#with an english raincoat

[corduroyinstitute]

Three years ago today, Corduroy Institute recorded Corduroy 57, a piece which would eventually become "With an English Raincoat." As part of the methodology we pursued throughout the sessions which yielded Eight/Chance/Meetings, we used a random number generator to give us two discs from our collection that could serve as a guideline for our improvisation. The albums it selected were Eric Clapton's Slowhand and The Wedding Present's Search for Paradise: Singles 2004-2005.

The Digitakt's tap tempo set our pace to that of "Wonderful Tonight" and the Bass VI spun a melodic bassline worthy of circa-2005 Wedding Present. What happened next, however, was pure Corduroy Institute: W. Ruiz played an Ensoniq EPS 16 Plus patch which sampled a V-Synth piano and a slightly dissonant tone, while S.A. Morin ran his Telecaster through a complex series of effects pedals to create uniquely ethereal textures.

The piece remained dormant until May 2 & 3 of 2020 when S.A. Morin arranged and sang a series stanzas crafted by his bandmate earlier in the year. Seven months later, W. Ruiz added his own complementary vocals atop the May vocals. We kept S.A. Morin's original takes in the final version, forever crystallizing the emotional state of that moment in time. The song would receive its final mix on May 31, 2021, and it became the second track on the Eight/Chance/Meetings album.

[neversetyoufree]

God, the manga never really talks about it (at least not yet), but I think so much about Noé in the years between Louis's death and meeting Vanitas. Do you ever think about what that time must have been like?

Noé lived alone with Teacher's castle staff that entire time. Teacher was obviously around to instruct him sometimes, but he seems to be away from home for long stretches of time, and Dominique could only visit now and then. What was his recovery from his mourning illness like? Was Domi there the whole time, or did she get sent home shortly after her own breakdown? How did he cope when Domi went back home for the first time after their ordeal? What did Noé do during all that time he was alone?

So much of Noé is defined by his bright hopefulness and endless optimism, but at least in the realm of curse-bearers, that hope was only re-ignited via Vanitas. What was a Noé forced to accept that there's no hope for curse bearers like? Did he stew in his mourning and think about Louis constantly, or was he quick to return to the patented strategy of Don't Think About It?

Like, mémoire 1 is called "Vanitas—In the Event of Rusty Hopes." It's a reference to Noé finding a way to believe in the salvation of curse-bearers again. Vanitas is the thing that reawakens his old, rusty hopes of being able to save people; that's the thing that defines their first meeting. I don't think Noé ever fully lost his optimism, but when have we ever known him to admit that helping someone is beyond his power?

Before Vanitas, the horrible fact that saving curse-bearers was beyond his power was thrust into his face, and it says something that this particular hope really did rust over. So much of the manga now is Noé wrestling with the idea of salvation being more complicated than he thinks. He's tormented by the idea that the salvation Vanitas wants and offers isn't always a living cure.

I want to see the Noé that had no hope of saving curse-bearers at all. I want to know how little he processed that trauma.

[vintageblackandwhiteportraits]

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after | jsc

pairing: college fwb!sungchan x fem!reader word count: 21.6k

author’s note: soooo, I’m back to writing after a long break. this is my first riize fic and Sungchan practically hauled this monster out of my insides until it became 21k. I wrote most of this while listening to sabrina carpenter’s new album and i think sharpest tool, juno and lie to girls fit really well with the theme of this work. english is not my first language, so please be kind if you're going to point out any mistakes. I hope you guys like this.

contents: smut. some fluff. angst, angst & angst (specially towards the end). switch!reader and switch!sungchan. sex with a condom, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving). pet names. ass man!sungchan. reader has thoughts on family trauma and self-hatred. random idols mentioned for worldbuilding. sungchan is pretty much an asshole in the end. no HEA.

you can also read this work on my ao3, if you'd like

You feel pathetic. With a raincoat covered in water splatters and standing on your favorite white sneakers – now mud covered and wet – in front of your situationship’s apartment after ringing the doorbell, you truly feel like an idiot.

It’s been over two weeks since he last texted you and here you are, waiting for him to open his door after calling him on a whim, asking for permission to come and see him. But it was a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester and when you finished your last exam of the day and the rain started pouring down while you were on the bus on your way home, your heart made a last-minute decision to ring him up.

So now here you are, feeling pathetic.

Surprisingly, despite the radio silence for the last fortnight, the door opens quickly to reveal a worried Sungchan with a fresh and fluffy towel in his hands as he urges you inside, hand clasping over yours to pull you away from the cold and into the warmth of his home.

He closes the door with his free hand and his eyes instantly fall onto your body to inspect the damage caused by the storm, the dirt and the finals. You can’t help but feel heat under his gaze, your limbs already growing hot after being in his presence for two seconds. It’s your body's natural response to him since the day you met.

“Why didn’t you call me after you finished your exam?” are his first words to you as his hands take your bag and your raincoat off of your arms, both items falling on the floor around your ankles. “I would’ve picked you up.”

The way he says it almost makes you want to apologize for not doing it, but, in all honesty, you don’t quite believe he would’ve picked you up. Two weeks of not talking is a considerable amount of time, after all. So you bite your tongue and reply with the second thing that comes on your head instead.

“Didn’t even think about it. The rain started after I took the bus,” you say, feeling him wrap you in the towel he brought, hands pressing on your arms to make it absorb the rainwater covering you.

He stays silent as he dries you up, expertly and swiftly moving the towel over the areas of your body that were most affected by the downpour, his furrowed eyebrows showing his concentration. You have to actively stop yourself from reaching up to smooth them over, your hands itching to touch him. But in just fifteen seconds your upper half is dried and he squats down to inspect your legs.

He stops with his right hand on your left calf, looking up at you once he sees the mud covering your jeans.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” he sighs, a small chuckle coming out of his throat, too. “You’re gonna have to take a shower.”

“Oh,” you say, mind still understanding his request while your eyes focus on his. After a beat, you realize that you feel kind of insecure of showering in his place when you don’t know where you both stand on your relationship, so you shake your head. “I can go home to shower and come back later, if it’s okay with you.”

He shakes his head back at you. “No, it’s not. That’d be dumb,” he says, standing up in his full height and making you change your gaze from looking down to looking up at him. You feel a pang in your chest at the rejection, thinking he’s saying it would be stupid to come back to him after, but he smooths one hand over your shoulder and clarifies. “Why would you do that when there’s a perfectly good bathroom here you can use?”

You blink at him, your head again very slow in keeping up with his words. Maybe it’s because it’s been a rough day in a rough week in a rough month in a rough trimester. Maybe it’s because your last brain cell was burned while taking your international law exam. Maybe it’s being close with him again after some time, seeing his deep brown eyes, smelling his cologne and standing in his apartment that makes you so dull. Maybe it’s every one of those reasons. At this moment, you think you’re more pathetic than ever.

And you’re pretty sure Sungchan thinks you are, too, because his features crease again as he looks at you, taking a step back and tugging on your hand to come with him. “Come on. I’ll put your clothes in the washer while you shower.”

You quickly step on the heels of your shoes to take them off and follow him down the hallway to the small bathroom by the end of it. Sungchan fetches you a sealed bar of soap from the cabinet under the sink and a new fluffy towel from his dresser. Then, he waits outside of the bathroom for you to strip off your clothes and hand him every piece – hoodie, shirt, pants, undergarments and socks – through the half open door. He smiles at you for only a second before turning on his heels to take the clothes to the washer, saying you can take your time.

You leave the door leaning on its threshold, not quite closed, because, first of all, Sungchan has seen you naked multiple times and there’s no reason to be shy now, and second of all, you half expect him to come join you. So, you step in the shower, the white tiles cold against your toes as you turn the tap to burning hot just how you like it.

It’s relaxing having the heated water hitting your naked skin after being out in the cold with wet clothes for minutes that felt like years. You indulge yourself in it, sighing and letting your limbs loose, facing down and resting the top of your head against the tiles under the head of the shower, moving your body to fully stand under the water to feel it hit your shoulders as your mind travels back to Sungchan. It’s hard to over analyze his every move, touch and word when he’s just a few steps from you. But you’re an expert on doing that in every possible scenario by now. So, you recall every second of your five-minute interaction with him since you stepped inside his place, trying to look for signs of anything. You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

You try to discover if he’s bothered by your presence or if he looked happy to see you, if he helped you out because of his affection or just general kindness, if he was worried because he cares about you in a special way or just because he cares. Still, you can’t come up with answers to your doubts because he was always pretty hard to read anyway.

Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. Although you’ve seen him being comfortable and goofy around friends, he often keeps to himself and can even be described as a shy person most of the days. Even though his playful side comes up occasionally when he’s with you, most of the time you are met with silence that makes you conjecture a million theories that are never proven.

Plus, you’re achingly jumbled today and the truth is you always feel foolish around him. Like your strong attraction to him makes you dim-witted, tongue-tied and incoherent. Just like the first time you ever saw him.

The first time you ever saw him was in your freshman year in the second semester at college, in your Ethics class. He’s a STEM major, which obviously meant he was taking it for an extra credit, but you didn’t know that yet when you walked into the east building expecting to see a class filled with law students and came across the tall and hot math nerd.

One moment, you are hurriedly walking up the steps to your seat as the lecture hall fills with scholars and your professor takes his place in front of the board. In the next one, you’re bumping into a desk and sending a collection of papers and one very pricey scientific calculator to fall on the ground with loud bangs and blasts. You’re desperate as you squat down and rest your books on the following step to search for the batteries and the hood of the calculator that flew around during your mishap. And as your hand finds the last battery missing, another hand clasps over it to retrieve the item and you glance up to meet Sungchan’s eyes. You both stand up at the same time, in which you notice how tall he is, your senses taking in his soft hair, strong grip and big eyes surrounded by his glasses’ frame. And then you flinch, taking your hand back from his and muttering a small hushed apology before walking the last steps to your desk and avoiding eye contact with him for the rest of the lesson.

When class is dismissed, despite feeling extremely embarrassed, you gather up your courage and walk down to his desk to apologize profusely, saying how deeply bad you’re feeling and asking if his calculator is still working or if you have to work out a plan to pay for a new one for him.

“Don’t worry. It’s working fine,” he says, the sound of his voice sending a crazy shiver up your spine you never felt before. The first one of many to come. “But if you’re feeling deeply bad about it, you can take me out for dinner.”

You blink at him. The first one of many dim-witted moments to come in his presence. And he chuckles, fingers brushing over your elbow as he steps back from his desk and maneuvers you fully in front of him. You feel your organs internally jolting, like you’ve been struck by an electric shock or like you were numb and dead until now and have suddenly been relieved by a crazy scientist. And it’s all because of his small touch.

“I’m kidding,” he announces after you fail to reply, removing his hand from you, his eyes looking down and the tips of his ears tinting red as he says it. “We’re fine. There’s no need to apologize anymore.”

“Thank you for being so understanding,” you reply, finally getting out of your head and finding your voice again after being revived by his fingertips. “Really. Most people wouldn’t be this chill.”

He walks around you with one hand on the strap of his backpack and steps down two levels of the stairs, becoming almost eye-level with you when he raises an eyebrow up and says, “Guess I’m not like most people.”

And then he turns his back on you, finishing the final steps of the lecture hall and getting out as you stupidly blink at his back.

It’s ridiculous how much you become obsessed with him after that.

Even though you consider yourself smart enough to not develop a crush on your first year of college, you walk head first into that booby trap. Very quickly and happily, too. 

It takes you a few days after your first meeting to learn that he’s actually a sophomore majoring in biological engineering, which didn’t help at all, because your social sciences brain couldn’t understand a thing about STEM. You also learn that he’s originally from another state and that, yes, he is in your Ethics class for an extra credit. From observing him in your shared class, you figure out he actually keeps to himself and likes to doodle on his textbook while the professor is talking. From a couple of shared acquaintances, you’re told that he’s shy, has never been seen with a partner before and doesn’t really attend parties. He’s a quiet one, they say. So much so that when you tell the person that he jokingly asked you out when you bumped into him, they don’t quite believe you.

As the weeks go by with no new interaction between you two except for the few stolen glances you throw his way during lessons, you start to think you imagined the whole thing. The electric buzz in your inner system when he touched you, the blush on his cheeks and ears, the way his eyes scanned you up and down and how his hand lingered a little too long on your arm… It could all just be a fleeting moment. Or only a natural response of your body from seeing and being close to such an attractive person. It certainly couldn’t mean anything special. You convince yourself that it meant nothing.

And then, the next day, you see him at a café close to campus. He’s there with a few close friends, chatting up and joking with each other, and you’re intrigued by how his smiles are easier to appear and how loud he can laugh in a candid and carefree moment. Also, you feel that same attraction again. That gut-punching-needing-to-be-closer magnetic pull between you two. It makes your nerves stand on end, goosebumps raise all over your body and your focus zero on him. It makes your skin prickle, like every atom of your body is buzzing in excitement and craving to be touched by him. And by the way Sungchan’s breath catches when his eyes meet yours and his posture changes, secretly eyeing you up and down every chance he gets, you can tell he feels it, too.

But it takes so long for you to be close to him. Being from strikingly different majors, you are almost never in the same parts of campus. Apart from the class you two met in and the programming class you took in your sophomore year – which you swore to your friends it was just because you were curious about it and not because of the student body attending to it – you mostly live different lives and stand out of each other's ways.

However, slowly and surely, your life becomes intertwined with his, like someone is playing puzzles with the pieces of you both. First, you become a TA to your environmental law Professor and end up tutoring one-on-one with his cousin Sungho. One day, while you are reviewing the paper he wrote for his class, Sungho tells you how Sungchan said “she’s super hot” when he told him you were his TA. You have to hide your smile behind the paper sheets in your hands to not give away that you’re attracted to him and scold Sungho for distracting you. That’s the first time you have actual evidence of Sungchan’s interest in you and it makes you smile for days.

Then, one of your friends starts hooking up with one of his friends and soon enough you are hanging out together in the same group. It helps you discover new things about him to obsess about. Like how he has the cutest mole on the corner of his upper lip you just need to drop a kiss on. And how his closest friends often call him Jinsu and how he always smiles when he hears it. You learn he’s a gym rat. And that he’s always down to help his peers whenever they have a problem and need a hand. It’s so freaking adorable.

And then, you both join in an extracurricular philosophy workshop you could’ve sworn you heard him ask Haneul, your friend, when was the final date of submission to in one of your hangouts. All these new opportunities to meet him frequently allow you to actually talk to him a few times, and soon enough you're sharing stories about your lives, joking and flirting with each other.

And that’s how, finally, in your junior year of college, your and Sungchan’s paths are unmistakably crossed and you become actual friends. So, when you surprisingly see him at a frat party, it’s natural for you to greet him while he plays Super Mario Bros with his friend Sohee. You strike a conversation about how you thought he didn’t like parties and Sungchan confirms it’s true and tells you how Sohee is a member of the fraternity and actually dragged him there. You laugh at his antics and then he jokes about something else so you smile again.

You want to sit next to him to keep your conversation going, but there’s a bunch of people littered across the room in various stages of drunkenness and practically no space left on the couch he’s on. Sungchan notices your eyes searching for a spot and makes as much room as he can, pulling you to sit on the arm of the sofa next to him. Then, he slings one arm around your body, keeping you steady and close to him, and rests his hand on your lap, his other hand joining from your opposite side with the video game controller. While he fixes his grip on the controller to keep playing, his knuckles graze your jeans clad thighs and you realize that you’re trapped around his arms for the time being.

It makes you instantly go rigid, his sudden closeness already making you dizzy and short of breath. And then, like it’s an afterthought of his, Sungchan leans on your side and looks up at you, his eyes carefully watching your reaction as he asks, “Is this okay?”

You purse your lips together and nod even though the thumping of your heart is so loud in your ears you’re not sure you heard him correctly. “Yeah.”

He nods back at you, a close-lipped smile appearing on his lips as he focuses back on the game playing on the TV. You have to concentrate on keeping your breaths steady as the side of his face brushes your arms, his hair soft and his stubble rough on your skin. You have to bite on your lower lip to keep yourself from sighing when his hands press on your thighs or on your lower stomach, controller lying in your lap as he waits for the game to load. Only after a while you feel comfortable enough to sit back against the cushions and let your hand wander to his shoulders, trembling fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt because your hormones are in a frenzy inside of you.

“You having fun?” He asks after they finish off a match on the game, hot breath falling over your arm and sending an electrical current on your body.

“Yeah. Until now, at least,” you reply, dangling your feet under you to give you something to focus on that it’s not him.

“Wanna have more fun?” He asks, and there’s an unmistakable glint in his eye that sends butterflies flying around in your stomach.

“Like what?” You reply, purposely leaning into the obvious sinful intentions laced in his words.

“We can get out of here,” he says then, fingers twitching the hem of your shirt and brushing on your skin, eyes scanning over your features and looking for any signs that you’re uncomfortable by his actions or words. He licks his lips when he notices how your eyes drop to his mouth and moves his hand to play with a strand of your hair before finishing off his proposition. “Have a drink somewhere more private… If you want.”

You know that the drink is an excuse for something else and that somewhere more private is actually his house. But you’ve been wanting this for so long that you have no desire to play it cool or pretend you don’t want this.

“Sure,” is all you reply, accepting whatever fate has in store for you now.

When Sungchan gets up from the couch and says goodbyes to his friends, he grabs your hand for you two to leave together, checking your eyes one last time to be sure you’re willing to do this just as much as him. You smile at him and that seems to be enough to placate his worries, because he smiles back and pushes you to follow through. You know you’ll kiss him as you make your way down the stairs of the frat house, one hand still gripping Sungchan’s and the other texting your friends to let them know you’re leaving with him. You know you’ll at least make out when he shields your side, protecting you from any unsteady drunk that may trip over you as you try to reach the door out of the house. And you’re pretty sure you’ll fuck as you both wait on the sidewalk for the Uber he asked for, his hand intertwined with yours as he hums along with the music from the party.

Still, you pretend like you’re naïve and clueless just for the mystery still hanging in the air.

Once the car pulls up on the curb, Sungchan leads you inside and enters after. He still holds your hand, resting it against his thigh as you take the left seat of the car and he sits back on the right one. The middle seat between you both is vacant and none of you make a move to sit closer to one another. You can cut the tension with a knife as soon as the car moves and the music from the party fades away. Slowly, he starts to play with your hand, rubbing and grabbing at your knuckles and you hold your breath. A moment later, your palm is up on his lap as he spreads your fingers open, his nails softly grazing the length of each and every one of them. He chuckles when the action makes you shiver and you hide your face with your free hand from embarrassment, turning away to look out the window. But then he changes places, splaying his fingers so you can rub your nails on the length of them now, and the same shudder that ran through you takes over Sungchan’s body, a cute blush appearing on his cheeks. Sungchan is a man of few actions and even lesser words. But in that moment, using just the palm of your hands, he chose to become vulnerable to you. His attitude says this is real and I feel it too. And you can’t be more grateful for him finally dropping the mysterious act and becoming transparent for once. At that, you smile and he intertwines his fingers with yours, clutching your hand fully.

You both stop watching your hands to finally look at one another. He sighs contentedly under your gaze and his free hand, the one that isn’t already attached to yours, finds its way on your face, his thumb caressing your cheekbone. His eyes slip to your lips and back to your eyes, searching for something. And only after you nod at him, he dives in, capturing your mouth on his and successfully filling the space in between your seats, leaning his body on yours.

You’ve never been kissed like this before, with so much energy you feel renewed. But you try not to think too much about it and instead feel it as you reciprocate the kiss, your lips and hands restless to show him just how much you felt for him for the past two years.

Sungchan keeps kissing you as the car stops its journey and the driver has to announce you arrived. He keeps kissing you while you walk up the steps of his building to find his apartment. He keeps kissing you whilst he punches the code on his door to get it open. He is still kissing you as you take off your shoes and coats by the hall and he’s leading you inside, whispering a breathless “this is my place” that drives you both into a fit of giggles. He kisses you inside his room, on his bed, as he takes off your clothes. He kisses you even when he puts on the condom and you jerk him off before he slides inside you. He keeps kissing you whilst you adjust to his size and ask him to move faster. When he’s fucking you, he kisses every part of you his lips can reach – your forehead, your cheek, the tip of your nose, your eyebrows, your neck, your ears, your shoulders, your clavicle and your boobs. You think his mouth never leaves your body, never fully at least, when he kisses your lips again whilst you tell him you’re so close. And as you cum, walls spasming and squeezing his cock to milk him dry from his own orgasm, he kisses you one more time.

After, when you’re lying in bed spent and he spoons you, he tells you how much he wanted to do this the first time you met. How you short-circuited his system and made him ask you out on that first moment and how serious he actually was about that. How he didn’t know what to do with himself when you didn’t reply. You chuckle at his confession and let the night wash away his words as you’re lulled to sleep by his warm skin on yours and his groggy soft voice. Before the slumber overtakes you, you swallow the words of your own confession that are burning on your tongue, thinking you’ll have the time to tell him later.

And that’s how you end up here, in a seven-month situationship with him, never quite speaking those words.

By now, it’s nuts the kind of power Sungchan holds over you. And you’re not sure he even knows it. Your relationship – if it even can be called that – is, for the most part, purely skin-on-skin raw sexual desire. Every time you are near Sungchan, you are energetic, your hormones kicking into high gear. For some time, you thought that after a few times sleeping together, you’d be able to get over it and get him out of your system. You hoped that your attraction to him would pass or that it would at least dim. That hooking up would get so common it’d turn boring, that you wouldn’t get the jitters around him anymore or that you’d run out of things to experience and new kinks to try out.

But every time you do it – every time, without fail – you finish it wanting more. You keep coming back to his arms and he keeps letting you in. The chemistry is still off the charts.

You love the way his calloused hands touch you and his soft lips kiss you. You’re crazy about how he has memorized all of your body parts and all of your ticks to make you scream with pleasure in bed. You’re obsessed with how he’s had your skin marked up with his fingers, teeth and scent. You’re captivated by his filthy words on your ear and his gentle hard thrusts against your hips. You’re fixated by how his dick fits perfectly inside you and how he knows how to make you cum in minutes. And you’re haunted by the fact that all of that combined might mean that you are in love with him.

Because sometimes, when you’re not fucking or going about all the stops that would lead you to fuck, you feel genuine deep attachment with him.

In a rare moment he laughs when you tell him how you argued with your crazy conservative forensics’ Professor in front of the Dean in a criminology symposium because he dared to assume asexual women are frigid. Or he lets you lay your head on his chest as he tells you how he and his roommate Shotaro became friends. Or he places a piece of your hair over your ear while you eat dinner together at the pizza place near your place. Or you belt out early 2000’s music together on his beat-up Kia Sephia 1993 while you drive around town. Or you tell him about wanting to change your major to Literature, that you never planned to take Law in the first place, and he encourages you to do what you really want. Or you both stay up late sharing your fears and uncertainties about life after college. Or he pulls you into his arms, holding you closer and tightly against him because your body drifted away from him while sleeping. Or he tells you how he loves your caresses as you pet his hair to lull him back to sleep while the rising sun infiltrates through his room curtains. Or he says he remembered you during the day because he saw your favorite flower blossoming near the building to his calculus class. Or he not so casually asks who was the guy you were talking too close with the last time he saw you on campus, jealousy shining in his eyes. Or he reads the latest philosophy book you recommended and gives you an in-depth review of all the points he found important. Or he buys you a cupcake when you meet up a day after your birthday and acts nonchalant, tips of his ear becoming red, as you ask him what it is for. Or he sends you a Spotify playlist of an artist he thinks you’d really like the sound. Or he asks how your grandmother is doing a few days after you came back from a quick trip home because she was sick.

In those rare moments, you hold yourself together to not bawl your eyes out because of his kind gestures. It’s hard not feeling sentimental being treated with the minimal tenderness when you grew up in a house with strict rules and no space for feelings. Of course, there were the frequent occasions where your parents would scream their lungs out at each other saying the nastiest stuff you ever heard, but, other than that, feelings were bottled up and could only come out in screeches if you were an adult. Your parents turned their maximum effort to make sure food was on the table and you and your siblings were upstanding citizens, and as much as you’re grateful for that, sometimes you resent them for never truly making you feel seen and appreciated.

Maybe that’s the reason why when Sungchan shows you care and desire, you mistake it for love. Because, in those sacred moments in the dead of the night when he shares a part of him with you, something he never told or showed before, you want to crawl out of your skin and into his to become a part of him. That’s when you think – you feel – like you love him. And you feel like maybe he loves you, too.

The fact that he speaks in a gentle and low tone as opposed to the wails you used to listen to as a child is just an added bonus.

After fifteen minutes, you finally close the water tap and the stream of your daydream about Sungchan to step out of the shower. As you dab your body up with a towel, you find out Sungchan has left a change of his clothes for you on the sink while your mind was far away. You quickly dry yourself off and put on the clothes, a pair of his boxers and a set of gray sweatpants and sweatshirt that retains the heat from the hot water on your body and makes you feel like a human again and not a dirty wet popsicle. Then you wipe a hand on the mirror over the sink to get rid of the steam on it and start brushing your hair back with your fingers to redo your ponytail. Once you’re satisfied, you put the towel up to dry and leave the bathroom, walking the small path to Sungchan’s room. You can’t help but notice that Shotaro’s room, that is right beside Sungchan’s, has its door open and lights out, with no signs of Shotaro inside, which means you and Sungchan have the house alone to yourselves. A wicked smile makes its way to your face as you think of all the noise you can make without a care in the world. But you soon tamper your wild thoughts and breath in before knocking on Sungchan’s closed door, only opening it after you hear his permission to come inside.

His bedroom is small and you’ve been in here so many times you already know it by heart. A twin bed by the window, some basic white curtains, a nightstand, a small desk with a chair by the foot of the bed, a dresser just in front of it and that’s it. It’s a tiny room in a tiny apartment, not much different than yours, and you suppose there’s not much else a college student can afford in a building off-campus.

When you come inside, Sungchan is sitting on his chair, laptop open as he types away. And as you close the door again, he turns on his seat to welcome you with a smile on his face.

“Hey,” he says, eyeing you up and down. “Did the clothes fit okay?”

