#having a free place to just be is so special

[kingsoowolves]

what comes after | jsc

pairing: college fwb!sungchan x fem!reader word count: 21.4k

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 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.

The only reason why he was saying all of that was because he was savoring his time with 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 got 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. 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 to 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 askbox. feel free to scream at me all you want, i welcome it! <3

[sitepathos]

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 1: The Change

“Happy birthday, to you,” your teacher, Mrs. Palmer, and classmates finish singing to you.

“Thank you, everyone,” you giggle, happy that everyone did something special for your birthday in the middle of class.

You’re now six-years-old and your Momma’s promised to take you to Little Luigi’s Pizza Place after school, where you’ll get to open your presents from her, as well as eat all the pizza you want and have a cookie pizza for free! You begged her to let you stay home, but she laughed and said that she had to meet her publisher for her upcoming book, but she promised that after she was done, she’d come check you out and the two of you would go celebrate your birthday.

You look up at the clock (good thing it’s digital, because you haven’t learned to read the old clocks yet!) and see that it’s almost time for lunch.

“Come on, Momma,” you mutter to yourself. “Get here, already.”

Seriously, you didn’t plan to eat lunch, so you didn’t bother packing lunch today!

Just then, the intercom above the door chimes.

“Mrs. Palmer,” the school secretary asks.

“Yes?”

“Can you please send Y/N Gould to the office, please? There’s someone here to see him.”

“Yes,” you cheer, making a few in the class laugh.

“Of course,” she responds before the device clicks off.

You grab your backpack and toss it over your back before rushing towards the door.

“Bye, Y/N,” one classmate says as you pass her.

“Happy birthday,” another says as you near the door.

“Enjoy your birthday, Y/N,” Mrs. Palmer says, her usual bright smile on her face. “We’ll see you tomorrow. Remember to have your worksheet done.”

And with that, you leave the room and skip down the hall to the main office, happy that your school is small so you don’t have to walk far. As you do, all you can think about is all the pizza you’re about to eat! And the chocolate chip cookie pizza that you get after that! And don’t forget about the presents! Maybe you’ll get the new Pokémon Platinum game for your DS, or a new stuffed animal, or maybe a new movie!

The suspense is practically tearing you apart and you enter the office, ready to greet your Momma when you see… Sheriff Foley. And he looks… sad. You look to the secretary, who’s standing behind him, and she has the same sad look.

“Y/N,” he says.

“Sheriff Foley,” you say, looking around to find Momma, but not finding her. “What’s wrong? Where’s Momma?”

“Son,” he says as the secretary begins to cry a bit. “I have some bad news.”

You feel a weird feeling in your stomach, like when you eat a bunch of ice cream and get sick, but this feeling is worse than that.

“What?”

“It’s about your momma. I got a call from the police in Vegas and they said there had been a car accident. Some drunk fool leaving a casino hit your mother’s car.”

You feel your heart stop at the words “hit” and “mother.”

“Is she ok,” you manage to say. “She’s at the hospital, right?”

The secretary’s crying becomes louder.

“I’m sorry, son,” he says, a tear falling from his eye. “He was going too fast when he hit her. She’s gone.”

“Gone? Like missing?” Now, you’re crying. “Why can’t they find her?”

“No, gone as in she’s no longer with us.”

“Like… she’s gone to heaven,” you whisper.

He nods and it’s then you feel your entire world collapse. You remember what Momma said about going to heaven when you saw a squirrel asleep on the side of the road. She’d said that he had gone to heaven after falling asleep and that he wouldn’t be waking up again. That he’d always be there.

“No,” you cry, tears and snot falling from your face. “No, she can’t be in heaven! She said she’d be here!”

Sheriff Foley takes you into his arms as you cry.

The next few days go by in a blur. You stay with Sheriff Foley and his wife until the funeral. Unfortunately, the accident was so bad that the casket had to stay closed, so you weren’t able to see her one last time before she’s put in her grave. The whole town of Goodsprings is there; she was an author writing best-selling romance novels set during the Age of Sail and a pillar of the community, so everyone wanted to be there to say their final goodbyes to her and their condolences to you.

You said nothing during the whole thing. You hadn’t said anything since Sheriff Foley told you that Momma had gone to heaven and that she wouldn’t be back. The only noise to leave you is the sound of crying.

