ton of bricks. You must have made a face because his thumb brushed over your bottom lip, almost as if trying to comfort you.

"You look worried," he breathed out, his breath so warm and so close that it danced across your face. Your eyes were locked in an intense gaze, his dark and craving; yours wide and needy in your own right. Warmth pooled in your lower region as his eyes looked down at your lips for a moment, the air suddenly heavy once again as his gaze met yours again.

"I... I am worried," you finally whispered, eyes never leaving his. He moved closer again, so slowly that it felt like he was teasing you.

"Why?"

Not a question, a demand.

"... because I'm scared that you'll kiss me and I'll get attached."

A slow, wicked grin came over his features when you finally spoke.

"As if you're not already attached."

His words felt like a punch to your gut, causing you to gasp out softly before his lips consumed yours, both your eyes falling shut as he took what he wanted. It wasn't a soft kiss, but it wasn't demanding either. It held just enough emotion that you felt the anxiety of earlier wash off you like a wave, your shoulders unconsciously dropping though your hands remained on his arm.

When he finally pulled away, you were a mess. Your heart was pounding so loud in your ears, it felt like vertigo. Your eyes slowly reopened, confusion and hope written across your face like an open book as you stared at him. You were nearly breathless as you somehow got out,

"Um... Wow."

Law blinked a few times before he broke down, laughing so loud and hysterically that he pulled away from you, leaning over with his hands on his knees. You sat there blinking, feeling even more confused, wondering what the hell was going on. His laughter echoed in the room, and probably the entire sub but clearly he was gone, absolutely fucked up.

Just straight up bonkers.

When he finally calmed, one hand came up to wipe away the laughter tears as he leaned back up, a wide smile on his face as he took a moment to collect himself.

He finally looked down at you, your own almost nervous smile etched into your face as you waited for him to explain himself.

"You, Y/N-ya, are something else, you know? How you've flipped my life upside down."

The amount of sincerity in his voice immediately made you begin to tear up, you're heart leaping from your chest into your throat and stopping you from responding. You simply gave your own genuine smile in return, one hand quickly wiping away the few tears that slipped out.

A heavy hand landed on the top of your head, long fingers rustling your hair as Law gave another chuckle. Your smile remained as your swiped at his hand, his own grin turning cheeky as he lightly slapped your hand away.

There was a pause between you two, with him running a tired hand through his hair as you rubbed at your face, biting back a yawn. As he took in your exhausted form, he knew it was time for you both to hit the hay.

"You crazy brat. Go to bed," he started, moving his hands to grasp your own and pulling you out of the chair. He turned you and walked you to the door just a few feet away, opening it but holding you to him, his hands on your shoulders. You noted they were shaking slightly through hazy thoughts as his warm chest hit your back.

"I'll see you at breakfast. Save me a seat?"

His breath brushed over your ear, causing your skin to erupt in goosebumps. He didn't give you enough time to respond, giving you a quick shove out the door before closing it behind you.

You stared at the wall of the Tang, blinking a few times before your mouth finally started working again.

"What the actual fuck just happened?"

A/N: HEHEHEE we love a sly, flirty Law 🙈🙈🙈🙈 I'm gunna smooch him so hard, idk abt you guys 😂😂🥵🥵🙈🙈 I hope you guys enjoyed this as much as I did !

Smooch smooch, be good my lil tangerines! 🍊💋

[blackvelvetwriteson]

𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 (𝐁𝐍𝐇𝐀 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍)

                                       (  ~ Multiple Characters x Gender Neutral                                                     Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: FILTHY SMUT     

                                                  FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Today for our characters, we have cumflation, exhibitionism, bondage, somnophilia, overstimulation, marking/burning, corruption, video recording, and tentacle play || I’m sorry if I didn’t catch them all! 

SUMMARY: These are just snippets that I’ve formed throughout the day of the BNHA boys when they’re feral or READER-CHAN is feral. Enjoy! 

WORD COUNT: N/A

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎

    I headcanon that Kirishima's body is extremely sensitive (and he's secretly a perv I mean come on he hangs with Denki and Denki hangs with Mineta) But he's also HELLA shy. So yall are on a movie date, right, and he has his hand over his bulge, grinding into his hand because he's too embarrassed to let you know that he's turned on; so he's just whimpering away and then he gets really close to your ear- by accident- and he moans your name trying to stay as quiet as he can as he's just crumbling and you, very casually, kneel in front of him and when he tells you not to, you take his cock out of his jeans and suck him off telling him to stay quiet until he cums.... And then you overstim the fuck out of him. By the time you're done and it's time to leave, his whole forearm is covered in bite marks from him trying to muffle his moans.

𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈

     He comes back home from work irritated as hell because someone stole a kill from him so you watch him stomp and pout around the house grumbling before you're both casually watching TV. You climb into his lap and start grinding into him, hard, and as he gets more turned on he gets more angry, eventually burying your face into the cushion before railing you so hard that by the end of it his cum forms a bulge in your tummy, you're feeling raw, and you're crying; but he also is a master at aftercare and he's in his domspace so he's not worried about what pissed him off.

𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈

    He, naturally is shy, but he couldn't help asking to come along when you suggested going to a dinner party that the heroes had put together after a MAJOR win and you were surprised but you said yeah. After some time, he went to the corner table that the two of you reserved but not because he was shy; you brushed him the RIGHT way and he was hot. At the party. And he couldn't exactly ask you to help when you were conversing with other heroes. You got drinks and returned to him with his hands in between his legs as he grinds against his wrist and forearms, riding his hand, mumbling and moaning out your name sweating, out of breath and red faced, then he gets shy when seeing you and he stops, but you make him turn his fingers into tentacles and guide him on how to play with you under the table as a hero or two sit at your table and you all start talking casually as Tamaki tries not to break and blow his cover bc you could lose your hero licenses if you got found out.

𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐈𝐃𝐀

   Iida invites you over to his house to meet his family, and you oblige happily letting him think this will be a teaseless night but of course he's extremely sensitive. You just HAD to exploit that in front of his family. While you're gathered around having dinner, you of course sit next to him and reach over slyly stroking him over his pants mid sentence. You already know he's big because let's face it this man is an absolute truck, and within a few short seconds he's already showing through his tight ass slacks. And it's more noticeable because they're light grey. He's trying to keep his composure even through his fogged ass glasses as you unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, VERY slyly and nobody even notices because you're following along with the conversation seamlessly. You edge him and tease him already knowing that he was quite loud when he came, so you wanted to see how he would fare in front of his family. long story short, he doesn't.❤️ And he instantly gets hard again when you lick your fingers clean of his cum and address the person who cooked the food while staring at him right in his eyes like "Mmmm this is so good. Thanks for the meal~ It was a real *TREAT* Thank you for inviting me, I loved the food. I’m happy to come back any time you need me."

𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈

    FUCKING CUMFLATION CUMFLATION CUMFLATION; He's just fucking RAILING you into the couch whining about how good you feel, how he's the best one you'll ever have, on about how good you make him feel and how he's the only one that knows how to please you the right way. He's just about spent but he wants to watch his cum pouring out of you and just the very image of it gives him anime protag energy so he's reaching all the way deep inside of you while he feeds you praises and tells him how good you're taking him, asking you if you want it harder, faster, deeper. He overstimulated yourself, taking your out of it state of mind to his advantage. He's an absolute mess of tears, moans, and laughter as he orgasms and cums inside of you again, wasting no time to pull out and watch his cum drip out of your hole, always ready to eat it right out of you because he's a pervy baby.

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀

He's the type to make you a pretty little collar from his tape when he got promoted at work, then drag you around the house by your collar all the way to your balcony, before taping your legs to stay open, your feet and thighs taped to the balcony’s edge, his body being the only thing that's holding you up. At this point, he doesn't care who sees as he absolutely ruins you, bruising your body with his teeth, growling in your ear as he mutters curses in spanish while absolutely WRECKING your shit. If you looked you could even see a bulge in your stomach too. He has no form of restraint when he's feral, grabbing at your skin, forcing your convulsing body to take him in deeper until he sees that you're all fucked out. Then later the same day, you see the both of you fucking on the front cover of the tabloids and it turns him on all over again, and he proceeds to fuck your face while he's reading the column, an expression of complete desperation and victory staining his face.

𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔

Ahhhh our innocent little beannnnn. It'd been awhile since he came since he's too busy occupying himself to masturbate and yall haven't had sex because of your schedules and doing hero work. But you come home late one shift and you find him in bed sleeping while moaning softly and crying while he's whimpering out your name like the pathetic little bitch boy he is while he's grinding against a pillow. You don't wanna wake him up, but you do record it so you can show it to him tomorrow, but you also prop your phone up and record yourself climbing on top of him, replacing the pillow with a thinner one so you could still have control of him without waking him up. You giggled softly and shook your head a little as you started to grind on him, feeling him grip at your hips while he's still dreaming of you, and you grind your hips into him harder and harder watching his crying get more and more intense until he cums and ruts his hips up hard into you even being a screamer while he's asleep. Then he wakes up a little but not enough to know what all is going on, but his back arches and he's screaming and begging for you to continue as you suck his cock clean only to have him cum in your mouth again and again, and then you coo him back to sleep peacefully, kiss his tears and turn off the camera.

𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎

Shoto doesn't have an ounce of social ANYTHING, no social cues, when things are appropriate or not, etc etc. So he takes you out to dinner and he's nibbling away at your neck, his hands trailing over your body because you guys were in the corner and you could get away with it, until he eventually pulls you into his lap and grinds your hips against his so that you could feel his bulge. And then he whispers in your ear how much he wants you, how much he wants to be balls deep inside of you, or how nice your tongue would feel against his cock and how much he aches for you until he's practically in tears. He makes you bounce on him, not really caring who saw you, while spreading your legs and stroking you over your pants at the same time freezing your hands together and pulling your arms over yours and his head so all you could do was cum, beg, and squirm around while you listen to his soft grunts in your ear, your legs having given out awhile ago.

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐉𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐙𝐎

    Shoji babyyyy awwww. He definitely has a size kink for... Obvious reasons, and he's always really gentle, so he got really flustered when you asked him to be a bit rough with you, instructing him to pin your hands above your head, forcing your legs open and keep them there, and you tried to force yourself all the way down on him. Of course, he'd never experienced everything so intense before, so even after he cums and is a twitching trembling mess you force him to continue to fuck into you until he's begging you to stop but also trying to get more at the same time.

𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

Dabi suddenly showing up to your work 10 minutes before your lunch break starts and he drags you out of the office and he pulls you into a dark corner so anybody could see if they wanted to but you both weren't in the way of anything (and out of the way of cameras) and he fucks you HARD burning through some of your clothes, leaving burn marks on you, his fingers shoved in your mouth to muffle your moans, and there's a bleeding bite mark on the nape of your neck then he kisses you, tells you to have a good day at work, and walks out as if nothing even happened.

[katsukikitten]

I present to you overworked. A comfort one shot I made hella quick for @mindninjax myself and anyone else who needs some bakugou comfort today. Please enjoy and let Bakugou be here for you if no one else can. 😊

Header by me!

Your phone softly vibrates on your desk as your eyes burn from staring at a screen filled with information that is familiar, information that you should know but just cannot retain. 

Or focus. 

So your phone is a happy distraction as you reach for it, only to be slightly annoyed by to a message from your hot headed friend. 

Grumpyasshole: Oi, haven't heard from you in that stupid ass group chat all week. Dunce face and shitty hair wanna know what's pissed in your cheerios 

Tongue in your cheek you debate on replying. You had ignored a slew of messages from your friends, in the group chat and even your dms sat smiling faces trapped in their little bubbles but you had always turned your phone face down. Too caught up in stress to be able to fulfill any social quota but your friends must have been desperate to convince the token grump of the group to message you. Privately at that. 

In a matter of seconds your thumbs slide across the virtual keyboard, knowing you could be honest with Bakugou, that the Pro hero could handle any sort of emotional load with ease. 

You thought it most likely because he did not care in the first place to store the baggage, at least not anywhere for long. 

You: Just feeling really run down from work. I think I'm over my head but probably too prideful to admit. Lol. Please tell everyone I'm sorry, that I'm just busy and I'll be back on my bullshit hopefully by Friday. 

Before you can even set your phone down you see that Bakugou leaves you on read. Your snort softly as you shake your head, tossing your phone aside for work. 

"Typical." You mutter to yourself. Reaching for your iced coffee only to find it empty. You debate if you should take a trip to get more. On one hand the air, despite the rain would do you good, you're sure your deskmate would gladly take a coffee. On the other, everyone in the office would stuff your hands with bills and credit cards begging you'd bring them some of that sweet nectar back. No one would care that you wouldn't haven't a hand for your umbrella and your hair would get totally fucked. 

So you decide to suffer in silence, as you always do. 

Hours slip through your fingers before your eyes glance at the small clock on the bottom right hand side of your computer. Steadily counting the minutes in the small banner. You sigh. Bringing your head down between your arms as your fingers lightly fist your hair at your nape. You felt as if you accomplished nothing, what with how much was left. 

At least your desk was clean and your shirt was cute, a good view for a few spine numbing minutes. You think you smell caramel wafting through the air, a part of you annoyed that your desk mate would venture the rain for her normal caramel latte without offering 

This is how Bakugou finds you when he approaches your desk, a sneer settled on his handsome features. Dirt and sweat clinging to his skin and the dark fabric of his hero suit. He crosses his arms, long gone are the obnoxious grenade gauntlets as his chest puffs. 

People in the office are staring at the blonde, his jagged domino mask making his garnet eyes that much more intense. Tension rises in the air as you're so oblivious, still collecting yourself silently praying that when you look back up the clock would read closer to five. 