You look down at the attire that so clearly belongs to him but fits you well enough because even though he’s taller than you, you’re more full-figured than him. “Yeah. Thanks for lending me them. And for letting me shower.”

“No problem. I already turned on the dryer for your clothes, they should be done in a minute. I also wiped down your raincoat, sneakers and your bag. Shoes are still in the hall. Raincoat and backpack are right there,” he tells you, pointing at a spot behind you where your belongings are gathered, right near his dresser.

Your eyes follow his direction to recognize where your things are and then you look back to him, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as you lean back on the wall with hands bound behind your back. Even though you wanted to meet him, you feel misplaced now that you’re here. Like the time apart has made you become strangers to one another. You don’t know what to expect anymore. Sungchan has been nothing but welcoming until now, but you keep fearfully anticipating his every move and word, waiting to be rejected, sure that your presence is annoying him and he’ll ask you to leave at any minute.

Contrarily to all of your fears, Sungchan puts you out of your misery as he extends a hand and beckons you to come closer. When you step in his general direction, he takes your hand in his and draws you in so you’re standing in between his legs. With him still seated in his chair, you’re taller than him, and you like the leverage of looking down on him that it gives you. But instead of meeting his eyes with confidence, you focus your gaze on a spot behind his head as you feel his hands wrapping around your waist and you place your own on his shoulders.

It's only when Sungchan moves one hand to your face and tips your chin back that you really look at him. He’s wearing a pair of gray sweatpants that match yours and a white t-shirt that hugs his form and shows his biceps, his fringe styled in a way that leaves a heart-shaped spot on his forehead that you want to drop a kiss on. His reading glasses frame his eyes, the lenses lightly scratched. It’s completely unfair how absolutely ravishing he looks in simple clothing and so little styling.

“Hi there,” he whispers when your eyes stop wandering over his features and finally focus on his face, the smile on his lips making you feel warm all over.

“Hey,” you reply, fingers picking at the fabric of his shirt over his chest for lack of something better to do. “Thank you for everything. You’re the best.”

“Of course, princess,” he says, hand moving to the nape of your neck to pull your face closer. He pecks your lips two times before pulling back. You instantly melt against him, containing the urge to follow his mouth with yours. “I wouldn’t be okay with you standing in those wet cold clothes. Plus, you look cute wearing mine, too.”

You smile shyly at him, your cheeks burning because of the compliment and he nuzzles his nose against yours, muttering a “So damn cute,” before pressing his lips on yours again.

You sigh against him, mouth parting to immediately receive his tongue. It’s slow and sweet, you both getting acquainted with each other again, one of his hands around your waist to press you against his front, and the other one rubbing circles on your nape. Your own hands wrap around his neck and pull at the strands of his hair, earning a soft groan from him. He tastes like mint toothpaste and heaven, and you’re embarrassed by how much you missed this. His closeness, his smell, his touch, his kiss. All of it. All of him. You want him all the time.

“Finals week has been treating you badly, doll?” He asks when you both pull back for air and you groan at his question, hanging your head low and resting your forehead on his right shoulder. He chuckles at you.

“Please, I don’t want to talk about it,” you whimper, the press of his lips on your neck making your voice airy.

He nods and softly pushes your head back so he can look at you again. “Fine, let’s not talk about it. But I still have an essay due tomorrow that I’m trying to finish today, so I don’t think I’ll be able to spend much time with you right now.”

“Oh, okay,” you reply. “You want me to go?”

He shakes his head and looks at you pointedly, muzzling another one of your attempts to flee. “Please stay. I’ll order some food if you’re hungry and you can eat while I work.”

You scrunch your nose at the offer with a hand over your stomach. “I actually feel nauseous after that exam.”

He laughs at you and starts humming, making the most adorable thinking face while he tries to come up with a plan that doesn’t involve you leaving.

“I can charge my phone and watch TikTok videos on your bed while you work? If the sound doesn’t bother you. I’ll make sure the volume is really low.” You suggest. “And after, I don’t know…” You trail off, feeling warm all over again because you actually know exactly what comes after. What comes after is you getting impaled by his dick and writhing in pleasure. And you hope that what comes after is you both finally confessing your feelings for each other, too. But that’s just a hope.

And also, it’s not even the time to think about that, so you shake your head to scare those thoughts away and give him another option, “I can go back home after a while. I actually need to sleep early because I have another exam in the third period tomorrow.”

“Okay, sounds like a plan,” he replies, nodding his head and pulling you in for another long and sweet kiss.

That is interrupted by the familiar pinging sound of a message coming through his laptop iMessage app and your eyes instinctively follow it to check what it is. But Sungchan is quicker than you, scrambling up and turning his torso to reach for the mouse and close the notification before you have the chance to see it. It’s a small moment that doesn’t quite alarm you because you know Sungchan is a private person and there’s no way he’d let you look through his texts. Still, as he turns back to drop a last kiss on your lips and you walk away to search for your phone in your bag, something about it nags at the back of your head.

With your phone and charger in hand and the TikTok app open, you make yourself comfortable on his bed. As your brain forgets all about international laws and politics and gets a serotonin boost from puppies and kittens’ videos, Sungchan pulls your feet from the bed to lay them on his lap as he remains seated on his chair. When he’s clicking away on the mouse or scrolling through his screen to read something, he rests his free hand on your ankles and starts massaging the soles of your feet. The domesticity of it all tugs on your heart and you can’t help but smile as you watch his back. Soon enough, the warmth of his room, his kneading on your feet and the comfy feeling get to you and you start to feel sleepy.

So, you connect your charger plug on the outlet behind Sungchan’s bedside table and hook it up on your phone, letting the device rest on the table as you promise Sungchan you’re just going to close your eyes for a few minutes. Then, you end up falling asleep in just a few seconds.

You feel the warmth first. A source of heat enveloping you in a strong and sturdy body. Then, you feel the gentleness, the soft touch on your hair, the slide of a thumb under your ear that pulls you from your slumber and into the arms of reality.

As you blink your eyes open, you’re met with Sungchan’s deep light brown eyes, illuminated by the lamp on his bedside table. The atmosphere is comfortable. You’re warm and cozy laying on Sungchan’s twin bed with his arms surrounding you. The rain is still falling outside, although now it has turned into a light drizzle. There’s flimsy wind coming in through the small opening of the window that cools the air and prevents everything from becoming too hot. But you like the heat and think you could be easily lured back to sleep because of it.

“Hi there,” Sungchan mutters before you have the chance to close your eyes again, his head resting on the same pillow as yours.

“Hi, Jinsu” you say groggily, rubbing a hand over your sleepy face. You notice how he smiles and his eyes glint at your use of his favorite nickname, and an emotion stirs deep inside you for seeing him so happy with something so simple. 

You get awkward for a moment thinking you must have mucus on your eyes and a bloated face right now, but Sungchan just keeps smiling at you and it’s enough to take your mind away from the embarrassment. His thumb rubs soothing circles on the nape of your neck as you adjust yourself over the sheets. “Sorry for waking you up. I was just getting comfortable to sleep,” he says. 

“S’okay.” You smile back at him, reaching over to caress his hair, your fingers threading through its strands. “For how long did I nap?”

“Two hours or so,” he says, sliding his hand down to your waist. “You snored, too.”

You give him a scoff, followed by a yawn that starts small and turns big. It makes you stretch your whole body, extending all of your limbs from your arms to your toes, cracking your knuckles and everything, and Sungchan gives you space to do so. When you’re finished, you turn on your back, getting comfortable again and closing your eyes briefly with a quiet hum.

“I should probably go, then,” you say with eyes still closed. It was about 7:30 p.m. when you settled in his bed, which means now it’s close to ten. If you want a quality sleep and to wake up on time tomorrow, you actually should get going. But Sungchan’s bed feels too comfy right now. Being in his arms is not bad either. 

You don’t see, but you can feel him scooting over to you, sheets rustling as he gets closer, his nose nuzzling yours and his hand fiddling with the bottom hem of your sweatshirt, your senses heightened by your drowsy mind and the lack of vision.

“You can stay a little while longer,” he replies with a playful tilt in his words, his fingers skimming over your belly button making you jump slightly, and you open your eyes to see the left side of his mouth popping up as he shamelessly presses his body on the side of yours. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you don’t?” you mumble, suddenly feeling the need to lower your voice with his lips so close to yours, eyes narrowing at his obvious naughty intentions. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Uh-huh, that’s me,” he finally leans in to give you a peck on the lips. “I’m sooo nice,” it’s the last thing he says before kissing you fully.

This kiss is heavy and intimate. His hand around your neck keeps you in place as he savors you, tongue entering your mouth. He strokes the back of your teeth, the roof of your mouth, the inside of your cheeks and your own tongue, groaning at whatever he finds there. His other hand grazes the skin of your waist tenderly in a way that may have made you think he’d treat you delicately if he wasn’t kissing you with so much fervor and energy. He takes whatever he wants from you until you pull away, already out of breath.

“I thought you were going to sleep,” you tease, lips ghosting over his, and he smirks at you.

He moves his lips to your ear and whispers, “Yeah, but I’m all woken up now,” as his hand moves up and down your stomach, faintly caressing your skin in a way that makes your insides burn. He presses his pelvis on the side of your thigh and you feel his dick hardening while still being constrained inside his pants. “Can’t you feel it?”

You reply a faint yeah before he’s all over you again, mouth desperate on yours as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth and bites, hands gripping your waist and body crowding you against the sheets. He’s consuming you whole and he wants more. And you give it to him. All of you. Honestly, at this point you’d give him whatever he asked.

“You don’t have exams tomorrow?” You ask in between kisses, breathless and shaky, the still sane part of your mind trying to estimate how much time you have together and what you’d be able to do with it.

Sungchan shakes his head slightly and kisses the corner of your mouth, putting a strand of your hair that’s fallen free from your ponytail behind your ear. “I’m finished with exams,” he whispers and kisses your cheek, then moves his lips to your earlobe, kissing there, too. “I have all the time in the world for you right now, princess.”

You want to kiss him again, but his head moves up, his nose sinking into your hair and deeply inhaling before pressing his lips on your hairline. “I missed the smell of your shampoo so much,” he says, eyes focusing back on your face as he slides his lips to your temple.

You sigh against him, his words making your heart flutter. Still, you can’t help but tease him when his eyes meet yours again. “Well, if you contacted me earlier, you wouldn’t have missed it,” you say, pouting at him, your hand bawling at his shirt as you finally show how upset the two weeks of radio silence made you feel.

Sungchan laughs at you and cradles his hand on the side of your face, his thumb caressing over your cheekbone as he holds you close. “Oh, did you get mad I didn’t text you, princess?” He mutters, his eyes glinting while yours are sad. “You should’ve texted me, then.”

You keep pouting, making a dissatisfied noise with his reply. Then, you cast your eyes down to the collar of his shirt as you say, “I wanted you to talk to me first.”

Sungchan chuckles and closes his palm on your chin, tilting your head up so you have nowhere to look but into his eyes. “But you ended up calling me up either way, didn’t you?” He teases in a low gruff voice with dark eyes. His fingers press against the sides of your cheeks to pucker your lips for him and he drops four consecutives pecks on your mouth that have you sighing. “Sounded so cute on the phone, too, saying you needed to see me,” he finishes.

The mockery of his words falls hard on you, making you feel ashamed as he reminisces your exact words, directly pointing out the truth: that you were the one who pursued him and not the other way around. You whimper in discontent, your face contorting as you try to get away from his grip, but his hold on your chin tightens when you move. So you press your nails on his shoulders over his shirt, hoping the fabric gives away and your force is enough to draw blood, and look at him with hard eyes and anger on your face. “Sungchan, I don’t like-”

“Why don’t you just tell me you missed me, huh?” He asks, interrupting you and making you roll your eyes at him, a snappy reply on your tongue. “Because I missed you, princess. I really did.”

And just like that the anger fizzles out and the irritable words are gone from your brain. His confession makes you melt back against him, breath hitching and eyes going wide. You notice he’s still smirking, probably because he knows he got you right where he wanted. Teasing you nonstop for half a minute and then confessing he missed you just so he can get a reaction out of you. And you give it to him, falling on the trap just like he wanted. You always do.

“Did you really?” You ask, big eyes focusing on his lips and neck pushing forward, needing to hear his confirmation. If you were a pet, your ears would be up and alert, patiently waiting for your owner to assert his authority over you.

“I did,” he says, nodding his head and smoothing his hands over your features now, his tongue poking out to wet his lips. “And did you miss me, princess?”

You nod before he’s even finished speaking. Knowing he missed you just how much you missed him fills you with urgency and you’re sure you have eager and wanton eyes as you grip on the back of his head and pull his face closer, focusing your gaze back on his as you sheepishly confess back, “I missed you, Jinsu.”

Sungchan’s smile slowly spreads across his lips as he hears and sees your words coming out of your lips. He pats on the top of your head briefly, like you really are his pet, and coos at you. “There you go, pretty girl.”

And then he’s pulling you in for a kiss again, his mouth devouring you whole as he creeps one hand under your head to support it and slides his other one to grasp at your hip.

He shifts on the bed, leaning over you with a leg in between yours, his grip tightening as your tongues meet. In no time you’re both breathing heavily, lips red, swollen and covered in spit as your hands weave through his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. He moves his lips down to your neck, sucking and biting everywhere, and drives his hands up your stomach under your shirt, feeling the skin just under your boobs before his fingers enclose over one of them.

You sigh and crane your neck to the side as he keeps peppering kisses on your collar, his thumb now pressing against your nipple as it hardens over his ministrations, another moan flying free from your mouth. You try to match his pace, descending one hand to his stomach to pull up his t-shirt, your fingers grazing his abs.

He pulls away then, kneeling on the bed to remove his shirt and throw it on some corner of his room. You spend approximately two seconds kissing his lower stomach before he’s pulling your sweatshirt – his sweatshirt – over your head, too, and pouncing on you a minute later, his other knee also coming in between your legs as he latches his mouth around one boob, laying you back down.

“Fuck, Sungchan,” you groan, your hands clamping on his hair again because he’s sucking on your nipple at just the perfect angle whilst his thigh presses on your crotch with just the ideal amount of friction to make you dizzy. You’re sure you're wet already and it’s not even been over ten minutes since you woke up.

“Missed these tits so much too, princess,” he says over your damp nipple, eyes focusing on yours and raising goosebumps all over you. It’s an incredibly lewd image. His glossy and pretty lips, coated on your saliva, telling you over your areola how much he missed your boobs. Yeah, you’ll probably be thinking about it for a long time, keeping this memory to your mind to use it specifically when you masturbate in the near future. Or you’ll be putting a video representation of it as the cause of your death on your grave when you’re buried. One of these two options, for sure.

He presses kisses all over the valley of your chest before sucking around the skin of your other boob. His tongue peeks out of his mouth to kitten lick at your nipple at the same time his blunt nails graze against the skin just under your belly button on your right side, and you fidget under him. It’s a weak spot he had memorized as soon as you started sleeping together and he tortures you with it every damn time you two fuck just to see you squirm.

“Desperate already?” He says as he rubs the same place over and over, his eyes watching your stomach contract with each caress.

“You’re such a douchebag,” you tell him.

“Why?” he kisses your nipple and focuses his eyes back on yours, stupid smirk still plastered on his face. “Am I not making you feel good?”

“You fucking know why,” you respond, moving your hand to his wrist to stop his abuse of your weak spot and sliding his hand down to cup the place in between your thighs over your clothes. “And this is where your hand has to be to make me feel good.”

Sungchan laughs at that, pressing his hand harder on you and sucking on your boob one more time. His eyes and lips are glistening as he says, “So bossy. You’re lucky I like it.”

And then his mouth is claiming yours again while he sits up and his hands make quick work of yanking down your sweatpants and underwear – once again, his clothes – and throwing them away from you, making you lay back and bend your legs. Once he’s done, you move down the bed, sitting to grasp your fingers over the drawstring of his sweatpants, trying to loosen it so he can get just as naked as you are, but he moves his hips out of your reach just before you can finish it.

“I want to feel you, too,” you whine as he hovers over you, one hand pushing on your shoulder to reposition you the way he wants it, your back stretching against the covers again.

He smiles and drops a small peck on the corner of your mouth before moving his body down the bed, hands spreading open your thighs and lips pressing kisses on your belly and going down, down, down.

“In a minute, doll,” he says over your right knee, his hands now moving to the inside of your thighs, so close to where you most want him. “Have to make you feel good first, just like you asked.”

His mouth moves up now, lips sucking and bruising your thighs, tongue lavishing over your soft skin, one hand crossed on your waist to hold your body down and another pinching the supple flesh of your butt and thigh, pushing and pulling as he pleases and extending your torture so much more. You love it just as much as you hate it. It’s amazing how much he knows your body, how much he remembers all of your ticks just to use them against you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that it’s him. He makes you feel this way. Always has. Probably always will.

You are about to beg for something more, the first letter of a please making its way out of your now dry lips. And then he’s parting your folds and kissing up your crotch, becoming face to face with your glistening cunt. He buries his nose just on the outer part of it and breathes in deeply for a moment, quite literally inhaling your scent, and you think he just has to be mad. There’s no way in hell he’s a sane person.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, his eyes meeting your wide ones when you press your elbows on the bedspread to support your upper body and watch what he’s doing. “Missed this sweet little pussy, too.” He slides his forefinger up your slit and rubs at your clit, making you shiver. “And she missed me, right, doll? Fucking dripping already. And all for me.”

“Holy shit, you’re crazy,” you moan, brushing his hair back as he keeps rubbing your clit, your hips wiggling with every complete circle he finishes, eyes never leaving his.

“And you love it,” he states and you can’t argue with that. And then he’s licking a wide strip up your pussy, his middle finger reaching down to find your entrance at the same time.

It would be ridiculous to get close to cumming just from that alone, but it’s been so long and you’ve been so pent up you already feel the characteristic churning deep in your stomach. Still, like always, Sungchan takes his time with you, massaging your entrance with his fingers, tongue finding that spot just under your clit that makes you see stars.

The seven months you’ve been doing this have been so full of sexual experiments that now he knows you prefer indirect stimulation rather than the direct on-the-nose approach. He knows you like to be eased into it, to slowly lose yourself to pleasure over getting quickly to your orgasm.

So, he keeps rubbing over your hole before putting his finger in, stroking your walls lazily as you moan softly, his tongue licking over the same spot over and over, oftentimes catching just the underside of your clit and making you swivel your hips trying to follow his lips.

“That’s it, doll. Doing so good for me,” he says as he speeds up his movements, joining another finger inside of your pussy and focusing on the image of your eyes closed, chest heaving and lips bitten. “Feels good?”

“Feels so good, Jinsu,” you reply, opening your glassy eyes to meet his, grabbing at his forearm that’s crossed over the front of your body. Sungchan is so focused on bringing you pleasure that the veins on his arms are popped up, so pretty you wish to run your tongue over each one. All of it just adds to the raw sexual tension lingering in the air.

“I love it when you call me that. You know just the way to drive me crazy, princess,” he groans, eyes never leaving yours as he moves his mouth to your clit again, now sucking harshly on it as his two fingers scissor you open.

Another thing you love about Sungchan is his dirty talk. You still don’t understand how he stays so silent and bashful most of the time and turns into another person in bed, becoming bold and forward. It’s not uncommon for him to be completely calm and collected when you’re in a friendly gather and then say the most obscene things while fucking you half an hour later, the shy persona thrown out the window. Sometimes he starts teasing you with texts, dirty looks or small touches even while you are out with friends. And the knowledge that he gets to be a completely different person just for you got you off one too many times.

You move your free hand to the back of his neck and push him more into your cunt. He gets the message and pulls your legs further apart, one hand going under your bum to support your lower half as you start bucking your hips into his face, sliding your elbows under you to arch your back while you’re searching for pleasure. He’s fucking you with his tongue so good right now you feel your sanity slipping away. The breeze coming from the window gives you goosebumps because of the contrast with the heat of your body, and your nipples stand hard as you whimper, hand pulling on the strands on Sungchan’s nape.

He groans against you, the vibration going straight to your heat and enveloping your whole body. When he pulls aways slightly, he keeps rubbing at your clit with his fingers.

“Gonna cum for me, princess?” He asks while resting his chin on your thigh and you moan, nodding desperately as you lift your head to look up into his glazed eyes. Words would fail you right now, so you do your best to convey your feelings through your actions, the hand on his forearm gripping him so hard he gives you his hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. “Do it, baby. You look so pretty when you cum.”

Over Sungchan’s eyes, you catch the way he’s rutting his hips on the bed, obviously looking for some kind of friction. The image shows that he’s just as turned on as you while eating you out and it makes you crazier. His shoulder blades and his back are tensed and you rest one foot over his shoulder just to feel the muscles moving under it, so fucking attractive. And when you focus back to his face, he’s panting, gaze never leaving yours as he dips his head again to suck hard on your clit, and that’s when you cum.

Your orgasm takes over your whole body and you shudder as Sungchan doesn’t stop, three of his fingers finding your hole again and pistoning inside you whilst you fall apart, his left cheek resting against your thigh and his eyes never leaving your pussy. You convulse around his hand and under his body, body going haywire while the intense pleasure overwhelms your senses.

You don’t know what to do with yourself. If you should keep your hands pressing against his nape and your hips lifting off in the air or if you should stop and take a breather. It all feels too fucking good it almost smothers you, but you don’t feel like stopping. Sungchan makes the decision for you then, choosing to keep his tongue out to taste you and his fingers curling on the spongy spot inside you that makes you writhe.

But suddenly it’s too much and you sit up to try to push him away with a hand on his forehead and clasp your other one over his wrist that is bended as he still guides his digits furiously inside you. Your legs try to close over his head, but he presses a hand firmly on the inside of your left thigh to keep them apart, his eyes determined as he meets yours again and pulls away slightly from your clit.

“Wait, I’m–“ You try to speak, but the word sensitive doesn’t come out as you feel your thighs trembling.

“I know, doll, I know,” he coos at you with pouty lips, still overstimulating you and enjoying every second of it, his eyes relaying fake empathy. “But you can give me one more, right?” You shake your head no with pleading eyes. Sungchan doesn’t budge. “Yes, you can. I believe in you. Gonna feel so good, too.”

You realize there’s no escaping this. You could use your safe word, but you don’t want to. Not when Sungchan is assertive and so good to you that it makes you feel obedient, keen to do everything in your power to make him feel good as well. So you bite your lip and nod your head at the same time you feel something change deep inside you. Your thighs that were trembling now spread open again and your pelvis starts chasing the feeling of his hand instead of avoiding it. Sungchan makes note of every new reaction, a sly smile appearing on his lips, and his eyes zero in on your cunt again. You relax your back enough to have your elbows hitting the sheets again, head falling back. Your hands weaken their grip on Sungchan’s wrist and head as he doubles down his efforts, fingers unwavering working to bring you to the edge. Soon enough, you feel the tightness in your belly, how it’s so steadfast you can’t help but let yourself fall into it. 

When you sob his name and curl your toes on his back, he looks at you with fierce eyes and one command on his moist lips.

“Cum,” he whispers, soft and yet harsh.

Just like that, the band snaps again and your walls spasm, gushing over Sungchan’s fingers. You arch your back off the bed, hips shooting up to feel everything he has left to give you, your mouth hanging open in a silent moan.

Like before, Sungchan keeps going, working you through it again and the lewd slippery sounds your cunt makes on his hand have you whimpering, nails scratching his wrist and eyes screwing shut to feel it all until it becomes too much again.

This time, when you weakly push at his forehead, Sungchan pulls back. His forearms support his body up as he hovers over you, lips trailing up your whole body as he kisses and sucks every part of you he can reach. “Such a good damn pussy,” he whispers just over the apex between your thighs. “And such a fucking pretty princess,” he says above your belly button. “Made you cum so good, right?” He questions after he sucks one of your nipples on his mouth again, and you paw at his head. “I could do this all night, doll,” he states before licking your other nipple. “And you’d let me, right?” He says before biting a mark on your clavicle.

When his lips come in contact with your own, you pant inside his mouth, trying to match his kisses even though you’re still gasping for air and with your heartbeat thrumming in your ears. You just loop your arms around his neck and let him kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue and feeling the heat creeping on your cheeks because of the vulgarity of it all.

He bites your bottom lip when you don’t give him an immediate answer and withdraws with it still between his teeth, digging harshly on your plush and hypersensitive skin until you hiss in pain. Only then he releases it. “Right?” He demands.

Your mind is still hazy and you’re still out of breath post two mind blowing orgasms, but you know better than to deny Sungchan when he’s feeling dominating. “Right,” you mutter in your most docile tone.

He smiles and swipes your cheek with his knuckles, thumb stroking on your abused lip before he presses another kiss on it. “Good girl.”

The praise goes straight to your system and you buzz in excitement, like you’re reawakening because of his words. Suddenly, you feel the urge to show him just how good of a girl you can be, how you can make him feel so good he might even forget his name.

You kiss him again and slip your hands down his body to feel his pecs, then his abs, until finally your fingers wrap around the imprint of his dick on his sweatpants. Sungchan hisses, head resting on the crook of your neck and shoulder, hips thrusting down on your hand.

“I need to suck you off,” you say, pushing him with a hand on his chest to make him sit up as you keep working his erection through his pants with your other hand.

Sungchan follows your directions, pulling your upper half up with him but keeping his arms tight around you, constricting you from moving any further. “If you do that right now, I’m gonna cum,” his whispers with eyes boring into yours, a silent plea in them.

You drop a peck on his lips and look at him with the same intensity as you reply. “Great. Then cum in my mouth.”

Just like that he weakens his hold of you and you’re able to slip from his arms to kneel on the floor, pulling on his waist for him to be in the position you want. Sungchan becomes compliant to your whims, just following your moves. Even though you never assigned each other fixed roles in bed, you are usually the one being pliable and manhandled, so it is a nice change to get him to obey your orders. He drops his legs over the side of the bed where you’re located and gives you enough space to shimmy your body in between them. This time he lets you pull at the string of his sweatpants to slacken it and lifts his hips when you pull down on the waistband of it, your hands removing his briefs, too. Both pieces of fabric pool around his ankles as you hold your head up and pull his face down for another kiss. He lets you kiss him while he gets rid of the clothes surrounding his calves, becoming hyper aware of your hands roaming over his body as his dick remains untouched.