“Y/N,” he says as you watch the grave be filled with dirt. “When we leave, we’ll have to go by your house. You need to pack anything you need.”

“Why,” you ask, your voice sore from crying for days.

“Because a man is waiting there for you and when you have everything you need, he’ll take you to McCarran Airport. From there, you’ll go to Gotham City in New Jersey.”

You couldn’t believe your ears, first you lose Momma and now you’re losing your home?

“Why do I have to leave,” you say, tears streaming down your face.

“Because the county did some checking and found your father through a DNA test.”

You freeze at that. Your Daddy?

“Momma, do I have a Daddy,” you asked her once.

“You do, baby, but he doesn’t know about you,” she answered. “We met years ago, back when Momma was young and dumb. When I found out I was having you, I couldn’t find him. That’s when I realized I had to act right.” She rubbed her hand through your hair. “It’s thanks to you that I’m not like that anymore.”

That conversation goes through your head as you ride back to your house. You’re actually going to meet your Daddy? When you pull up to your house you see a fancy car sitting in the driveway and an elderly man in a suit standing next to it, watching you as you get out.

“I’m sorry, who’re you,” Sheriff Foley asks.

“Alfred Pennyworth,” the man says, bowing a little. “Butler to the Wayne Family. I apologize, Sheriff, but I’m afraid Master Bruce was unable to get away. Urgent business at Wayne Enterprises demanded his attention.”

“More urgent than his son?”

You can see the butler slightly flinch at that, despite how good he tries to hide it.

“I understand your frustration. I expressed the same sentiments, but Master Bruce couldn’t be persuaded to leave the matter to Mr. Fox.” He looks down at you. “I trust this is young Master Y/N?”

You can’t help but duck behind the sheriff’s legs to hide from him.

“Yeah, this is him.”

“I’m glad to meet you, though I wish it was under more joyous circumstances. You have my most sincere condolences for your loss.”

“Thank you,” you say, looking down at the ground.

“Come on, son, let’s get all your stuff packed.”

The three of you spend the next hour packing all your toys and clothes into cardboard boxes. When asked about your bed, dresser, and other larger things, Alfred said a room had already been prepared for you with a king sized bed and a dresser with room for all your clothes and more.

“Should you require anything else, I will ensure Master Bruce provides it.”

“What will happen to the house,” you finally ask Sheriff Foley, afraid for what he would say.

“Your momma already paid off her house and her will said that everything that’s hers goes to you. For now, the county will care for it until you turn eighteen, which is when you can inherit it.”

Hearing that should’ve made you feel better, but it didn’t because you’d have to wait so long to come back and even then, Momma still wouldn’t be here. As the two adults packed up the last of the boxes in the fancy rental car, you slipped away into your Momma’s office at the back of the first story. You slide open the doors, expecting to see her at her desk, working on her latest story like you’d done so many times before, but this time, an empty room and silence greets you.

You enter her office and hop into the big revolving chair, her favorite perfume still lingering from the morning of your birthday. You look at the desk and find something that takes your breath away: her favorite gold ink pen. One day, you’d asked her why your last name was Gould and she’d told you that your family came from a long line of goldsmiths who once made jewelry and other small things for rich people. Momma’s Daddy still worked with metal, even after the family practice was shut down, and when she said she was going to become a writer, he made her a gold ink pen to bring her good luck. You pick it up, looking at the beautiful design, and begin to tear up.

She carried it everywhere she went, so seeing it here cements the fact that she’s not coming back. Maybe if she wasn’t in a big hurry that morning, she would’ve remembered to take it with her and the accident never would’ve happened. And she’d still be here with you.

“Y/N,” the Sheriff says as he enters the office. “We finished packing everything. Are you ready to go?”

You want to say no and refuse to leave, but you know that you can’t stay here. You quietly pocket the pen and follow him to the car, where Alfred waits for you.

“Alright, son, be good for Mr. Pennyworth here. Do what he says and be a good boy like your momma taught you.” He gives you a hug and you wish it would never end, because then you’d never have to leave your home. “You’ll be back before you know it, and your home will be here waiting for you.”

A with that, you get into the car with Mr. Pennyworth and begin the drive to the airport. You use the mirror to see your house one last time, seeing it get smaller and smaller until it’s out of sight.