"Oi." His voice is a deep rumble, not belonging in the office. No it belonged in the living room of your crazy packed house to one of your many roommates. It belonged at a bar, nagging that it's time to go when you were too drunk to fend off any prying hands, pestering you about your feet as he dragged you home. This voice belonged in the kitchen fussing at Denki for the stupid memes he puts in the group chat when all of you were 'right fucking here'. 

This voice did not belong in the office and so a part of you thinks you're seriously losing your shit before you glance up at the clock. Time moved like a sloth for you since the last you looked only ten minutes had passed. Kronos laughing at your plea of having time continue to move as light speed only to seemingly stop. 

"OI! Is yer head so far up yer ass ya can't fuckin hear me now, Princess?" Wait, who was using that nickname? 

That nickname thrust upon you by that grumpy asshole roommate once he saw how "high maintenance" you were when clearly you just cared about yourself for yourself. He did it as a jest but it made your whole body heat and go rigid every damn time. 

And he took notice in it. 

Delight even. 

And took notice in the way you hadn't been putting in much effort for yourself. Not taking the time for your hair, or your skincare routine that you forced on the whole house. Everyone dewy in their own right. How you look disheveled and bewildered now as you turned to face him. 

Large eyes going doe like, mouth forming in the smallest O that had him shifting his weight from one foot to the other because of his darker, lingering thoughts. 

How would you sound when he was buried…

He cuts the thought off with a pop of his skin, pulling you to your feet from your desk. 

"What are you doing?" Your voice cracks from shock, worry and a bit of venom leaks through but you make no effort to break free. 

"Wrap this shit up. I told yer boss I need your dumb ass for something." 

"Like what? I-" Bakugou cuts you off by leaning in close, eyes dark as he presses his lips to the shell of your ear. 

"You need a fucking day off. So I told your boss to fuck off and that you're coming home with me." His tone absolute. So you save your last bit of work, clock out before Bakugou passes you your jacket. He glares into the glass of your manager's office and you notice him crumble beneath that infamous burning gaze. 

Part of you wonders what Bakugou had really said, wonders if you'd still had a job. 

The two of you stand under the awning of your office building. The rain coming down in sheets, thick enough it almost blurs the cityscape.  Bakugou sighs, tension leaving his body as he tilts his neck. It cracks from the effort. 

"So what...what are we gonna do?" 

"I'm going to take your stupid ass home. Force you to shower while I order take out, then I'm going to set your overworked ass on the couch and we are going to watch that fucking movie you never shut up about. Got it Princess?" He fixes you a glare and is extra careful to drag out your nickname ever so slightly as he leans towards you. Your faces are close together, your heart in your throat as you try to push down these stupid, fleeting feelings you've had for the hot head since the six of you moved into that almost run down house. 

But you never could shake them. 

You senses fill with spiced caramel, easing the tension of your shoulders. 

"G-got it." 

[sailorhyunjinz]

𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕷𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑𝖘 𝐈𝐈

© 2021 SailorHyunjinz ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

Pairing; Bartender!Changbin x Fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warning ; ANGST!!! SMUT!! skz side characters, semi-slow burn, hurt/comfort, strangers to lovers, depiction of mental disorders, consumption of alcohol, tobacco use, dysfunctional families, mentions of undereating, vague hints to eating d-sorders mentions of crimes, mentions of blades, fainting, mentions of dr-g use, arguments, mentions of savior complex, mentions of childhood neglect, depiction of depression, mentions of needles, mentions of blades, yelling, mentions of hangover, parental issues (lmao cherry just say daddy issues), arguments

𝘕𝘚𝘍𝘞 ; PIV, unprotected sex, hair pulling, drooling, getting caught, masturbation, fingering, clitoral stimulation, orgasm (f). 

(fic header made by @yjeongs! thank u cora <33) 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 10.0 k 

From one survivor to another; cheers you guys. 

O N E ｜ T W O

                        ⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ Playlist ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

Drugs N Hella Melodies - Don Toliver, Kali Uchis

Life is a Bi... - Bibi 

cigarette and condom - Bibi 

Empty Trash - LØREN 

Noir - Sunmi 

NEED - LØREN

Pretty Boy - The Neighbourhood

(hint hint look at the lyrics <33)

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18.

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 ; 𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚

Three months.

Three months of booze, questionable substances, friends and most importantly. 

Him.

Seo Changbin. 

You never knew you could feel this deep about someone, there hadn’t been a reason earlier in your life since everyone in it either used you or abused you. But you knew he was different from the first time you saw him that night in the dark room, injured and surrounded by 7 other boys that were now your closest friends. Why would anyone ever want to leave this place? There was everything! Free drinks, ear-deafening music and your boyfriend. This was heaven for a hurt soul like you, so why would anyone search for an exit in this box of traitors? 

“O-oh fuck! Changbin!” you cried out as the momentum of his thrusts made you jolt forward, hands desperately trying to grab onto the black leather of the sofa you and him had made love on countless times, the door always being unlocked since there wasn’t a lock and this damn parallel universe wasn’t gonna install one anytime soon. 

Changbin grabbed your hair, twisting it around his hand as he pounded into you from the back, the supple valleys of your ass wobbling with each movement. Your voice became frail, stuttering and moaning his name in broken syllables along many other pleas and swearwords, the way your words became incoherent the longer he fucked you made his head lull backwards, pure music to his ears unlike that shitty music that blasted through the speakers on the dancefloor that was just next to the tiny dark room that was currently filled with the scent of sex and lust. Your head was tilted up, eyes tightly shut as you clenched around Changbin’s leaking cock that was jackhammering into your wet cunt, his dick glistening with your slick every time his hips moved away from you and reflected in the minimal light of the room. He grunted as all kinds of lewd sounds were heard from you, the skin slapping against each other and the squelching noise of your pussy being filled with his cock. His hands had a tight grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as the pleasure surged through every nerve of his body, sweat beading around on his temples. Your arms could barely hold you up, quivering and risking to collapse under you causing you to put your head towards the seat, warm cheek against the slightly cold leather. With your back fully arched your ass perked up, Changbin hitting exactly the right place in this position, a small stream of drool hanging from the corner of your swollen lips. You were so close to your release, hanging on by a thread to not tip over the edge and be sent spiraling down an earth shaking orgasm. 

“C-changbin, I’m gonna f-fucking cum” you stutter, reaching your hands backwards to which he let go of your hair and instead grabbed your wrists, holding you in place and pushing you down onto his cock. Your voice was no longer a whimper but instead a scream, goosebumps erupting on your soft skin as you panted, Changbin viciously thrusting inside you and being fueled by your pleasured sounds, he got off by the fact that you felt good. You were so close. So close.

“QUICK!! FELIX FUCKING FAINTED” Jisung said, bursting through the door but immedietly regretting his decision as he yelled out into the room that was now filled with your yelp and the loud club music from outside. 

“For fuck sake Jisung! Knock!” Changbin growled at the boy, you trying to grab your clothes off the floor and desperately covering yourself as Jisung stod in the doorway with panicked eyes, flailing his arms around in an anxious state. He was more appalled by seeing Felix passed out than he was seeing Changbin fucking you from behind. 

“NO TIME FOR KNOCKING, JUST FUCKING MOVE” he said, signaling his hands to follow him. In a haste you put on your clothes that weren’t much more than a skirt and a tight shirt, oh and of course your sexy panties, you had leveled up from your previous looks that made you look like a distressed mother of 4. Now you knew when you were gonna pass out and you even teleported in the phonebooth instead of injuring your head against the wall as you fainted. Changbin did the same, putting on only his pants as he ran after Jisung, you following shortly after, scared about what you were gonna witness.

The main dance floor looked like it usually did. People high, drunk or both, dancing and singing their hearts out, falling over and tumbling down on the floor. The whole place reeked of straight liquor and the music was loud enough for anyone to go deaf. You held Changbin’s hand as he dragged you through the crowd, not letting his eyes go from Jisung’s figure that was leading the both of you to the back end of the club, pushing through people and muttering small apologies that couldn’t be heard by even yourself. When you got to the end of the big place you saw Felix, his back and head against the table as he was completely knocked out, his legs dangling from the end of the rectangular table. You climbed on top of the soft seatings of the booth, putting your cheek near his nose and mouth. You didn’t hear if he was breathing but you were assured as you felt his cold breath against your hot flesh, sighing in relief. 

“How is he?!” Jisung yelled, “is he dying?”

You shook your head, grabbing his limp wrist and putting your pointer and middle finger on the underside of his limb, his veins not visible in the dark lighting of the club. His pulse was stable, beating faintly. 

“He’ll be alright!” you yelled back, the concerned gazes of the other boys standing around the boy exhaling as they heard your words, Changbin going closer to Felix and putting his hand on his shoulder, shaking the boy and repeating his name over and over again but to no avail. Seungmin rubbed the palm of his hand against his exposed forehead as his hair was pushed back.

“I’ll stay here with him, Changbin fetch me a water bottle and,,, wait,,, why did he even faint in the first place?” he asked, the boys looking at each other until they landed on Jisung that looked distressed, his pinkish lips quivering. 

“Probably a nice concoction of no food and only alcohol” he said, peering down at his black boots, his hair flopping onto his face, too shy to meet the gazes of his friends as if he had done something wrong himself. Seungmin could only sigh, you patting Jisung on the back as you walked through the jumping crowd again, the song changing as you heard Seungmin say “get him something Changbin”, their voices fading into the beat as you walked with Jisung behind you. 

Jisung slammed the door as you two were back in the room that had only moments earlier been filled with helpless whimpers and pleas. You threw yourself on the wrinkly couch, looking away in shyness when remembering that Jisung had caught the two of you even if everyone knew that you guys fucked in that very same room whenever there was time and Changbin wasn’t standing in the bar. The young boy sat down on the dark floor, leaning his elbow against the seat of the sofa as his twinkling eyes met yours. 

“I,,, just don’t understand” he said, you tilting your head in wonder as he uttered those words.

“Don’t understand what Sungie?” you said, the walls almost vibrating from the bass of the song from outside. He sighed as he momentarily looked away from you. 

“Felix,,, like it’s so clear that he needs help, just over the last few months his cheeks have sunken in and his eyes are completely matte and lifeless” he said, his voice trembling as a lump of tears was stuck in his throat. 

“But aren’t you the same Jisung? You need help too, help to stop thinking that everyone is your responsibility. I understand that you want to help him,,, but you carrying everyone's emotional baggage has landed you here. Felix will get help by those that are capable of getting him that help, you aren’t Jisung.”

His eyes shot up at you, dark as his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenching in anger. He felt attacked, commenting on his actions usually made him feel offended. 

“I am capable of helping him. What about you then huh? You can’t even help your own boyfriend” he snarked, running his hand over his hair in frustration. You rolled your eyes at him, watching him as he bit the inside of his cheek. He needed to do that, he couldn’t tell you the fact that one day your boyfriend is just gonna disappear since he’s actually taking matters into his own hands and getting help. 

“Don’t say that Jisung, we both try our best,,, let’s not fight over something we can’t control” you say, your voice getting frail by the end of the sentence.

“Can’t control? We can, we can help each other!” he said, banging the palm of his hand against the warm leather of the couch, making you jump in fear. You dropped down on your knees, your eyes being on the same level as his as you looked at him, the young boy diverting his gaze immediately.

“Jisung, look at me.” You grabbed his other hand that was resting in his lap against the rough material of his jeans. “We try, that’s the best we can do. Change comes from within. Nobody can save us if we don’t save ourselves.” Jisung sighed loudly, swallowing harshly, the both of you flinching when somebody burst through the black door. Changbin was carrying Felix on his back, the male still passed out on his broad shoulders. Your boyfriend looked puzzled at the scene before him. His girlfriend holding hands with one of his closest friends, sitting close enough to feel his breath against her cheek, both looking like two helpless deers caught in headlights. He furrowed his eyebrows as he walked into the room, throwing Felix off his shoulder and positioning him into a semi-prone position in order to open the airways. You and Jisung stood up, looking at the blonde boy and how his eyelashes layed gently against his lower eyelid. Changbin looked at Felix for a while before turning to you with a serious expression. 

“So,,, what happened here?” he said to which you shrugged.

“Me and Jisung just talked,,, about Felix” you answered, Changbin uttering a little “oh” as his previous rather unfaithful suspicions were proven to be false. “There’s no need to worry, he’s breathing so he won’t be in any medical danger as of right now but somebody needs to keep an eye on him,,, in case something changes.” You smiled at him talking.

“Alright doctor Changbin” you said while giggling, hugging him and him wrapping his sturdy arms around you, looking at Jisung’s mellow expression, eyes brimming with tears as he sat down on his knees on the floor once again, pushing a lock of hair from Felix’s delicate face, cupping his cheek that was once plump but now gaunt. Changbin pulled away from your comforting embrace and patted Jisung on the shoulder, bending his knees to get closer to him. 

“Do you wanna keep an eye on him, Ji?” he asked to which the boy nodded, not answering with words, not even a gaze at the male that was talking to him. He turned around to look at you, pointing his chin towards the door, signaling for the two of you to get out and leave the two boys alone to which you nodded, following Changbin out and gently closing the door behind you by turning the knob and releasing it slowly. The music got louder and louder as you two walked in the long corridor before ending up on the main floor, the corridor going to the bar and you could only get onto the dance floor by exciting through the wooden gate of the bar. 

“I’ll go find the others, you should work!!” you yelled through the music and Changbin nodded, giving you a kiss on the lips before you exited through the gate, being careful to knock any of the liquor bottles on the walls over and causing a ruckus like you’d done once before, being black-out drunk and trying to hobble your way through to god knows where, accidentally swinging your arms towards the shelfs. Luckily everything restores itself in this universe.