Only when you pull back you get a good look at his cock, red, angry and leaking with precum. You lick your lips and keep rubbing your hands at Sungchan’s skin, and his eyes follow the way your right hand tweaks his nipples and your lips close around the space over his left knee.

“Please don’t tease right now, doll,” he says, voice whiny and eyes urgent as your hands start going down his stomach, your nails slightly scratching his skin. 

“Oh yeah? But I thought you liked teasing,” you say with a smirk before kissing his thigh. He opens his legs some more, opening up more space, and shuffles his pelvis closer to the side of the bed, leaning back on one arm. “Or are you that desperate already?”

He sneers at you repeating his earlier words back to him, but when you finally wrap your hand around the base of his dick, the smile is gone and he opens his mouth in a silent groan, brows furrowing together. Sungchan is so thick and heavy in your hand the tips of your fingers don’t touch your thumb as you grip him. Although his size never fails to impress you, you’re used to it by now, and you’re particularly fond of how much pleasure it brings you.

You just find it unfair how even his dick is pretty. Long and thick, mushroom tip with the same pink tinge of his lips and nipples, standing up with a slight curve that always digs so good on that spongy place inside of you. You move your hand up and down his shaft to smear his slick all over him. Your mouth waters at the sight and soon enough you’re pressing a kiss to his tip and watching him purr, thrusting his hips up to follow the feel of your lips when you move back.

“Stay still,” you command and he purses his lips together and nods. His forehead is already beaded with sweat and you love the image of it. You smile softly at him before you kitten-lick his tip, watching his mouth open to deliver quiets aahs and oohs while you tongue at his slit and the underside of his head.

After a while, you finally take him inside your mouth. His tip prods on your cheek as you suck his dick forcefully and that’s enough to make Sungchan groan, head lolling back. You back away again and he whines, lifting his face to look in your eyes again.

“I know, baby boy. So sensitive, right?” You blow air over his head and he fidgets, wiggling his hips slightly. God, he looks gorgeous surrendering himself for you like this. You’ll have to do this more in the near future.

You smile and run your tongue all around his head, teasing him one last time before enveloping your lips around him again, tongue stroking the underside of his cock. Sungchan grips a hand on your hair, threading the strands of your now lopsided and messy ponytail in between his fingers. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down for him, hand stroking the rest of his dick where you’re not able to cover with your mouth. He moans at you and you put another hand on his thigh for balance, breathing in deep through your nose and preparing to take him deeper. A second later you’re relaxing your throat as his dick invades that space, too, concentrating on keeping your breath regulated while he thrusts his hips up.

“Just like that, princess,” he whimpers under you.

You hold out for the longest you can before you feel your gag reflex kicking in and then you retreat with a gasp, a string of saliva connecting your bottom lip to his dick, your eyes blurry from unshed tears as you make up for the loss of your mouth with your hand. Sungchan moves both of his hands to your cheeks, holding you tenderly as his thumbs press on your waterline to catch the tears clouding your vision.

When you blink, his face becomes clear to you again. His eyes are glassy and lust filled, his open mouth is panting and his chest, cheeks and neck are splotched. It fills you with pride that he’s gotten into such a fucked-up state just because of you.

“Feels good?” You ask in between deep breaths, trying to fill your lungs with air before preparing to take him in your mouth again whilst you keep pumping his cock.

“Yes. You’ve gotten so good at this, doll. Doing your best job yet,” he says and the pride swells in your chest, an instant ego boost cursing through your system.

Before you met Sungchan, you didn’t care enough about receiving or giving oral. You had a couple of boyfriends before, but you were still inexperienced and slightly disgusted of doing and experimenting certain things. And even though they had given you head before, and you’d tried your best to reciprocate, it was always a means to an end, never the primary goal of your sexual encounters.

But Sungchan was different. The first time he ate you out, he didn’t stop until you finished three times in sequence. It was so good it made you want to do the same for him. He made you feel seductive and bold enough to try new things. And he had the patience to teach you just the way he liked it. He didn’t become frustrated when your rhythm was shitty and you had to take long breaks to breathe before going back at it again. He didn’t push your head to take him all the way when you weren’t prepared. He waited for your affirmative response, leading and encouraging you, praising you whenever you achieved a new skill or did something different. He was good to you. And in turn, you became good for him.

“I like to pleasure you,” you say sincerely and trace your tongue on the vein that runs under his cock.

Sungchan jitters on the bed. “Yeah, and you trained so hard for that, right? Always sucking on my cock like you want to milk me dry, too.”

You nod, suckling and peppering small kisses all over his tip. “I do want to suck you dry.”

He smirks at that and moves his hand to the back of your neck again, tightening his grip. “Then why don’t you put it in your mouth again, baby?”

You smirk back at him and take your last big whiff of air before opening your lips to take him inside again. You hollow out your cheeks and bob your head up and down immediately, gripping at the base of his dick a hand and letting his moans, sighs and hums of approval guide your ministrations. You suction on the parts of his cock your mouth can reach and flatten your tongue on the underside of it, playing with his most sensitive parts while Sungchan keeps praising you.

“Shit. So good to me, doll. Keep doing that,” he grunts and you nod.

When his nails dig on your nape and his tip hits the back of your throat, you breathe through your nose and let him jerk his hips up until your forehead meets his stomach and your nose rubs on his pubic hair. You press both of your hands on his thighs and allow him to use your mouth until you can’t breathe and think straight anymore.

When you back out heaving, Sungchan moves his fingers to your face to catch the droll falling from your lips and clean the tears striking your cheeks. He waits for you to gather your surroundings again, still complimenting you and your work.

“Damn, you’re such a good girl,” he says tenderly, thumbs running over the apple of your cheeks. “Look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

The praise, of course, gets to you again. So, you tighten your grip on the root of his cock, starting to pump him faster, and take your other hand away from his thigh, pressing your fingers together and shaping your palm in a conch-like way to rub it on the tip of his dick, your thumb going under the head to rub at the sensitive spot located there. Sungchan moans loudly at that and you lean over to lick on his balls at the best of your ability giving the position you’re both in, not giving up even if the carpeted floor is digging on your skin.

Sungchan scrunches his eyes closed and slides one of his hands to the back of your neck and moves the other to grasp over yours on the head of his cock, pulling it away to rest them together at his thigh. “I’m close, princess.”

You catch his warning and wrap your lips on his cock again, instantly taking him in your throat as he desperately yanks his hips up in your mouth, fingers pressing on your nape and moans growing heavy and breathless. Your free hand fiddles with his balls, your nose presses on his lower stomach again and you swear you can feel him in your windpipe. And that’s when he releases, painting the inside of your mouth white with thick ropes of cum that only seize after a minute. When his body becomes loose and his hand on your neck turns weak, you pull away with a pop, watching his dick twitch and slap against his stomach.

You breathe deep and press your hands on the mattress on both of his sides to get up slowly, back and knees complaining about being in the same position for long minutes. Despite looking limp and still dazed, Sungchan pulls you to him so quickly you almost lose your balance. He peppers kisses on your belly and boobs while your hands press on his shoulders. And when you groan and move a hand to rub your left knee, he pulls your leg up to place your foot on the bed and hunches to close his lips on your skin, his tongue lavishing against the redness there. It tickles and you chuckle at him, but that doesn’t stop him from giving your right leg the same attention. He places your left foot on the ground and bends your right leg to press your toes on the mattress, repeating the same process. You smile fondly at him and caress his hair while he drops kisses on your right knee. And when he’s done, he slides your leg down so you’re now pressing your knee on the bed on the side of his thigh.

“You’re so good to me,” he whispers as he pulls you in for another kiss.

You press your body closer to his and feel the way his dick is hardening again, rubbing on your thigh, precum wetting it. But as you shuffle to straddle him completely, Sungchan stops you with a hand on your waist.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice hoarse from the blowjob. Sungchan doesn’t reply, scooting closer to his nightstand to open his drawer instead.

He pulls a foil packet from the already opened box of condoms and you look at him with confusion written all over your face. You guys have been doing it raw for three months now, ever since you told each other you were clean and not seeing anybody else and you started taking the pill. Sungchan loves finishing inside of you. So of course, you’re a little bit puzzled about why he’s choosing to wear a condom now, all of the sudden.

Well, maybe he’s afraid you met someone else during your time apart, but this possibility doesn’t even make sense. So you try to quash away his worries.

“I haven’t seen anyone else, Sungchan,” you tell him as he opens the foil packet and discards the trash on his night stand, right beside your cell phone.

“I know, doll,” he says back, eyes fleeting on yours for a moment before they focus on wrapping the condom around his dick. His voice sounds confident when he says it and it irks you how he’s so certain you won’t sleep with anyone else. “It’s just quicker to clean up this way.”

You tilt your head to the side and cross your arms. It doesn’t make sense. You can always shower after. That happened all the time. And it frequently led to you having round two in the bathroom, which you are not opposed to at all.

When Sungchan finishes securing the condom on his dick, he grabs your hand to drop a kiss on the back of it and pulls you closer. You budge just slightly and his eyes catch the way your stance is guarded and you’re not opening yourself up for him yet. He smiles, eyes crinkling with the motion. “Come on, princess. We have to be quick, right? Don’t you have to sleep early for that final on your third period tomorrow?”

His words are lovingly convincing and he’s technically right. But you still eye him suspiciously. Your finals are the last thing on your mind right now and you don’t believe Sungchan is worried about your sleep cycle after you just spent almost an hour pleasuring each other. It just doesn’t make sense, your mind screams at you.

You’re sure something is wrong, but when Sungchan starts kissing your clavicle and grabbing at the back of your thighs to pull you against his front, you fold, letting his lips and hands distract you from it. Then you straddle him, eager to have him inside you to pull away from the siren alarm ringing loud inside your head. He’s rock hard again and you take his cock in your hand, slapping it against your pussy lips to share your juices and the condom’s lubricant with each other. Sungchan rests his forehead against yours as you look down together at the scene.

When you move up enough for the head of his cock to catch on your hole, you both sigh, but it slips and hits your clit, so you scoot forward to get better leverage to put him inside you. Sungchan supports you with gripping hands on your back while you move your hips back up and finally his cock prods on your entrance. You’re both sighing together again when he enters you, and when Sungchan meets resistance half his way inside, he pulls you up slightly and rubs your hips, muttering about how good you’re taking him until you release more wetness, your walls fluttering and stretching to accommodate all of him.

Soon enough his thick cock is deep inside you and Sungchan bottoms out with a huff, watching as your pussy envelopes him whole. His mouth is slightly open and his two front teeth show behind his upper lip just like a bunny’s, sweat glistening on his forehead, that heart-shaped spot his hairline makes taunting you again. Your heart swells at the sight of it all, and you hate how cute he is whilst his cock is splitting you open. You place a kiss on the spot on his forehead just like you wanted before and then drop another one on the mole on the corner of his upper lip. Sungchan pulls your lips to his as you experimentally move up and down on him.

“You feel so good, princess,” he moans, breaking the kiss.

“Big,” you whimper out, scratching at his shoulders. “Feels so full, Jinsu.”

He chuckles and kisses on your temple. “I know, princess. But you like it, right?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, grabbing at his chest and gazing at his eyes again. “I like it so much.”

And you do. You like it so much that you start riding him with full energy, needing to show him how much you like him inside you, how much you like him. You try to convey with your body the words you haven’t been able to reveal, trying to show him and yourself how much this is right because of how good it feels. Because maybe if you bounce on his dick just right, suck on his pulse point the way he likes it and give him high pitched moans that compliment his performance he’ll start to like you back.

“You’re so perfect,” he says over your ear, his fringe tickling your cheek. “So fucking perfect.”

You want to scream at him that he’s right, that you are perfect, perfect for him. But instead, you purse your lips together and focus on rolling your hips against his until your thighs burn. Sungchan’s hands are splayed on your butt cheeks and he aids you, helping you by moving you up and down in a steady rhythm. He looks at your face as you scrunch up your nose and close your eyes to focus on keep riding him. You try to pick up your movements, needing a faster place to bounce back on him in a way that doesn’t tire you out as much. But Sungchan keeps slowing you down, distracting you by kissing on your pulse point, fondling your boobs, sucking on your nipples or pulling your face to kiss you. While he showers you with affection with his lips, his hand presses deeply and firmly on your back so you ride him languidly, almost stopping at times when the movements pull hoarse moans out of you both.

After a while, you start slacking because you’re actually becoming tired, trembling and losing your flow completely. Sungchan increases his efforts, trying to move you on him with only his hands, but you already surpassed the time you are usually able to ride him and your body is spent. You press your lips on his clavicle and slump against him, giving up completely.

You feel Sungchan lips on the nape of your neck and then his light chuckle. “Want me to take over?” He asks in a gentle tone.

“Yes please,” you breathe against his sternum.

He rubs the expanse of your legs and kisses your shoulder before pressing his hands on the back of your thighs and getting up with you on his lap. You think he’s going to lay you back on his sheets, but are surprised when he carries you over to his dresser, his hand knocking over and away some bottles of perfume and deodorant as he drops you on top of it. You jolt from how cold the wood feels on your heated skin and his cock slips out of you, making you both laugh a beat later.

“Why not the bed?” You ask breathless and still chuckling, wrapping your arms around his neck and legs around his middle as you shuffle to the edge of the dresser, watching Sungchan’s eyes turn into half-moons as he laughs with you.

“Just wanted to have you here, too,” he whispers, draping his arms tight around you and kissing you again.

He’s so playful and happy today, kissing you so much and complimenting you, slowing down and taking his time with you, his touches so careful and gentle you can’t help but start hoping. You hope that this, whatever this new side of him he’s showing you today, means something more. The feeling chews brutally on your heart, making you aware that you probably won’t come out of it alive.

Sungchan hooks one arm under your leg and pulls you to his body until half of your butt is hanging on the edge of the dresser, then grabs at his dick to guide it back to your hole, groaning when he’s fully inside of you again. You think he’s going to thrust his hips hard and fast, but he surprises you one more time by pulling back slowly, almost all the way out, before driving himself inside of you again just as gently. You sigh at the fullness and he does it again, his eyes fixated on where you two meet. This way you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock hitting all the right stops inside you, your toes curling and a moan boiling on your throat from how good it all feels. When he glides back one more time, you lift his head to look into his eyes, and he keeps your gaze as he leisurely fills you up one more time.

 “I love feeling every part of you like this,” he says when he’s bottomed out again, and you think you might die from heartache if he keeps treating you this way.

However, you don’t have the time – and you seriously don’t want to – dwell on it because in the next moment he’s thrusting inside you more forcefully and faster, making you pant and moan profusely again. You let your eyes roam over his form whilst he fucks you deep and hard. He’s so attractive it makes you a little crazy. Sturdy and toned body, a defined chest, six-pack glistening with sweat, biceps flexing as he keeps you in place, veins on his forearms bulging up, a muscular back and firm hips and long strong legs supporting all of it. So tall and strong. His face is ridiculously good-looking, too. Thick brows, wide eyes, a structured nose and pink full lips, his cupid’s bow so well designed you think it was handcrafted by God himself. You don’t know whether to thank him or Sungchan’s parents for putting him in the world. He’s perfect. And great at fucking. You kind of hate him.

Sungchan catches your wandering eyes over him and grins at you. “Like what you see?” He whispers, chest pressing on yours as he slows down his pace.

You roll your eyes. You also hate him for being so smug. “You’re handsome. What should I do? Look away?”

He chuckles and kisses your cheek. “No. You can look all you want, doll. Memorize it even.”

You pinch his shoulders and graze your teeth on his cheek for that and he shakes with laughter. “Such a cocky boy,” you whisper.

He holds your face in both of his hands as his hips keep meeting yours, going back to the slow measured thrusts inside you. “You’re so beautiful, too,” he mutters and kisses you again, halting all of his movements as his tongue darts inside your lips, tasting every crevice of your mouth. But you’re burning inside and you don’t care for slow and sweet anymore. You want him to ruin you, so you buck your hips forward for him to fill you up all over again.

He exhales and bites on your lower lip as you try working him inside of you the same way he was doing, but you fail. Your rhythm is shit and you’re still exhausted from riding him earlier, so you whine and grip his shoulders. “Sungchan, take me back to the bed so you can fuck me right,” you mumble, wiggling your body and trying to hop down the dresser as he keeps pressed against you, peppering kisses over your neck. “Please, Jinsu.”

He draws back from your neck, then, and quickly hooks his arms over your legs, hands splaying on your butt, to carry you back to the bed, remaining connected with you. You like how he makes you feel so small, as if you weigh nothing even though you have fat on your belly and plump thighs and arms. He never comments on it, too, and you’re so grateful for him never making you feel anything but desirable as your back meets his sheets and he hovers over you again. He's big in more ways than one.

You arch your back so his cock keeps filling you up, searching for that place inside you he always hits so good. But Sungchan has other plans, and his hands come to your wrists to stop your movements, holding your hands over your head as he presses all of his body on yours, your boobs squishing against him. His eyes bore into yours as he leisurely presses his cock inside you again and you bear your nails down on his knuckles. You desperately want to feel him with your hands. And you badly want him to stop looking at you with that intense gaze that makes you think – makes you feel – he cares about you the same way you care about him.

When he kisses you again, you can’t take it anymore, huffing at being constrained by your hands and urging him to look at you. “Can you flip me over?” You ask and Sungchan’s eyes shine bright at your sentence. He can never resist having you in doggy and you smile mischievously when you’re already laying on your stomach a second later, Sungchan manhandling you the way he wants.

“Hands and knees, baby,” he instructs and you fumble to obey his command, pushing yourself up and back on your knees and positioning your hands on the bed at the length of your shoulders to support your body.

Sungchan instantly corrects your form, one hand sneaking in between your thighs to spread them further apart and another pressing on your back for you to lean your upper body down, making you arch. You sigh from feeling his warm touch over your skin, wiggling your ass in the air for him. He chuckles at you and gives a soft slap at your right butt cheek and you laugh with him.

“You look so pretty in this position,” he says, now placing himself behind you and shimmying his knees in between your legs. “You know I love to fuck you like this, right?”

“Yes,” you whisper, anticipation building high as you feel him prepare to enter you again. “And I love when you fuck me like this.”

Sungchan hums at you, and you finally feel the warmth of his skin on yours as he slaps his dick over the curve of your ass, making you purr. “And I love this ass, too,” he mutters, resting his cock on your body as his hands grab at your ass. Then he gives it another hit, this time harder than the first one, his palm softly massaging the spot after. You stumble on the bed slightly from the shock, smothering a moan. “Love how it looks when I fuck you.”

You know by now that he’s enjoying his time teasing and playing with you, but you’re so desperate to feel him inside of you again that you don’t mind begging for it. “Jinsu, please. Can you please put it back in?”

He snickers at you and finally finishes rearranging himself, his knuckles brushing against the back of your thighs as he begins tugging on his dick again and guiding it inside you, the head of it pressing on your entrance. “Okay, doll, but just because I want it just as bad as you.”

He slides hard and fully inside you in one go, driving you forward on the mattress. You sigh contently, feeling full and complete. In this new angle, he feels even deeper. Sungchan groans as he feels your cunt spasming around him, one hand gripping your right hip and the other kneading your ass. He pulls back halfway and pushes in again, harder than before, and your eyes roll to the back of your head from how good it already feels.

“You good, princess?” He asks, stilling inside of you.

“Yeah. Feels so deep,” you whisper, leaning the side of your face on the sheets above you to try to look back to him. You only get a glimpse of his left ear and cheek and how his biceps look holding you down, the rest of your view being obstructed by your own body.

“Hmm, I know,” he muses, languidly moving in and out of you, now both of his hands landing on your ass cheeks to spread them apart. You’re pretty sure he’s indulging himself in feeling the plush of your skin spilling between his fingers and watching how your pussy swallows him whole from that angle. He’s addicted to the image and feel of you like this. “I always hit it so deep like this.”

“Uh-huh. And you can hit it harder and faster, too, right?” You tease, pushing yourself back on his cock to make him fuck you swiftly.

He laughs and moves one hand to your hip again, leaning further into you and pressing his hips against yours. “Sorry. Got distracted by your ass again”, he confesses and it’s your time to snicker at him. But soon he begins to drive his cock harder and faster inside you, just like you asked, and your laugh is replaced by moans. “Better now?”

“Fuck yes,” you groan, feeling his dick hit all the right places inside of you. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he assures you, his hips kissing yours again and again, the sound of your skins smacking together echoing through the room.

He’s been driving you crazy the whole night with his slow and measured thrusts, his gentle and nice words and his overflowing affection, so it’s no wonder you’re already moaning loudly and fisting the sheets of his bed in very little time. Sungchan is no better than you, though. You can hear him grunting every time his hips kiss yours and feel his legs tensing beneath you. He probably planned to excessively and deliberately tease you until you were begging to cum, but he didn’t realize he’d also be overstimulating himself before getting to the finish line. It’s as annoying as it is adorable.

“Holy shit. You really look so good like this, princess,” he grunts, his eyes admiring how your ass jiggles against him with every forceful drive of his cock inside of you. “Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

Your chest expands at his admission, getting dizzy from the knowledge that he’s so transfixed by you that he says something like that in the heat of the moment. The feeling curls inside your chest and you smile. Maybe he does reciprocate your feelings for him. Who knows?

You open your mouth to say something teasing about his statement, but the words are long forgotten when he reaches his hand up your shoulder to wrap around it and tugs you back against him hard, moving you back to him as he continues driving himself forwards. Your loud moans of his name turn into broken whimpers of random words you don’t even remember thinking.

“So wet and warm for me, gripping me so tight,” he says above you and you wonder how he’s still capable of forming sentences when that ability is now so hard for you. “Fucking perfect.”

“Your dick is perfect,” you try to make out even though your brain is a mess. “You are perfect.”

He moans and grips you tighter, showing he understood you. “Thank you, doll. Now c'mere,” he says, moving his palm on your shoulder the other way around, hooking it under you. “Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

Again, he maneuvers you the way he wishes to. With his cock still inside you, he removes his legs from between yours to position them outside of you now, putting pressure so you have no choice but to drive your legs together. The movement makes your pussy snugger around his cock and he moans, halting for a beat to bask in the feeling of it. Then he pushes your upper half up, hauling you up with his grip on your shoulder, making you raise yourself again until your back meets his chest. You feel prickles on your arm at the close contact and sweat makes you both sticky, your skin gluing you to him as Sungchan now moves a hand to grab at one of your tits and the other one to cross over your whole waist, clinging your body to his.

You’re molded together. You won’t complain about it.

He rests his chin on your shoulder and grazes his thumbnail on your nipple, making you hiss. Then he starts moving again, his hips driving backwards and forwards with enough force to drive you away from him. Except his arms are still steady and firm around you, keeping you connected even through his hard thrusts inside of you, and you reach down to grip his thighs, your nails scratching him.

“That’s it, princess, taking me so well,” he rasps on your ear and you bite on your bottom lip to keep yourself from being too loud.

“Shit, Jinsu, I think I’m-" You try to stutter out, your voice becoming high and airy as the head of his cock rubs deliciously on your g-spot.

“Fuck yeah, I can feel you clenching around me,” he says and after his words you feel your cunt contracting even more, trying to keep him inside of you forever. “You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

“Yesyesyes.” You turn your head slightly back so you can rest your forehead on his temple. He turns his face to yours, too, and you watch as droplets of sweat fall from his hair to his face. You move your hand to his face to keep him there and Sungchan does the same with the hand that was gripping your waist, moving it to the side of your face to stroke over your cheekbone with his fingers. “I’m so close, Jinsu,” you murmur, lips ghosting over his.

“Me too, princess,” he replies and drops a kiss on the corner of your lips. “Let’s do it together, okay?”

You nod just as he slides his hand from your boob to your clit, rubbing it in quick little circles. The added stimulation on your clitoris makes you light-headed and you try to grip at the last shreds of your sanity to stay in the moment with him. Sungchan’s eyes shine against yours and you overwhelm your senses trying to concentrate on feeling everything at once. His hands and hold all over you, his fingers coaxing your orgasm out of you, his legs hitting on the back of your thighs, his hair brushing against your forehead, the smell of him and of sex – the smell of both of you together – invading your nostrils, his strength driving his hips against yours, his perfect dick hitting inside of you so good, his voice whispering dirty sweet nothings to you. And his lips that attach to yours the moment you’re on the edge of breaking apart, finally making you cum.

Sungchan kisses you while your pussy convulses on his cock and he thrusts inside you one, two, three more times until he’s spilling inside the condom. You keep clenching around him, trying to milk him until the last drop, and he keeps stroking your clit and kissing your lips. Only when your body starts twitching from the overstimulation and you grab at his forearm, he removes his hand from your cunt and detaches his lips from yours to kiss your cheek next. You sigh lazily, trembling on his arms as he pecks the same spot over and over, still muttering compliments and thank you’s. You can’t make out what he’s saying exactly because your blood is still ringing in your ears, your heart is beating rapidly, your thighs are sore and your body is starting to feel the first signs of exhaustion. So, you caress his forearm and hope it’s enough to return the sentiment.

His grip on you loosens just a little and you try to shift ahead. Sungchan, of course, notices your movement, and in no time he’s delicately laying both of you back on the bed, your heated chest rubbing against the cool sheets becoming a luxury as he keeps his rib cage connected to your back, being careful not to drop his full weight on you. He closes his lips over your shoulder blades and you indulge yourself in the attention and tenderness he’s still giving you while you catch your breath.

After some time of exchanging lazy caresses and quick kisses, he finally disconnects his body from yours, pulling out of you and getting up to tie off the end of the condom. You instantly miss his warmth and wrap a hand around his wrist, turning on your side to look at him. He smiles at you and bends over to kiss your forehead quickly.

“I have to drop this in the trash and clean myself a little. I’ll be back in a minute,” he states and gives you another kiss, this time on the lips. Then he tugs his briefs back on, turns and walks out of the bedroom in the direction of the bathroom.

You exhale deeply as you turn your head to the ceiling, watching the shadows casted on it by the small droplets of rain still falling randomly outside. Your mind starts to work right away, trying to recap everything you just lived with Sungchan to hunt for signs of his feelings for you. But you’re so tired you banish the thoughts to the back of your head, covering yourself with the bedding from your toes to your head in a feeble attempt to hide from your own mind.