“I know this is sudden after the loss of your mother, but I promise Master Bruce and I will do everything we can to make Wayne Manor a home for you.”

“What’s it like?”

“The manor? It’s a large estate with a long and storied history that dates back to the early days of Gotham. There’s plenty of rooms for you to explore.”

“And what about my Daddy? What’s he like?”

“Master Bruce is a skilled businessman and one of Gotham’s biggest socialites. He’s also the adoptive father of Masters Dick and Jason.”

“He already has kids? Would they be my brothers?”

You’d heard of several of your classmates having older and younger siblings and had thought about having a brother or a sister. What would it be like to carry around someone younger than you or be care for by someone older than you.

“Master Dick would be your older brother, but he’s now living at the manor right now. He’s off finding himself right now, but I have no doubt that he’ll be back one day.”

“What about Jason?”

Mr. Pennyworth frowns at your words and you feel afraid that you’ve said something wrong.

“Master Jason would be your older brother, as well, but he was taken from us. With any luck, he and your mother have met one another.”

Oh…

“When did he go to heaven?”

“He left us a few months ago, but it feels just like yesterday.”

And with that, the talk is over. You two arrive at the airport and after the butler returns the rental car, he guides you to the gate where a private jet awaits the two of you. You can’t help but be amazed that you’re riding in a private jet that looks so much better than the ones you’ve seen on tv. You sit in one of the seats and it’s way softer than your bed.

“Master Y/N, we’re getting ready for takeoff,” the butler says as he puts his seatbelt on. “Put your seatbelt on.”

You do as you’re told and before you know it, you feel the jet begin to move. You hurry to look out the window to see everything moving past before the jet begins to fly. You stare out the window, watching Nevada, the state you’ve called home, get smaller and smaller until you’re above the clouds, unable to see anything, even the massive buildings of the Strip, which could be seen for miles.

It’s then you realize that this is real, that you’re leaving everything you’ve ever known and won’t be back for years and tears begin to fall from your face. You’ve spent the last few days crying so much that you’d think that you’d think that you would run out of tears, but apparently not. Not wanting to disturb Mr. Pennyworth, you face the window and bite your lower lip to stop making noises.

Somehow the flight seemed to be both long lasting and not long enough, because eventually, you saw a city show up below you. You squint your eyes to get a better look through the smog and see many tall buildings, all of the having those scary stone creatures you saw on a movie once.

“Welcome to Gotham City, Master Y/N.”

A/N: I’m hoping to make this a series that sees somewhat regular updates, but don’t quote me on that. I’ve been getting back into Resident Evil and I look up Yandere Batfamily stuff on this site so much it’s not even funny. Sorry if the first chapter was so long, but I thought if the first chapter was long enough, people would forgive me if future chapters are a bit lacking. Also, this series is heavily influenced by several of my favorite users, like @acid-ixx , @gotham-daydreams , @luludeluluramblings , and @darkstaria . You should totally check them all out.

[17020]

LET'S PLAY TELEPHONE!

In which Third Division vice-captains Yn Narumi and Soshiro Hoshina become their officers' latest hot topic after a misunderstanding, even reaching the Ariake Maritime base and its captain, Gen Narumi.

TAGS . . . implied manga spoilers, co-vice captains!yn & hoshina, gen's sister!reader, suggestive remarks, warning!! gen narumi, loser hoshina agenda, everyone in the jakdf are gossips.

TELEPHONE . . . START!

Reno Ichikawa and Kafka Hibino were... confused. With each passing day, there were more questions popping up in their heads whenever they saw their vice-captains around the Tachikawa base. Sure, it wasn't any of their business, but you have to entertain yourself at your job with what you have, right?

"Oh! Here they come now" Kafka whispered, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Reno simply nodded as he saw you and Soshiro step into the cafeteria, each one of you grabbing a lunch tray and sitting next to one another.

"What do you see, sir?" Reno questioned the man in front of him, as he squinted his eyes to get a better view. "Nothing out of the ordinary, they're just lunchin—oh!" he gasped, to which Reno raised his eyebrow. "What?"

"He put his arm around her, like in the movies."

