💝 with jisung 🤭
˖˙ ᰋ ── 💝- 'a sudden kiss to catch the partner off guard'
﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff
﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: manaa <33 i hope you enjoy this as much as i loved writing it <3 thank you sm for requesting!
It wasn’t a rare occurrence to drop by and find your boyfriend creating, brainstorming for another song while strumming his guitar or tapping a pen on the table to the rhythm created in his head. Inspiration struck at the oddest of times, not giving him a break no matter how spent or exhausted he was. And you had to understand – when the creative juices were flowing and he was in the zone, nothing and absolutely nobody mattered until he finished the song.
You find yourself in his room, sitting across from each other on the floor as you’re listening to your boyfriend go on and on about this new idea of his, strumming random chords on his guitar as he struggled to find a note he was satisfied with.
His fluffy brown hair bounces everywhere as he talks, glasses dropping a little too low on the bridge of his nose as he hasn’t raised his head from the instrument since you came in, half an hour ago.
“I’ve had this melody stuck in my head since yesterday but I can’t seem to get it out.” He hums, in hopes you might recognize it or help him somehow. He’s out of luck because truth be told, you stopped listening ten minutes ago.
You loved his creativity and passion but sometimes, like right now, you just needed his love and affection and Jisung has been too busy to notice.
“How about a snack?” You ask, standing up to which your joints thank you joyfully.
Jisung mumbles a quick ‘yes’, granting you his attention for a split second before he’s back to his guitar, hunched over in concentration.
The house is empty except for you two, with Jisung’s roommate, Minho, away on a family trip. You’d never thought you’d miss his loud and over the top laughter but now, when your boyfriend was barely paying you any attention, its absence pains you. You never realized how lively Minho kept things around here – you need to show your appreciation when he returns.
You linger longer than necessary in the kitchen, preparing snacks and drinks for the both of you before shuffling back to Jisung’s room, thankful the door was left ajar with how full your hands have gotten.
The moment you step inside, Jisung’s head snaps up with the most endearing smile stretched across his face, glasses a little bit crooked. “Baby! I got it! Hear me out, please!”
His happiness lights up the room in such a way that almost blinds you, his smile contagious and making it hard to resist the urge to smother him with your love. Jisung has never given you a warning, for if you got one, you might’ve prepared yourself better before falling head over heels in love with him. Though, you can never prepare for these things. Love sneaks up on you the moment it finds an opening, when your guard is down and the last thing you expect is being hit by cupid’s arrow, right in the heart.
Looking back, you don’t think you ever stood a chance. You were doomed from the start, when Han Jisung walked in the room you were in, a few years ago, laughing loudly with the previously mentioned roommate. Your heart has been his ever since, the sound reeling it in and never releasing it.
He’s babbling on, excited, as you set the plates down on his dresses, making your way towards him with a newfound purpose. When you lean down to get his attention, he tilts his head up with a dazzling smile, still talking and oh so unsuspecting of your next move.
Without warning, you peck his lips, causing the words to die on his tongue as he freezes, reflexively kissing back the second time your lips meet even if his brain hasn’t caught up yet.
“Sorry,” you whisper against his lips, his mouth agape in surprise as you stare right into his hazy eyes, “you looked too adorable, I couldn’t help myself.”
The loud sound of the guitar tumbling out of his grasp startles you, and you look down in concern while Jisung doesn’t even seem to notice, too enthralled to care. Your kisses always had that effect on him, and he’s sure they’ll continue to do so no matter how many years pass. You had him wrapped around your little finger after all, the victim of the spell your love cast on him the moment he set eyes on you.
“Ji?” You shake his shoulder lightly before crouching down to return his guitar. “The song, baby?”
“What song?” Is the first thing he manages to let out, clearing his throat as he finally comes to.
You giggle, and that’s all it takes Jisung to set the guitar aside and pull you to him by your waist, cushioning your fall as you collapse onto him before his lips are on yours again, kissing you passionately.
For a moment there, he forgot his own name. How was he supposed to remember whatever song he came up with when you used your evil powers to steal all of his attention? Though, he supposes you can’t steal something that’s always been rightfully yours…
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You say you’re sober, but a lot of your posts are about disregarding limits or POS friends who enable drinking or talking sober people into drinking. Is it a fantasy of yours for your sobriety to be broken? Or do you see yourself as the enabler pushing the sober person in these kinds of scenarios?