People were doing their usual activities in all corners of the club, making out against a wall or jumping, spilling their drinks on the floor that Changbin would have to mop up afterwards when he steps in the sticky liquid that pressed up against ones shoe. It was impossible to see who was who in the dark room, the neon lights on the roof changing colors but not making it easier for you, especially not with the commotion around you, individuals bumping into each other. In the distance you saw a hand waving, a familiar hand that was decked out in maybe a thousand silver rings, all with intricate designs that could only be seen from up close. Next thing you see is Hyunjin jumping, the bedazzled hand belonging to the long haired blonde male that always made sure to use the most expensive perfume. You made your way over to him, the male smiling brightly as he sat down on the edge of the cubical sofa, the other males being around the table that Felix was lying unconscious on just a brief moment earlier. The table was filled with half empty beer bottles along with red glimmering packs of cigarettes that belonged to some of them. Hyunjin patted the seat next to him, scooting closer to Jeongin that was ruffling his slightly sweaty hair, putting the bottle green top against his lip and taking a sip, his adam's apple moving as he swallowed. 

Hyunjin was different, different from anyone else in this place. You’d expect him to have the best life imaginable due to his family background. His father was the CEO of an influential business and his mother being his fathers assistant, both living a lavish life and providing for their only son, Hyunjin. But no amount of wealth can buy happiness. You don’t know the entire story but what you have heard when he was drunk and barely able to speak is that he was bullied all throughout school, struggling with the pressure being put on him by his parents to become a businessman just like his father. It ate Hyunjin alive to everyday go to sleep and feel like a failure that wasn’t able to live up to his parents expectations. He wasn’t worth this lifestyle he thought as he mindlessly doodled on the edge of his college application papers, it was easier to end it. He felt like a coward, always taking the easy way out but that’s how he’d lived his entire life. Getting help wasn’t an option, it would bring shame upon the family if anyone found out that he went to therapy and besides, his family didn’t believe in mental illnesses, it was simply to “go on a run” to feel better. “Then why the fuck am I not feeling better? I’ve ran miles but my mind runs faster” he wrote in the small black notebook he kept in his bedside table, hiding it together with his cigarettes under piles of papers and books. That’s how he ended up here, being together in a little group consisting of Chan and Minho along with some other people that had already departed from the place he felt the safest. 

You gave a smile to Hyunjin, grabbing the beer bottle in front of him, earning a little “hey!” from him but you drank it anyway as you laughed at his reaction, the bitterness spreading throughout your mouth. You exhaled, putting the bottle down harshly, the loud sound being drowned out by the music. Hyunjin laughed along with you, he seemed kinda distant, his pupils dilated. With furrowed eyebrows you looked at the other boys that looked back at you in a confused manner. 

“Something wrong y/n?” Seungmin asked, his cheeks slightly red from the heat that was radiating off everybody in the room, the tension heightening the temperature. Your eyes landed on Minho who looked equally as dazed as Hyunjin, looking up at the ceiling as the crown of his head rested against the dark walls in an uncomfortable manner. 

“You guys definitely did something” you said to which Hyunjin laughed, now stealing Minho’s drink since he was completely immersed at how the colors changed. 

“Of course we did,,, if we were gonna do it, why not here?” he said, looking at you through hooded eyes, his gaze sharp as pin needles, the black smudged eyeliner around his eyes not making it easier to escape the way you drowned in them. It was true, here was the place where you could be yourself, do whatever you pleased and act reckless as long as you didn’t hurt anybody, a rule Minho found difficult. It’s not that he wanted to hurt people, it’s just that he couldn’t help himself. Something bad was gonna happen if he didn’t. So that’s what the switchblade was for, not to hurt anyone but just in case he needed to add another felony to his list. You didn’t even wanna know what substances that ran through his veins but you felt bad for him. He was a slave to his own thoughts, sometimes even his own actions. He had no other choice but to obey them, do everything that the voices whispered faintly into his ear, a serenade of revenge to everyone that has never believed in him, considered him a shame and neglected him. No, not him. His inner child. 

Seungmin grabbed the red carton of cigarettes, the crimson wrapper unfolding itself when he opened the lid and grabbed one of the deathsticks whose orange ends were looking up at him. He picked one up, putting it to his lips and patting down his sides in search for a lighter but to no avail. He sighed out of the corner of his mouth, gesturing towards Hyunjin by flicking his pointer finger upwards, the blonde boy reaching over to his pocket and retrieving a white lighter that he put on the glossy mahogany table and scooted across it, Seungmin grabbing it as it nearly fell to his feet. He thanked Hyunjin by lazily saluting with two fingers before igniting the cigarette, the deep purple fading out into a light orange at the tip of the flame, the smoke evaporating around Seungmin as he puffed, exhaling straight ahead of him, poor Jeongin beside him coughing. 

“What’s even the purpose of these?” Jeongin said, grabbing the packet and examining it closely, twisting and turning the small box.

“What’s the purpose of your life?” Seungmin answered with an evil laugh, you wanting to bend over the table and smack him across the face for talking like that to the youngest. Jeongin shrugged his shoulders, smirking at Seungmin.

“Touchè I guess” he said, a smile hiding his pain. “Can I get one?” he said as he nudged Seungmin on the shoulder, the boy already taking his second puff. Seungmin didn’t answer, simply placing the cigarettes and Hyunjin’s white lighter in front of him. You stared at Seungmin in disbelief for a moment before throwing yourself over Hyunjin’s lap, grabbing the two objects and clutching them tightly in your hand. Hyunjin flinched at the sudden commotion, all the boy’s eyes were on you, tilting their heads like confused puppies. 

“Don’t you even dare Yang Jeongin” you said, him looking at you with twinkling innocent eyes. He nodded and you turned your head back to Seungmin. “And you, no actually all of you, quit it” you said, a moment of silence flew by before all of them bursted out in laughter.

“fucking,,, tell that to your boyfriend first” Minho said, him finally awake from his trance “if you manage to get him to stop then we’re all with you y/n” he said, laughing, his two front teeth poking out like a rabbit. You sighed, looking at the four boys but noticing Chan was missing. 

“Where’s Chan?” you asked, Seungmin shrugging as he exhaled grey smoke again.

“He hasn’t arrived yet,, don’t know what he’s up to” he answered, putting the orange end to his plump lips, pink in color but this being impossible to see in the changing neon lighting. “I wonder how Lixie is doing,,,” he added with a sigh. Good you hoped, the last three months have been nothing but a downward spiral to hell for the boy, everyday the gleam from his eyes got duller and duller until they were matte with fatigue. You remember a distinct moment that happened in the first couple of weeks in the club, you still getting to know the peculiar characters that moved around in this place. Felix was sitting in the bar, you sitting right next to him, the whole conversation was difficult to hear due to the music and chatter from people but you guys made do. 

“You know that song? By Radiohead?” he said. You shrugged and shook your head.

“Which one?” you asked, taking a sip from your drink that was unfortunately made by another bartender, Changbin not being there yet. 

“That one where they sing ‘I want a perfect body, I want a perfect soul’” he said with a giggle, grabbing his glass and taking a swig of the poison in his glass, decorated with lemons and limes. You laughed with him, not knowing what he meant, thinking he was just spewing random words at you from being intoxicated. 

“Yeah, what about it?” you said, the young boy’s smile fading away as he gulped, placing down the drink. 

“I don’t know,,, I often listen to it on the bus or home alone,,, it tells me something but I can’t place my finger on what exactly” he said with a loud sigh, resting his cheek on his hand that was bent against the dark wooden bar. 

“Isn’t it the lyrics?” you said, “the fact that you want to be perfect in every way?” Felix hummed for a minute before nodding his head slowly. 

“It’s not even that I want to be perfect because that’s what society taught me,,, it’s because I live in a false reality where I believe that people will love me and appreciate me more if i tweak everything” he blurted out, going silent and sipping his drink slowly. 

“I’m happy that you know that it’s false but,,, what’s stopping you?” you asked, looking at the boy whose eyes were gazing at the wooden stick inside his drink, stirring it over and over again. 

“Because,,, if I stop,,, I won’t be sick enough” 

The both of you got silent after he remarked those words. Felix got silent because he thought he’d said something wrong. You got silent because you knew how that felt, that someone was going through your struggles. 

“You don’t prove anything by that Felix. I k-know this is gonna sound stupid and you’ve heard it so many times but,,, just know that I love you no matter how you look. I’m happy that you’re here Lixie” 

You looked at him and his dark brown eyes met yours, glittering once again, rounded as if he’d heard the best news of his life. He opened his arms and you stood up on the floor, hugging him and squeezing him by the sides.

“I’m happy that you are here too y/n” he whispered in your ear, barely audible from the loud bumping of the music. You pulled off the hug and shimmied up the bar stool again, putting the transparent glass edge to your lips and feeling the liquor trickle down your throat. 

“I was thinking of getting those words tattooed on me but now that I think about it, I want those words tattooed on me but with a big red x over it.” You smiled together with him, his dimples being carved into those freckled cheeks along with his bleak eyeshadow, his lips a cherry tint. 

“You should.”

“Oh fuck-” you cursed as you woke up on your living room floor that was covered in dust and crumbs that was a trail all the way to the kitchen. You sighed every time you were back in reality, in the cursed world that wanted nothing else but to crush you under its fingertips. A patter was heard from outside, gentle raindrops decorating your windows as they were falling from the dusky skies. The rain was at least better you thought, in the sun you felt immense guilt for not being as happy as everyone around you, scrolling through your phone and seeing pictures of old classmates on trips and drinking out in the basking sun, wearing sundresses and hats. Being picturesque.

You made your own fun. Late wine nights and therapy appointments early in the morning where you get drilled with information that you could actually use to get better but you decide to cancel it all out. It was impossible to take in. Or maybe you wanted this now? Like Felix said, you wanted to remain sick enough even if there is no such thing. It used to be about not wanting to leave your comfort zone as odd as it sounds. You had struggled with your mental health for as long as you could remember and getting better would mean that you would have to make active changes in your life that at the moment didn’t seem appealing. But now it wasn’t about that. It was about Changbin. Getting better would mean that you would have to leave him, not only him but all the other friends you made at the club for the last months. They felt closer than family especially since you’d barely had one in the past. You wanted to stay by Changbin for forever but did you want to suffer for just as long?

Little did you know, Changbin didn’t. 

You stood up from the wooden floorboards, stepping closer to the balcony door and seeing the rain cover the streets, lonesome people walking with umbrellas and rain jackets through the storm, probably on their way home to a delicious home cooked meal, a comfortable bed and a stable mind. You only had one of those things but you, in contrast from before the club, didn’t get jealous when you saw those people down at the rainy street. You had your own happiness that was Changbin.

Every time you said his name your heart started racing, your knees almost bent underneath you as you walked back to the couch, no lights turned on in the entire odorous apartment. With a thump you fell with your back against the comforting material, once again being swallowed by a fort of pillows and clothes that you haven’t been bothered to put away. The tv display stood blank, your silhouette reflecting in the matte sheen of the screen, your face almost hanging low with boredom. What was there to do when you weren’t in Changbin’s secure arms? 

It was as if his name rolled off your tongue. Smooth as butter, sweet as syrup. You closed your eyes, eyelashes fluttering against your cheek, tickling the sensitive skin on your face. Underneath your lids pictures flashed by in bright colors, not from imagination but from memory. The pictures radiated their energy through your entire body, sending shivers down to the tips of your toes as you saw the faces of your best friends and boyfriend, their smiles creating red apples on their cheeks. 

You wondered how many of those smiles were fake. 

A wave of arousal shot through your body as remembered the events that took place before Jisung had a chance to ruin them, how Changbin grunted next to your ear, his hot breath teasing the shell of your ear as he whispered, the movements of his hips going from rolling to pounding, the room filling with the lewd noises of skin slapping against each other accompanied with your tiny whimpers, pleading him to make you cum. You couldn’t help but to rub your legs together, shifting in the grey sofa that was decorating your trash pile of a living room, the other decor pieces being empty bottles and white used tissues that were tiny houses to your tears. You peeked down quickly, seeing that you were still in your party clothes that consisted of a shirt and a short skirt that was sitting kinda lopsided on the base of your hips, hugging your skin tightly. With a rapid hand you removed the garment by unzipping it by the side, kicking the fabric towards the end of the couch with your feet that were bare, you managed to toss your sneakers away whilst you were deep in your imaginations. Except for the bright colors in your mind, the rest of the apartment was dark, not a single light being switched on. Your light source for many of your lonesome nights were the grey poles on which a bulbous light hung, a so-called street light. The blue cold light shone inside, deep dark shadows being casted on the walls by the trees that decorated the sidewalk. 

Lines started to blur between the real and the fake, not sure if you actually felt Changbin’s hands wrapped around your neck or if it was just yet another illusion your mind has decided to put forward. You could feel the warmth from his hands surging down your neck, soothing your heart in a comforting way. It was as if you were being held in a way that made your blood run south, loved and aroused at the same time. It was as if a ball of warmth bubbled inside you, encapsulating you in its aura of happiness and distraction, your hand teasing the the skin on your lower abdomen before it plunged beneath the small pair of cotton panties that had been violently pulled off by your boyfriend some time ago, exactly how much was something you couldn’t tell, the universe simply didn’t allow time. 

Time is an arrow. 

It always goes forward. 