Sungchan is back a minute later, laying on the bed and draping himself all over and around you. You pinch his ribs when he drops his full weight on your stomach and he laughs, pulling at the sheets to see your face and body again. Once your head is out, he threatens to tickle you in retaliation for the tweak in his chest and you lift your arms in surrender, laughing with him.

When you’re both done laughing, Sungchan takes your hands in his and pins them to the bed beside your head, then kisses you. You smile between the soft press of his lips, giddy in oxytocin and pleasure.

“You should probably use the bathroom, too,” he states when he pulls back and you know he’s right. You need to pee and freshen up. And find the courage to leave his house and go to yours. You still have an exam in the morning. “I’ll grab your clothes from the dryer while you’re at it.”

You sigh dramatically and pull yourself from the bed and Sungchan’s arms. He chuckles and hands you a sheet to cover your body before you make your way to the bathroom, murmuring about how “Shotaro could get home anytime”.

You nod and when you turn to walk away, he gives a pat at your bottom, making you yelp. You look over your shoulder to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, but the smile on your face lets him know it’s all in good fun.

Inside the restroom, you take your time peeing and stretching your limbs back to their places. You hope the soreness from being tense or in the same positions for too long will go away after a good night's sleep. Then you step into the shower to quickly rinse yourself of any bodily fluids and sweat, cleaning your hands methodically and letting some water fall into your messy hair. You wrap your body with the same towel you used earlier and move to stand in front of the mirror again to finger-comb your hair back in a ponytail. But the lilac polka dotted bow scrunchie you had on isn’t with you anymore, probably getting lost around Sungchan’s room in the midst of everything.

You come back from the bathroom and find Sungchan seated on his bed, waiting for you already dressed and with your dried clothes placed by his side, a pensive look in his face while he stares at the wall opposed to him.

“I think I lost my scrunchie,” you say to him, pouting both because your favorite hair accessory and because Sungchan is already clothed. You were hoping you’d ogle his body some more before going.

Sungchan’s head snaps up when you arrive, like you’ve caught him off guard while his mind was elsewhere, but he promptly shakes his reaction off with a smile. “We’ll search for it later.” He puts your clothes on his lap and invites you closer. “Here, I’ll help you dress.”

You saunter over to him and stand in between his legs, thinking he’s just going to hand you each piece of your clothing as you dress up. He surprises you when he picks up your panties, holding it with his two hands inside its waistband, and bends down, lowering the item so you can pass your legs through the openings.

You quirk an eyebrow up at him. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he replies with a smirk, staying very still as you analyze him, gaze unwavering on yours. You shrug and do as he pleases, standing on one foot and then on the other as you pass your legs through the loops successfully one at a time. He tugs the underwear up until it’s placed correctly around your hips, then pinches gingerly on the place where your right thigh becomes your right butt cheek, as he proudly says, “Atta girl.”

You roll your eyes at him. “I think you’re kinda obsessed with my ass.”

He smiles and preens his neck up to kiss on your clavicle. You fight the urge to search the contact of his lips again when he retreats. “You’re right, I kinda am.” Then he picks up your bra next and signals his forefinger up and in a circular motion for you to turn around.

You turn on your heels and Sungchan’s fingertips start caressing both of your arms, moving softly along your biceps until your forearms and then to your wrists, bra still on his right hand between his pinky and ring fingers. Once he gets to your hands, he hooks the straps of the undergarment over your arms and pulls it up until each one is located on your shoulders. His hands go to your back to close the clasp, and you feel the teeth in the clip nipping slightly at your skin as he fastens it. He drops a kiss on your scapula and goosebumps raise all over your body. You wonder if he’s doing this on purpose, if his plan is to tease you and ruin you again and, at least, if this is as hot to him as it is to you. If he keeps this up, you might only get out of his place in the morning.

He grabs at your hips and turns back to him again, then holds your jeans, scrunching up the fabric of the legs so you can see the openings from the waistband until the bottom hems. That’s when you break your silence. “Is this some type of kink of yours?”

He chortles at you and holds the pants down for you to put on. You comply, passing your legs through the openings just like you did with the panties, and letting him yank it up. You pay attention to his eyes as he does it. His gaze sparkles as he watches your skin disappearing between his fingers and behind the fabric. You think it’s kind of cute and it reminds you of when you were little and did the same with your toys, changing their outfits nearly every minute. He’s playing with you as if you really are his doll, dressing you up for him. But behind the glow on his eyes, you also catch a hint of longing. Something indescribable, that you can’t quite put your finger on.

Sungchan drums his fingers around the waistband of your jeans until they go around all the way to find the button on its front. “Not a kink,” he says sincerely, pressing the button through its loop and then moving his digits down the fly to feel around for the zipper. “Just doing something nice for you.”

“Why?” You question, suspicious eyes falling over his face as he focuses on tugging the zipper up and securing your fastened pants.

He shrugs. “Because I want to.” Then, he hooks his fingers on the belt loops in front of your pants and pulls on them, therefore also pulling you to him. “Because you deserve it,” he says simply with a smile.

You blush at his words, smiling back at him and leaning down to press a kiss on his lips. You want to get lost in his mouth again. You want to get rid of your clothes once more and lay down with him in this bed for a week, finals and chores and college responsibilities be damned. But Sungchan, ever the responsible one, withdraws and puts some distance between your bodies before you get too eager.

“There’s still some clothes left to put on,” he says, snickering when you sigh in response.

You cave in to his will, collaborating with him to put your shirt over your head and then your hoodie. When you’re completely dressed and you straighten the clothes on your body, Sungchan finishes his little game of dress up by tying the strings of your sweater together with a bow. “Pretty girl,” he says.

“Pretty boy,” you say back, moving to sit on his lap, your legs perpendicular to his, one arm going around his shoulders and the other one resting over his, your fingers poking on the collar of his shirt, nails scratching the skin underneath. “I just think it’s a little unfair that I didn’t get to help you dress.”

He chuckles and moves his hand to close around yours, turning it to press his lips on your knuckles. “Maybe another time.”

You scrunch your nose up, obviously not satisfied with his reply. “Another time, then. I should probably get going anyway.”

Sungchan nods, but instead of letting you go, he pulls you close once more, wrapping his arms around your middle, his hands rubbing your back and his face hiding between your neck and shoulder. You hug him back just as tight, running your fingers through his hair while he breathes in your scent and presses kisses into every part his lips can reach. You stay like this for what feels like hours. Every time you think he’s done, he fixes his hold to hug you even tighter, almost binding you two together. When he finally slackens his grip a little, it’s only to move his hand to the back of your head and coax your lips in his. His tongue enters your mouth hungry and yearning, and you kiss him back with all the energy you can muster up. Just like all the kisses before, this one leaves you breathless and dazzled. Your mind is already fogged up and numb by the time he finally pulls back and, with moist lips and a piercing gaze, presses his mouth to yours one final time.

“You should probably get going,” he repeats back to you. You have to blink your eyes open two times to understand what he’s saying and command your wobbly legs to remember how to stand up again. “I’ll give you a ride.”

You nod at him and when you get up from his lap, Sungchan slides his hands down your shoulders to your upper arms, then to your forearms and wrists. He squeezes your hands two times before letting you go. You move to his nightstand to retrieve your cell phone, now charged and full of notifications you still leave unopened, and put it in your pocket. Then you bend down to plug the charger out of the switch.

“Uh, I actually wanted to talk to you about something before you go,” Sungchan says the moment you take the charger out and you hear the uncertainty in his words, the fear.

Your heart skips a beat, your mind already whirring with a thousand possibilities of whatever he has to say. But you try to keep your expression emotionless and your eagerness at bay while you stand upright again. “Sure. What is it?” You roll up the charger’s wire and nod to him, encouraging him to keep going before turning on your heels to put your things away in your bag.

You’re already with your back turned to him, crouching down to your backpack and opening the zipper of its front pocket when he speaks again. “You remember the girl I partnered up with for my organic chemistry project?”

You pause when you hear him. The zipper’s slide is still as ever beneath your fingertips, the sound of the teeth getting dragged away completely stopping as you remain unmoving. You can sense something is wrong. You feel it in your bones. Whatever his next words are going to be, you’ll not like it one bit.

If Sungchan notices your momentary stillness, he doesn’t make any comment about it. You feel suspended in the air, on the edge of an information that’ll make you jump over the cliff. You wish you could go back to two minutes ago, when you didn’t know he had something to tell you. But your curiosity and the red flags you so carefully stepped around before now come to the forefront of your mind. And you take the bait, dragging the teeth of the zipper back until its stop to mask up for any agitation in your voice when you reply. “The sophomore majoring in biology? Yeah, what about her?”

“We’ve been hanging out for a while now,” he replies quickly this time while you’re putting your charger inside the bag and closing the pocket back. “It’s been working out pretty well.”

You stand up, then, and Sungchan pauses. He’s probably inspecting your reaction before letting the full truth out. You know exactly what he’s going to say. He’s about to reject you, to choose her over you. You wish you couldn’t be able to hear right now. But you need to listen to him so you can move on from whatever this fucked-up thing between you two is. And you decide you need to see it, too, turning around to watch him and crossing your arms over your chest, waiting for the impact.

“I actually really like her,” he says, eyes fixed on the spot behind you on the wall, not quite looking at you. His tone is heavy on the really. He probably just likes you. But her? He really likes her.

And there it is. The whole truth. All those things you ignored before had been there for a reason. The two weeks with no contact. The text on his laptop that he scurried to hide from you. His insistence on wearing a condom. The many kisses, the slow fucking, the compliments. His intense gaze. Even his fucking words.

“I love it when you call me that.”

“I love feeling every part of you like this.”

“Wanna burn this image on my mind. I won’t ever forget it.”

“You’re fucking perfect.”

“Wanna feel your skin on mine when you cum.”

“You’re going to cum for me one last time?”

All of those words weren’t because he’s in love with you. He didn’t really miss you, either. Maybe your body, sure. But not you, not really. Not at all.

He was not being gentle and kind and pampering you for you. He wasn’t gazing deeply into your eyes and showering you with kisses and beautiful words because he likes you. He was doing it to savor his last time fucking you before he turned another woman into his girlfriend. It was all because he’s discarding you.

He was saying goodbye. And you fell for it like a fool.

You have every right to be mad at Sungchan for taking advantage of your vulnerable self just to fuck you one last time. He likely planned to just keep ghosting you until you’d saw him around campus with his new bae and get the message, but then you called him and offered the perfect opportunity of a farewell shag on a silver platter. And he wasn’t going to reject it. He played his cards right, of course.

But you’re not mad at him. At least he gave you three earth-shattering orgasms before breaking your heart.

You’re really mad with yourself. Because you fucking knew it. The signs were everywhere. His silence about the status of your relationship wasn’t because he liked you too much to confess to you or because he was afraid you’d not like him back. It was a strategy. It was about keeping you on his side for as long as he wanted to have you. Good and easy pussy. He didn’t even have to make an effort to lie to you. You did it yourself, bending the truths so you could keep being with him, in whichever way he’d let you.

Plus, there’s no way a man like Sungchan would settle for someone like you. You just choose to push away all the hints he gave you just to feed on crumbs of his affection. A trauma response or some shit like that, no doubt. You’d have to ask your psychology student friend.

God, you really are pathetic.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Sungchan asks, and you notice you’ve been lost throwing a pity party on your own thoughts for a while.

To your merit, you shake it off like a champ, smiling at him and falling into your chill girl persona. “That’s great, Jinsu,” you say, smiling even though you’re dying inside. “I guess that means we should stop meeting up, right?”

Sungchan’s eyes widen. He obviously wasn’t expecting that reaction. You’ve probably shown your feelings for him a little too much and that made him real sure you’d have an outburst. But you’re a chill girl right now.

Chill girls don’t care about their flings liking someone else. Chill girls don’t want to know everything about it, too. They aren’t curious in the slightest about how long he’s been seeing her, how many times he’s fucked her, if he calls her princess and doll too and if she’s been on the same sheets they’ve just cummed all over in.

And chill girls particularly don’t mind when their friend with benefits for half a year is choosing someone he’s only known for two months over them.

He recovers quickly, looking sheepish while he nods, his cheeks blushing. “Yeah, would that be a problem? I’m actually planning to ask her to be my girlfriend this weekend.”

Shit, you didn’t need to know that. It hurts a little too much. Your smile falters for a beat, his words giving you whiplash. You feel dizzy and cold like you were dropped on icy water. If you kept walking outside in the rain, it wouldn’t feel as bitter as this.

Then you turn away from him, busying yourself with picking your backpack up to put it over your body. “No problem at all.”

But Sungchan plays with your feelings until the end, putting his hands on your shoulders to spin you back to face him. “Are you really okay with this?” He questions with his best puppy eyes.

He’s still cute while he does it. What a fucker. Now you hate him for real.

If he thinks you’re going to spill your heart out to him and ask him to choose you, pick you, love you in a rendition of Meredith Grey’s speech, he’s very wrong. You still have some pride left.

“Yes. I’m happy for you, Jinsu,” you reply through gritted teeth, the same frozen smile from earlier on your face. You can only be so chill about this and he’s pushing it.

“Oh!” He exclaims after your words, like a lightbulb went out in his head. He at least has the decency to stutter and seem embarrassed as he asks, “Uh… Would you mind going back to call me by my name, too?”

Of course. You just lost your privilege to his nickname. Jinsu is reserved for his close friends and his soon-to-be girlfriend. And, obviously, he can’t risk his new girl hearing another woman calling him such an intimate pet name. She’d have questions.

And you’re nothing for him anymore. You have to stick with his name now.

“Of course, Sungchan.”

“Thanks, princess,” he says, and you quirk an eyebrow up at him. If you can’t call him Jinsu, his nicknames for you are forbidden, too. He covers his mouth with a hand when he notices what he said. “Sorry. Y/N.”

After that, you both walk to the foyer to put on your sneakers so Sungchan can take you home. You don’t want to be in his presence anymore and you try to argue that you would be okay getting an Uber, but he blabbers on about how he insists about it and that’s the least he could do.

You agree just to get it over with. Sungchan picks his car key from the holder in the hall and opens the door for you. You get a last look at his place before stepping out. You feel weird once you’re out and the door closes behind you, realizing that you’ll never be inside his house again. The feeling churns in your heart and your eyes prickle, but you breathe deep and will it to go away.

You both are silent the whole two flights of stairs down his garage. And you stay like that while you get in his car and he turns the engine on, still not speaking a thing as he drives out of the small building complex and takes the path to your home. The only noise is the music coming out the radio and his old car sputtering up.

Luckily enough, your apartment is just a ten-minute drive from his. When he stops the car at your building’s curb, you gather your things from the carpet and say your goodbye. But Sungchan puts his hand over your, though, stopping you from opening the door.

“Can I have one last hug?” He has the audacity to ask.

That’s when you break your chill act.

You look over at him with raw and rough hatred. And he sees it, because he instantly retreats his fingers from you and flinches on his seat. “No, Sungchan,” you almost growl at him, venom dripping from your mouth. “I think your girlfriend wouldn’t like that.”

She probably will not like finding your favorite scrunchie inside the first drawer of his nightstand where you left it before getting out of his room, too. But that’s not your problem to deal with.

After your final words, you open the door and get out of his car, practically running inside your complex. You stay somber while you walk inside and wait for the elevator. You stay solemn while you ride the elevator, waiting for it to get to your floor. You even remain serious while you type your code in and finally get inside your house.

But when you take your shoes off and drop your bag on the floor, your entryway light flickers over your head for a few seconds until the bulb goes out, leaving you in complete darkness. You stare into the dark and are also met with the silent empty space of your apartment.

You move your hand to the bow on your hoodie, the last snippet of your encounter with Sungchan you still have on. You pull on the strings and it disappears. Then you break down, curling over yourself until you’re on your knees, releasing loud sobs with chunks of tears coming out of your eyes.

What comes after is… being utterly alone. 

author’s note: phew! thank you for reading this little monster. please consider letting me know what you think about it in the comments or my ask box. feel free to scream at me all you want, i welcome it! <3

[mistriavalley]

The storm behind your eyes (Sebastian x reader)

Note: It's the first time I've written smut on English so I rlly hope this turned out at least decent lmao

TW: 18+ smut MDNI, fingering, reader has a vagina, no protection, exhibitionism, mentions of smoking and cigarettes, slight angst

Masterlist

It was one of those dark days in summer when the rain pattered loudly against the windows and the thunder exploded deafeningly over the roofs. Fortunately, this didn't bother your farm animals too much. They were accustomed to the valley's unpredictable weather.

But it was strange to stay at home at times like this. Normally, you spent the whole day outside, running around Pelican Town like a headless chicken, trying to get all your tasks done as quickly as possible. Your fingertips were tingling with an urge for action and you tigered back and forth through your house.

There was one person in the village who was always out and about in such piss weather though. While the streets were empty, Sebastian took advantage of the solitude and went out for some fresh air.

I wonder if he went out to the beach in this storm?

But not even he was that crazy. Then you remembered that usually, when thunder and lightning came together to create a dance of chaos and destruction in the sky, he smoked a pack of cigarettes under a tree near the mountain lake. Yes. How very smart of him.

You threw a raincoat over your shoulders and hid your face deep inside the hood. Through the mud, you struggle up the hill and stumble past Robin's house. The warm light from the lamps inside shone through the glass of the windows and illuminated the path before you. You dared to take a peek inside.

There they sat around the table. Robin, Demitrius and Maru were all smiles and giggles. It was nothing new to see them without Sebastian, but it still filled you with a deep sadness. You were very much aware of how excluded he felt from his family and it never seemed like any of them were even attempting to try and close the gap between them.

Maru was an exception though. You have caught her several times staring at Sebastian during festivals as if she wasn't sure if she was allowed to approach him. And of course you didn't miss how she calls him her brother while he always made sure to emphasize the word "half" when he referred to her as his half-sister.

You continued walking towards the lake and took shelter under the thick branches of a pine tree. Funny. This was actually Sebastian's quiet little spot when he contemplated the meaning of life while ruining his lungs. Sometimes you got the feeling that he was taking himself a little too seriously.

You turned on your own heels, your eyes searching for the all too familiar mop of black hair. After a few seconds, you spotted him on the complete opposite side and you fought your way through the wet dirt once again.

With only his hoodie as protection, he shielded his mouth with his hand as he desperately tried to keep the lighter's flame on. The wind combined with the rain was working successfully against the young man.

The way he flicked his thumb over the wheel of the lighter was frantic. That's when you noticed the deep crease between his dark eyebrows.

"Sebby?", you yelled over the rumble of the storm and he gave you a quick glance over his shoulder.

It was only a split second, but it was enough for you to know immediately that something was wrong with him. His eyes were darker than usual and it seemed as if the corners of his mouth had never pointed upwards once in his entire life.

You gently put your hand on his back and felt the tension in his muscles. Sighing, he lowered the lighter and put the cigarette back in the box. He was probably now aware that it was impossible to smoke in this shit weather.

Neither of you said a word for a long time. You knew that Sebastian sometimes took a while before he was ready to talk about his feelings when he was this down. While other people's moods hit rock bottom, he was the type to grab a shovel and dig the hole even deeper.

"I've come to terms with being the black sheep in my family. The mistake.", he said in a broken voice.

You nodded. Yes, that was usually the reason why he'd hide out here. He had confided in you a little later in your friendship that he had a difficult relationship with Demitrius and that was why he had kept his distance from Robin and Maru as well. However, only you and Sam knew about it and you had sworn to keep it to yourself.

Sebastian balled his hands into fists. His shoulders shook violently, as if he was crying, but not a single tear formed in his eyes. Afterwards it was as if a dam broke inside him and the words just came pouring out of him.

"Mom doesn't even seem to notice this shit or doesn't want to notice it! No matter what I do, it's not good enough for any of them, but Maru, on the other hand, could burn the whole fucking place down and they'd all just shrug with their shoulders."

Sebastian took a deep breath.

"But Yoba forbid I drop even a teaspoon! Demitrius is giving me a hard time while he rolls out the damn red carpet for his perfect little girl."

You reached for his hands and squeezed them comfortingly, a look of understanding on your face. He immediately relaxed and leaned his forehead against your shoulder, defeated.

"I hate everything.", he whispered into your neck. Your hair stood on end as his hot breath tickled your skin.

For a moment, you felt something like butterflies in your stomach and you silently scolded yourself. This really wasn't the time to think about your feelings for him. Not when he was in such a vulnerable state and needed a pillar.

"No, that's not true. You don't hate everything.", you said and stroked the back of his hand with your thumb. When you said this, you were actually referring to Sam. His best friend.

But what Sebastian answered completely threw you for a loop and left you speechless.

"I don't hate you. Honestly, you're like a light in the darkness. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Heat rose to your face and you didn't know what to say. You decided the smartest move was to keep your mouth shut before you could fabricate something utterly embarrassing and then had to dig your own grave.

Sebastian touched your neck fleetingly with his lips. It made you shiver. Your body automatically inched closer to his. Your brain short-circuited and your instincts took over. Everything in you longed for him. You wanted more than just his mouth on your neck.

Images of his naked torso flashed past your inner eyes. Images of him slowly kissing his way down on you.

You gasped involuntarily and Sebastian turned towards your face. The distance between you was just big enough for a sheet of paper. For the first second, he just stared into your eyes. His expression was unreadable. Then the next second, his mouth crashed against yours in a heated kiss.

He kissed you like a diver catching his breath again after being submerged for far too long. He kissed you like a stranded man getting ahold of a glass of water for the first time in ages. Your body burned more with every passing moment.

"I want you. Please. I don't know if I can wait any longer." The pleading in his words was hard to ignore.

"Sebastian, you're not thinking clearly right now." Although part of you cursed yourself out for saying that, you were right. Sebastian was hurt. That's why he was acting like this now. It's not like he was genuinely interested in you.

He shook his head so violently that the rainwater in his hair flew around him.

"I've never thought as clearly in my life as I do now." To emphasize his words, he pressed another hungry kiss to your mouth.

Soon after, he grabbed you by the hand and together you ran through the storm towards the mines. It was chilly between the high stone walls, but the heat in your chest made it bearable.

Sebastian hastily pulled the hoodie over his head and spread it out on the ground. A slight blush appeared on his cheeks and he avoided your gaze.

"For you. I don't want to just take you on some dirty ground."

Granted, the mines weren't exactly the most romantic place for your first time together, but damn. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't fantasized about sleeping with him outside the house at least once.

In fact, the idea had even plagued your dreams countless times. While you wrapped your arms around each other again, he carefully placed you on his sweater. Always making sure you didn't hit your head on the hard floor.

His soaked T-shirt stuck tightly to his torso and it took all four hands to somehow get it off. He looked so much better than you had imagined.

His warm hand found it's way under your own clothes and you felt a familiar warmth spread between your legs. The rest of your clothes were tossed carelessly into some dusty corner after a short while.

You arched your back to be as close to him as possible as he devoured you with his lips. His tongue playfully stroked your own and you rubbed your thighs together to create at least a little bit of friction. 

Your mind raced and your heart pounded in your throat as the cave was filled with the sound of your gasps and moans. Then, finally, you felt Sebastian's finger at your entrance.

He slowly pushed in one. Shortly afterwards, the second followed and he moved them in a curling motion. After a few attempts, he found your g-spot and you threw your head back.

His hot breath hit your cheek as he showered your face with kisses. And as if he wasn't doing enough, he placed his thumb on your clit and massaged it in circles. 

It was as if all the air had been sucked out of your lungs and you saw nothing but stars. Where on earth had he learned these things?

But that was a question for another time. At that moment, it was simply impossible to grasp a clear thought. All you could focus on was Sebastian's fingers inside and on you.

Something in your stomach tightened in a pleasant way and you grabbed his face with both hands to pull him down for a kiss. You desperately tried to muffle your moans with his lips and tongue.

A short time later you came on his hand and your hips trembled. It took you quite a while to get off your high and when Sebastian pulled his fingers out of you, you winced. You were so sensitive that even the slightest touch made you jump.

A wide, proud grin spread across his handsome face as he looked at you. You didn't even want to begin to imagine what you looked like now, stretched out like a starfish and as sweaty as a marathon runner.

But there was nothing but affection in Sebastian's gaze. Affection and lust. His hard cock laid heavy on your stomach and your energy came rushing back to you.

You sit up and push him down onto his back. A surprised look formed on his features.

"What-", he started, but fell silent as you reached for his dick.

It was wide and veiny. Your wetness ran down the inside of your thigh and dripped onto his stomach. Precum leaked out of his tip and you leaned down to lick it up.

He let out a whimper. As you moved your hand slowly up and down his shaft, you positioned yourself over him and took the entire length in. He filled you to the brim and stretched you in a way that both hurt and felt wonderful.

Sebastian whimpered and gasped. He tensed up and looked like he was going through the fight of his life right now.

"Give me a second. Don't move or I'll-", he pleaded and grunted before he could finish his sentence.

Pride filled your chest. You had no idea about the effect you had on his man, but now you see it in it's whole glory. How hot and bothered he was and how much he was struggling to not come right then and there.

After what felt like an eternity, you started to move your hips up and down to test the waters. Everything inside you wanted to go faster, to ride this man until he was a screaming mess, but you felt merciful.

Then something inside Sebastian clicked and he grabbed you by the hips as he drilled into you. The wet slapping of skin against skin echoed off the high walls of the cave as he fucked you senseless.

Once again, you could think of nothing but Sebastian. You braced yourself against his torso with one hand while you frantically rubbed your clit with the other. You wanted to come with him.

His movements became sloppier and his eyebrows were drawn together in concentration. He was so close and so were you. A wave of ecstasy crashed over your whole body and moments later his cock twitched violently inside of you. A warm liquid was filling you up to the point where you even moaned from the slight pressure.

For a brief moment you thought it would never end until his dick finally came to a complete rest. Sebastian, who looked like he had seen Yoba with his on two eyes just now, slid out of you.

You made yourself comfortable next to him on his hoodje while he wrapped his arms around you and placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"I don't know why we didn't do this before.", he commented.

"When should we have done it? When I first introduced myself or what?"

"That would actually be a fantastic first impression."

You give him a slap on the chest, but he just laughs. You two lay there for a long time, listening to the falling raindrops.