Now that piqued Reno's interest, as he subtly turned his head to watch the scene behind him. It was true, the way in which Soshiro had wrapped his arm around your shoulder resembled the old movies he used to watch as a little boy. There was a huge smile on your face, which only fueled his theory even further.

"They sure are happy" he noted. Kafka chuckled at his comment, "If you didn't know them, you'd probably think they're dating!"

They both looked at each other with a serious expression, as if something had finally clicked. Reno leaned in, "You thinking what I'm thinking, sir?"

He nodded, his gaze returning to you and Soshiro. He could see a slight pink hue in his cheeks, which confirmed his suspicions.

It was then when Iharu sat down beside them, asking what they were so serious about. When they asked him to lean in, he knew he was in for a good time. Asking what the huge deal was and why they had to be so secretive, his eyes almost popped out of his skull when he heard the reason.

"Haven't you seen? Vice-captain Narumi and vice-captain Hoshina act like a couple!"

GET THE MESSAGE ACROSS!

As soon as the speculation started, Iharu knew that the next person he had to recruit was Izumo. When approached in the training room, Izumo simply tilted his head to the side in confusion.

"What makes you think that?"

"Are you blind?" Iharu asks, his hands on his head. "Dude, they're all over each other—I swear. Just pay attention on our next mission."

The Kaiju gods must have been on Iharu's side, because as soon as he said those words, there was an emergency in a nearby park. It was a crustacean-type honju with various yoju, and as soon as the officers touched the battlefield, their eyes were on you.

With each yoju they neutralized, they turned their heads towards you, as you and Soshiro paved a path for your captain to neutralize the honju. They paid special attention to their earpieces, which gave them a conversation starter for the next week.

"Whoever cracks the honju's shell first gets free dinner" Soshiro beamed, running straight towards the creature in front of him. Your laugh was heard through the officers' earpieces, "I guess I'll have free dinner tonight then! Remember that new ramen place near Shibuya Station?" you asked, rifle in hand shooting right through the crab's carapace.

Soshiro chuckled, "Same time as last week?"

"Mhm."

"Don't make me wait, m'dear."

Soon after, Captain Ashiro stepped in to take care of the honju. The officers saw Soshiro approach you after all kaiju were neutralized, excited to hear what he was to say next. What surprised them, though, was that they didn't hear anything, despite seeing his lips move.

Soshiro Hoshina turned off his microphone, and so did you.

The four men looked at each other before turning theirs off as well, with Iharu speaking up. "What could be so important that they had to turn off their mics?"

"Guess that's confirmed, then" Reno stated.

"What's confirmed?"

The group stiffened as they recognized the voice, turning around to see Kikoru with her arms crossed. They looked at each other, then at her.

"Didn't you know? Vice-captain Narumi and Vice-captain Hoshina are dating!"

MISSION ACCOMPLISHED . . . NOT?

FURUHASHI 20:50 SHINOMIYA PLEASE YOURE OUR ONLY HOPE!!!

HIBINO 20:50 If you wouldn't mind, Shinomiya, please!

ICHIKAWA 20:50 Please, Shinomiya We'll pay you back however we can

Kikoru sighed at the screen in front of her, shutting her phone off and leaving it on her bed before heading out. She was in total disbelief, asking herself why she even agreed to it in the first place. Going inside the bathhouse, she could faintly hear you and Nakanoshima having a chat.

Nothing too interesting, according to the guidelines she had received. She could hear Iharu's voice in her head, screaming 'Only tell us if she says something related to the matter at hand!'

As she took a seat in the bath in front of you, she noticed something was off. There was a faint, red-ish mark on your collarbone, and she knew there was no way a kaiju would have done that.

"Um, vice-captain?"

You turned your head towards her, a smile on your face. "What's up, Shinomiya?"

"If you don't mind me asking, are you okay? There's something on your neck."

Your eyes widened as you raised your hand to your collarbone, before letting out a giggle. "It's nothing to worry about, Shinomiya. When my liver has had enough of my drinking habits, I usually break out in hives. I didn't know I had one right now, so thank you."

She hummed in response, while you mentioned that it was late and you had to head to Soshiro's office to run through some reports. When you stepped out of the bath, Kikoru's eyes were wide and her jaw was nearly on the floor.

Scratches. All over your back.

Bidding your goodbyes, Kikoru was left thinking. It was Nakanoshima who broke her our of her trance.