Under the thin elastic your fingers started moving on their own, like they knew what to do, almost imitating what Changbin had done so many nights prior to this one on that murky couch. You couldn’t help but to wonder if he missed you right this moment. Was was he doing? What was he thinking? You wondered if he thought about you whenever he pleasured himself, if it was your name that echoed in the four empty walls of his broken down apartment whenever he came. The thought of his hand wrapped around his cock as he groaned made you sweat, the skin on the underside your knees sticking to each other as your knees were bent, soles flat against the frowning sofa. Automatically you spread your legs, one resting against the wallpapered surface as the other one hung out from the edge of the sofa. With your middle finger you felt the slippery surface, gathering your slick as you swiped up your finger, coating the sensitive bud in stickiness. You clenched around nothing, thinking about how Changbin whispered his praises in a sweet tone like a serenade.

“You’re doing so well y/n, fuck,,, you’re so pretty princess”

You nodded despite there being no one to see, small whimpers forcing their way out of your throat as two fingers circled your clit, spreading one pussy lip with a third finger, widening the area of contact. Your spine arched at anticipation, a faraway feeling approaching with quick strides as you squirmed your hips, butt digging into couch cushions as your gently pinched your slick-covered clit. Your hole was practically begging for more, velvety walls throbbing for pleasure that you didn’t mind giving, slowly inserting your middle finger, followed by a second finger, hissing at the initial stretch and getting used to the feeling, wiggling your fingers inside just like Changbin always does but his fingers filled you up better accompanied by the small marks he left all over your torso and tits, sucking on your delicate nipples with his wet tongue, leaving a trail of saliva as he licked around the valley of your tits, the ticklish feeling causing you to throw your head back. 

“f-faster binnie” you said into thin air, there being no one to answer your request except your fingers that started going faster in and out of your squelching hole, using your thumb to nudge on your clit, desperately trying to move it in circles and moaning as pleasure built up in the pit of your core. You licked your lips, coating them in a thin sheen of spit, imagining his soft lips pressing up against yours, his tongue coaxing yours as he licked your bottom lip, nibbling on it before slipping it into your mouth, the soft surface meeting yours, a languid kiss being exchanged as he panted into the kiss, you whining gently in between breaths. Your hair stood in a mess as you rubbed your head against the fluffy pillow under you, a couple of stray pieces sticking to your forehead that was covered in a lustre of sweat, reflecting in the small amount of light that was looming in the room together with you. Your mind blurred with lewd scenes with him, curving your fingers inside you in order to reach your g-spot and being startled by your own moan when you did, it simply felt too good, especially when thinking that it was his fingers that plunged into your wetness. 

“Just a little bit more y/n,, o-oh shit,,, f-fuck i’m gonna cum”

His voice ringed in your ears, it didn’t have to be loud to be memorable and make your head spin with pure amativeness. Your fingers started to hurt from how vigorously you were pumping them inside yourself, bringing yourself to the edge as you imagined that it was Changbin’s cock, twitching and begging from release, wishing he would cum inside you and paint your walls in his milky white cum, the hot liquid oozing out of your swollen pussy. Your clit throbbed, your breathing getting uneven between your parted lips, your hand being slightly restricted by the fabric of your underwear. 

“Cum for me baby”

It was an automatic response. Your hips convulsing upwards, high-pitched moans bouncing off the walls as you continued to tease your clit, pulling out your fingers and rubbed the swollen bud up and down into overstimulation until you it hurt, your eyes tightly squeezed, small droplets of tears teasing the corners of your shut orbs. The high washed over you, from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, every body part rushing with adrenaline before coming down in a state of repose. Slowly you withdrew your hand from beneath the fabric, the elastic snapping gently against your skin, fingertips glistening with your juicy release that now also coated your panties as it rubbed against the inside fabric. You slowly opened your eyes, vision blurry before focusing correctly, seeing nothing but darkness and vague outlines of objects. Night had fallen. You sighed, you were alone.A part of you wished at Changbin had been there whenever your glittering doe-eyes sprung open, your plushy lips being met with his but alas you couldn’t get everything in life.

Except that you couldn’t even get anything. At all.

“Binnie!!!” you shouted as soon as you opened your eyes as you woke up on the floor, looking around confused as your voice echoed in the room. You rubbed your eyes, the familiar automated voice and its words still stuck in your head.

“Uh? Over here y/n”

You heard his voice, the sweet tune hitting your eardrums, you looked at the direction of the sound and noticed that you were lying on the main dance floor. No music. No people. You stood up with wobbly knees, looking around and being shone on by a spotlight on the ceiling, watching Changbin drying off a couple of glasses with a kitchen towel, a brown apron sitting snugly around his waist, another piece of useless fabric that hid his well-sculpted body. 

“W-why is there no one here? Are we glitching again?!” your voice panicked as your gaze was busy, landing everywhere from the meaningless neon green exit sign pointing to nowhere to the colorful transparent liquor bottles on the shelves behind your lover. Changbin let out a little snark as he put the glass down, throwing the cloth over his shoulder and leaning on the wooden bar counter.

“No y/n, sometimes many people are busy and that’s when you don’t teleport here,,, you know that already”

You let out a small “oh” in realization before walking over to the bar and throwing yourself into a chair lazily, tapping the table with your pointer finger twice, a quiet signal for help. The kind that alcohol provided. Changbin didn’t say anything, simply scooping some ice into a low glass with pretty carved out details at the bottom, the black haired boy filling up the glass with whiskey, the brown liquid seeping between the cubes of frozen water. It was oddly silent in the club, not from the fact that there wasn’t anyone else there but there was this awkward feeling between the two of you, as cold as the ice cubes that the champagne bottles were resting inside a iron bucket full of ice underneath the bar on one of the shelves. 

“So uhm,,, was everything alright yesterday?” he asked in a low voice, peering at you through hooded eyelids as he tilted the glass, pouring another liquor bottle and pouring the substance in. 

Memories of the night prior flashed past your eyelids causing you to almost choke on your saliva. Changbin looked at you suspiciously, furrowing his eyebrows as he put the glass on the coaster in front of you, watching you gulp down the poison. He had something on his mind, the words were basically danging off his pink lips but he hesitated, something stopped him every time he tried to open his jaw and let the words pour out in a puddle of word-vomit on the floor. The words were lodged in his throat like a boulder, he didn’t know how to say it.

“Something wrong binnie?” you asked with a confused expression, your eyes filled with concerned. What if something had happened in a universe you couldn’t even reach, the boy wandering alone with his concerns? 

You took another sip from the glass, frowning as the alcohol stung your tongue and descended down your esophagus like a ball of fire, observing the contents that you were drinking partly because you were interested in what concoction your boyfriend had made but mostly cause you didn’t want to look him in the eyes in this frigid atmosphere. He shook his head, giving you a non-verbal answer. 

You didn’t believe him. 

By the way his jaw clenched to the awkward posture as he stared at you, he had something to confess and you weren’t sure if you were ready for it, thinking that maybe it would be easier to not ask about it anymore and live in oblivion. 

“Come on~ I know you well enough to know that something isn’t quite right” you said, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, eyeing your boyfriends godly figure, practically drooling over him on the spot. 

“Hmm,,, y-yeah ok,, I do have something to say but,,, I’m not sure how to” he started, your heart starting to beat faster with each syllable he pronounced, thinking that this was the end of your world because he was indeed your entire world. The reason you still smiled.

“Just say it baby, I won’t be angry” you said but not sure if you could keep your promise. 

“I got a place at rehab” 

You started laughing sarcastically, the boy standing perplexed behind the counter. 

“Wh-what’s so funny?” he asked shortly after. 

“You obviously said no, right?”

Silence erupted throughout the establishment, your smile was wiped off your face as you waited for an answer but you felt the tears start bubbling up in your glossy eyes as the silence went on, brimming and coaxing to fall down onto your warm cheek, his expression was blank, a canvas without a paint. In a rage of fit you threw your glass at the nearest wall, the glass shattering in a million pieces just like your heart, impossible to glue together. 

The ice cubes melted on the floor, liquid splattered on the dark glossy floor. There was no saving the broken pieces, it was simply to throw it in the trash. You couldn’t blame Changbin for being startled, backing to the wall that displayed the bottles of alcohol, small lights above them causing the flasks to reflect tiny fractals.

“What the fuck do you mean Changbin, huh?!” you yelled at him, salty tears streaming down your cheeks, hanging off your quivering lips. He could only exhale loudly from his nose, his dusky complexion losing its color the more stressed he got. 

“No, what do you mean? Are you actually serious about letting me rot in my life and not take help when I’ve finally gotten it?” he said, his tone growing louder with each word, him practically growling like a feral wolf. You couldn’t believe the word coming out of his lying mouth. Rot in his life? Why? He had you now. You were all he needed, right?

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier then?” Your voice was expressionless, a string tinted red with betrayal laced in your tone. 

“I was scared.”You scoffed, feeling the frustration in the pit of your stomach like a heavy weight, tears glittering in the bright lights that were on currently, shining down on you as if another dimension had opened. 

One without Changbin. 

With dark eyes you looked at him, a dumbfounded smile causing the corners of your lips to turn upwards, tasting the salt of your sadness as a droplet rolled down and into your mouth. “

I never want to see you again Changbin”

“Don’t say that y/n, p-please don’t say that.” 

His voice was drowsy like he hadn’t slept in days, your theory being more believable as you saw the dark bags under his blank eyes. He had been worrying, worried for your reaction. He took off the apron and put the kitchen towel on the nearest surface before hurrying to exit out through the gate and took strides towards your standing figure but you distanced yourself every time he got closer. You felt yourself getting smaller and smaller as his shadow towered over you, his face not showing compassion but rather irritation. 

“GET AWAY!!” you screamed in a ear-deafening screech, him barely flinching as he had seen worse things in his life than his heartbroken girlfriend getting pressed up against a wall with dark streaks of makeup and tears staining her face, plagued by treachery that was brought upon by the only one she trusted in her life.

Maybe this was deeper than just your boyfriend leaving you. Maybe this was a silent cry to stay and not leave like your father once did. Sure, he was around in your childhood but that’s the thing; he was around, never actively invested in what happened in the life of his child. You didn’t like to look into it. Hell, you barely wanted to talk about it but you couldn’t help but to wonder if that was the reason as to why you had a difficult time with goodbyes. It replayed memories, memories you’d rather forget. Or wish you never had in the first place. 

“The fuck-” said a recognazible voice that belonged to Minho, the male staggering out of the toilets in a hungover haze, scratching his hair as he yawned.

“Huh,,, how long have you been there?” Changbin said, him turning his head to look at Minho whilst standing mere inches from you, sandwiching you between his body and the dark walls. 

“I have no idea,,, just woke up and heard a scream” he replied lazily, still not really registering the situation that was unfolding in front of his very own eyes. You glared at Changbin before pushing him by the shoulders, thinking you would make a big impact but him only losing his balance for a few seconds, with fierce steps you bolted to Minho, the boy sliding his hand down into his pocket the closer you got causing you to stop dead in the tracks. 

You’d rather be heartbroken than deceased. 

“Did you know about this? Did you know that this motherfucker was going to fucking rehab?!” you yelled hysterically towards the boy that picked up a packet of cigarettes instead of a switchblade. He smirked as he put a cigarette in the corner of his mouth, not breaking eye contact with you for a second throughout the entire process, almost hypnotizing you with his looks. 

“Yeah,,, we all knew” that devilish smirk only signaling that he liked the pain he saw in other people, the white lighter in his hands flicking and emitting an orange and purple flame that slowly burned the tip of the deadly stick. 

You wanted to scream on the top of your lungs, break every single one of the bottles on the shelves in a fit of rage before breaking Changbin’s heart, shatter it in pieces and step on it like glass even if it would make shards stick to your wounded and bloody feet. But that’s life. You can never hurt someone without getting hurt back. 

“And so you all decided to be on his side? To defend a liar was the best your stupid fucking head could come up with?” you couldn’t even filter your words, whatever came to your mind rolled off your tongue as smoothly as the words “i love you” once had. 

“Hey y/n! Don’t say that! He had nothing to do with it” Changbin roared, stepping closer with his heavy black boots that could probably smash someone against the concrete by the telephone booth where thousands of stray souls wandered every hour of the short 24 hours we humans have in a day. He put his hand on your arm but you shoved him away, freeing your hand from his grasp and yelling inaudible words at the boy. 

“And that’s why you don’t date a psycho, am I right Changbin?” Minho laughed, lodging the cigarette between his pointer- and middle finger, blowing the smoke towards you as a careless gesture. Changbin looked done, rolling his eyes at the other boy before shaking his head, his hair bouncing in a fluffy manner as he moved. 

“Not now Min” he answered simply, keeping his composure but you on the other hand were boiling with anger, feeling your heartbeat in your ears. You let out a half laughter filled with sarcasm.

“Somehow the real psycho has the audacity to say that to me, huh? Who the fuck do you guys think you are? You guys think it’s cool to live like this?” you said, your voice becoming frail at the end of your sentence, breaking as new tears weighed on your eyelashes and dropped down on the floor beneath you. 

“No we don’t y/n and that’s why Changbin is getting help. Don’t you see it? You are hurting him by keeping him here.”

Minho’s words stung more than a thousand needles piercing through your raw flesh. 

He was right.

The entire relationship rested on a foundation of suffering that you fed with repeatedly withdrawing from help that could make you blossom into the person you once were. Deep down you knew that this relationship was impossible, you knew it before you even fell for him but the thing is that you didn’t choose to fall in love, it happens. There’s a reason as to why it’s called ‘falling in love’, because once you’ve jumped you can’t expect to stand on the top of the cliff again. Only at the view from halfway down do you realize that maybe this wasn’t the right time and space. 