"It's a good thing we did it in this thunderstorm. The adventurers and maybe even Linus would have heard us," he remarked.

"Oh my Yoba. You're right."

What escaped you, however, was the fact that a (now very traumatized) dwarf had his store only a few meters away from you guys.

[kimi240302]

I´m Yours

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me.

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older.

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader

Words: 3,5k

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list

Last Part of Daylight Masterlist

Warning: violence towards a character

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“Tryna wash away all the blood I´ve spilt This lust is a burden that we both share  Two sinners can´t atone from  a lone prayer  Souls tied, interwined by our pride and guilt”

-David Kushner

"I promise you...," Y/N paused, turning her gaze away from Mara, who was standing in front of her with her arms crossed, and looking at Mick, who was looking at her with a raised eyebrow as he made himself comfortable on Mara's bed.

"I promise you I'll be back. I just want to be alone for an hour or two." Annoyed, the young Swan exhaled. She felt smothered within the four walls of the hotel room where she had lain in bed for the past three days. The fact that her two best friends, had not let her out of their sight for a second since the night with Demetri, supported this feeling.

Determined, Y/N took her bag from the bed and hung it over her shoulder. "Besides, you two could use some time alone." The young girl left no more room for arguments from her friends, as she was already halfway out the door when she spoke those words. But Y/N paused once more, stretching her torso back through the still-open crack of the door and looking back and forth between Mara and Mick in turn. "Just please don't have sex on my bed." Laughing, Y/N closed the door as Mara angrily threw one of the guidebooks at her, while Mick just laughed.

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On the street in front of the hotel, Y/N stopped. She turned her face up to the gray sky. She flinched slightly as the first raindrops trickled down onto the skin of her face. Pressing her raincoat closer to her body, she dropped the smile she had put on for her friends and closed her eyes.

The raindrops slowly began to make their way down Y/N's face, but they didn't bother the young girl, quite the opposite. Y/N gratefully accepted the coldness of the water. The drops replaced the tears that she herself no longer had left to cry. For once, taking a deep breath, she absorbed the smell of the rain, the certainty settled in her bones that tonight was the last evening for her in Volterra.

Tomorrow morning, she would fly back with her class, and never return. Y/N would then go back to Forks, to her father, her sister, and the Cullens, and Demetri would exist only in her memories from that point on. This thought sent a shiver down the young girl's body.

Shaking herself slightly, Y/N turned her head straight ahead again and started moving. She didn't know where to go, since she didn't know her way around Volterra. But she didn't want to go back to the hotel room either, so the young Swan decided to just start walking and hoping that nothing would happen to her.

„To live is the rarest thing in the World. Most people exist, that is all!”

Hours had passed during which Y/N walked around lost in thought. She had lost her sense of direction and was aware that her friends and classmates were certainly worried. But the young girl could not convince herself to turn back or take out her cell phone and find her way back to the hotel.

Y/N was soaked, confused and exhausted. She didn't know what she wanted or what she was trying to accomplish by wandering around Volterra.

With tears welling up again, the Swan girl sat down on the edge of a fountain that stood in the middle of an empty, yet lit, sidewalk. She let her fingertips glide over the water and smiled slightly at each tear drop that fell into the water. The rain had stopped and so had her will to resist the tears. With her free hand, Y/N reached into her pocket and pulled out the crumpled note Demetri had left in the book. Again she read the lines written there in black ink, as she had done over and over again in the last few days.

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't be walking around outside alone at this hour, or at all alone with your mind elsewhere."

Startled, Y/N winced. She stuffed the note back into her pocket and stood up properly. As she did so, she didn't take her eyes off the man who had appeared behind her as if out of nowhere.

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment as she saw the stranger's grin grow larger. Even though she tried, Y/N couldn't stop the tremor in her voice. Which only confirmed to her opposite that the young girl was definitely alone and scared.  

The unknown man took another step towards Y/N, which she answered with a step closer to the fountain. Defensively, the stranger raised his hands. "Don't worry little girl, I won't hurt you." The young Swan's eyes widened. She immediately felt as if she was looking at the man properly for the first time. His skin was almost white as snow, while his eyes seemed black. Y/N swallowed, for she had a feeling that if she had met him on any other day, his eyes would be red. She also did not notice any breathing or blinking of the eyes.

Laughing, the man approached Y/N, he reached out a hand and placed it on her cheek, making her wince as panic began to spread inside her. The stranger's skin was as cold as ice. "Not as long as you don't fight back," he finished the sentence he had started.

Startled, Y/N slapped the man's hand away, surprising him, and ran. The vampire immediately started laughing, which echoed on the empty street and made Y/N run even faster. She knew that the castle of Volterra couldn't be far, since magically it was always the first thing she saw when she walked through the streets. If the young girl could reach it before her attacker, she was safe, she would be with Demetri.

Without warning, Y/N slammed into the side of the wall with her entire body. Gasping for air, she hit the hard floor. She caught the impact with her hands, causing the skin on them to split open in some places. Blood leaked from the small openings, causing the unknown vampire to draw air through his nose. "Your blood smells better than anything I've ever smelled!" He muttered to himself, his eyes still closed.

Gritting her teeth, Y/N tried to crawl silently away from the vampire. But he grabbed her ankle and pulled her back. Calling for help, she began kicking and punching at her attacker with her legs and arms. All this triggered another loud laugh. The vampire put his hands around Y/N's neck pulling her up by it and pressing her against the brick wall. As he did so, his grip tightened with each passing second. Y/N tried to strike at him with her hands, also scratching at his hands to loosen the grip on her neck, but her attempts were in vain. Just as black dots began to surround her field of vision, the vampire let go of her and caught her body. Gasping for air, she noticed how there was no spark of strength left in her. Her body felt limp and burning. "Such a pretty thing. If I wasn't so hungry, I would have spent more time with you."

The vampire supported her body with one hand while turning her face to the side with the other. He let the dome of his index finger trail over her pulse point as he grinned in satisfaction. "Please don't..." , Y/N muttered. "Don't worry it will be over quickly!" This was the last thing Y/N was aware of until the pain set in. The vampire had buried his fangs in her neck. Y/N felt her life being literally sucked out of her as the vampire drank more and more of her blood. Again black dots began to dance in front of her eyes and the only thing she could think about was Demetri, while more and more tears ran down her cheeks.

With a jolt, the feeling of the vampire in front of her disappeared, as did the arm holding her upright. Exhausted and preparing to hit the ground again, Y/N closed her eyes. However, before Y/N hit the ground one more time she was stopped by two arms and pinned against a chest.

"Mon amour please open your eyes!" Demetri pleaded with his mate. Blinking, she opened her eyes, contorted her face in pain, and then looked him straight in the eye. "Demetri, you're here." Her voice was no longer even a whisper. Carefully, Demetri stroked Y/N's bloodied hair from her face and left his hand on her cheek. "I will always be where you are. You just have to promise me to stay awake!" Smiling weakly, she placed a hand on his cheek, trembling. "I'm so sorry." Confused, the vampire looked at her. "Sorry for what?" His mate shook her head weakly, her eyelids beginning to flutter as her hand slid down from his cheek.

Everything around Demetri slowed down. The sounds of his friends killing the vampire became a low hiss as Y/N's eyes began to close and her pulse continued to slows. Demetri rested his forehead against his mate's. "Please don't leave me again! You can't leave me!"  

But Y/N no longer understood a word, the ringing in her ears had become far too loud for that. "I love you, Demetri Volturi." Whether she said it out loud or just thought it, she didn't know, but she was glad to have seen the man she loved once again, before her world went black and her body went limp in his arms, she knew she was finally home.

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""Will she be awake in time?" Aro, and every other vampire in the throne room, looked closely at the doctor in front of him. The latter nodded slightly anxiously and looked around. "Miss Swan has lost a lot of blood, but nothing that can't be fixed with a blood infusion and bed rest." His voice trembled slightly, however, he did better than the Kings had expected.

Nodding, Aro looked to Jane. "Inform Demetri about this. He will be at her bedside. Felix escort the doctor out." Both guards stepped forward to follow what they were told to do. "And doctor." The man addressed stopped in the doorway and turned slowly. "Everything you've seen today, you'd better forget." Marcus looked at him, bored. Caius began to grin nastily, "Accidents happen every day!" Aro spread his arms, "And it would be a shame for such talent to go to waste!" Quickly the man nodded, "I was never here!" Satisfied, the kings looked at him. Felix put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him further in the direction of the exit.

"Why didn't he just turn her?" Caius looked questioningly at his brother. "He would have escaped the Cullens and that annoying sister that way. His mate would have no choice but to stay here to get used to her new life." Marcus turned to the blond-haired man. "And that's just it. It would have been forced." Aro nodded. "Our young friend wants his mate to want to walk this path willingly, with him by her side or without him."

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"Demetri?" Jane entered Demetri's room. He was sitting on the floor with his back against his bed where his mate was sleeping. He had drawn his knees to his chest, buried his hands in his hair, and rested his forehead on his knees. At Jane's voice he looked up. "The doctor's gone, he says she'll be fine. She just needs bed rest." Demetri just nodded and laid his head back on his knees. Jane looked down at her teammate and debated with herself. She closed the door and took thoughtful steps toward the bed. Y/N looked pale, but since the second blood infusion, the redness of her skin was slowly working its way back.

The vampire sat down on the floor next to Demetri, which made him look to the side in confusion. "I thought at the beginning that you had gone mad. Fighting so hard for the Swan girl, even though she didn't want you. Letting your heart break over and over again. Now that I see you with her, now that I've seen the way she was in your arms, the way she looked at you, the smile just before she thought she was going to die, just because she could tell you she loved you. Makes me understand why you did it. Why you ran after her and why you didn't want to turn her. I don't understand the soul mates thing, I only have Alec who I trust and I don't think that will ever change. But Demetri, when she wakes up, and she will. Don't let her go again. You both need each other!" Jane looked deep into Demetri's eyes and put a hand on his shoulder. Demetri looked at her gratefully and placed his hand over hers. "I'm scared." Jane nodded. "You two will get through this, and if anything happens, we'll be behind you and her." Demetri smiled.

Jane stood up and headed for the door, but turned back to him. "If you tell anyone what I said here, I will cause you pain that will make you wish you were never born!" Demetri dropped his head back into his neck laughing, "There's the Jane I love!" Briefly her eyes lit up and a smile settled over her mouth. Shortly after, she was gone.

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"You just confirmed what I warned Y/N about!" Bella looked angrily over at Demetri. The latter rolled his eyes, "And that would be?" "You put her in danger!" "She would never have been in danger if she hadn't been alone, and she was only alone because she pushed Demetri away because of you!" Felix laughed in disbelief from what he had just heard. Bella took a step towards the vampire, but Edward grabbed her waist and pulled her back to his chest. "Stop it now Bella!"

"You better listen to your fiancé young girl! It was pure kindness on Demetri's part to inform you of your sister's condition." Aro looked closely at Bella. "Kindness?!" Bella was turning red with anger. "Put a leash on your human before I do something about her!", Caius looked at Bella out of annoyed eyes. Edward tightened his grip around his fiancée. The latter took a deep breath and looked back at Aro. "If Carlisle confirms to us right away that my sister is fit to travel, I will take her back to Forks with me." She turned to Demetri and pointed a finger at him. "And you will stay away from my sister . From this day until her last day." Demetri shook his head. "You will not take her anywhere again. Until she can speak for herself, she stays here. Let Y/N make her own decisions, you've been calling all the shots in her life long enough!" "I only want what's best for her!" "By keeping her away from the one she loves!" Alec raised his eyebrow in amusement. Bella laughed mockingly. "She doesn't love him. My sister could never love a monster!" "Careful! Maybe none of our powers can do anything against you, but we can always hurt you, though! You forget you're still human!" Jane's voice became sharp. But Bella laughed again. "And that proves what I'm saying, you Volturi are nothing more than monsters!"

"The only monster in this room is you Bella."

All at once, everyone's heads turned to the kings. Y/N had entered the throne room through the back entrance. Next to her stood a sad-looking Carlisle. He knew he should not have taken Bella with him, for as the vampire knew Y/N would not return with them, but would remain with Demetri and therefore with the Volturi.

"Sister!" "Mon amour!" Bella and Demetri spoke at the same time. Y/N's gaze moved from her sister to Demetri. The latter looked at her with relief and a little fear, but she did not think twice. As fast as her bare feet could carry her, she ran towards Demetri and jumped into his arms. Relieved, he immediately wrapped his arms around her torso and hugged her to him. As he did so, the vampire closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

Aro began to clap and even jumped up and down once. "I think my young Bella, this is answer enough where your sister wants to stay. Isn't it?" Bella shook her head. "Y/N..." Her voice was occupied with bewilderment. Her younger sister separated herself from Demetri and stood up properly. As she did so, she buried her fingers in the fabric of his top, while he placed his hands on her upper arms, where he gently ran them up and down. Y/N accepted this gesture gratefully. Since she had almost fled the room when she saw only Carlisle, she was wearing nothing but underwear and a black nightgown. Lightly she leaned her back against the blond vampire's torso, taking in the warmth of his coat. Demetri who noticed this detached himself from Y/N took off his coat and placed it over his mate's shoulder. Then placed his hands again on her upper arms. Everyone observed the gesture with a smile, except for the Cullen family and Bella.

Bella watched as Y/N gratefully gave Demetri a kiss on the cheek and began shaking her head again. "No!" Confused, everyone looked at her. "You have to choose sister!" Bella emphasized the word 'sister' as if to remind Y/N that they were bound together by blood. "Between what?" Doubting her sister's mental state, Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Either you come back to Forks with me and the Cullens, or you stay here, with Demetri and the Volturi." She paused, put her hands to her chest, and continued talking, "But if you stay here, I will no longer see you as my sist..." Bella hadn't even finished her sentence when Y/N interrupted her. "Demetri and the Volturi." Bella dropped her arms to her side. "What?" "I choose Demetri and the Volturi." She repeated, more slowly so her sister would understand her better. This made every single Volturi grin as they looked at their future new member.

Before Bella could say anything further, Y/N turned her body entirely around to face Demetri. "Can you take me back to our room?" Demetri looked from her to Aro, who nodded with a smile. "Anything Ma princesse, will." In bridal style he picked her up in his arms, not wanting her to walk around in bare feet any longer and catch anything else, made his way past the Cullens. Where Bella realized once again that she had lost her sister to Demetri Volturi. Y/N didn't pay Bella a glance, burying her face in her mate's chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Well Bella that must have backfired!" Laughed Felix, making everyone except the Cullens laugh along with him.

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"Are you sure you made the right decision?" Demetri whispered these words while looking straight ahead and holding his mate securely in his arms at the same time. Confused, she looked up at him. "What do you mean Demetri?" Without saying anything he opened the door of his room, stepped into it, closed his door and carefully put his mate down on his bed. "You should sleep a little more, the doctor and Carlisle are..." , he spoke while walking back to the door. But Y/N jumped up from the bed, dropping the coat from her mate on the floor, closing the distance between them with a few steps and grabbing Demetri's wrist. "Don't do this Demetri." He turned his head around to face her. "Don't do what." "Don't drop me. I won't regret choosing you. I won't miss my sister and the time in her shadow. I won't regret you and my love for you, not today, not in our eternity you promised me Demetri." Carefully she pulled him to her by his wrist. His body turned completely to her, his eyes were filled with fear and yet hope was also hidden in them. Y/N let go of his wrist, took another step towards him and placed her hands on his cheeks, like he always did with her. "I will never forgive myself for how many times I have rejected you for a promise that was unfair to both of us and if you let me, I will try to make this up to you for the rest of our time together." Demetri closed his eyes and leaned more into her touch. "That's a very long time Mon Amour." "That's exactly what I hope!" Smiling, Y/N placed her lips on her mate's. Demetri returned her kiss instantly, wrapping his arms around her waist to pull her closer. The kiss quickly turned into a passionate one as Y/N released her hands from his cheeks and let them disappear into Demetri's hair. When they both broke away from each other, their lips hovered just inches apart. "No more running away, no more hiding, I beg you!" Demetri looked at her pleadingly. Gently, she again placed her lips on his. Breaking away from him, she leaned her forehead against his and whispered, "I'm yours Demetri Volturi and I'm not afraid to show it to the daylight anymore!" They both started laughing and kissed again.

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A/N3.0: Thanks for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it and if you think of anything else you want to read, like the wedding of the two or other things write it in my inbox, no matter if my request is closed or not.

@twilightlover2007 @ssnapsaurus @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx @ms-sasa @elissanatok @helen06dreamer @animequeen454 @svtbpbts @alyeskathewave @kezibear @m-ichelles-world @angelsincident @esposadomd @xxxsecuritybreach @a-avengerparker

[khakirnelm]

From an incorrect quote generator

If Melody was a human tho

Phoebe: WHAT’S YOUR TYPE Melody: Anything, honestly, but nerds especially Phoebe, desperately, as Melody bleeds out: YOUR BLOOD TYPE Melody: Oh! B positive. Phoebe: DONT TRY TO CHEER ME UP JUST TELL ME YOUR BLOOD TYPE Melody:

-

Phoebe: Is letting someone win at chess sapiosexual bottoming Melody: Does anyone in this godforsaken group ever think before they speak

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Phoebe: Whaddya call a fish with no eye? Melody, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons Phoebe: Phoebe: fsh

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Phoebe: So what's for dinner? Melody, staring at the food she just burnt: Regret.

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Callie: I left instructions for everyone while I'm gone. Phoebe: Mine just says "Phoebe no." Callie: I want you to apply it to every possible situation.

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Trevor: Not elegant enough to be a vampire, not jock enough to be a werewolf... Phoebe: Goblin it is.

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Trevor: My head hurts. Phoebe: That’s your brain trying to comprehend its own stupidity.

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Computer: Please enter a password. Phoebe: *types in Melody* Computer: Your password is too weak. Phoebe: How fucking DARE YOU-

-

Phoebe: So what are your political beliefs? Podcast: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

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Callie: You spent all our money on THIS?? Gary, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

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Phoebe: Why are you on fire? Melody: This is just how my day is going.

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Podcast: Change is inedible.

Phoebe: Don't you mean inevitable?

Podcast, spitting out coins: No, I did not.

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Phoebe: .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.--

[translation: I’M SORRY]

Callie: What's that?

Phoebe: Remorse code.

Callie: I'm even angrier now.

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Phoebe: I don’t do relationships.

Melody: *exists*

Phoebe: Shit.

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Trevor: Kissing can burn 26 calories in a minute, wanna work-out with me? ;)

Lucky: Are you saying that I'm fat?

Trevor: No that's not what I meant I-

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Phoebe: Podcast... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Podcast: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Phoebe:

Phoebe: I wrote sanitize, Podcast.

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Callie, tending to Trevor’s wounds: How would you rate your pain?

Trevor: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

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Peck: I'm going to ask you to be respectful. Phoebe: I will politely decline.

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Podcast: I’m having one of those things! A headache with pictures!! Phoebe: you mean an idea..? Podcast: MMMMHHMMM!!

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Phoebe: English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though. Trevor: You need to stop.

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Phoebe: How did none of you hear what I just said? Callie: I’ve been zoned out for the past two and a half hours. Gary: I got distracted about halfway through. Trevor: Ignoring you was a conscious decision.

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If Melody was a human, again

Phoebe: HELP! I TOLD MELODY I’D COOK DINNER TONIGHT BUT I CAN’T COOK! Trevor, pouring milk directly into the cereal bag: And you thought I could help?

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Podcast: What if I press the brake and gas at the same time? Phoebe: The car takes a screenshot. Trevor: For the last time, get the fuck out.

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Gary, holding a python: Guys I impulsively bought a snake, what do I name him Callie: You did WHAT– Phoebe: William Snakepeare

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Trevor: You look nice, I want to kiss you. Lucky: What? Trevor: I SAID IF YOU DIED, I WOULDN’T MISS YOU.

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Gary: The best revenge, really, is being nice! Podcast: [in the distance] Or murder.

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Gary: That’s one of my biggest fears. Like, if I ever woke up as a donut... Callie: You would eat yourself? Gary: I wouldn’t even question it.

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Phoebe: WHOEVER CAUSED THIS MESS IS GOING TO- Melody: It was me... Phoebe: ...Is going to be forgiven because everyone deserves a second chance.

[aoioozora]

THIS IS SO AMAZING OMG (talking about the Simon fanfic btw) YOU JUST EARNED A FOLLOWER ❤️❤️ we'd really appreciate it if you did a part 2? 🥹 Take care

Simon.

Part 2

Part 1 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost

Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: I was never planning on making this a series but here we go, I guess I'm invested too now >:) thank you for requesting and following! While this series is fluff only, I have a small warning for this part: there's swearing, crude jokes. And possibly incorrect usage of Scottish and English slang. Enjoy :) Photo credit: mus

“It's pishin’ it doon out here.”

Simon looked at his friend and sighed, “English, MacTavish.” 

MacTavish groaned. “It's raining fuckin’ hard.” 

“Then say so.” 

“I did!” 

Simon and his friend, John MacTavish or ‘Johnny’, as he was affectionately called, found themselves standing under the shade of a book café, helmets in hands, watching Simon's bike get drenched in the heavy rain. Neither of them expected a downpour, and were caught without raincoats. And so the two had no choice but to wait it out. 

“It was yer bloody brilliant idea to go on a road trip when I warned ye that it was gonna rain today,” Johnny griped, crossing his arms as he shook the rain water off his helmet. 

Simon didn't say a word. He copied Johnny in getting the water off his helmet, except that he wiped it off with his hand. As he hung his head down to do so, his messy blond hair fell over his eyes, and he shook his head to get it out of the way. He wiped his hands on a handkerchief to dry them, and then pulled his mask down below his nose to inhale a fresh gulp of the cold, wet air. When he had inhaled enough, he pulled the mask back on, and his eyes wandered to his motorcycle, which was surrounded by a foggy haze in the rain. 

His mind wandered to that night he saved a young lady off the dangerous streets. He remembered how he saw her from afar, and without a second thought, sped up to her assailants, half-intent on actually flattening them into crepes. He remembered how his engine pounded as adrenaline charged his blood, as he twisted the accelerator to full throttle, sending the vehicle flying. 

A pretty lady he thought she was. He didn't know why he called her his girlfriend; his brain decided that being a boyfriend was the second most powerful thing a man could be, the first being a husband. No other men would mess with another man's woman, that was for sure, unless he had a death wish. She acted well too, convincingly even. 

He pulled out his phone and turned it around. Nestled beneath the clear casing was a small, clear candy wrapper, the same one that the pretty lady gave him that day. He didn't know why he felt the need to keep it, but did anyway. He definitely wanted something to remind him of her. 

He had been in anguish ever since he dropped her off and rode away; he had completely forgotten to ask for her name. But who does that? They were strangers. What are the odds that two strangers would meet again? 

“I'm heading inside,” Johnny announced, “I want a coffee.”

“Get me some tea.” 

“Fuckin’ Brit.” 

Simon was about to correct Johnny by telling him that Scotland, where he was from, was also part of the British isles, but he bit back, not wanting to risk hearing a rant in exclusively colorful, and totally family friendly Scottish words and phrases. 

“Fine, I'll do it myself.” Simon rolled his eyes and followed Johnny inside the book cafe. 

The two men sat at a table and while Johnny peered into the menu, Simon sank back into the comfortable chair and looked at the yellow bulbs hanging overhead, casting a soft, golden glow on the smooth wooden tables, the floors, and the cutlery. The smell of coffee, cakes, and books filled the air, along with the soft ruffle of pages, clinks of tableware and cups and saucers, and the distinct murmurs of his friend across him as he figured out what coffee he wanted to have. 

A waiter came by to take their orders, and the two were soon left to their own, sitting in unusual silence as they stared out the glass windows at the relentlessly pouring rain. While Johnny hummed a tune to himself, Simon, tired of looking at the downpour, decided to amuse himself with people watching. 

He saw people working at their laptops, some reading and drinking, others chatting in soft murmurs, and staff doing their job. 

His eyes fell on one particular lady who was seated at a table across the cafe, back facing him, busily working on her laptop. He felt his heart stop for a moment. Her silhouette was familiar, particularly her hair; it looked just like her. His heart pounded beneath his ribs. 

He didn't realise how long he looked until Johnny's voice piped, “Wit ye lookin’ at?” which interrupted the momentary buzz of his thoughts. 

Simon turned to his friend, who was looking at him with mingled curiosity and confusion. “Nothing.” he replied, shaking his head and hanging it down slightly to look away, but his eyes immediately darted to the lady, as if she was a strong magnet. 

Johnny wasn't quite convinced, and he followed Simon's line of vision. “A lass,” he observed, smirking. 

Simon glared at his friend, but it only made him chuckle. The two watched as she stood up for a moment and turned around, intent on walking to the shelves to grab a book. That's when Simon saw her face, and again, his heart seized. 

“It's her.”

His breath lodged tight in his lungs and his body visibly stiffened. And the most unfortunate reaction of them all: his partially exposed cheeks had turned pink. His eyes were glued to her, and he was unaware that Johnny was still keenly observing him. 

“Ye ken her?” asked Johnny, his smirk widening. 

“You remember I saved a girl the other day?” He asked back. 

“That's her?” Johnny whipped his head back again to take another gander at the lady. 

She was furiously flipping through the pages of a hardbound book, as if desperately in search of something. Simon rested his elbow on the armrest of the chair and leaned his cheek on his fist; he watched with interest as she hunched over the book like a medieval scholar, and wondered what her occupation was. She went back to her seat, hunched over again, and the two men looked back at each other. 

“Go talk to her,” Johnny challenged.

“No.”

“Keep bein’ a fuckin’ pussy and ye won't get to fuck that pussy, ye ken?” 

Simon snorted at that, but then immediately and quietly hissed “Wheesht!” at Johnny to make him shut up, glancing back at the pretty lady. “Don't be disrespectful,” he added.

Johnny chuckled, ever amused at the fact that his Scottish vernacular was infecting the Englishman. He leaned forward, resting a hand on his knee, continuing to smirk, “Since when did ye care about respect, huh?” 

Simon inhaled sharply, since he was getting increasingly impatient with Johnny and at the fact that he was running out of arguments. It was also a bit hard to argue in a place where you're supposed to be quiet. 