"You don't think that was her liver, don't you?" Nakanoshima questioned, "I'm not usually one to spill, but I don't think that's her liver either. You saw those scratches?"

Kikoru nodded, "She's heading to the vice-captain's office right now" she said, to which the platoon leader laughed. "Is she? We don't really have any proof, you know? What we do know, though..."

"...is that vice-captain Narumi is keeping herself busy."

After drying herself up and returning to her room, Kikoru unlocked her phone, ready to send a message.

SHINOMIYA 22:22 I got something

FURUHASHI 22:22 WHAT SPILL

ICHIKAWA 22:23 What'd you find??

HIBINO 22:23 Say something

IZUMO 22:24 Yo Spill

SHINOMIYA 22:25 Vice-captain Narumi and vice-captain Hoshina are sleeping with each other

THE TELEPHONE BROKE!

Kikoru usually complained that the training room was always too rowdy due to the men, but today, she was silent.

Everbody was silent.

Word had gotten out about what happened the night before, and everyone was simply processing. They weren't judging, but they were curious. How could you even have the time, as a vice-captain?

When lunchtime came around, the group was determined to watch you like a hawk. They grabbed their trays and made a beeline towards your table, where you and Soshiro happily welcomed them.

While Kafka engaged with the two of you in some small talk, Kikoru and Reno observed. They looked for anything that could be deemed as suspicious. When Reno's eyes scanned over your hands, he gently kicked Kikoru from under the table.

His eyes told her everything she needed to know, as she subtly sent Kafka a text about her and Reno's finding. On the side of your hand, right below your pinky, was a tattoo of a date. And oh—what a coincidence! Soshiro had the same one.

When Kafka secretly read Kikoru's text, he choked on his food, causing you and Soshiro to ask him if he's okay. "I'm good, vice-captains, but if it's okay to ask, why do you have matching tattoos?"

Soshiro laughed as he slammed his palm on the table, "That's 50 pushups for ya, fledgling!" "Hey—make it 30, he was just curious" you justified, "It's okay to ask, Hibino. Me and Hoshina lost a bet to a superior officer a long time ago and had to tattoo the date of that night as a result."

He didn't push any further, afraid it would cost him more pushups.

SHINOMIYA 13:01 Long time ago my ass that ink looks fresh

FURUHASHI 13:01 They're definitely hiding something

ICHIKAWA 13:02 Hey aren't we going to the first division base later today? We can ask some of the officers from there

FURUHASHI 13:03 Shinomiya you know what to do

SHINOMIYA 13:04 What am I your errand girl?

HIBINO 13:05 You're gossip girl

"Rookies, isn't it rude to be on your phones when you're at the table?"

FURUHASHI 13:06 Watch he's gonna give us 30 pushups cuz he wants to hide that he and vice-captain Narumi are married

"Officer Furuhashi, please drop your phone, it's rude. That's 40 pushups for ya."

MESSAGE RECEIVED!

Even with the First Division present, the investigation was ongoing. Within the shared training grounds, whispers were exchanged about the latest news.

"I mean, I couldn't believe it—I'm still in shock" Kafka whispered, to which Kikoru nodded. "It's weird that they decided to keep it secret, but I can see where they're coming from. Who'd want everyone to know that you're boning your coworker?"

"Who's boning who?"

Shivers ran down Kikoru and Kafka's spines as they realized who that voice belonged to. They straightened themselves up while saluting, "Captain Narumi! Sorry, we didn't see you there" Kafka apologized.

"You didn't answer my question, who's boning who?"

"Uhm..."

"Well?"

"...umi and...shina."

"Hahh?"

"...aptain Narumi and....Hoshina, sir"

"Speak up, damn it!"

"Vice-captain Narumi and vice-captain Hoshina, sir!"

"Well that's fuckin' outdated, I'm captain and I'm not into idiots like Hoshina."

"..."

"Oh."

"..."

"BONE?"

"Well, sir, it's normal for married couples to—"

"My SISTER is MARRIED?"

"Sir, we don't know for su—"

"MY SISTER? BOOOONE?"

When Gen Narumi turned on his heel and left, Kafka and Kikoru knew they were done for. They scrambled out of the training grounds in fear for their lives, as Gen Narumi angrily called you and Soshiro into his office.