You looked at Changbin that held his hands out, wanting to hug you and make everything feel alright, like it was before and you couldn’t help but to melt at how his eyes rounded, twinkling by the thousands of lights around the room and reflecting in his teary eyes. With the arm of your sleeve you wiped off the tears, makeup rubbing off on the fabric but you couldn’t give less of a thought before Changbin wrapped his hands around you, tears falling at a rapid pace as you sobbed into the neck of your boyfriend, breathing in his musky scent that infiltrated your bloodstream and made your heart stop for just a brief moment before pounding harder than before, powered by longing. 

“I’m s-sorry Changbin” you said in between sobs, words coming out in broken syllables, it was difficult forming a sentence let alone an apology. Changbin shook his head as he put his hand on the back of your neck, descending down and rubbing your back soothingly.

“Don’t apologize y/n, you didn’t do anything wrong” His voice ran down your spine, the boy pulling away from the hug and holding you by the shoulders, looking deeply into your eyes as he spoke. 

“I love you and I will never forget you”

You nodded, your face in distress with tears and snot, puffy eyes looking back at him. 

“W-when are you leaving t-then?” you asked timidly to which Changbin responded by breaking eye contact.

“In two days.” You sighed, not sure if you should be sad. What kind of partner tells you that important of an announcement just two days prior? But you understood, he was just as scared as you. 

Scared of the unknown. Alcohol had been a part of his life for a long time, it was his comfort and now suddenly he needed to adapt to a life without it, a life in sobriety. You weren’t the only scared one. The both of you heard Minho picking up the shards of glass with his bare hands, throwing it in the trash as he smoked, not even needing to remove the cigarette from between his lips in order to exhale the smoke, grey clouds billowing out of the corner of his mouth and filling the area with the scent of over 70 harmful substances. 

In the distance you heard footsteps coming from the dark room that was pretty much the only private space in the building, Felix and Jisung walking out, their expressions changing from happy to confused upon seeing your face and Minho cleaning up. 

“W-what,,,” Jisung started but Minho put his pointer finger to his lips before removing the cigarette from his lips and mouthing to the younger boys.

“He told her”

Both Jisung and Felix nodded slowly, their eyes big as saucers as they mouthed a small “oh” back before casting a glance at the two of you, two bodies melting in a touch that could be the last one.

“What will I do without you Changbin?” you said, looking down at the ground. He sighed before smiling at you. 

“What you’ve always done y/n,,, fight for yourself because one day you will make it” he said, cupping your cheek in his hand and swiping his thumb across the tears on your cheek, the dampness remaining on the rough pads of his thumb. 

“B-but don’t worry y/n! It’s in two days,,, maybe I’ll be back tomorrow” he said, you seeing that the boys nodded their heads in the corners of your eyes. 

“Alright,,, I’ll trust you,,, I always do”

“You guys can go and I don’t know,,, talk in that other room,,, we’ll take care of stuff out here” Minho said, flicking the ashes off the end of the cigarette one last time before throwing it in the sink, the boy standing in the bar together with the the other two boys. You and Changbin nodded, making your way past them and entering the dark room that had now become a place where only memories live. With hesitance you sat down on the couch, Changbin doing the same. You glanced over at him, slowly tilting your head against his shoulder and exhaling loudly through your nose. 

The momentary silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting. 

Silence was what this place needed, moments away from everything related to partying and drinking until your liver failed. 

“Do you remember the first time we met?” he said with a laugh, you giggling with him.

“Of course I do, it wasn’t even that long ago but,,, it feels like forever.” 

He nodded, glancing at your hand for a moment before grabbing it, his warm hand wrapping around your cold one, lacing his fingers with yours. 

“I don’t want you to leave binnie,,, t-this is unfair.” Tears started bubbling up in your throat again, your breathing getting unstable as your gaze was fixed on the ground. 

“I don’t want to leave either y/n but,,, what if we meet in the right dimension? What if that’s what happens? That when you,,, start loving yourself for who you are,,, maybe that’s when you meet the one that will continue to heal you?”

Changbin’s words made a lot of sense. Nobody knew what happened to the people that descended to the real world again. What adventures they were on or who they were loving at this point in time so maybe that did happen. It made you smile, your heart filled with hope, something you hadn’t felt since he said those doomed words earlier. You turned to him, his lips lingering dangerously close to yours to the point where you could feel his hot breath brushing up against the apples of your cheeks. He leaned in, attaching his lips on yours one last time, pushing a piece of hair behind your ear and holding you by the back of your neck, his thumb caressing the knuckles of your hand. You kissed him back, slipping your tongue into his mouth in a deep exchange of saliva intertwined with yearning. The kiss formed an even pace, you tilted your head to the side causing the kiss to get intense, his wet tongue gliding against yours, your pout swelling as he bit your bottom lip, blood rushing into it. He could almost feel yours eyelashes fluttering against the bridge of his nose. He pulled away, landing a final peck on your soft lips before nibbling the inside of his cheek in nervosity, unsure as to why he was nervous in the first place. Maybe the thought that he would never kiss you again. You put your hands around him, rubbing your dark tinted cheeks against his shirt that was luckily in a darker color as well. He smelled like home, like comfort.

A murky scent mixed with tobacco and ephemerality.

 You haven't seen Changbin since that day. 

“How have you been y/n?” said the woman sitting opposite you, tapping her pen against the A5 block of secrets that rested against a folder that has your name on the side, filled with results of various psychological tests. You shrugged your shoulders, looking out the window where the ivys growed over the glass.

“I’ve been alright,,, although I miss someone” you answered, your eyes meeting the curious ones of your psychologist that observed your body language, your foot shaking in the air as your legs were folded on top of each other. 

“Who do you miss y/n?” she asked. You thought about telling her the truth but then had you ever done that in this office?

“Doesn’t matter,,, Just someone” you answered shortly to which the lady nodded. 

“Longing is a very difficult feeling, sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it since the only thing that will cure it is seeing that person again but of course, that’s not always possible” she said, you observing the marbled pattern on the vinyl floor. You agreed, not knowing what else to do before she started talking about something else that was connected to your well-being, wondering how you are coping with still being on the hunt for a job and having your mental health to care about in the meanwhile. 

The session ended as it always does. By you walking out of the office with an orange post-it note where the next appointment was scheduled in messy writing and with a warm goodbye to your psychologist that was a nice person. It was just that you didn’t really care for her advice and you yet again felt horrible for not taking the help you got when other people in the world couldn’t afford the same experience. The wind hit you in the face as you exited out to reality, out from the solace of the office and the building that held countless of skin-crawling memories. You pulled your jacket closer to your body, walking with quick strides towards the convenience store in order to buy gum and something sweet that could stop the world from leaving a bitter taste in your mouth at all times. A bell above the door tinkled as you stepped into the store, the grey welcome mat being a soft surface to step on with your sneakers. You casted a glance at the staff, seeing the gum you always bought by the cash register and the back of a young man in a black jacket with a baseball cap, looking upwards at the cigarettes and talking to the cashier in a husky voice. You walked past aisles of various snacks and other necessities, hearing the man talking in a voice that made your head spin, sending you into a deja vu feeling.This voice, this very voice was familiar. 

“That one,, yeah,,, thanks! Oh,, just gonna grab something real quick” he said, his footsteps getting closer to you that were hunched over, looking for the banana milk on the lower shelves and squinting your eyes as tried to look further back to see if you missed a bottle by mistake. Your eyes lit up as you saw it, stretching out your hand but in that moment you didn’t feel the cool plastic layer of the yellow manufactured drink but instead a slightly warm hand that was bigger than yours, clad in a couple of silver rings. You quickly apologized and peered upwards, your eyes landing on a couple of dark hooded eyes that made your heart start to race. The lips were plump, a bit dusky in color from the cold weather. A sharp jaw that led to a prominent chin. A triangular nose that connected to a pair of strong bushy eyebrows. A face you had so longed to see. A hand you hadn’t held in what felt like an eternity. There the two of you were, holding the same bottle of banana milk in the flickering light of the store, the coldness emitting from the refrigerated shelves.

It was him.

It was Changbin. 

He was right. 

Only when one decided to heal was it destined for you to meet in a dimensions that was real. A dimension that didn’t consist of an odd phone number and a crimson telephone booth. A world away from the loud music and booze and instead entering a world that had earlier been dark but now got lighter, your tunnelvision ending and objects getting their color back. The world seemed real again. Alive like the way scent of a rose made its way down your lungs and into your blood, feeding the feeling of love from within.

You met him. 

In a different place, in a different time. But you met the same person.

The person you were destined to meet. 

Taglist ; @minholuvs @liz820​ @skztrashbag @lix-freckle3​ 

[thatsthetriick]

(Y/n) as Josuke’s Twin Headcanons

Summary: In a alternative universe where you were the unexpected other half of Josuke. Header photo: My little monster

Being Josuke’s Twin

↷ Even though Josuke is kind and tries to be cool at all time( when no one insults his hair), you and Josuke would still argue constantly, mostly you two would argue about the comb, either you or Josuke would be too lazy to buy a new comb so the both of you only share a singular comb that’s because you care too much of your hair, you unfortunately don’t have a cool and unique hairstyle you just really care about your hair. ↷Never in your life you’ve insulted his hair because you found it pretty cool yourself that he is able to pull off a sick style like that so you tease him in other ways. ↷ Both of you are the same grade but both of you don’t look related at all, you might have features that belong to your father more unlinke Josuke who mostly got his features from his mother, including personality. ↷ When you heard the news that your father was coming you were honestly excited, you just wanted to see your father that’s all and all those stories where your mom said that you had some of his traits made you feel excited and made you feel like you’ll instantly be friends with him. Though you cover this up and make everyone think that you’ll only use your father for his money for some reason. ↷ Your stand is the opposite of Crazy Diamond, if Josuke can fix you can keep breaking things. ↷ You and Josuke are hella cheap and both of you would be so hype if you receive a huge amount of money, and the two of you would probably waste it away immediately. ↷ You don’t obviously hang out with your brother’s little friend gang 24/7, you found four best friends and mostly hang out with them and talk about all sorts of things. ↷ You and Josuke honestly have a normal sibling relationship honestly, constant fights here and there and knowing each other’s boundaries and not passing it (such as stealing each other’s money, or insulting Josuke’s hair :’d) ↷ Unlike Josuke you’d get along with Rohan and read his mangas a lot and you’ll probably side with Rohan whenever the two get into arguments just to make your brother upset, but you don’t mind helping Josuke win a gamble with Rohan ↷ If you passed away Josuke would be hella devastated it would feel like he lost a part of him, he would continue his habits like not knocking to your room to get something just for him to realize you weren’t there anymore. He would be hella pissed as well and would motivate him to find your killer and avenge you. The topic of you would be sensitive with you. ↷ You were a calm person compared to Josuke and didn’t lash out because of hairstyles or anything, but what pisses you off is when someone talks badly about your friends which triggers that Josuke side of you. ↷ Once Joseph arrives in Morioh you’ll probably just watch him sit around or watch TV, hestating to talk to him and would just walk away till there are times where he approaches you and that’s when the two of you talk and you really treasure those moments, you’ve always envied people who had a fatherly bond with their fathers so you really appreciated talking to Joseph ↷ Okuyasu has the hots for you and Josuke would just tell him to stop saying weird things about his sister such as, “Cut it out dude.” ↷ Koichi sticks with you when he can’t find anyone else to hangout, he honestly likes hanging out with you, it’s calming and you two would walk in the more serene parts of Morioh during the day time and he personally likes those moments and would never forget it. Though there is a chance Yukako would be pissed at you for doing this. ↷ Just like Josuke you’re very polite towards Jotaro even though he was your nephew he was still older. ↷ When you and Josuke were younger you two still got severely sick that really worried your mom, Tomoko. She was in the verge of tears since she was worried she would lose you and Josuke, but thanks to that mysterious man with a pompadour you two were saved and till this day you search for him around the world with the help of the SWF(speedwagon foundation) thanks to politely asking Jotaro. You dedicated your adult years finding him and trying to repay him back, who knows if you did. ↷ As an adult though you still visited Josuke from time to time, he was your other half you couldn’t leave him for too long but you still search of the man who saved both of your lives, you would probably so excited to tell Josuke after you’ll find him but basically you’ll be travelling a lot when you become an adult.

Idea by @moodycore, thanks luv <3 Feel free to request!

[bimbles-and-simbles]

Replies pt1 - The End of it All.

@caileenayers @beccalovethings @mdebunny @germansam @simphonics @asinglewallflower @ladyanyarose @jess-s-plumbob @bouquet-of-scissors @simsplyirresistible @limericksims @stoneybalonie @ravenskysims @purpleleopard96 @smiha0 @bb-hilda

caileenayers replied to your photoset “Ostara Orchid Prism ☼ Angelic”

I’m literally screeching she’s so cute

I LOVE HER SO MUCH YOU SHOULD SEE HER GROWN UP [actually, check my webpage header for that ;)]

Asher and Pummy

beccalovethings replied to your photoset “Asher: What happened? Pummy: He said that what they’d been expecting...”

:(

They have lost too much it hurts me.

simphonics replied to your photoset “Asher: Get the HELL UP. Phoenix: Not today, Mr. Prism.  Asher: Get...”

Ohhhh shit

Dad is MAD

asinglewallflower replied to your photoset “Asher: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE DEAD. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD...”

Nooo Pheonix! :( I just want to HUG HIM! ASHER BOY, YOU AREN'T THE ONLY ONE WHO LOST SOMEONE!!! >:O

germansam replied to your photoset “Asher: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE DEAD. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD...”

Phoenix doesn't deserve this!

ladyanyarose replied to your photoset “Asher: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE DEAD. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD...”