Warning very serious and not so serious approach to this topic
Hmm yeah difficult psychosexual situation for me.
I do fantasize about being like bullied or forced into having my sobriety broken and it turns me on like very few other things, i always had the fantasy of forced intoxication/accidental intoxication/pushed/tricked/etc, ranging from being subtly manipulated to being literally tied up/kidnapped/whatever and for all intents and purposes forced, mentally and physically.
It became sort of more specific after i decided to be sober. I think if i genuinely had this happen to me, specifically if the other person got off on it as well and was very focused on getting me drunk id probably get off on it forever, literally a wet dream come true.
Sometimes i wonder if its a way out of being responsible for my own sobriety, or for drinking „just one more time“ im thinking its probably many things including this but also a life long fantasy.
Im always torn on the „do it or dont“ i genuinely do not believe there is truly a way to decide between right and wrong here. Only the time i have on this earth and what i decide to do with it. And again, ive had this fantasy since before puberty, at this point i wonder if its more of a need than a wish.
On the other hand i am an extremely responsible and health conscious person, i have a very full schedule, not a lot of time off and high expectations for myself in regards to my physical, (inter)personal, academic and work performance, all of which are pretty big contraindications to indulging myself as much as id like. (And presumably also the reason i tend to drink so heavily cause i cant get my brain to stop pushing myself to doing better and better and more and more)
Im also not a casual drinker at all. I dont drink often, i dont drink just one glass and i dont enjoy the taste of alcohol tbh, i never was a one beer/glass of wine to unwind type guy. I usually go for pretty long periods of time not even caring about alcohol at all and then drink very hard for a shorter period of time (it has to be worth it style) which is also why it took me a while to realize that my behaviour is not healthy regardlng alcohol tho again, Alcohol is just not healthy, no not even one glass, this has been proven by multiple studies at this point. its a neurotoxin that very much kills and cripples people, if were looking at it from a very sober (haha) perspective. (And since i work in healthcare i have seen the very real consequences of consistent, heavy alcohol abuse)
I dont know that i would feel comfortable pushing someone else into breaking sobriety, it would be a very individual decision for sure, mainly depending on how informed the other person was, how much they were consenting etc. i definitely wouldnt dare do it on a whim for purely my own pleasure, tho i could see myself indulging someone who was giving me a clear „go“ and enjoying it.
Even working the bar ive felt uncomfortable serving someone who after a couple drinks let drop to someone they were chatting with that theyd been sober for the last seven months. It made me sad because i know how much genuinely hard work it is.
On the other hand awooga drunk hot and sexy. That part is very implemented in my brain as well.
Not sure if this is the answer you were looking for, its definitely a complex topic for me, i hope i could sort of explain my feelings and thoughts on it to your statisfaction.
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Well here I am ehehehe >:]
Santino having a breakdown and he breaks stuff around him, whatever he grabs and well accidentally hurt himself. John tries to calm him down and help him AGHH JOHN GET YOUR MAN HE IS HAVING A BREAKDOWN
Just get everything sharp or that can break away from him when he's like that, see what happens 😭
Hello hello! I’ve been thinking about this scenario all the time, ever since your asks for “Salt in the Wound” and “A Slap from a Saint”!! I made it really sad, like those fics.
🖤💙 The Boy in the Picture Frame 💙🖤
TW: panic attack, crying, accidental self-harm, blood, past physical and emotional abuse by a parent, discussion of disownment
John had spent all afternoon texting, in between pacing around his living room. He was trying to keep his lover talking - giving in to his flirting and doing anything possible to make him laugh. Santino was upset by a mistake he'd made the day before during negotiations with a Ruska Roma representative. The man had tricked him into boasting about the ferocity of his forces, revealing critical information about how security operated for the Camorra in New York. It was a rookie mistake, made because he was running on high emotions and little sleep, and Santino was taking it hard. It could mean punishment from the Camorra.
So, when John looked down at the screen and saw, "I'm sorry I just can't keep talking right now. Something came up, but don't worry," he froze.
Was it too much to call? Santino probably just wanted to be alone, and if that was the case, he'd be annoyed. But...well, better annoyed than hurt if things were really bad.
The shaky voice on the other end did nothing to encourage him. "John, please. I have someone on the other line. I just...he's really angry with me."