“Just go already. I cannae see ye looking so stupid like this. The worst she can say is ‘fuck off’.” Johnny shrugged. 

Simon shot his friend and unimpressed look, making Johnny snort. “That is the worst thing she can say, you wanker,” he said, now mechanically rising from his chair. 

“Fuck off and get her number, ye gobshite, or else you'll just be wanking to her and not talking.” Johnny shook his head with a smirk and gave his friend a slap on the back as he passed him. Simon returned the gesture with a slap to the back of Johnny's head, particularly in annoyance at the latter part of his sentence. 

While Johnny whined quietly from how hard a slap he had been dealt with, Simon's attention was drawn when he heard her voice again, sounding a little agitated. His head whipped towards her table, and yet again, she was being hit on by some guy, and clearly looked like she was uncomfortably fighting back his unwanted advances. 

Simon glared at the man as he began his march. “If only she had a boyfriend by her side, a guard dog…” he thought to himself as he speedily, yet calmly stepped over to her table. 

He went around some tables and emerged behind the man, towering over him. Before Simon was noticed by her, his hand came down heavily on the man's shoulder, making him flinch. Leaning down, he whispered as the man turned to face him, “What business do you have with my girlfriend?” 

The man was met with Simon's glaring eyes that meant serious business. He froze up immediately. 

“Babe, he was trying to hit on me even though I told him I wasn't interested,” the lady's voice resounded, and a quick glance at her told Simon that her eyes glimmered with recognition. 

The “babe” made his knees weak for a moment, but he shook off the feeling and continued to glare at the man. No more words were needed. He immediately stood up from his seat and strode away, apologising without sincerity. When he was finally earshot, she sighed. 

“You alright, love?” asked Simon with gentleness unusual to him, glancing around again to make sure the man was nowhere in sight. 

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she sighed, also looking in the direction the man left. She looked back at him and smiled brightly, “But what a coincidence. We meet again, Simon.” 

“And I'm mighty chuffed about it.” he thought to himself as he nodded in response. “Funny coincidence, really. My friend and I were just about to leave on a small road trip and the rain,” he shook his head and clicked his tongue as he looked at the windows, “it rained on our parade, I guess.”

The unintentional pun made her giggle. Simon normally had a grip on his emotions, but that damned giggle threw off his train of thought. But regaining himself, he continued, “So we took shelter here, and I saw you. Thought I'd come talk and then I heard that guy trying to make a pass at you.”

She motioned to the chair for him to sit down, which he instantly did; he cursed himself for seeming so eager. 

“You heard?” she asked with emphasis. 

“Yeah?” he nodded, slightly confused as to why she zeroed in on that word in particular. “I was looking elsewhere, and then I heard you.”

She then glanced at her laptop for a moment and then pulled the screen down slightly so he wouldn't see what was on. As she did, she said, “I see. I'm lucky you came just then because I was having a hard time driving him away.”

“I could tell,” he answered slowly. He then decided to change the subject. “You come here often?” 

“Yeah, every day. This place is calm and quiet and the atmosphere helps me work.”

“What's your job?” 

“I'm an author.” 

“An author?” he blinked in surprise. He didn't expect that. “What do you write about?” 

“Fantasy and adventure… With a hint of romance.” She grabbed her tote that was on the table and pulled out a book from it, which she showed him. “This is my first published book.” 

“No kidding?” He took the book in my hand. It was titled ‘Firefly Trails’, embossed in gold. The cover was matte, showing a dark forest trail dotted with glossy fireflies and their greenish yellow light. Below the title was her name, and he read it in his mind slowly, his eyes spending more time taking it in more than anything else on the cover. 

“New York Times Bestseller.” he recited, smirking as he eyed the epithet on the top of the cover, “Don't they slap this on every book?” 

“They do, but this actually did pretty well in New York.”

“So you're famous then?” 

“Kind of?” 

“Tell me your Instagram handle, I'll need to see for myself.” Simon pulled out his phone and looked at her, waiting for her to tell him. 

She did. He immediately typed it out on the search bar and while he did, he rested his elbow on the table, holding his arm upright. His neck was craned upward slightly, and the lady couldn't help but stare at the way his Adam's apple moved as he gulped, and the way the sternocleidomastoid muscle tightened and popped from under his fair skin as he moved his neck. 

Her analytical, authorly eyes scanned him keenly, soaking in all she could make of his facial features; at his icy blond hair, short and styled in an undercut; his long eyelashes, his shapely eyebrows, his slightly pink cheeks under the black mask, the way his brown eyes reflected against the blue light of the phone screen; it was all a sight to behold. He was saying something, but her mind was so lost in trying to mentally string words together to describe the view in front of her in the most superfluous manner possible, in hopes that this information would be used in her future works. 

“Hey, you really are famous. You got quite a tonne of followers.” Simon, who was highly aware of her shameless staring, somehow managed to interrupt her flow of thought. 

She was successfully brought back to Earth from her daydream, and she nodded, now embarrassed to have been caught red-handed. He thankfully made no comment on it, not wanting to make things awkward.

She answered, “I suppose so. But they're not as many as bigger authors. I'm not complaining, though. I'm really happy to have a lot of people liking my work.”

“You're too modest,” he said, and she could see his cheeks rise to his eyes just a wee bit behind his mask, indicative of a smile. He now showed her her Instagram page on his phone. “There, I followed you,” he said, pointing at the grey ‘Following’ button.

“Are you sure? You don't look like the type of person who reads or is interested in author updates.” A slightly teasing smirk tugged the corner of her lips. 

Simon chuckled and shook his head slightly, making his short hair swish a little; she took notice of it. “I'm a voracious reader,” he bragged, lying through his teeth, even using a fancy word to make it more convincing. 

She smiled, clearly not quite convinced, but decided to humor him anyway. “If you are, then that book is a gift for you.” She glanced at the copy resting on his lap. 

“No kidding?” he blinked as he took the book in his hand to gaze at it. “Well, since you're so famous, I think I should get your autograph.” he said, and she could see one of his cheeks raised; an unmistakable smirk. 

“Oh, come on, you're making me blush,” she giggled, but took the book anyway.

"My intentions exactly," he thought as he watched her grab a pen and start writing on the first page. 

His phone buzzed a message in the meantime, and he took the device to have a look. It was Johnny. He glanced at the other end of the cafe at his friend, and found him staring, finishing the last sips of his coffee. 

Johnny MacTavvy: oi yer tea's getting cauld 

Johnny MacTavvy: Rain's stopped too. Let's go 

Simon now looked out the glass windows and the rain had indeed stopped, and a bit of sunlight was peeking through the cloudy skies. He sighed, not wanting to go just yet, but knowing Johnny wouldn't let him tarry any longer, he quickly typed a reply, which Johnny saw immediately. 

Fuckin’ Brit: ok 

By the time Simon kept his phone in his pocket, the lady finished her autograph and handed the book to him. “Enjoy.” She smiled. 

Simon murmured a “Thanks” as he received the book, and then rose from his seat. 

“Leaving already?” she asked, looking a little disappointed. 

“Yeah, my friend's annoying me to finish my tea so we can be on our way. The rain's stopped now, so…”

“Okay,” she nodded slightly, glancing out the windows to confirm for herself. Looking back at him, she smiled again, “Take care then.” 

“You too,” he inhaled. “Make sure you don't get hit on again,” he said, attempting to be casual and funny, but he felt like his attempt turned out to be so stupid. 

She shook her head, scoffing and smiling. “I'll be fine.” 

He was relieved that the attempt landed safely despite the turbulence, and he sighed. “Right then, I'll see you inna bit, love.” 

“See you, Simon.” 

He nodded once at her and then strode back to Johnny, feeling his knees get weaker by the second. He managed to reach his table and practically fell down in his seat. 

“Well?” asked Johnny with a smirk as he leaned forward and eyed the book in Simon's hand. “She gave ye a gift, I see.” 

“She's an author. Her first book.” Simon answered, handing him the book so he could see it. 

“For real?” Johnny took the book and flipped through the pages. The autograph on the first page caught his attention and he read it. His eyes widened slightly and he closed the book, returning it to his friend, who was drowning the lukewarm tea. “He completely forgot, didnae he, this bastard.” Johnny muttered under his breath, smirking. 

“What was that?” asked Simon, setting down the teacup. 

“Nothing. Let's go.” 

The two paid for their drinks and as they stepped out the door, Simon glanced back at her, and saw that she was also looking at him over her shoulder. This time, he felt a bit fluttery in his stomach. She waved at him with another of those pretty smiles and he waved back, already feeling his knees go weak again. 

The two turned away and exited the book cafe. While Johnny wiped the rainwater off the motorcycle, Simon took a moment to see what she had written as an autograph. 

“Dear Simon, thank you for saving me twice. I hope you enjoy the book,” was written, and along with that was her name and signature.

Below that was written in unmistakably bold and clear letters, “Call me,” along with her number. 

Simon felt like he had been struck by lightning. His face turned alarmingly red and hot to the point that he scrambled to pull his hood over to hide himself. “Fuck me…” he mumbled his exclamation as he processed this very clear green light from her. It was unbelievable. 

In the meantime, the lady herself  couldn't believe this whole thing just happened. He happened to be there, came up to her, saved her, and swooped her off her feet the second time. It was an amazing coincidence, a once in a lifetime incident, something straight out of a novel. And being an author, she couldn't let this go. She just had to shoot her shot by slapping her phone number in the autograph and now hope that he would call her.

But if there was one thing that sold her completely, it was the fact that he heard that she was in trouble, and came to her rescue. 

Feeling a flutter in her chest, she looked back at her laptop screen. A Google search result was displayed in bold:

“The name Simon means ‘to hear’.”

End of Part 2.

Part 3

[alexfromjersey]

𝓝𝓮𝔀 𝓔𝓷𝓿𝓲𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼 & 𝓐𝓭𝓳𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓼

jenna ortega x g!poc

summary: Jah gets an important email. Jenna finds solace in the support of her friend Hudson as she grapples with her own struggles.

warnings: mature language

a/n: ngl, chatgbt saved my ass with the summary because I could not for the life of me figure out a summary that doesn’t spoil the chapter lmaoo. I might just use it for my summaries…that’s allowed right 👀.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Series Masterlist

Hertfordshire, England

May 2023

3:30 pm (GMT)

Jenna sat alone in her trailer, the first time she's been alone in the last week. Usually, people would run in and out of the trailer for various reasons. But today, the weather forced the shoot date to end early for everyone. She sat by the window as she watched the English rain pound against the glass, caught in her racing thoughts. Her brown doe eyes focused as a lone raindrop slid down the glass taking different paths and angles to reach its final destination.

The young pregnant woman was extremely bored waiting for her driver to come pick her up from set. She tried calling you but you didn't answer and that's when she realized that it was currently 10 am in New York. You were most likely asleep especially since she watched you stream until like 4 am Eastern Time last night.

Suddenly, a knock breaks Jenna from her thoughts. She sighed thinking it was just another make-up artist or stylist coming in to gather the rest of their belongings but when she opened the door, she was slightly shocked to see Hudson.

"Oh great, you're awake. I would've thought you would be dead asleep" Hudson smiled.

"Nope just about dead from boredom" Jenna replied and moved out the way so Hudson could come in.

"I can tell by the look on your face and...your whole demeanor" Hudson playfully responded and closed the door behind him. He pulled off his raincoat and then took a seat on the small couch behind Jenna.

Meanwhile, Jenna grabbed her phone and sat back in the chair. She opened the TikTok app and immediately she was hit with a video of you. It was a clip of one of your YouTube videos that had gone viral recently. It didn't help with her need for you but she pushed it away.

Hudson noticed her demeanor and sighed, "Look so, uh, I was thinking we haven't hung out in a while like we used to and we're in England so I figured we could...I don't know explore a foreign city a little. There's a cafe I saw one night that's not far from here. Do you uh...wanna go check it out?"

Jenna thought about it for a moment. She knew she needed a much-needed distraction from everything. But she was hesitant about going with Hudson especially after he betrayed her trust by running his mouth to her mother. But she needed to do something so she doesn't into her head and lose her way like before. She needed to do something.

"Yeah sure let's do it" Jenna agreed and grabbed her bag and other items she needed. A huge smile grew on Hudson's face as he jumped up from the couch excitedly.

"Okay! So let's get the day started shall we" Hudson smiled and opened the trailer door for the smaller woman. The two friends start their day journey exploring the city of London.

The two friends quickly found a small English restaurant not too far from their respective hotels. They find a booth towards the back of the restaurant and take a seat across from each other. After sitting, an awkward silence covers over their atmosphere. It was weird for the both of them and they each hated how one bad decision (on Hudson's part) led to a fracture in their friendship.

"So...this is kinda awkward" Hudson spoke out loud.

Jenna hummed and nodded in agreement. Soon, a waitress walked over and took both of their drink orders and appetizers. Jenna ordered a green tea to help the little nausea she felt while Hudson ordered a simple water and some sausage rolls to munch on.

"Listen, Jenna, I am truly sorry for what I did. I know I keep saying it and everything but if I could rewind time and stop myself from ever doing that I would do it in a heartbeat. I want...no I need my best friend back.

Jenna sat in thought for a bit. She watched how Hudson's demeanor was calm and composed. She could sense that he felt guilty for his actions and therefore wanted to give him another chance. She missed her best friend too.

"Please stop apologizing I forgive you H&M," Jenna said.

Hudson smiled at the nickname she gave him in the eighth grade, "Thank you Jenster."

The two continued to converse with each other falling back into their friendship like before as their drinks and Hudson's appetizer came to the table.

"So, how's filming going?" Hudson asked and took a bite of a sausage roll.

Jenna sighed, her shoulders dropping, "It's...hectic to say the least. The movie is going to be bigger I can feel it. The pressure is intense and truthfully I'm terrified. Especially with my...situation making things a lot more complicated." She said as she looked down at her growing belly.

Hudson nodded sympathetically at her. He knew the intense pressure the industry could provide since he was associated with it his entire life. But he hoped that Jenna wouldn't fall under the pressure again and resort back to the person she was a couple of years ago. He hoped that the baby and he hated to admit it also, you, wouldn't let her fall victim to it again.

He can only hope.

🤰🏻🩵

The Bronx, New York

10:30 am (EDT)

You woke up extremely annoyed at the sound of someone banging on your door harshly. You sucked your teeth and got up from your bed and harshly threw your door open. You didn't even get a word before the person bum-rushed into your apartment. You looked to see who it was and saw it was Davis looking conflicted.

"Yo, why the fuck are you banging on my door like that D? It's 10:30 in the fucking morning" You spit at your best friend.

Davis ignored what you said and continued pacing back and forth deep in thought.

"Yo, you good kid? What's going on? Why you acting like that?" You questioned Davis, genuinely concerned about his behavior.

"I just got word that Slim is being released from Rikers early," Davis said as he rubbed his face, and sat down on your couch.

You gave Davis a confused look as you sat down beside him, "Well that's good. I missed that nigga....don't you?"

Davis looked at you with conflicted eyes, "Y-Y-Yeah of course. I'm just worried about how he going to handle the world now. All these new rules, new phones and apps, and shit like that."

"Understandable but that's why he got us. We can help him to adjust to life now. Maybe, we can introduce him to Twitch and shit so he can get his money up" You nodded.

Davis nodded, "Yeah maybe."

You give your best friend a confused look but before you can question it further, your phone goes off. You walk into your room and grab it off your nightstand. It was an unknown number, now usually you don't answer unknown numbers but something told you to answer this one.

"Hello?" You answered.

"Hi Jahaziel, my name is Rachelle Towns and I'm the executive producer for the Performer Passion competition. I was wondering if you had a moment of your time?" Rachelle asked you.

Your eyes widen in shock but you compose yourself, "Yes I do have a moment."

"Awesome, I was calling to let you know that you have officially moved on to Round Two of the Performer Passion competition" Rachelle informed you.

You let out a shocked laugh, "Nah you fucking me with. You not fucking with me right?"

Rachelle chucked, "No Ms. Jimenez I'm sure I'm not fucking with you. Congratulations, the judges and I loved your performance. I have sent you an email detailing the next instructions I just wanted to tell you verbally also about your accomplishment. Once again, congratulations on advancing to the next round."

With that, she hung up the phone, and as soon as she did an email came to your phone.

Congratulations on Advancing to the Next Round of the Performer Passion Music Competition

Dear Jahaziel,

I hope this email finds you well I am thrilled to inform you that you have advanced to the next round of the Performer Passion music competition! Your talent and authenticity have truly shone through, and I want to extend my heartfelt congratulations on this well-deserved achievement.

As you move forward in the competition, there are some important next steps that you meet with them and the other contestants face to face tomorrow at 10 am in Manhattan (address provided below). This meeting is crucial as it will provide an opportunity for you to meet other contestants and discuss your performance and plans for the competition moving forward.

Once again, congratulations on your advancement in the competition. I have every confidence that you will continue to impress the judges and showcase your talent.

Best Regards,

Rachelle Towns

"Yo D! I made it to the next round of the competition" You bounced excitedly back into your living room to find your best friend nowhere to be found.

The smile on your face was completely wiped away and replaced with a confused look, "What the fuck."

You shook off Davis' weird behavior and let the excitement of the news seep back into your body. You go back into your phone and go to your contacts. You see Jenna's contact name and click on it.

The phone rings and rings and rings and rings before it goes to her automated voicemail. You pouted but then remembered that she may be filming something right now and can't be by her phone. You'll try her again later on.

You then scroll and click on your mother's contact. The same thing happens with your mother. Now you feel some type of way cause why no one is answering your calls.

@bronxshiesty: i must be chopped fucking liver cuz why ain't NOBODY ANSWERING MY FUCKING PHONE CALLS

@highondatgreen: @bronxshiesty ill answer your phone call daddy

@bronxshiesty: @highondatgreen

@bronxshiesty: oop false alarm my mommy called me back

"What you need Jahaziel, you know I'm at work" Delyse sighed as the connection was delayed due to the hospital's weak wifi.

"I made it to the next round of the competition" You excitedly spoke as a wide smile appeared.

There was silence on the other end for a few moments before a loud shout came through the phone, "YES! THANK YOU JESUS! I'm so proud of you my baby child so so proud!"

"Thank you, Ma! I honestly didn't think I'd make it to the next round. I wasn't feeling confident about the song" You confessed.

"Why not? It's a good song. I keep replaying it at work for my co-workers...airplane on my phone, it can wait til the morning" Delyse whisper-sung and did a little shimmy dance.

You chuckled, "I'm glad you like it. But I just feel like I can do better. I compete with many different people with different voices and talents. I can't be slacking."

"Well if you know what you need to do then go do it. Like you said different voices and talents, now that you're in the next round you need to outshine everyone else" Delyse said.

"Yeah, I just need to figure out a way to do that" You said.

"You'll figure it out, baby child...I have to get back to work. I'll call you when I'm home" Delyse said.

You nodded, "Ight Ma."

The call ended and now you were back in your thoughts. You scrolled through your contacts again and stopped on Jenna's name. You clicked on it and it rang and rung until the voicemail came through again. You sucked your teeth and flopped on your couch. You stared at the ceiling for a second before a smile started growing on your face.

"I fucking made it..." You whispered-chuckled to yourself.

🤰🏻🩵

It was now late in the evening (London time). The sky was dark but the streets were still busy as ever. London reminded Jenna of New York kind of. People laugh and walk through the streets with their friends, partners, or just themselves. Everywhere she turned someone was doing something. But as much as she wanted to relish in London life, she needed to rest for a very long day of shooting tomorrow.

"So what's up with you and Jah? Are yall going to date for the sake of the baby or?" Hudson's question breaks Jenna out of her thoughts.

"Uh...no we're not dating. We mutually agreed to just stay friends with each other and raise our child together" Jenna spoke and continued walking to her room.

"Well that's good at least you guys are coming together and being there for the baby. Honestly, you getting pregnant was not on my bingo card this year" Hudson chuckled.

Jenna chuckled, "It wasn't on mine either...but I'm dealing with the huge surprise like a champ and I'm ready for motherhood, excited for it."

"That's good" Hudson smiled at her. He stops in his tracks when he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulls it out and sees a text message from an unsaved number.

Unsaved Number:

I have a job for you

I'll be waiting at your AirBNB

don't be late

Today was going so good...

a/n: hey….its almost been a year since I last updated this book and for starters…i apologize life has been lifeing for me this past six months. now its not guaranteed that im going to be posting regularly like before because my job be having me tired and depressed lmaoo. But ill do my best to update within a reasonable time frame.

taglist: @grandpatrolnut @raven-ss @fanboy7794 @morganismspam23 @cinffy23 @darklron @cheesybacon1 @octavias-next-meat-bite @playboysaleen @niqmandu @zaclewiss @yescruzzzzzzz @silentfor @gemz5 @alwaysdangerouschild @onceblinkarmyandmore @melonfruit442 @zataracloud @nepobaby08 @jennasslut @rimaybank @jaewu @j3nc0re @fillthwvoid

[neiptune]

all eyes on you my magician

c/w: 8.4k wc, the secret history au, incest, recreational drug use (weed), dubcon, vaginal fingering, intoxication, reader is drugged against her will, masturbation, penetration, mentions of blood & murder, dark academia setting, gojo and suguru and shoko and utahime and kento and yu are all snob assholes, I just had so much fun with this and sincerely hope you enjoy!

PART 1

“I’m telling you, I’m gonna be right back!”

“And I’m telling you, you’re gonna get struck by fucking lightning!”

Hina rolls her eyes at you, best roommate she’s ever had and yet always so dreadfully dramatic.

“You’re very welcome to stay here and starve to death but if I don’t eat something within the next five minutes, it’s gonna get ugly”

You pucker your lips, equal parts annoyed and worried as you watch her put on that ridiculous yellow raincoat, always too bright for a campus so dull. She is exactly like that, too: peculiar, bubbly energy at complete odds with the majority of the snotty students filling the grim pile of dark stones that makes your school. You’ve always felt some sort of protective affection for her, one that expands in your chest especially as she’s about to run through campus in the middle of a raging storm, alone.

“Wait up” you grumble and attempt to get up from your messy bed.

“Nuh-uh” Hina keeps you down with a friendly push of small hands on your shoulders, eyes narrowing “you have to finish that essay, I’ll bring you a sandwich or something”

“Damn, I’m working hard for the both of us and all I get is a sandwich?” you playfully throw an extra pencil at her, she effectively dodges it with a light chuckle.

“I love that you know it’s gonna become our essay” by now, the mischievous glint in her eyes elicits nothing but a fond albeit resigned scoff.

And yet you’re still not entirely convinced as you wave goodbye, a don’t get too close to the pond! yelled a moment after the door shuts behind her, exasperated laughter already fading in the distance, echoing across the empty hallway.

With a sigh, you get more comfortable against the soft pillows and sink a little deeper in your bed, the heat of the laptop balanced on your legs enough to keep you from shivering as the rain carries its merciless pitter-patter on the windows, the wind blowing hard enough to slam the thinner branches of the elm, most ancient resident of your dorm, against the glass.

The influence of the classics on english literature is not a hard theme to tackle and you get rapidly absorbed by the topics you have messily categorized in order of succession on your notes: among the main points you care to underline, is the fact that neither is superior to the other. There’s a sharp distinguo you trace between the concepts of originality and novelty, an entire paragraph dedicated to expressing the idea that the creative activity of a writer shouldn’t be adversely affected by the interest they take in classical literature. Right as you delve into the specific examples you’ve chosen to discuss contemporary tendencies and estimate the influece of Latin and Greek upon modern writers, your fingers come to a halt.

Originality, novelty. Unraveling the concepts takes you back to that late afternoon in the quiet library, the ominous curve of an unfamiliar smirk teasing your peripheral, saccharine pitch asking you to settle an argument that was never serious enough to require an outside opinion to begin with.

You’ve met Satoru’s unsettling eyes more than once after that afternoon, they seemed to follow you whenever you happened to walk past his group or enter a room they were in. You hate that you can now anticipate the way he tilts his head, lazily throws one leg on top of the other, ankle resting on knee. You hate that Suguru now talks to you, says hello and good afternoon and wishes you luck on your classes.

You still can’t quite believe Yu, the way he’d casually sat between you and Hina on a Sunday morning when the lukewarm sun served as a break from the usual, gloomy winter days. He was all friendly smiles and relaxed chatter, easily endearing himself to Hina and winning her sympathies. You stayed frozen in utter disbelief until he naturally pulled you into the conversation as if you were one of his oldest friends, sweet giggles outlining the story of how you had brilliantly shared your valuable opinion with them.

None of your attempts at explaining the stupid exchange were taken into consideration, Hina’s big eyes sparkling with each detail Yu unraveled, from Utahime’s comical frown to Suguru’s sincere admiration. He fondly downplayed your skepticism and proceeded to stay for the entire study session, leaving you to mouth a shut up after the other in response to Hina’s exaggerated mimics all the while he immersed himself in one of those thick books they always make a show of carrying around.

It’s disturbing, the feeling of part of that unfortunate afternoon still lingering, sticking to you in a way you don’t know how to escape.

The Anglo-Saxons and their interest in Cato, Orosius, Pliny the Elder. The modern period with its shift of emphasis upon Catullus, Lucretius, Terence and his plays. The entire, separate history of the interest in Ovid, the consequent imitations stemming throughout the fifteenth century only to escalate into close to total neglect during the nineteenth and twentieth. Even as you focus on your essay once more, the unnerving feeling persists in your gut.

You conclude the first draft of the paper with some statement about how classical lore, mythology and style hover above the most representative writers of the elizabethan literature, the most original of all periods of english literature in its entirety.

A light grumble of your stomach demands you glance at the time and you sigh upon noticing it’s already been more than an hour. What the hell is she even doing? The vegan options suck, she may as well eat grass in the park. Unless they’re serving those falafel hummus salad wraps with spicy potato and feta, now that’s something you’d walk in a storm for.

An entire moment is spent considering putting a coat on and marching all the way to the dining hall, muddy campus and everything, but then a whooshing sound is followed by a creaking in your roof and the best you can do is send a mildly annoyed text.

She texts back ten minutes later, the message short and oddly enough void of her usual emojis, informing that the she’s run into her friend Yuki and so she’s most probably going to be late. Well, that’s ideal. As much as you love having the room all to yourself, you really are hungry and the only edible thing within a ten foot radius is a bag of tortilla chips.