Asher I know you're angry but calm your tits please.

jess-s-plumbob replied to your photoset “Asher: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE DEAD. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD...”

HEllo would you like my heart considering it has been ripped out

bouquet-of-scissors replied to your photoset “Asher: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE DEAD. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD...”

wOAH

simsplyirresistible replied to your photoset “Asher: YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD BE DEAD. YOU’RE THE ONE WHO SHOULD...”

holy fuck asher I know you're upset but that's illegal lol

No, Phoenix does not deserve any of this. None of them do, really.

simsplyirresistible replied to your photoset “Pummy: Asher, that’s enough!”

thank you Pummy holy hell

She still took too long to respond, but she jumped in at least.

The Siring

mdebunny replied to your photoset

I want to punch him in the face in that first pic.

germansam replied to your photoset

Kay. She becomes a vampire. Gets hella strong then kicks his butt right?????

He is enjoying this too much. Also I cannae confirm if she kicks his butt.

mdebunny replied to your photoset “Autumn: *labored breathing* I’m scared… Russet: It’s okay, i’m going...”

Why would Russet think she'd ever be happy to have him there?

germansam replied to your photoset “Autumn: *labored breathing* I’m scared… Russet: It’s okay, i’m going...”

Sassy even in death

She’s running on pure hatred at this point.

beccalovethings replied to your photoset “Autumn: I just wanted to be happy…Just for a while…Russet? Russet:...”

Boyyyyyyyyyyyy if he would have calmed the F down in his first life

Russet “I’m a fuckin dumbass” Phoenix 2k17

jess-s-plumbob replied to your photoset “Autumn: *screaming*”

#ProtectAubie2k18

simphonics replied to your photoset

Oooh

limericksims replied to your photoset “Autumn: *screaming*”

poor aubie ;__;

limericksims replied to your photoset “Autumn: *screaming*”

stop torturing her.

...nah.

simphonics replied to your photoset “*screaming*”

Oh now he feels bad

Could be the connection with Aubie. Or the screaming.

stoneybalonie replied to your photoset “*screaming echoing*”

She’s hot

Raise your hand if you are hot for Verna Gentian ✋

bouquet-of-scissors replied to your photoset “Autumn: Ughhh…Is it over? Russet: Autumn? Are you okay?”

Autumn: aRe yOU OkAY???

She’s so mad but not mad enough to meme at him.

The Finale

bouquet-of-scissors replied to your photoset “6 Years Later”

oh boi

purpleleopard96 replied to your photoset “Ostara: That’d be cool! Apiary is really nice to me! He doesn’t tease...”

Wait what

ravenskysims replied to your photoset “Ostara: That’d be cool! Apiary is really nice to me! He doesn’t tease...”

😱

???

limericksims replied to your photoset “Ostara: That’d be cool! Apiary is really nice to me! He doesn’t tease...”

Is Ostara part vampire?

Technically no...but also yes. She’s got vampire blood in her that’s trying to take over.

germansam replied to your photoset

Precious doggo

I LOVE MARISHKA.

purpleleopard96 replied to your photoset “Phoenix: So…what’s the prognosis? Oubliette: I don’t know what to tell...”

Oh damn

smiha0 replied to your photoset “Phoenix: So…what’s the prognosis? Oubliette: I don’t know what to tell...”

No way what a asshole

He never told Autumn what he did either...

simphonics replied to your photoset “Phoenix: What if she…completes whatever transformation she’s going...”

you stop that talk

simphonics replied to your photoset “Phoenix: What if she…completes whatever transformation she’s going...”

oobie is an angel

I still love that Oobie has become her official unofficial nickname.

bouquet-of-scissors replied to your photoset “Verna: It is hard watching them grow up without you, isn’t it? You see...”

*pulls out knife*

Ash, put that back where it belongs.

germansam replied to your photoset “Verna: …I hate you. I should kill you and say a hunter got you....”

Strong female lady Autumn ftw

She hates everything and just...yeah.

Precious Oobie

germansam replied to your photoset “And that’s the generation over! Next gen is Ostara Orchid’s....”

She's adorable but where did the blue come from?

purpleleopard96 replied to your photoset “And that’s the generation over! Next gen is Ostara Orchid’s....”

Man I love her eyes

The blue is a reaction of Russet’s blood in her.

Ask Replies

bb-hilda replied to your post “I was so worried she was going to develop Stockholm syndrome and like,...”

tbh I'd like to punch him too, Autumn is my fave <3

basically if you have another vampire's blood 5 times you will become devoted to them. because she drank from him once after waking she's slightly more agreeable to him. someone explained what happened and she just fuckin found him, subconciously activated a strength boosting ability most vamps had and punched him straight up in the face.

nikasimming replied to your post “Oh no!! My little baby Cinder's in the Company™???”

NO

nikasimming replied to your post “Oh no!! My little baby Cinder's in the Company™???”

I EVEN AVOIDED TELLING YOU CINDER WAS MY FAVORITE

nikasimming replied to your post “Oh no!! My little baby Cinder's in the Company™???”

AND YOU STILL DO THIS

smiha0 replied to your post “Oh no!! My little baby Cinder's in the Company™???”

Will we be seeing much more of them? I feel ike i missed something but what happened to blush?

I’ll be doing some small intrim posts explaining what happened to everyone.  What do you mean what happened to Blush? She’s fine??

[tearyeye-private-i]

Sun Records Breakdown: “Based on Million Dollar Quartet.“ / [⒈] “First impressions of the characters.“ /   [Full ver.⒉] [Index ver.⒉] “Sun Records and how everyone was color blind.“ / [⒊]  

Jerry Lee was honored the Ameripolitan Master Award on February 17th, 2017. His music being recognized is good. Yet I can’t help feeling, there was bias in him receiving the award since it was from his fans. What makes me think that, is the part of the speech where they say he’s equal in stature to “the all-time greats” Jimmy Rodgers, Al Jolson, and Hank Williams. Which is what he’d always say in the ‘80s, “there’s only four musical stylists,” including himself alongside them, going on to say everyone else was just imitators. So it seems to me a fan wrote this speech, so I think there was some bias awarding him this thing, but that’s just me.

I realize, me being uncomfortable with this is because I don’t see myself as a fan of his. I’m just curious about why he was the way he is, another reason, is I don’t like suck ups and though I know it’s mean to say, that’s what most of Jerry Lee’s fans are. So, I rolled my at “heroic perseverance,” and “not to mention your more than 60 years of being the rocking-iest mother humper on the planet,” it’s like anyway, give him the award. That being said, I’m happy he had a moment to shine. I think Jerry Lee likes his music being acknowledged -- he should, I don’t know, he’s gotten so indifferent in his older years, it’s hard to tell if he cares about anything. Aside from himself, that is. So, all was going well, then he said: “I’m happy, you’re happy, he’s happy, Ronald Reagan's happy, so I guess we’re all happy, and uh, I know Trump’s happy.”

Jerry Lee in his dressing room at the Trump Castle, Atlantic City, June 26, 1989. [x]

When I first heard that, I said, what I always say when Jerry Lee does something I don’t agree with. “Dammit, Jerry Lee.” I saw it coming since the election, at least, I wished Jerry Lee would perform at The White House in December of 2016, but he never did. I figured he’d have a 50/50 chance of performing there in 2017 since Bill Clinton loved him, and he performed at Trump’s casinos in the ‘80s. (as seen above) So I’ve been expecting to hear news of him performing at The Whitehorse, but I didn’t expect him to say that. In hindsight, it’s not a big deal, I mean he’s him. It’s mostly just nonsense that falls outta his mouth, so it’s best to take everything he says with a grain of salt, added he has a history of mentioning presidents like that, especially Reagan, so for him, it’s not out of character 

Still, what he said freaked me out a little. as I’ve written in a previous post about “Sun Records,” I’m worried about how that tv show will talk about race -- considering this flashing text in the trailer was hella disconcerting: 

My reaction to this was and still is: “They could’ve used any adjective to describe how “hot” this show is, and they went for that. Well, it looks like we know who this show is geared for.”

Edited from an album cover for “The Best of Sun Records” featuring, Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis, that I use as my header. Because, even though Elvis isn’t my priority, he's what brought these guys together, and I respect him. Also, I like how they’re all together in this picture, and I like making cute gifs like this of it. 

( and I thought it’d match with the personal stuff I’m going to be talking about now )

I’ve always felt, if you don’t tell these guys’ stories right, you’ll alienate people of color from listening to their stories, and that’s a bad thing -- because I think their stories should be heard, even if they are white. I’ve been meaning to say this for awhile, but I think now’s a good time.

The more I learned about these guys and grew to like them, my research turned persona and I felt guilty for thinking so highly of them because they were white. I don’t think that anymore, but I use to wrestle with the thought, if they wouldn’t like me for being Native American -- well except John. Most of my guilt came from thinking of what my people endured in the past from colonization, forced assimilation, and what they’d think of me for liking four white dudes. I didn’t know anyone my age that liked them or anyone from the ‘50s. Ever since I made this blog, I expected to be called out for liking these guys, and I still expect it to happen. 

I realized, liking Carl, John, Roy, and Jerry Lee doesn’t make me any less Lakota, and I don’t have to prove my Nativeness to anyone, not even my own people. I don’t need anyone's validation to like them and be interested in their stories. I don’t know if they’d look down on me or any person of color, but I believe they wouldn’t. I acknowledge they’re white, but it doesn’t affect my view of them, besides they’re not the ones who did my people wrong, and I don’t feel guilty to say, I love these guys and I believe their stories need to be shared. So, I think if I can accept them for who they are, anyone else could too. 

From a promo trailer of Sun Records. I seriously don’t like this show, but I gotta be honest, I like the actors portraying the quartet, they’re good guys, they match them and I wish they could’ve been in a better version of this show, instead of this poorly written mess.

That being said, not everyone is open to hearing a story about four white dudes. This is probably the worst time to be praising white men for stealing and exploiting black music and it doesn’t help that Jerry Lee’s running his mouth about Trump. It’s worrisome, the thought of how many Trump supporters, alt-right people, hell more realistically, just straight up-shallow-ignorant people are gonna watch this series and take everything in it as the truth. Not to mention the people of color, who’ll see a show on CMT about four white boys and are just gonna ignore it, before giving it a chance, worries me too.

I mean, not only will the quartet be misunderstood from Escott and Mutrux’s poor writing, but there’ll be people who’ll try and twist history to say a white man like Sam Phillips single-handedly invented Rock and Roll. Then again that already happened with a book written by Peter Guralnick, in 2014. I realize it’s unfair to just criticize and not give anything constructive back, so here’s what I think would’ve helped Sun Records in talking about race: 

( I’m gonna nerd out in the following, so I’m keeping it in the “Keep reading,” thing for space. )

• Don’t use the images of black musicians to promote a predominately white show. I think it's messed up how they showed B.B King, Howlin’ Wolf, and Ike Turner like they were main characters in the trailers when they weren't going to be main characters in the show, it’s misleading and disappoints people who wanted to see more of them. It also takes the focus away from Elvis, Carl, John, and Jerry Lee since this series is about the Million Dollar Quartet -- Oh wait, this series is all about Sam Phillips, though. So why not include any of the other recording artists who were at Sun Records too? 

After all, Sam went through different periods: Where he recorded black artists, white artists who performed black music, and his transition to recording women artists and his “All girl” radio station. Let’s not forget, throughout these endeavors, his main motivation wasn’t diversity or doing anything groundbreaking, it was money. He exploited everyone who walked through Sun Records. If they wanted to make a series about Sam, I wonder why they didn’t base it on Peter Guralnick’s book? Instead of Escott and Mutrux’s poorly put together show? It’s proof of how scattered this thing is. Though, when I think about it, why glorify Sam Philips’ actions? He was a con man, just as much as the Coronal was, yet they have no problem with showing the Coronal as a con man. 

• Show what the quartet went through. People forget how controversial it was for white boys to be singing black music. I recall documentaries showing the fuss people made over Elvis’ hips. All four, probably not so much with John, had their records burned by old white conservative people who claimed their music was the devil, and corrupting precious white youths. I think Sun Records should’ve gone into those things, it’s a subject people forget and it needs to be brought up, hell even I forgot about it. 

Also, there’s people who say if you’re telling a story set in a certain era, in this case the ‘50s, you don’t have to address the political or racial climate of the time if it’s not essential to the story. I don’t think that can be done with these guys, at the same time, race, gender and politics aren’t huge factors in their stories. The Quartet experienced a different form of prejudice, it was still wrapped around hate, and it was something that stayed with them, the way people overacted and demonized them and the music.

• No one was color-blind at that time, if anything was colorless it was the music. Nothing against Jennifer Holland, the actress playing Sam Philips’ wife, I think she’s a good actress. I agree with most of what she said in her interview, but I strongly disagree with what she said about; “everyone being color-blind.” They weren’t, they acknowledged color, it’s just when it came to music they didn’t care. Now, I know she doesn’t know these guys, so I understand, still, they weren’t color-blind. Here’s examples proving so: 

      ▸ ▸ Elvis has had a lot of rumors made of him over the years, but I think the most damaging one is the rumor spread around about him in 1957. was inspired by black musicians, and black gospel singers, as he was by white musicians at the Grand Ole Opry he heard over the radio. 

 A dirt-poor outcast at segregated Humes High School, he wore pink shirts and pomaded hair like the folks he admired down on Beale Street. He listened religiously to Memphis's black radio station WDIA and became friends with then-disc jockey B.B. King, who later defended him in Sepia: 'What most people don't know is that this boy is serious about what he's doing. He's carried away by it. When I was in Memphis with my band, he used to stand in the wings and watch us perform. As for fading away, rock and roll is here to stay and so, I believe, is Elvis. He's been a shot in the arm to the business and all I can say is 'that's my man'. 