"Who? ...Your father?"
"I can't - I...." He switched to the other call again and was gone.
Suddenly, John found himself in his car and found that the speed limit was a mere suggestion.
They didn't live so far apart - Santino had chosen an apartment close to his boyfriend on purpose, and even gave him a second key. But by the time he burst through the door, it was already too late to stop Santino from getting hurt. John made his way through a trashed living room, stepping around overturned chairs and over glass from a broken picture frame, and calling Santino's name without any response.
He noticed, with a bittersweet twinge in his heart, that their photo together from Santino's birthday at the beach was the one thing that seemed untouched. Santino had chosen instead to destroy a family portrait, including both his parents, a young Gianna, and his own chubby face at four years old. Looking more closely, John noticed a smear of blood across the edge of the frame. He had torn out the picture, heedless of the jagged glass, and ripped the image in half...straight through little Santino.
A muffled, wounded sound in the bathroom distracted John from the horrible sympathy that was threatening to crush his ribcage. "Santino?" He ran to the bathroom door. It was unlocked and there, finally, was his lover - although the sight of him couldn't be called a relief. He was sitting on the ground against the wall with alarming red droplets glistening all around him and a messy bandage trailing from his hand. The only reason he wasn't actively sobbing seemed to be the shock of John's sudden entrance.
"What - John?"
John dropped to his side, not knowing what to say. He felt huge in that room, as if he might crush Santino further. His hands hovered over Santino's shoulders, wondering whether it was okay to touch him, before Santino just collapsed against his chest and started crying even harder.
"Thank you," he managed after a few minutes. "Thank you for coming. And look at the thanks you get in return... I got blood all over your shirt." He laughed hollowly.
"It's okay." John took his half-bandaged hand and felt him wince. "Sorry." He started unraveling the gauze. It was a pretty deep cut in Santino's palm, probably from grabbing carelessly at the broken picture frame. At least it didn't look bad enough to need stitches, but Santino was incredibly tense at every touch.
"You don't have to do that. I can do it myself."
"I know. But I don't want you to have to do that anymore." They'd talked about this - how it brought back bad memories for Santino to treat his wounds alone, as he'd had to do in childhood.
"I'm sorry, John. I was so stupid."
"No." That was all, a simple rejection of the very idea that any of this was Santino's fault. John didn't trust himself to say more without getting angry - not even remotely at Santino, but at all the people who had failed him throughout his life. He kissed the finished bandage and then looked up at Santino's anguished, watery eyes. "Do you have another copy of that picture?"
Santino hesitated. "It's on a flash drive. I think Gianna has it. But I don't want it anymore. I think..." He took a deep breath, on the verge of saying something crucial. "I think I'm not a part of my family anymore."
"What? What do you mean?"
"Well...my father asked me to come back to Italy. He said I'm failing out here in New York, and he wants me to come back immediately. And I'm not doing that. Fuck him." He laughed, and it wasn't so hollow this time.
John couldn't help grinning. "Good."
"Good? That's all?" Another laugh. John could feel him getting stronger in his arms. More at ease. "You really never say anything, even at a time like this. I'm still getting used to it."
John thought for a moment. "No, it's not all. I want to know why you ripped through the picture of your own face instead of theirs."
He tensed up again. A long time passed before he spoke, but John had promised never to judge him. Always to listen. So, finally, he extended some trust. "I fucked everything up. I was broken from the start. I was weak. That's why he..."
Again, "No."
A mocking reply, dripping with stubborn, defensive sarcasm, "Yes." John could hear the wavering undertone. Really? Do you promise? Say it again.
"No. You were hurt. It's not on you. They lost you and not the other way around."
The reassurance was too much for Santino and he crumpled against John's chest again. For a while, John held him, listening to his sobs and to the dripping sink. In his rush to try to patch himself up, he must not have shut it off properly. He must have been struggling. John wove his fingers deeper into his hair, trying to massage self-love straight into his brain.
"Do you think Gianna will still talk to you?"
He huffed and pulled back again, tired but finally calm. "...Maybe. In secret. Who cares?"
"Well, I still want you to get a copy of that picture if you can."
"Why?"
"I want to cut out the little Santino and frame him by himself, for my mantlepiece. He was the good part. You are the good part. Not the rest of them."
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