The second you reach over to your laptop with the intention of continuing the show you had started watching together (serves her right for leaving you to starve to death) the room turns purple for a second and before the loud crack of the thunder can even hit, the already dim light of the lamp flickers, unsteady.

“Don’t you dare!” you glare at it as if it was a person. It certainly does seem to listen.

Gotta love old buildings with even older electric utility infrastructures.

You send another text for good measure, the possibility of suddenly finding yourself in the dark, alone, enough to induce a reasonable amount of anxiety.

hurry tf up, hina

Your screen lights up a second later, eerily quick. Again, odd. Doesn’t she always try to tuck her phone away while eating?

sorry baby, it’s raining too much

I think we’re trapped here for the next hour lol

You frown. Baby?

Something doesn’t sit quite right with the way she’s replying, maybe she’s given her phone to Yuki after grumbling about how you keep interrupting her meal. Still, you take your chances and send another text.

you okay?

Seen, instantly. Yet she doesn’t type back. Ugh, definitely Yuki taking over: she’s always been the number one supporter of the stupid no phones at the table rule, her glare over waffles and tea as you dared to check your social media over breakfast still engraved in your mind.

As you grumpily stare at the screen for a few more seconds, several things happen at the same time: the light coming from the lamp above your head flickers again, a branch slams against the window and your heart drops to your stomach at the three short but certainy energetic knocks on the door.

The entire evening has been so weirdly quiet, you honestly wouldn’t have guessed somebody else was in the building. Is there someone at the door or did your mind play a trick on you? It must’ve been the rumble of the thunder bouncing on the walls, the loud whistle of the wind. But then they knock again, with the same exact rhythm, and for some silly reason goosebumps blossom on your forearms because you simply know that, even as you tentatively call her name, it’s not Hina.

Shoko peeks inside, the white stick of what you can only guess is a lollipop hanging from her lips. It’s the first time you see her alone, without her friends or her sister. It’s also the first time she speaks to you and it’s surprising, really, how calm and gentle her pitch is.

“Hey, are you alone?” her eyes lazily scan the room, the question sounding every bit as unnecessary as one could guess.

“Yeah” you wonder why you reply in the most natural way, not a second spent wondering why the hell she’s there and how she knows which one’s your room.  

“I really don’t like storms” she tilts her head to the side a little, gaze blankly darting to the window and then intently locked to yours “you should join us”

Taken aback, you open your mouth and close it a number of times.

“Pardon?”

Shoko waltzes into the room, graceful as ever in her school uniform. As opposed to you, she’s wearing dark tights and your stare lingers on her thin legs a moment too long before travelling to her features again.

“They’re having another one of their arguments, it gets so boring. You’re lonely too, please join us”

There are so many questions running after each other in your brain, you’re not even sure which one to prioritize. Why would she ever think you’d…?

“No, thank you” it may have taken a minute but you finally snap out of it (whatever it is) and clear your throat, uncomfortable.

Shoko bites back a smile, enhanced. She can smell the uncertainty, the uneasiness. And can barely wait for when it will turn into panic. Doesn’t it always?

“You really must dislike us” she locks her hands behind her back and casually shifts her weight from one foot to the other “have we ever given you a reason to? I know Satoru can be a jerk but he’s harmless, really”

She sees the anxiety that flashes over your features and wonders what it would feel like to sink her teeth into it. It’s infuriating, how Suguru’s always right. She really was the best one to be sent to get you: not Kento, not anyone else.

“I don’t— it’s not that” you stutter adorably “we don’t really know each other, it’d be weird to…”

“It wouldn’t. We’re all students at the same school, aren’t we?” she offers a sweet smile and extends a hand “come. I won’t let them bother you, pinky promise”

You watch her shift the position of the lollipop in her mouth with a gentle sweep of the tongue, securing it inside her other cheek.

Sure, you could insist on staying in your room, waiting for your friend: she’d probably take the hint and leave. But this is weird. Shoko showing up unannounced, with no reasonable motive, insisting you take part in… what, exactly? One of the bizarre evening gatherings everyone keeps gossiping about?

You don’t care if they realize you don’t like them. Ever the keen observants, they probably already know anyway. But you’ll be damned if you allow some elitist assholes to think you’re intimidated, or worse, scared of their bullshit haughtiness. You talked to them once, you owned it, you can do it again and walk away the second things get too weird. Or Hina actually fucking decides to come back.

Shoko smiles softly when you rise from your bed and take her hand. She thinks boldness suits you.

You quickly type another text to your roommate, certain she’ll sense the annoyed tone at last and hopeful she’ll decide to get you out of the absurd situation.

I need you to come back, preferably now

it’s just rain get back here and take a shower or something

also bring be the goddamn sandwich, I’m starving

Seen. Instantly, right as you sent them. What the hell, is she deliberately ignoring you? Did Yuki forget to lock the stupid phone before putting it away?

since you’re clearly reading these, I’ll have you know I’m currently being kidnapped by the classics gang

Seen.

come look for me asap

Seen.

“Fuck’s sake” you grumble under your breath and Shoko turns to look at you from over her shoulder, gaze soft in the dim light of the hallway. For a fleeting second, you think that purple eyeshadow would look horrible on anyone else but she kinda pulls it off.

“Sorry, my friend hasn’t been replying to my texts” you clear your throat once more.

“I’m sure she will, eventually” she utters, tone flat. Lightning flashes violet on her chestnut hair and your stomach tightens a little, clammy palm nothing but a forlorn hope it will feel nasty enough for her to let go. Shoko tightens her grip on your hand, thumb lazily grazing over the top of it and in between your knuckles.

“How come you don’t like storms?” maybe if you keep talking, the bullshit situation will feel more normal. Maybe the walk in the stupid hallway won’t be as infinite.

Shoko giggles, the mere thought of how your features would morph into a mask of pure horror has warmth pooling between her thighs. God, why do the guys always get to have all the fun?

Storms make it difficult to hear them scream.

“Never been a big fan” her pitch is suddenly lighter, almost jolly “they make everything look so gloomy, don’t you think?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do” you don’t intend for it to be a jab but her chuckle makes heat crawl from the base to your throat up to the roots of your hair anyway. 

Of course their common room is the most magnificent of the building, somber and exclusive and, naturally, conveniently connected to their private rooms. The sanguine hues coming from the stone fireplace dance across the dark, wooden furniture and make the carvings of the coffee table grow in depth. There are two upholstered sofas and two armchairs surrounding it as velvet constellations painted in rich burgundy, the oil lamps serving as a convenient counteragent for musty electric utility infrastructures.

There’s a bookcase by the door, built in what looks like African blackwood. It’s filled with vintage hardbacks, leatherbound volumes and what you wouldn’t have a hard time imagining are expensive first editions. Some of them are turned around, piled up and showcasing the paper side, alternated with silver candleholders and white Carrara marble bust sculptures. You recognize Marcus Aurelius and a representation of Canova’s Venus and Adonis.

A peculiar, earthy scent wafts through the stale air of the sweltering room: notes of lemongrass, pine and wood.

“Ah, we have a guest” Suguru’s line sounds rehearsed, void of actual surprise, and you don’t like it one bit.

He’s sitting on the sofa, an empty spot left between him and Satoru, whose grotesque cerulean gaze bores into yours as he brings a grape cluster to his mouth. The coffee table is covered in trays and plates of food: an abundance of fruit, prosciutto wrapped figs, smoked oysters accompanied with champagne beurre blanc, salted chocolate and caramel tarts, a basket filled with an assortment of breads. What looks like an exceptionally expensive replica of a traditional lagynos, the hellenistic wine jug favored by the ancient Greeks, dominates the center of the table and elegant wine goblets in sterling silver accentuate the unusual choice of flowers embellishing the surface: lycoris radiata, or red spider lilies.

“We do” Shoko lets go of your hand at last and you instinctively flex your fingers. Inexplicably, she seems to notice because she turns to look at you with an unreadable expression, hand rising to secure part of your hair behind your ear “I promised you’d behave” the little wink is not intimate at all, like a secret whispered to your ear only for everyone else to hear.

“Don’t we always?” Kento’s bored tone draws your attention and you’re finally able to tear your eyes away from the odd energy tying your gaze to the magnetic figures perched on the sofa.

Nanami and Yu are sitting on the opposite divan, the latter waving at you with a sweet smile that has his eyes turn into little half-moons that swallow his pupils. Pale, lithe fingers are gracefully holding a joint that is held to his friend’s lips.

“Want some?” Shoko’s syrupy voice startles you, the question almost whispered against the shell of your ear as she passes you by to take the seat her sister’s offering.

How are they allowed to do this in the first place? Sure, they’re sickeningly favored but smoking weed in a dorm? Not even attempting to keep the scent from seeping out into the hallway? What would it take for them to get some semblance of an actual reprimand, a corpse hid in a closet?

“No, thanks” you attempt to take the last remaining empty armchair but Suguru pats the spot between him and his best friend, cracking a soft smile and tossing a casual comment about how famished you must be.

“No reasonable person would venture outside in this weather and it’s way past dinner time” he indicates the plethora of options scattered on the large coffee table with the gentle wave of a hand “please, sit with us. I’d like to benefit from your views once more”

Against your better judgement, Utahime’s skeptical scoff prompts you to accept the invitation. Satoru scoots away ever so slightly, perhaps to give you enough room to feel comfortable. And yet the comfort doesn’t come, you can’t relax your shoulders as you sink into the soft velvet. For a second, you even wonder if it’s a good idea to eat anything they’re offering.

“Thank you” you cautiously accept a fig because at this point your stomach is one step away from absorbing itself “uh— Ieiri mentioned you had another discussion going on?”

Her crystalline laugh pierces the air and you’re not surprised to find Utahime sitting on her lap, back flush against her older sister’s chest, glaring at you like a guard dog.

“Please, just call me Shoko” she peers at you from behind Utahime’s shoulder. Her arms easily envelop her sister’s smaller frame, hands conveniently placed on her lap as thin fingers work to pack dark weed into the thin rolling paper.

Shoko. You’re tempeted to articulate it right away, to taste the way it’d feel on your tongue.

“We are” Suguru’s gaze lingers a moment too long on your mouth, the way it sinks into the red, purplish flesh of the fruit “we were analyzing Ovid’s metamorphoses and Kento was really interested in hearing your thoughts”

You search for his gaze but he’s thrown his head back, legs parted in what’s perhaps the most relaxed pose you’ve ever seen him indulge in. Yu has propped himself up on one elbow against the backrest of the sofa, cheek squished by his fist as pink lips close around what’s left of the joint.

“Our professor wants us to point out why their repetitiveness is unimportant” he smiles, words slightly dragged. 

“I mean, myths are not sacred stories and mutability is not sacrilege” the sweet taste of the fig melts in the back of your throat right as Satoru’s eyes travel back to you once more, it takes everything in your not to turn your head and challenge his stare “they’re still relevant because there’s still vibrancy to them. Stories were meant to be mutable, Ovid was never supposed to preserve canonical versions that had already been retelled thousands of times”

Geto hums, the corner of his lips already curving upwards. Such a pretty thing, with a pretty mind too.

“What did you like the most about them?” the question vibrates with genuine interest and you pick another fig as you dwell over it.

The stories, the narrative techniques, all the varied tones, make the metamorphoses one of your favorite Latin poems. You love that they’re a celebration of nature and, at the same time, a raw representation of the fundamental uncertainty of all things human. Love is kept  as a recurring theme and gods are only portrayed as allegories for forces and passions that guide the human decision making process.

“I think his mocking attitude is fun” you attempt a smile “it’s just… such a hilarious, epic, tragic opus. Whatever Ovid writes keeps its sheer beauty even in the darkest of lines and, god, does he have some of them”

Satoru huffs a small laugh out of his nose and this time you do look at him. He’s gorgeous, could easily become the Narcissus of any Echo, the nymph that in the myth falls desperately in love with him only to be rejected, scorned and humiliated.

Oh marvellous boy, I loved you in vain, farewell.

Would his body fade, his bones turn to stone? Would those eyes look at something other than his own divine reflection?

“Tongues being wrenched out, humans barking out their sorrows, women turned into mute creatures by envious gods. Yet you see beauty in them” he’s not mocking you, it’s the most serious you’ve ever heard him sound. The challenge he offers is void of sarcasm or skepticism, it sounds more like… a kind observation.

“As humans, we’re imperfect” although this may not exactly apply to you “we’re blinded by lust, passion, greed, jealousy. Just as the tide goes out only to go in again, we too drift and change in shape and are left witnessing each other’s ever shifting existence. Don’t you think he portrays the concept wonderfully?”

You’re not sure why you’re hoping for a decent exchange of views. Maybe you want to take a peek into their world, a real one, because there must be something other than the unnecessary travesty they carry around, something behind all that self-righteous bullshit. You want to know who they are, what they actually think, if something really does make them special. You don’t care about impressing them, you just want to understand.

But then Satoru’s lips curl into a smug smirk you’re all too familiar with, broad and spine-tingling. His pupils are dilated, swimming in the depths of his impossibly blue eyes as the tip of his tongue traces his upper lip in a pink flash.

“Nec perit in toto quicquam, mihi credite, mundo, sed variat faciemque novat” he articulates the words slowly, savoring each syllable and basking in the way your shoulders stiffen once more.

“What we call birth is but an incipient change from a prior state” Suguru chimes in delicately and when you turn to him you get the impression that he’s sitting closer than he was “while death is but cessation of a former state” he’s offering you a cup, filled with wine to the brim.

“Ah, no, thank you” you attempt a smile. Foxy eyes make it impossible to discern the size of his pupils but something tells you, even when high, he’d be able to remain perfectly lucid.

“I insist” he tilts his head to the side a little “our professor gave us the recipe, it’s our very own ambrosia”

You’re hesitant when you reach for the cup, the one he’s been clearly drinking from. But then again, maybe some liquid courage wouldn’t hurt while facing what’s your strangest evening to date.

The first sip burns in your throat and explodes in your chest, flush rising from your neck to your cheeks. It’s pleasant, most probably sweetened with honey and infused with spices you can’t quite pinpoint.

“Good girl” Satoru’s chuckle is close but somehow muffled. You take another good sip from the cup under Suguru’s expectant gaze and give it back, he thanks you with a smile.

It doesn’t take but a couple minutes spent discussing your favorite myths from the metamorphoses, Kento and Utahime having a lazy debate over Pyramus and Thisbe, for everything to start to feel kinda blurred around the edges, your head dizzy as if you’ve walked into some sort of misty haze. You can see Shoko’s mouth move and guess the sound of her laugh when she looks at you but receives no response, you can hear Suguru’s voice asking if you feel okay, but you’re floating underwater and your body suddenly feels so unbearably hot.

“I’m fine” you murmur and someone from across the room laughs. Is it Yu?

“You’re more than fine” Satoru’s hand ghosts over your bare knee for a moment, one digit starting to lazily trace the skin all the way up to the hem of your skirt “look at you. Our very own Diana” your eyelids feel heavy when you look at him, smile glistening even in the dim light of the room as thunder rumbles in the distance.

“So furious that we’ve seen her, she’d turn us all into deers and watch us getting mauled by a band of hounds if she could” his eyebrows raise to mimick your surprised expression when you open your mouth to protest.

“Deprendi miserum est” Shoko's playful pitch makes someone, perhaps Suguru, laugh condescendingly.

“You look nothing like Actaeon” is all you manage to let out and he laughs sweetly, hand reaching out to gently cradle your cheek, thumb tenderly grazing the portion of skin underneath your eye.

“What do I look like?”

What, not who.

Something in a corner far away of your mind is ringing as his thumb travels down to skim over your bottom lip, your mouth parts on its own accord and he gently pushes the digit between your lips.

You suck on it and it feels like the most natural thing on earth: it’s flattering that a being so ethereal would grant you such attentiveness, it’s only fair you return his fondness with equal generosity. He could ask for anything and you’d do everything in your power to satisfy him. Isn’t that why you’re here for?

“Tell me” Satoru’s pitch sounds accomodating but Suguru can barely contain a scoff at the actual impatience simmering beneath the surface.

His thumb wetly pops out of your mouth and you attempt to blink away part of your stupor, mind dangerously decelerated as you struggle to remember the answer you should be chasing.

But then he tilts his head to the side and offers another smile, a bolt of lightning exploding behind the tall window on the other side of the room. It might’ve as well struck you because you feel on fire, quite literally set ablaze right as another clap of thunder dissipates part of the fog flooding your head.

“A god” you murmur, equal parts fascinated and daunted beneath that stare.

He hums, pupils somehow blown wider in darkened celestial depths as he gently reaches over to guide you toward him. You’re clumsy as you attempt to carefully balance yourself atop his lap, head spinning even if big yet gentle hands patiently support your graceless movements.

Except he’s not being accomodating, he’s leading. You’re moving pliably, responding to the simplest of inputs with such submissiveness Gojo’s practically stiff in his pants already.

Lips are gentle and surprisingly soft as they first press to the column of your throat, they trace your skin while his broad hands keep you in place, fingers not even having to sink into the fat of your thighs to make sure you don’t move. His kisses are wet by the time he mouths his way up to and along your jaw, stopping mere inches away from your lips, reveling in the way your chest rises erratically underneath the pressure of your heavy breathing. Darker petals are already blossoming on your throat, skin still stinging in the spots he has sucked, bitten and then licked better.

“So worship me” he coos, a sudden squeeze of your hips prompting you to inch forward.

Your kiss is tentative, still asking for a permission you’re not sure you’ve been granted, obvlivious to the fact that you never needed one. You feel rough fingers cradling the back of your head to tilt your face and demand you kiss him deeper: still slow and attentive but more courageous, you comply and the sweet taste of wine melts on both your tongues, his rendered slightly bitter from the weed.

It’s addictive and exhilarating and when you pull back he doesn’t give you the chance to catch your breath because he chases you, an annoyed “not yet” breathed against your mouth, lidded eyes falling on the string of spit connecting your lips right before kissing you again. One of his hands slips underneath the hem of your skirt and strokes the soft skin of your thigh with intent, up and down, certainly distracting but not enough to convince you to break away from a kiss turned greedy, insatiable. Your hands travel from the back of his neck to his broad shoulders, pressing lightly against them to signal the lack of oxygen making you even more dizzy. Gojo would smirk if his tongue wasn’t buried so deep down your throat, the hand still holding your hip guiding your body to grind against his own while you let out soft mewls he keeps swallowing, a satisfied groan leaving his chest at last when you comply so easily. So obediently.

He allows you to draw back but not before pinching your bottom lip between his teeth, the sting so painful it makes you whine.

“So pretty” he says breathlessly, then inches forward once more and lets his tongue carefully trace your swollen lip to collect the blood “almost makin’ me want to keep you”

“Don’t be… ridiculous—” Utahime’s voice comes out faint from behind you, soon breaking into a muffled moan. But when you attempt to turn around, Gojo harshly grabs you by the jaw and painfully sinks his fingers into your cheeks.

“Eyes on me” the command is stern, makes a shiver run down your spine. The hand underneath your skirt lightly pinches your inner thigh, it hurts but not in the way you’d expect and you find yourself rolling your hips once more, in a silly attempt to get closer to that warmth. His smile is clement as the tips of his fingers gently run over the fabric of your cotton panties, it only grows in size and brightness when he finds the material already damp.

“Oh, you poor thing” he purrs right as he presses long fingers a little harder against your cunt, the softest of gasps promptly silenced by his lips grazing yours and then gently murmuring “see? Isn’t this nice? Did you really need to act all high and mighty after all?”

You tremble pathetically while he keeps rubbing you back and forth, slowly but applying just enough pressure for your heart to pick up its pace and your stomach to contort in all too familiar knots.

“Please…” you breathe out. It takes everything in you not to reach in between your own legs and grab his wrist to get some relief.

“Please what, pretty thing?” his thumb casually swipes at your clit and this time he lets you whimper for everyone to hear, the way you’re heaving and the feeling of your nails sinking into his shoulders going straight to his painfully hard cock.

“He can’t help you if you don’t tell him what you need” you can hardly recognize Kento’s voice in your dazed state, it still carries its usual, unfazed pitch but there’s something new vibrating to it. Something Yu’s low chuckle and the groan that follows seem to confirm.

“Touch me” you sink your teeth into your bottom lip at the feeling of fresh arousal soaking your underwear under the pressure of his fingers, the lazy rubs his thumb teases your bud with “fuck, Gojo, just—” you damn near let out a sob when the warmth of his hand is abruptly taken from you, hole pathetically fluttering around nothing at all. Hips buck in protest and he chuckles at your impatience, savoring every last drop of your desperation. It’s his favorite part.

“Ask nicely” the tip of his nose grazes your cheek before he lays a soft kiss on it “and say my name right”

“Satoru” you whine, every single nerve ending of your body catching fire at the anticipation wrecking you from the inside “please, please, just touch me”

There’s no time and you don’t currently have the mental capacity to take a second, acknowledge how that name feels when spelled out loud for the first time. You can’t discern the taste between your teeth because your underwear is moved out of the way, safely pushed to the side and your mind goes blank when he finally touches your bare, feverish skin. Satoru doesn’t cast his eyes away from you as his lithe fingers rub you back and forth some more, collect part of the slick that trickles out of you like a syrup so sweet. They tease the opening of your cunt right before a finger carefully dips inside: he’s barely holding back a groan when you instantly clamp down around it, wet and tight and so warm.

He thrusts slowly, pushing up into you with exasperating languidness, so much that you have to roll your hips with a strangled moan to keep the fire in your gut ignited.

“Stop being an asshole” Suguru’s voice is so close and yet seems to reach your ears from far away.

“Yeah, Toru, hurry up” you barely register Shoko’s mocking words, the light giggle that follows “let’s see who can make them come first”

Gojo smirks, one hand rubbing reassuring circles into your hip as he adds another finger and starts moving in and out faster, digits skillfully curled and thumb pressing to your clit once more.

“That’s not very fair, Shoko. I don’t know this one as well as you know your sister” and yet you cry out once more, legs tightening around his hips the deeper he pushes his fingers in. The rhythm is relentless, the squelching sounds filling the room obscene. You’re too lightheaded to realize they’re not coming just from you.

“Quid est rei? Let me hear you, pretty” he presses another kiss to your jaw and angles his wrist, curled fingers roughly dragging in and out as they continuously stretch you open and batter a specific spot over and over again, until you can’t hold back a vocal, desperate moan. You feel so full and yet impatient for more, for that boiling wire in your stomach to finally snap.

He gazes at her lips, and knows that gazing is not enough. He marvels at her fingers, her hands, her wrists, her arms. And what he does not see he thinks is better.

Satoru starts trailing kisses over the skin of your throat, he seems to have already memorized where to suck to make your pulse tap faster against his mouth. You’re so human, so fragile, so desperate for him. Would it be so wrong to keep you? You wouldn’t look nearly as pretty as the last one anyway, not covered in all that blood and with that cute little mouth frozen in a forever scream. A little inebriation is all it takes to instill some sense of devotion into that charming, opinionated brain of yours. Just a few sips of a special nectar to have you making a mess on his crooked fingers, moan after moan springing from your shameless throat as sticky arousal dribbles down his fingers and between his knuckles.

“What d’you say you help me out, angel?” he’s leaking in his own underwear by the time his teeth sink into the tender skin of your neck and his movements nearly come to a halt, making you whine in protest. Satoru’s smile is feral when it meets your scowl. “C’mon, don’t you want to please me?” his thumb presses on your clit and gives it a few rough rubs, the muscles of your thighs twitching in response.

“Yes, yes” you clumsily reach for his crotch, give it a few messy strokes before he groans right into your mouth and grips your wrist. He presses your hand against himself for a moment, hips rubbing against your palm, clarity of his mind threatening to abandon him when you grind down harshly, in desperate search of some friction, and he feels the wetness of your cunt against the back of his hand.

“Let me please you, I’ll do anything” you whine when he forcefully moves your hand away, grip around your wrist bruising as his other hand roughly lifts your skirt over your thighs. Ah, there you are. Satoru unconsciounsly licks his lips at the sight of your swollen clit, slick folds glistening with fresh arousal he’s dying to taste.

But now Suguru can see you too and he knows just how impatient he gets. Fuck.

“Anything?” it’s meant to be a tease but Satoru is just really trying to hold it together, to gain back some sort of lucidity. You’re still languidly grinding against him, making a visible mess of his light brown pants. It takes every ounce of self restraint left in him to stop your movements and start rubbing at your dewy skin again, spreading your lower lips and barely dipping two fingers inside your fluttering hole.

“God— yes, Satoru. Anything, anything” your despair is addicting and he chuckles darkly at your franctic nods, presses his forehead to your cheek as his gaze sets on the gorgeous, glimmering sight underneath him.

“Take what you need, then” Satoru angles his wrist but keeps still, patient “fuck yourself on my fingers and maybe I’ll fill that pretty little pussy up”

He hates that it’s a lie, despises the idea of giving up his chance to effectively ruin you. He’s a man of his word, when the consequences of not abiding by the agreements are too troublesome anyway.

But is he really above giving in to temptation? You called him a god, you’re here to worship him. He’s a perfect being, he’s the one calling the goddamn shots. And so this has to be different, special, a moment belonging only to the two of you. Even as Shoko’s fingers relentlessly stretch her sister open, even as Kento’s dark gaze is fixated on him and Yu is lazily stroking his cock, wrist turning skillfully in comforting circles. Even with Suguru’s eyes not missing a single movement or twitch of lips. Satoru can practically discern the shadow of a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, it infuriates him. 

This moment has to be his. No one else’s.

And so, as you restlessly roll your hips, he starts moving in and out once more, precise and fast. It’s the deepest he’s ever pushed his fingers inside you and the electricity crackling below your stomach leaves space to nothing more than a wordless cry out from lips frozen in muted pleasure.

“Please, please, please” you sob and reach to rub at your clit, eyes rolling back when his thumb presses harshly against your fingers and works the bud in sync with you.  

“Come, pretty girl” the velvet of his voice sends a jolt of pleasure between your thighs, lips pressed to the shell of your ear as his other hand closes around the base of your throat “say my name and cream on my fucking fingers”

Devote yourself to me. Worship me, worship me, worship me.