Indeed, in heavily segregated Memphis of that day, Presley was regularly seen at black-only events. In June 1956, a Memphis newspaper reported that Elvis had attended the Memphis Fairgrounds amusement park on a designated 'colored night'. The next month, he attended black radio station WDIA's charity event, featuring all-black talent, including Ray Charles, B.B. King, the Moonglows, and DJ Rufus Thomas.

Point number one has been debunked several times over by multiple magazines and websites, including Snopes. He never said that awful quote in a television, radio or magazine interview, and everyone around him, including his black friends and fellow musicians, have confirmed that he was not a racist.

“I never said anything like that.  And people who know me know I wouldn’t have said it. A lot of people seem to think I started this business,” Elvis continued, regarding his “King of Rock ‘N’ Roll” status and reputation. “But rock ‘n’ roll was here a long time before I came along. Nobody can sing that kind of music like colored people. Let’s face it; I can’t sing it like Fats Domino can. I know that. But I always liked that kind of music.”

“I always wanted to sing like Billy Kenny of the Ink Spots,” Elvis was further quoted as saying in the Jet interview. “I like that high, smooth style.” But Presley acknowledged that his own voice was more in line with the originator of the song that he would cover for his first single. “I never sang like this in my life until I made that first record—‘That’s Alright, Mama.’ I remembered that song because I heard Arthur (Big Boy) Crudup sing it and I thought I would like to try it.”

Sources: “The Truth About Elvis and the History of Racism in Rock” & “Why I stopped hating Elvis Presley.” by Toddy “Stereo” Williams. “The Truth About That Elvis Presley Rumor” by Louie Robinson.  “Elvis Presley and Racism : The Ultimate, Definitive Guide” by David Troedson. “Why do Public Enemy refer to Elvis as racist in the song Fight the Power?” by Aaron Ellis. “Elvis Presley ‘Shine My Shoes’ Remark” by Snoopes.

      ▸ ▸ Carl was born on a cotton plantation, his family and the land owners were the only white families there. Uncle John, an elderly black man, taught Carl to play guitar at six-years-old, his childhood friend Charlie was black, he grew up around black people from birth to when his family moved from Lake County at fourteen. He saw segregation and knew what prejudice looked like. He saw it again in the spring of 1956, as quoted from his biography “Go, Cat, Go! The Life and Times of Carl Perkins,” by David McGee, while backstage at a show in Meridian, Mississippi, he was scheduled to do an interview with a local newspaper -- Instead he was grilled by four of the town’s community leaders. The one Carl suspected to be a preacher, did the questioning, while the others scowled at Carl throughout the “interview.”

“We just want to talk to you about this music you’re playing.” Carl said courteously, “Yes sir, be glad to. What is it you want to know?” The Preacher began. “Do you not know you are defiling the minds of our beautiful teenagers?” Carl replied calmly, “No, I don’t know that I have.” The preacher continued. “In your song you say, ‘Drinking liquor from a fruit jar. That’s horrible.” Carl queried, “You never tasted none out of a fruit jar?” Feigning surprise at finding someone who hadn’t engaged in this noble pursuit. The Preacher replied. “No waaayyy...But our children! We are responsible for them.” Carl said, “I got children. I’m not givin’ ‘em liquor out of a fruit jar.” The Preacher intoned gravely. “You must pull this music. We have to find out what is happening to our youth!” 

Carl didn’t like that, he struggled to keep his cool throughout this “interview,” but he was fuming at the suggestion that he abandon his music, so he said. “It’s people like you -- that’s wrong. Trying to make something out of nothin’. Leave the kids alone! What’s wrong with them out there in that gymnasium in sock feet, enjoyin’ themselves? They ain’t twistin’ nothin’ that you ain’t tried to twist. And when I said, “drinkin’ liquor out of a fruit jar,” man, I was lookin’ for a word to rhyme with “car”, I’m not tellin’em to go do it, I’m sayin’ [they] could. But you don’t step on my shoes! See what I’m sayin’ man? Do I have to break this down for you? If you’re that dumb, you believe what you want to believe.”

The interview -- more like interrogation, continued but Carl didn’t back down, he wasn’t about to yield what he believed to some old men, and regardless of what they said, the meeting ended and the show went on. A few days later, on the Texas circuit, a similar, “small-town run-in,” probably what Carl called it, happened after finishing a radio interview. He went outside to find a local dignitary awaiting him. “Why,” he asked Carl straight out, “are you singing this black music?” Carl explained. “What I sing is not black music. It’s black and white music.” The local dignitary says, “you have stated you were influenced by black gospel singers.” Carl said sharply. “And I still state that,” and shot back. “I was. What else you got to ask?” The local dignitary sneered, “What are you gonna do next? Indian music?” As McGee wrote, “Bigoted questioners got the response they deserved -- none. From the outset, Carl regarded the rock haters with disgust and contempt.” Recounting the interview with the preacher, he said:

“ I knew what they were and I didn't think they were invited there and didn't have no right to be condemning my music. That fella needed to be out there preaching what he knew. He didn't know what he was talking about with me. I didn't do a lot of interviews back then because I didn't like those things happening. The kids were keeping the music alive; it wasn't the local papers and it wasn't the people that owned the radio stations. It was the pressure being put on those disc jockeys by those teenagers, that's what did it. The kids brought us through and kept the music alive. ”

     ▸ ▸ John was honestly a jerk when he was a young adult. grew up in era where Arkansas was extremely racist, 

with that in mind, it’s understandable where he picked up the mindset. 

though it doesn’t excuse his actions, it’s understandable where he picked up the mind set. 

He was Twenty-one.

I walked the line: My Life with Johnny, pg. 137 - 139 / Vivian Cash Liberto with Ann Sharpsteen. 

May 3, 1953.  My Darling Vivian,

Honey I don't know how to start. I feel like a dog, but I'll tell you everything and hope for the best. I haven't been untrue to you Vivian, but what happened last night wasn't any better. Honey I got up too late yesterday morning to go to Munich and get my clothes, so  I didn't go. Yesterday afternoon I went to town to get a chair for our writing table, and met three boys that just got here, and they were going to Augsburg and asked me to go with them.

We caught the 5:30 train and when we got to Augsburg we went out to his club to see the floor show. We ate supper and when we finished I looked at my watch, it was 9:45. I missed our prayer together Vivian. That's one thing I did that I was so ashamed of. It hurt so much to know that I had let you down and you ad prayed alone. I certainly needed someone to pray for me. Honey, the boys started drinking beer then, so I did. We sat there and watched the floor show, and when it was over at 11:00 we went to another joint. We started drinking cognac then and got drunk. Those three guys halfway behaved themselves, but I didn't. Imust have had a guardian angle last night because any other time I would have come back in to or three pieces. 

The town was full of Army guys, and I think we were the only Air Force in own. I called them all "Doggies," and called the M.P.s "Ground Pounder Cops." I called every 1st and 2nd LT, "Lousie." To top it all off, we got a taxi and started back to the hotel at 1:00. We stopped at the train station for a few minutes and a Negro called me a bus driver. As soon as he saw I wasn't afraid of him, he started walking off, and I called him every name anyone has ever given a Negro. The further he walked away, the louder I yelled, calling him "Coon," "Niger," "Jig-a-boo," and a few others. I yelled for a full 30 minutes that I could whip any Negro that walked on the face of the earth. None showed up so we went to the hotel and went to bed after waking nearly everybody in the hotel with our noise.

This morning I was sick, and so disgusted with myself that I want to die. I drank a lot of coffee and vomited it back up. Vivian, I didn't know what you'll think of me now. After promising just weeks ago that i wouldn't happen again.

My darling, I love you. Please forgive me and forget this and give me time and I will prove that I won't happen again. Vivian, I know I'm not worth an ounce of you, and I don't deserve you. Viv, please forget and forgive me honey, I know I've no right to ask for forgiveness again, but darling, you know I tell you everything. I couldn't have kept this from you. Vivian, I'll prove to you that I'll do better. I'll prove without you even asking me that this won't happen again.

Viv honey, don't let what I do change the wat you feel about anything. Honey, lease kee on praying for us and for me. Keep on going to church and stay the wonderful girl you are. Vivian, you can straighten me out and keep me that way.

Darling, you mean so much to me,. I need you so. Please keep on loving me Vivian darling. No matter what I did, I wasn't untrue to you Viv. I remember all that happened, an I didn't even as much as talk to any girls. I didn't even go by the place where that girl that I went with last fall. I didn't even see her. I'll never be untrue to you. None of the other boys went with any girls either. Viv, maybe you're not asking me to apologize. I wish I could talk to you. I need you so Vivian darling. I wish I could hold you in my arms adn tell you how sorry I am, and how much I love you. Honey, I'm going to get some sleep now. I'm not sick now but I want to get some sleep beore I have to go to work at midnight.

Goodnight Viv, I love you my sweet darling. I love you with all my heart and sou. Please keep on loving me, Vivian, and keep those wonderful letters coming. I love you and need you Viv. I love you my darling. "

Your husband to be, Your Johnny. 

- - - Women, religion, and alcohol weren't the only issues that Cash grappled with at Landsburg. According to a story that circulated among some of his Landsberg cohorts, John and a couple of friends had drunk too much during a weekend in Augsburg, just northwest of Munich, when Cash saw a black airman walking with a white woman. He yelled at the solider, saying he shouldn't be going with a white woman. The argument got so heated that a military policeman had to restrain the men, the story went. It shocked his mates, because there were lots of African Americans on the base and John had gotten along well with them, especially C. V. White, an outgoing guy with a love for flashy clothes. It was White's wardrobe, in face, that gave John the germ of an idea that his friend Carl Perkins would turn into "Blue Suede Shoes."

Also, writing Vivian in early May of 1943, Cash apparently referred to the same drunken incident which he described as an argument at a train station, not mentioned any interracial component. "I called him every name anyone has ever given a Negro," he wrote. "The further he walked away, the louder I yelled, calling him 'Coon,' 'Nigger,' 'Jig-a-boo,' and a few others." He continued, "This morning I was so sick I wanted to die. I drank a lot of coffee and threw it back up." 

Cash later maintained that the episode in Germany was an irrational drunken outburst. He acknowledged that he had grown up around much racial prejudice, admitting to a friend in the late 1990s that a relative had been a member of the Ku Klux Klan. And had committed acts of violence against blacks. But that was long before his family moved to Dyess, he said. Like millions off other whites of his generation in the South, he felt that he eventually distanced himself from the earlier bigotry of the region, and for him that process began in Germany.

Despite the Landsberg incidents, Cash told James Keach, who would eventually co-produce the film Walk The Line with Cathy Konrad, "I never, ever disliked blacks." 

Cash's high school classmate A.J. Henson supports that view. "I would say that there was racism in Dyess," Henson confirms. “Since there were no blacks there, we didn't have many incidents. But the talk was no one wanted much to do with blacks. A group of us were in Wilson and we were walking on the sidewalk when we met a black man. I stepped to the side so he could get past. One of the boys got on me for that and said that whites didn't get out of the way like that. I think most of us have changed since then. I have three adopted black grandchildren."

Cash's daughter Rosanne believes the time in Landsberg helped her father become a more tolerant person. "I think Dad took the prejudices of his upbringing with him to Germany," she says. "He had never seen the wider world; didn't know anything else. His mind quickly began to open. The little travel journals he kept were just so rich and wonderful --- he wrote about mountains and monuments, how much things cost, how old they were, histories of places, train rides and boat trips, and seeing the queen travel through the streets of London. He was clearly enamored with the world, and reveled in a new sense of sophistication and worldliness. Along with that new sense of worldliness came a much greater tolerance and understanding of the evils of racism. Once that was dissolved in him, it never happened again. he was, in adult hood, the most tolerant person I knew."

To underscore the point, Rosanne relates a moment when she was nineteen and lying on her bed reading a book on astrology when her dad walked in and asked what she was reading. "I showed him and he nodded. I said, 'You don't believe in this, do you?' He said, 'No, but I think you should find out everything you can about it.' Once his mind started to open, there was no stopping it. It was huge. He 'contained multitudes.'"

Johnny Cash: The Life. pg, 47 - 48. / Robert Hillburn.

( Looking at John's letter, the fight didn't start Though it doesn't excuse his actions, it's not cool to write John being a racist-hillbilly who instigated a fight with a black man. If he started the fight, like Hill Burn is implying, I'd like to see proof it, of written accounts from the guys with John that night. )

     ▸ ▸ Jerry Lee, as ignorant and dumb as he is, understood what race was. In “Jerry Lee Lewis: His Own Story,” by Rick Bragg on pg, 221 - 224, Jerry Lee shared a memory, he began with. “They sent me to the Apollo.” At twenty-one, he performed at the Apollo Theater in New York City on September 27th, 1957, just weeks after Little Rock Nine, when nine black students enrolled in the previously all-white Little Rock Central High School, that later became the Little Rock Crisis. The students had to be escorted by members of the 101st Airborne Division, for their safety. Outside mobs screamed racial slurs, threatened murder and spat on them. Inside the school was worse, they were subjected to physical and verbal abuse by white students. As quoted by Rick Bragg it was “one of the ugliest displays of racism in the United States history. The South had shown it’s true self in Little Rock, thought black citizens around the county.” On September 23rd, the guardsmen were removed from the front of the school, when the nine students entered, the crowd outside chanted. “Two, four, six, eight...we ain’t gonna integrate!” Then chased and beat black reporters who were covering the events. [source]

It was following this, Jerry Lee and his band took off to New York. Judd Phillips proudly proclaimed to the prompters, “This boy can play anywhere.” Jerry Lee talked about what happened that night. “I walked out on that stage, me and J.W. and Russ, and there was not one white face in the whole crowd.” It was quiet, their footsteps awkwardly boomed through the auditorium, Jerry Lee recalled. “They looked like they wanted to kill me.” No one yelled, or booed, just quiet. Rick Bragg wrote, “Rock and Roll might have been a bridge for the races, but right now the very sound of a Southern accent was shorthand for meanness and racism and even murder, and no one sounded more Southern in modern music, perhaps, than Jerry Lee Lewis.” Jerry Lee took his seat at the grand piano, many a great, had sat at that piano before him, even before he ever knew what a piano was.

The theater was built in 1914, originally called “Hurtig & Seamon's New Burlesque Theater,” and was a whites-only venue, in 1934 it became the Apollo Theater and was reopened to black patrons. All the greats played at the Apollo, from Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Cab Calloway, Sam Cooke, Jackie Wilson and Chuck Berry, and now the yellow haired fool from Louisiana. When Jerry Lee said hello, his accent filled the place. As quoted by Rick Bragg. “Confronted with the anomaly, he made a snap decision; rather than try to hide it, he decided to exaggerate his accent. He felt threatened, and a strutting rooster does not run out of the barnyard; he crows louder and scratches the ground.” Jerry Lee said he meant to no disrespect, he just didn’t see how being apologetic of his Southerness would help in easing the tension, again by Rick Bragg. “He decided to make himself and his band even more Southern, more unlikable. Most people would not have done such a thing, but they do not think with his head.” 

So Jerry Lee drawled, “I’m happy to be here at Apollo Theater with my boys,” it sounded like marbles were in his mouth, and on his tongue, sorghum molasses. “This here on drums is Russ Smith, from Northport, Arkansas,” he lied. Russ, did a double-take, and began slightly shaking his head, he was from Biloxi, Mississippi, not Arkansas. “And this here, on bass, is J.W. Brown. He’s from Little Rock, Arkansas, where it’s too hot to rock.” And J.W. did a double-take of his own, he was from Louisiana. “Figured I’d just take the bull by the horns,” Jerry Lee says, recalling that moment. Though he didn’t say where he came from, so I don’t know if I’d call, throwing your band mates under the bus, taking the bull by the horns. Still, he figured if they were going to get run off stage, out of Harlem, and New York, better get it over with. After the introduction, followed a deathly quiet. “But there was this big, fat feller sitting right down in the front row,” who Jerry Lee said got the joke, even if it wasn’t a very good one, “and he just laughed out loud.” The man laughed at the guts it took for these white boys to play there, straight out of the segregated South, knowing this, made a few people in the crowd smile, some even, “laughed out loud to themselves,” thus easing the tension in the room, at least from what Jerry Lee recalled. 

After addressing the elephant in the room, in his own Jerry Lee way, that probably could’ve been handled better, but with luck it actually worked. He went into his set, though not into a blues song, which would’ve been expected, maybe, but into his boogied-up country song ‘Crazy Arms.’ The crowd clapped, politely, then he hit the first keys of ‘Mean Woman Blues,” and the audience started to move. “I know what they were waitin’ on. I knew what they wanted,” and like the burlesque dancers of old, he gave them what they wanted, and he gave them his new song, pounding at the keys he went into ‘Great Balls of Fire.’ He recalled. “And real quick, they got with it, and they started dancing.” They came up out of their seats, out into the aisles. At the end of the song, he sat on the piano stool combing back his blond hair, then finished with ‘Whole Lotta Shakin’,’ and played it harder than he ever had, he sprang to his feet and kicked the stool back, trying to knock it halfway down to Amsterdam Avenue. Critics would say, “he was uncouth hillbilly with a certain animal vigor,” but he recalled, as he walked off that stage, the crowd clapping, screaming and stomping the floor, the pretty girls looking at him with that look, and how he left the historic Apollo in a great storm of noise, he said to himself as he left the stage. “Bet they didn’t see that comin’.”

Though I don’t agree with Jerry Lee’s method, I’m impressed and surprised that he understood his southern accent might’ve been offensive and knew of Little Rock Nine, and acknowledged that his actions may backfire on him and his band. It means he knows what racism is, and he used it to his advantage to villainize himself and band, and in a twisted way it worked. I don’t know, I feel like this story says something about his character. It makes him look dirty in a manipulative way, but that’s Jerry Lee for you.

• Over all, just say music was colorless, because it was and still is. In fact, this was talked about by Carl when he was interviewed on Geraldo, in 1988. He was asked: “Do you think that Elvis paved the way, in an ironic way, for black musicians to make it in the popular music field?”

His answer: “ I don’t think there’s any doubt about it. I really don’t think there’s any doubt about it. I think he probably did more for the relationship in the south than Washington D.C. did. I think music has brought a lot of people together in the south. I’ve spoken with Fats Domino, Chuck Berry, about this, y’know they said. “Man, maybe our music was doing it before Washington, and nobody knew it,” and I think so. People, black or white, didn’t walk up to a jukebox and drop that nickel in that Wurlitzer, and they didn’t care. They like Blue Berry Hill, they liked Heart Break Hotel, Blue Suede Shoes, they didn’t care. ” 

I agree, everyone’s music at that time, The Quartet, Little Richard, Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Gene Vincent, Bo Diddley, Bill Haley, and those before them, brought people together. Country and Western, Rhythm and Blues, it didn’t matter, people of every race, gender, or sexuality, loved music, and from those two different genres, white and black, Rockabilly and Rock and Roll, and everything in between was born. A long while ago, I was asked where I thought Rockabilly music originated from, I didn’t have much of an answer then, but I’m confident to say, it came from all kinds of different people who were inspired by black and white music, so no one can really lay claim to it, and say they invented or discovered it, like many do with Sam Phillips, because Rockabilly music is for everyone to enjoy. As cheesy and idealistic as it sounds, I like that, it’s something that makes all of us equal, no matter what our differences are. And that’s what Sun Records should’ve focused on! At least I think, anyway.

When it comes down to it, regardless of color, political stance, and gender, I’m just afraid no one will pay attention to these guys’ stories, either twisting them to suit their ideology or flat out ignoring them because they’re white men. I don’t like that, at all. Because these guys, this era of music, and everyone in that era, should be remembered and talked about. I think everyone should know about Elvis, Carl, John, and Jerry Lee’s stories, they’re stories are important and must be shared. Though, I gotta say the way Escott and Mutrux did it, was all messed up.

[itsworn]

This 1952 Chevy Five-Window Got Our Attention Quick

What is your idea of a sleeper vehicle? For most people, it’s something with impressive performance behind a lowkey façade. Something that might fool people with a mild-manner first impression followed up by a surprise punch. Scott McClain told us that one of his reasons for building this beautiful red and gray 1952 Chevy 3100 was that he had always wanted to own a sleeper.

Like probably most gearheads, Scott’s involvement with cars and trucks began back in his teenage years. And like many, his involvement was encouraged by helping with somebody else. In Scott’s case, that person was his older brother and the first project he helped with was removing and building the engine from a 1940 DeSoto his brother found in a South Dakota junkyard back in the ’70s. It was an unusual introduction to a hobby that Scott has been part of ever since.

Scott learned to drive behind the wheel of an old pickup on his uncle’s ranch, and has been driving trucks ever since. This one, the nicest of them all, started a few years ago when Scott got the itch to drive a custom-built hot rod. He started his search at an auction, but his attempt at buying a GMC there wasn’t successful. From there, he went to the Internet, where this 1952 3100 was listed on eBay. It was located in Kentucky, several hundred miles from Scott’s home in Crystal Lake, Illinois. That provided the opportunity for a road trip with—appropriately—his brother.

Scott’s word for the condition of the truck as found is “refreshed.” It had been treated to some bodywork and paint, and still ran the factory 216-inch inline-six engine. Scott’s ideas for the truck called for a lot more than “refreshed.” He started talking about his ideas with builder Jeff Schwartz from Schwartz Performance in Woodstock, Illinois. The shop is known for high-level rods—and is also located about 10 miles from where Scott lives.

Now the truck rides on a Schwartz Performance G-Machine full-length chassis. Framerails are 2×6-inch mild steel. The G-Machine package is designed for various suspension goals, from street cruising to autocross competition. The combination on this 1952 includes unequal-length control arms in front with custom spindles, coilovers using RideTech shocks and Hyperco springs, a 1.25-inch splined antiroll bar, and power rack-and-pinion steering for up-to-date handling and ride. In the rear a Moser 9-inch full-floater with 3.70:1 gears and Detroit TrueTrac differential is suspended with the same coilover setup, triangulated four-bars, and a 3/4-inch antiroll bar. Wilwood 13-inch disc brakes were added all around with six- and four-piston calipers fore and aft.

The contemporary 18-inch wheels are Grip Equipped Schism five-spokes from Forgeline. Low-profile rubber is from the Michelin Pilot Super Sport series and measures 255/35R18 in front and a fat 335/30R18 in back for an unmissable footprint.

Underhood, a firewall and inner fenders were fabricated to surround the engine. After a lifetime of faithful service, the original Stovebolt was retired. In its place is a fresh 6.2L Chevrolet LS3 crate engine. The engine was mildly modified at Schwartz Performance with the addition of a custom camshaft and Lunati valvesprings. A Wegner billet serpentine drive system dresses up the front of the LS3, and a Be Cool aluminum radiator and Spal fan ensure that things are kept cool. Schwartz Performance built a pair of custom stainless steel headers routing gases to custom 3-inch exhaust pipes. Past the firewall, a TREMEC T56 Magnum six-speed transmission backs up the engine.

First impressions are important for a classic hot rod truck, and that’s where exterior mods take over. Modifications to the 3100 five-window body and shortbed were kept mild but the attention to making the sheetmetal perfect and the whole truck beautiful was extensive. The headlights were replaced with Hella lamps and LED bulbs are used to enhance the taillights. The stock gas filler was filled and relocated to the bed floor, which is finished in high-quality oak. The original bumpers have been replaced with stock-style reproductions.

Steve Nick’s Customs in Woodstock does a lot of the painting for Schwartz Performance and handled the finish on Scott’s 3100 as well. Steve used PPG products to paint the two-tone pickup. The primary color is GM Siren Red contrasted by Gray Anthracite on the fenders and running boards. As far as making a successful first impression, you can judge for yourself.

Cassis Customizing in Woodstock gets well-deserved credit for finishing the interior. The bench seat with bucket backs came from TEA’s Design and was upholstered with black and red leather to following the paint scheme on the truck. The style carries over to the door panels and headliner as well. Black German velour carpet covers the floor. Dakota Digital VHX gauges were installed in the original dash and a Custom Autosound audio system provides great sound without detracting from the look of the dash. A Vintage Air Mini A/C system cools the cab. The banjo steering wheel from Grant is mounted on a Flaming River column.

From learning to drive in an old ranch truck to cruising in a pro-built magazine-quality custom truck, Scott’s lifetime as a classic truck fan has definitely evolved. He says that waiting for it to be finished was a challenge, but driving it for the first time was an unforgettable experience, especially “harnessing all the power and that big smile when the tires broke loose going into Second gear.”

Only one question remains. Did he accomplish his goal of owning a sleeper? There is definitely more to his 1952 Chevy than you can see at first, but even what you can see is enough to wake you up.

Tech Notes

1952 Chevy 3100 Scott McClain

CHASSIS Frame: Schwartz Performance G-Machine, 2×6-inch mild steel Rearend / Ratio: Moser 9-inch, full-floater, Truetrac differential / 3.70:1 Rear Suspension: RideTech shocks with Hyperco springs, 3/4-inch splined antiroll bar, triangulated four-link Rear Brakes: Wilwood disc brakes, 13-inch rotors, four-piston calipers Front Suspension: Schwartz Performance unequal length control arms, Schwartz spindles, RideTech shocks with Hyperco springs, 1.25-inch splined antiroll bar Front Brakes: Wilwood disc brakes, 13-inch rotors, six-piston calipers, proportioning valve Steering: Power rack-and-pinion Front Wheels: Forgeline Grip Equipped Schism 18×9 Rear Wheels: Forgeline Grip Equipped Schism 18×12 Front Tires: Michelin Pilot Super Sport 255/35R18 Rear Tires: Michelin Pilot Super Sport 335/30R18

DRIVETRAIN Engine: 2014 Chevrolet LS3 crate engine, Lunati valvesprings Camshaft: Schwartz Performance custom cam Heads: OE aluminum Intake: OE Alternator: Powermaster Air Filter: K&N Ignition: HEI Headers: Schwartz Performance Exhaust: Schwartz Performance Horsepower: 530 Transmission: Tremec T56 Magnum six-speed

BODY Style: 1952 Chevy 3100 five-window shortbed Hood: Stock Grille: Stock Headlights / Taillights: Hella / LED lenses Front Bumper: Stock-style replacement Rear Bumper: Stock-style replacement Door Handles: Stock Bed Floor: Oak with stainless runners General Bodywork: Schwartz Performance Prep Bodywork: Steve Nick’s Customs Paint / Color: PPG / GM Siren Red and Gray Anthracite Painter: Steve Nick’s Customs

INTERIOR Dashboard: Stock Gauges: Dakota Digital VHX Door Handles: Stock Steering Wheel: Grant Steering Column: Flaming River tilt column Seats: TEA’s Design split bucket bench Upholstery: Cassin Customizing Material / Color: Leather / Black and red Sound System: Custom Autosound Air Conditioning: Vintage Air

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