You reach in between your legs and grab his wrist with feverish desperation, pushing down to bring him closer and fuck yourself on his hand as deep as you can, until he abuses that specific spot inside you over and over and over.

“Satoru” you cry out “close, so close—”

“I know, angel” he half-chuckles because of course he can feel that “let go for me”

You’re sobbing out his name, juices from your soaked cunt drenching both your hands as you rock back and forth, sounds you’re well past feeling embarrassed about drown out the noise of the storm. He doesn’t stop when your jaw goes slack and one of the strongest heats you have ever experienced explodes in your core. Satoru keeps moving and moving and moving even as your hips still and your muscles seize up, raw touch turning so sensitive your nails dig into the flesh of his wrist.

The heavenly sound of your whines still echo in his dazed mind when he slows his movements and ultimately stops, gaze drinking in the bliss embedded in your features before he tilts his chin forward to press a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips. 

“Did so well for me” you smile at the praise, flinching just a little when he slides his soaked fingers out of your warmth and brings them to his mouth. Just a taste, he thinks he should get to have just a taste.

He can only indulge in it for a moment before a hand from beside him uncerimoniously closes around his wrist. Suguru brings the long digits to his mouth and lets his tongue shamelessly swirl around their length as he suckles on them, eyes shutting for a moment at how unexpectedly sweet you taste.

“I still won” this time you don’t attempt to turn around, you don’t care about whatever Shoko is talking about. Not when his eyes see nothing but you, free hand gently stroking your thigh, lips murmuring honeyed praises. You want him and you’re blinded by the wild gratification that comes with him wanting you.

I am dragged along by a strange new force. Desire and reason are pulling in different directions. I see the right way and approve it, but follow the wrong.

Satoru gently takes the hand still nestled between your legs with a light chuckle, genuine amusement softening his perfect features.

“Taste yourself” he guides your drenched fingers to your mouth but not before pressing a kiss to your knuckles “so you don’t forget what I do to you”

You’re still throbbing pathetically as you comply and suck on your own fingers, lick them clean under his attentive gaze, the hardness you’re sitting on causing new warmth to pool into your core.

You’re not hesitant when you kiss him again, desperate to have him taste your essence with every swipe of your tongue. The guttural groan that arises from his throat makes you smile, triumphant. You kiss him, lazy and messy and deep, timidly rock your hips in hopes of further pleasing him. All that you are, all that you’ll ever be, belongs to him now.

“I think that’s enough. Don’t you, Satoru?”

And just like that, he pulls away, harshly stills your movements with a firm grip of his hands. He doesn’t look at you, head falling to rest against your shoulder as he catches his breath.

Looking to your right causes a new wave of dizziness.

Geto is out of focus but smiling kindly at you, eyes that are so different from Satoru's narrowed and curved into little crescents. They bring a different kind of darkness and yet you feel drawn to him all the same, eager to abide by any request. It just feels so good, to be obedient. Whatever you kept worrying about? They mean well, they want to take care of you. It’s the safest you’ve ever felt.

“C’mere” Suguru is sitting close enough to support your poorly coordinated movements as you attempt to detangle yourself from Gojo, who presses a final kiss to your forehead before retracting without complaint.

“Sweet girl” Geto welcomes you onto his lap with the sweetest touch, reassuring hands pushing back some of the hair sticking to your flushed face “sweet, smart girl. How lucky are we that you decided to join us” he coos.

Captivated by his glittering onyx gaze, you give yourself to him just as easily, mind swimming and barely able to register the harsh sound of the rain against the windows. You lean towards him, although there’s really no need because he ever so gently cups your chin to bring you close anyway.

“You’ll do as I say” he whispers, the firmness of his hold preventing you to further lean over “won’t you, sweet thing?” you can’t suppress a gasp when his knuckle forcefully comes against your still sensitive cunt and presses hard against it.

“I—” breath catches in your throat when he suddenly pushes two curled fingers inside just once, in and out, movement harsh and painfully fast.

“Look at me” Suguru tightens his hold on your chin as a warning, tilts his head to the side when your clouded gaze meets his hungry one “you’ll let me split you open on my cock for everyone to see, you’ll take what I give you until you’re sore and raw and then you’ll beg for more”

“Yes” you breathe out and he chuckles at the feeling of your legs clenching around him.

“Yes what, sweetheart?” delicate fingers move over your clit in slow circles, absolutely unbothered by the way you start squirming, unable to control the way your body reacts to a touch so controlled and yet overwhelming.

“Yes, I will— God, I'll let you—”

“I’m a patient man, darling”

You honestly want to cry at the sensation of his fingers barely sinking into your hole, the tips teasing your entrance over and over again as his thumb never loses its rythm over your sore bundle of nerves.

“I'll let you split me open!” you cry out “I’ll let you do anything!”

“You will” his fingers curl and the heat of arousal explodes inside you once more. He finally dips his digits all the way in, up to his knuckles, right as he kisses you. It’s rough and messy, teeth clashing and tongue eagerly licking into your mouth, the tip of his cock leaking copiously at every strangled moan you let out, at every subtle, pitiful roll of your hips against his hand.

Suguru breaks away first and harshly pulls his fingers out but you know better than to complain, too eager for what’s to come.

“Touch yourself” it takes a few seconds to understand that he’s not talking to you, although his gaze has not left your eyes a single moment. 

Satoru’s relieved groan seems so far and yet close, embedded in fresh memories that make your heart beat with the frenzy of a caged rabbit. You don’t dare look in his direction.

“Perhaps we really could keep you, mhm?” Suguru kisses your forehead, eyelids, the tip of your nose and then dips his head to trace your jaw, angles your head to have better access to the already marked skin of your throat. He almost clicks his tongue in annoyance: what a mess, he would’ve made a much more gracious job.

“Not even scared enough to beg yet” Suguru moves his hand down, you catch the faint glisten of the wetness covering lithe fingers as he reaches below the waistband of his pants “and you still managed to arouse him. Isn’t that a first, Satoru?”

Mesmerized by the sight of his cock, you fail to register whatever reply comes from Gojo. Suguru’s fingers easily circle the impressive girth of a length so pretty, curved and with a flared, heavily leaking tip. Is every part of them this beautiful? Will you have the chance to find out more, to learn the edges of every single one of their bodies? Will they all claim you, keep you?

Geto gives himself a few strokes, wrist turning elegantly as his lips welcome a smile so soft.

“Would you want to stay, sweet girl?” his free hand travels down to your hip and gives it two light taps. You barely gather some strength and use the leverage of his shoulders to push yourself up just enough for his cock to find your entrance and teasingly move against it a few times. He barely pushes you open and stays like that, the sound of your ragged, labored breaths music to his ears.

“Yes” you rasp “yes, please let me stay”

“Over my dead body” Utahime’s bitter reproach doesn’t faze you, not as Suguru pushes in some more, your muscles tensing as drools collects in the corners of your parted lips.

“Don’t bother, we have enough of those already” Yu’s low chuckle reaches your ears a moment too late.

Suguru grabs your hips and sits you down on him harshly, in a single, brutal movement that has your mind going static and your entire body burning at the sudden stretch. You’re stuffed so full and he’s so deep, almost like he’s pressing against the inside of your stomach.

His controlled facade alters for a moment, the sensation of your tight walls sucking him in so superbly clouding his senses and better judgement.

“Fuck” you whimper, nails digging into the soft fabric of his perfectly ironed white shirt “Suguru” his name on your lips, the pleasure distorting your fucked out features make his cock twitch inside your pretty pussy. Just perfect, you were made to take him, for him to painfully carve its way inside you.

Dark shadows swim in his intense stare while you struggle to breathe properly as he slowly grinds you against him. Is this a reward or a punishment? You can’t tell anymore.

“Look at how gorgeous you are with my cock spreading you apart” he presses his lips to your forehead once more, it feels like the blessing of a deity.

“Keep me” you whisper, delirious, desperate for him to move or at least allow you to roll your hips some more “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll be so good”

Someone reaches over from behind you to gently comb some hair back from your forehead, now covered in a sheen of sweat. A melodic, familiar chuckle inadvertently sends a shudder down your spine even in your hazed state.

“Let her stay, Suguru” Hina lays a kiss on the top of your head as her chest presses flush against your back “we’ll help you take care of her”

index vocabolorum:

Nec perit in toto quicquam, mihi credite, mundo, sed variat faciemque novat - there’s nothing in the entire universe that perishes, believe me; rather it renews and varies its substance

Deprendi miserum est - it is wretched to be found out

Quid est rei? - what is the matter?

[thekiltongrammarwriter]

A bit of stalker pip for my readers as a thanks for the undoubted patience📚

We know what we are, but not what we may be (sneak peek)

It was a harmless act...at least that's what Pip told herself. Everyday at noon day when Little Kilton's sun would drip bellow the clouds and People would rush out to and from, their busy soulless feet gliding on the dusty cobblestone streets Pip would sit and watch the noon bus. A cup of steaming hot tea in front of her, though she would never drink it. Could only bring herself to wrap her cold aching fingers against the warm rim.

The strangers would clamber of the bus, sobbing snot filled children, grumbling men, whiny teens, all in various amounts. And then you would come in focus. Moving off the bus, stopping with that bright earth shattering smile and paying an extra half pound for charity. You and your bloody red raincoat with a black beret. The first time pip had saw you she swore she looked like a love sick gobsmacked teenager.

You were a delight. With your beautiful features and even more beautiful personality. Pip found herself entranced. It had such been a long while since she had seen something worthy of beauty. You radiated light. The light that had been missing from her for months. Perhaps years.

You always frequented that bus. Took it from Whitfoshire. A coastal town a few miles away. Where the sea shone and on weekends fish shops would be filled to the brim with hardworking families eager for a taste of the majestic sea. Pip had quickly shook her head once she had noticed her gaze hadn't left your form, even as you walked down the pavement, down the rows of shops and autumn leaves. Looking like you belonged here than anywhere else.

Pip could feel a blush adorn her cheeks, turning them into her own personal shade of rouge. She felt sheepish as she stood up from the coffee shop chairs. Her mind felt fuzzy and weighted. Her eyes roaming over your frame, taking in your soft pale hands, the slender shape of your fingers as you pulled the wooden door open to the Book Cellar. The shop that Harry Scythe worked at. Harry scythe whose mother Mary scythe worked alongside Stanley Forbes at the Kilton mail, Mary scythe who on the day of Stanley's funeral had stood on the outskirts of the cemetery holding a sign and shouting—

Pip's breathing choked, a feeling of pain and discomfort filling her veins.

She blinked, a few times to wash away the unsettled tears that threatened to slip past.

Her eyes caught yours through the see through window, you were holding a leather book in your hands, fingers skimming over the leather like a prize.

And pip for a second wished she could be the leather bound book. To be held so tightly and treasured. It was an odd thought, one that made her heart race.

The coffee shop was only a street away. A few strides and she could go in. See you up close. Feel your sparkling bright kind personality. You must have caught her staring, or felt some pair of eyes on you because suddenly your eyes were flitting from the leather bound book in your fingers to the latticed shop window and as soon as your eyes locked with Pip's across the street you smiled.

It was a just a smile. A simple greeting, not even a greeting, a formality at best. Pip convinced herself.

You were British for goodness sake a smile was a cordial expression.

So why did it feel like Pip could finally breathe? Your lips were wide and pink as they lifted, your beret only adding to your allure.

Your eyes seemed to stay on Pip for a moment, your tongue peeking out of your lips like you were analyzing her. Taking her in. But soon your eyes were gone as the person at the till spoke to you, and pip watched as you walked across the wooden bookshop. Following your movements through the window.

And suddenly, before she could stop herself, or reason with her logical mind she was striding across the small English street and into the bookshop. The sound of the bell entering her mind. Echoing through the recesses of her brain.

[adachimoe]

Adachi and Bayside Shakedown / Odoru Daisosasen

On the 12th ep of Persona Stalker Club, Atlus responded to a question about Adachi being familiar with the Moonlight Bridge, which I posted about before.

To recap: Adachi mentions the Moonlight Bridge in P4AU because he used to be stationed in the Iwatodai city center, lived near, and would drive back to HQ over the Moonlight Bridge to imitate a character from a cop show that was popular back in the day.

After, the hosts of PSC talk about the cop show he's imitating being "that" show. They don't name it, but bring up a slide of Adachi wearing his jacket from P4AU that's labelled Odoru Keisatsu?! meaning Dancing Police, but they aren't talking about Adachi dancing lol (I mean, on the other hand, P4D *does* exist).

The "odoru" part makes it clear this is referring to something else.

As Soejima says in the Design Works, this is *not* a classic yellow PVC raincoat, but actually a mods coat. The bit I circled here in pink says mods coat.

Anyway, after showing Adachi in his coat, one of the PSC hosts, Isocchi, talks about Adachi taking off his coat, and hearing him say "You can't close the Moonlight Bridge!" in Madono's voice.

To go back to why they labeled him in his mods coat as Odoru Keisatsu -- the label and Isocchi's quote are references to Odoru Daisosasen, also known in English as Bayside Shakedown.

The specific line she's referencing can be seen here in this clip at 37 seconds where the character Aoshima says, "You can't lockdown the Rainbow Bridge!"

What all does this have to do with Adachi? In Bayside Shakedown, the character of Aoshima is a detective who works on Odaiba (one of the inspirations for Port Island in P3). The Moonlight Bridge in P3 is based on the real life Rainbow Bridge, altho it's in a bit of a different location. Additionally, Aoshima is a detective. He wears a mods coat (but his is green) and a red tie (!) and he also happens to collect model guns. (‾◡◝)

(To my knowledge, Aoshima hasn't killed anyone.)

Btw, I looked up yellow mod coat on Japanese fashion websites and found ones that cost like $600. No wonder Adachi can only afford cabbage...

[keikoyume]

I’m so sorry for not talking for awhile (life hit me like a brick) but I FINALLY listened to sounds of nightmares.

And holy cats do I have thoughts about it…

It does make me wonder- is cici six? I can honestly see it either way…

HELLO FRIEND!!! I’m happy to see you and I hope you’re good!

I’m so happy you got into Sounds Of Nightmares and that it inspires you for LN :DD

I’m not the good person for making assumptions and theories but the idea that Cici is Six got debunked by some people in the fandom, notably my friend @queen0fm0nsterz .

(Excuse my bad english):

From what I can say, the raincoat is just a reference, nothing more. Both Raincoat Girl and Six have the same coat and we know where and when Six got hers. It’d be a bit redundant and narratively odd (in my opinion) that Six (assumed Cici) gets to start in the Nowhere with her coat -> then loses it -> then finds a new one in LN2.

Still my opinion here (and that’s something I already argue for Otto NOT being the Doctor of LN2): Story wise, it doesn’t add anything to Cici or Six’s character to be the same person. It doesn’t connect any big dots or add any lore.

I like imagining Cici got willingly taken by the Ferryman partially because Otto was very clingy to her meanwhile Six is more defined by her need to escape the Nowhere (my headcanons, lol).

Finally, I believe Cici is legitimately dead by now and Otto is just chasing a ghost. It makes his character even darker and the fact he unintentionally helps the Ferryman by sending more kids to the Nowhere gives us a very ironical and tragic ending (just as every LN endings). Having Cici alive would risk to bring an ounce of hope to Otto’s character and I don’t think we’re supposed to root for him since he’s a piece of garbage xD

[peppertaemint]

Let's talk about Taemin and Key of SHINee wearing the Scottish fashion house Charles Jeffrey Loverboy, an openly queer unisex brand. There’s a lot of talk about whether idols know who they are wearing and, when relevant, do they understand the meaning of what they are wearing. We know there are clear examples of artists not understanding what they’re wearing. Indeed, 23-year-old, non-English-speaking Taemin admitted in 2021 that he had no idea the fly of his pants read “Open Here” during View era. Yet, a lot has changed this 2015/16. Taemin’s English is quite proficient. And what about Key, who has studied English since he was a child? I think we can consider understanding the words and understanding the context or broader meaning behind words or, as the case may be, symbols, which can be universal.

Taemin in the Advice album photobook, 2021.

The Charles Jeffrey Loverboy brand is no ordinary brand. It’s a spunky, fun and edgy unisex brand with genuine British flavour. From London Fashion Week's write up:

"Looking back to look forward, the collections re-render historical references as intrinsically modern while paying respect to an ancestral line-up of costumiers, performance artists and queer icons. Jeffrey’s nightlife-influenced thirst for experimentation, and belief in the validity of mistakes, result in a colourful tension between control and chaos.

"LOVERBOY’s roots are fixed in London’s queer nightlife scene, having been born in 2014 as both a fashion label and a cult club night. The LOVERBOY parties, first staged while Jeffrey was studying for his Masters in fashion design at Central St Martins in London, were attended by the city’s up-and-coming artists, performers, musicians, drag queens and poets, many of whom became Jeffrey’s future muses and creative collaborators."

Live performance of Advice, 2021.

The tartan in these looks is known as the loverboy tartan. In the current collection, they have an “odorable” loverboy tartan raincoat with giant floppy bunny ears. I’m too lazy to link it, but do look it up and peruse the punk-meets-whimsy items on the website.

Taemin’s stylist for Advice was Kim Wook. You can read an interview with Kim Wook in translation here. Wook talks about he and Taemin wanting to do something impactful before Taemin entered the military, and they settled on working with silhouettes that are usually seen on female dancers. I could do a whole post on Taemin’s styling for Advice (maybe I will!), but to connect things back to the brand at hand, the flamboyantly unisex Loverboy brand seems to be at home with the goal of Advice’s styling. Advice was Taemin’s way of saying “I will go my own way and trust myself over others,” and I don’t think the androgynous or even gender-fluid looks he presented are a coincidence; Wook’s interview shows that it isn’t. These looks feel like a push forward for Taemin, and he’s been clear in saying Advice was a breakaway from his past. Act I and Act II were leading to this moment.

Taemin has been wearing Charles Jeffery Loverboy upon in return in 2023. I think the most significant choice is the non-binary shirt he wore a fan meeting during Hard era. The t-shirt is a jab at conservatives’ obsession with the love lives and indeed, bathroom usage, of LGBT+, saying, “They’re happy and satisfied. Are you?” There is a also a good-sized, unmistakable non-binary symbol on the shirt. I hadn’t seen this symbol before but it was still easy for me to comprehend. As an artist who is increasingly wearing gender-fluid outfits, it is likely a conscious choice to wear a shirt that supports non-binary rights.

Now, we can’t forget fashion-forward, English king Key in all of this. Key has always had a love and fascination with fashion; we saw in One Fine Day his interaction with a local London fashion brands. He’s a man who knows his fashion houses, so it seems unlikely he wouldn’t know about the Loverboy brand or its ethos as a unisex brand.

Key primarily wore Charles Jeffrey Loverboy accessories for his Gasoline promotions in 2022. The adorable hat with ears is statement wrapped in cuteness, that speaks to the camp motif present in both Key’s body of work and the Loverboy label’s. It’s cute, but not too cute. It’s loud but soft, and the Loverboy stamp is there for all to see. I think that Key embodies what LSF wrote about the Lovery label as “a colourful tension between control and chaos.” Key is never afraid to experiment, and he can go from creating iconic androgynous silhouettes reminiscent of ancient gods and Beyoncé to the retro-camp shown below that almost looks like it could be at home in a Ghostbusters film. Almost.

There are contexts where, like the above, it is more than reasonable to assume that the artists understand what they are wearing and that the choices made are conscious and in some cases made with the goal of the comeback in mind. And there are situations where it’s possible or even confirmed by the artist that they didn’t know what they were wearing or what it meant. I think it can become an obsession for some to want the styling to be conveying a secret code. With the case of Charles Jeffrey Loverboy, there’s no code and it’s not secret. It’s simply known and recognised by those who know, which is enough.

[srcepiksla]

finally posting this zine i made at a trans oriented art workshop thing, its abt identity and like transitional periods.

english translation in alt

(id w english translation under the cut)

[ID:

first image: a zine cover with the title made up of different sized magazine cutout letters, some black and some red, saying "inter-states"; and a subtitle saying "a museum of transition"

second image: first two pages of the zine. the page on the left has vertically aligned text that says "white dot; grey dot; black dot" with appropriately coloured circles next to each line of text. the page on the right has a magazine cutout of a white shirt scribbled over with red pen, the text in the top left says "bloody shirts" and has blood dripping drawn under it.

third image: the middle two pages of the zine. the page on the left has a collage with a photo a person in a yellow raincoat lying face-down surrounded by cartoon-style hands holding microphones, the text under the person says "how do you see the future?". the page on the right has a collage of two women in black and white, one has short hair, a coat and is looking behind her; while the other one has long hair, a tight dress and is holding a gun pointed in the first woman's direction. the title on that page says: "communism" in all caps, and under it are various magazine cutouts saying "is there communism here in the 21st century?", "yugoslavia 2.0", "communism", "renaissance", "old and new: life and the universe", "communism" (again), and "a secret life".

fourth image: the last two pages of the zine. the page on the left features a blue quarter circle of a painting in the left corner; under it two ancient greek female figures lounging, with a question mark next to the one on the left and the female and male symbols added next to the one on the right; in the right corner there is a guy in a suit with his arms crossed and a scribbled on mushroom cloud replacing his head, on the left hand side is a blue cartoonishly drawn woman with something dripping from her mouth and a vacant stare. the text on the page says "artists and muses", "creative solutions", and "kill the original". the page on the right has the text "accepting yourself" and "emotional landscape / here's an emotional landscape", under the text are three cutout figures falling down and in distress, the background is scribbled on with black fineliner and red crayon.

/end of ID.]

[strawberrykisseslia]

Vanessa Shelly x F! reader

this was slightly inspired by White dress by Lana Del Rey :) not really the story of the song but the vibe(?) so yea! :D

TW: none; fluff, first love thing, harmless flirting, slight angst with alternative ending, waitress reader

A/N: this is my first work that I actually post so please be kind 😭 i already wrote ffs before but never posted them; English is not my first language so, sorry if I make any grammar mistakes, i dont bother to correct them+ im dyslexic but I'll try my best <3

have a pleasant reading time!

~~~

As always you were working in your favorite diner as a waitress. It was a pretty calm job so you liked it, not the night shifts though, because it was open 24/0.

In the few past months you noticed that a woman always came every morning and always on the same exact time. You never really talked to her more than taking her order, you were too busy. The woman was a police officer so she was also almost always in a hurry.

Today was different. It was pouring rain outside and there weren't many people in. However, your favorite costumer came though. She was wearing her raincoat and the hood was on her. When she came in she took off the hood and gave you a small smile. "The usual?" Your voice broke the silence. She slightly chuckled and nodded while leaning against the counter. "I think you already memorized it well, no?" You turned around and started to make her coffee. A soft chuckle left your lips. "How couldn't I?" She smiled before crossing her arms. You turned your head back and smiled at her. She extremely gorgeous and attractive, how didn't you notice this before? You did now.

Silence filled the almost empty diner, the only sound was the coffee machine. "I'm Vanessa Shelly, by the way. How about you?" Her voice was also soothing. You turned back and faced her while placing down the coffee, sugar and milk down on the counter before you and her. "Y/N L/N." You looked down and started putting the milk and sugar into the coffee. "I like the sounding of your name. How old are you? You seem pretty young." She tilted her head to the side while looking up and down at you. She noticed that your uniform were different from the other waitress's. Yours were white, it suited you just well. You were beautiful even in your uniform.

"I'm 19." You smiled and slided the coffee towards her and you put away the ingredients. She took a sip of her coffee. "Then I was right. You are still pretty young." You nodded, your sweet smile never leaving your face. "Can I ask how old you are?" You were slightly scared by asking her. She sounded more older than you. "I'm already 30." She chuckled and put the coffee down. You were slightly surprised by her age since she looked a lot younger. You would have guessed she is in her early 20s like you. "You don't seem like in a hurry like the other days." You mentioned. She looked at you pretty confusedly. "You noticed?" She smiled. "Today is a bit more chilling than the others. I only have some job to do during afternoon." You were slightly surprised by that but you were also happy that you at least got the chance to talk with her.

After the little chat you had with her, you had to go back to the other customers because finally people came in so it wasn't all empty anymore. Some time later you notice Vanessa wasn't there anymore. You sighed, feeling down because you didn't have the chance to say bye to her. You hoped she comes tomorrow like always.

~~~

"Baby! Look what I've found!" Your voice filled the house. You were in front of your closet. In your hand there was your old white dress that you wear when you first had your conversation with Vanessa. It was nostalgic to see it again after years of it being at the closets darkest corner.

Vanessa came up to you to your shared bedroom with a small smile. She walked up to your side and noticed the dress in your hand. A wave of nostalgia went through her and a bigger smile went on her lips. "Oh my god! Is that the dress you were working in when we first met? It's been so long since I last seen it!" She laughed lightly. You nodded and smiled. "It's been a while... Should I try it on some time?" You turned around and put the dress down on the bed. Looking down at it, it was still in good conditions, you only needed to wash and it would be better than ever. "I would love to see it on you again." Her voice was filled with nothing other than love. She put her arm around your waist and kissed your forehead. "I love you." You giggled and turned to face her. You put your arms around her neck and gently stroked her hair that was down. Her beautiful green eyes looking into yours and that loving and that gorgeous smile you fell in love with was smiling at you. "I love you too. More than anything."

I only mention it cause it was such a scene and I felt seen.

~ALTERNATIVE ENDING:

"Baby! Look what I've found!" Your voice filled the house. You were in front of your closet. In your hand there was your old white dress that you wear when you first had your conversation with Vanessa. It was nostalgic to see it again after years of it being at the closets darkest corner.

Your girlfriend came in with curiosity to your shared bedroom. "What is it?" She asked. Her voice was much different from Vanessa's. It was a lot harsher but of course, you loved your girlfriend so much but somehow... you still remember to Vanessa's voice and always fantasize about it.

You smiled at her. "Looked what I've found..." You repeated yourself and turned to face her. She came closer to you. "Oh! Was that your old uniform?" She smiled. "It must nostalgic to see it again. Probably it holds many dear memories to you, no?" You nodded and looked down at the dress in your hand.

"Truly. Many dear memories."

'I only mention it cause it was such a scene and I felt seen.'