When you went to greet him with a hug, he screeched. "Yn, you got married to that beady eyed scumbag and didn't tell me??"

You looked at him confused, "Gen, where did you hear that?"

"It's captain Narumi, and for your information, I found out because your whole squad knows you're fucking each other."

Soshiro laughed, his hand holding his stomach from how hard he was laughing. "You think I'd date Yn?"

"It's Ln to you, and I'll have you know my sister is way out of your league, you annoying brat."

"Gen, did you seriously call us to your office for this?" you questioned, seeing the pout on your brother's face. "I have nothing to hide, Gen, and you know that if I'd be dating someone, you'd be the first to know."

"Good to know" he noted, "now get out, will ya? I got things to do."

As soon as you closed the door behind you, you looked at Soshiro. He was about to laugh, when he saw your fearful expression.

"We need to be more careful Soshiro" you sighed, "don't go leaving any evidence next time."

"Oh brother, If I'd be dating someone, you'd be the first to know" he mocked.

Your angry expression quickly shut him up.

"The tattoo thing was a good save though, sweetheart. Good job."

taglist (open, yippee!): @stunie @kaiser1ns @nyxypoo @karasuglazer @maruflix @littleplantfreak @heartkaji @ryescapades , also tagging @justwinginglife this is for you !!

[tpwk-formula1]

Girl prepare for a big one I’m sorry 😭

Gluten free, deep dish with Red sauce, Jalapeños, Tomato’s, and Ham, with Sun tea and a Vodka redbull and dessert?

Served by Lewis Hamilton

Special request: “can there be a fight for dominance but the reader looses?” Love the menu btw 💗💗💗

Lee-Lee's Pizzeria Menu

gluten free rivals deep dish teammates red sauce rough sex jalapenos "Always such a fucking brat" tomatoes "Do you enjoy pissing me off?" ham "You're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" sun tea sir kink vodka redbull squirting dessert yes served by Lewis Hamilton

Lewis x Rival Teammate! reader

TW - MEAN asf Lewis, reader can fight back, sorry for the things I said about you Kimi (I love you I promise!), squirting, unprotected sex, face slapping (once), multiple orgasms, truthfully might be the roughest sex I have written for this vlog (maybe other than Kinktober)

WC 2100+

Y/N POV

The meeting was finally over which had Lewis and I both popping up and scurrying off into our respective driver's room. We just finished our debrief after the Singapore qualifying after Lewis and I were found fighting in the garage when I refused to give him a slipstream after he didn't give me one back in Monza when I needed it.

Toto left the meeting at "You guys need to figure your shit out. Fuck or something." He even suggested. If only he knew...

I'm packing up my stuff when I hear a loud bang coming from Lewis's room making me stop and stare at the wall that connects our room before I hear Lewis should a loud fuck.

I slowly leave my room looking into the garage to see if anyone had heard Lewis's outbreak. When I noticed the entire garage was completely empty I walked next door to knock softly.

When I didn't get a response I trained my ears to see if Lewis was in the shower. When I can't hear the shower I softly open the door to find Lewis changing into a different pair of pants making my eyes instantly notice the bulge hidden from his briefs. I could tell he was far from rock hard which had my mind racing.

"Do you know how to fucking knock?" Lewis snaps making my eyes instantly move from staring at his bulge making my face grow hot slightly.

"I did knock," I snap back before turning to leave.

"No, wait!" Lewis shouted not letting me get a clean escape.

"What?" I ask while stepping into Lewis's room and closing the door behind me giving us some privacy in case we get into another screaming match.

"Why are you even in here?" Lewis asked referring to me coming in, in the first place.

"I heard a bang and then you shouted. Just wanted to make sure you where okay," I tell Lewis softly making Lewis nod.

"Ah, so you do have a heart! Spent the past three years convinced you where the fucking tin man," Lewis tells me with a sarcastic laugh falling from his lips.

"Lewis, literally shut the fuck up. You're getting replaced by a child next year because you threw a tantrum when Toto didn't give you what you wanted," I tell him makingg Lewis's face grow red in anger.

"Are you fucking kidding me right now? You're the one who might get replaced by Max next year is Toto can swoon him," Lewis snaps back making me shrug my shoulders.

"Eh, at least I know the person replacing me has talent. Your replacement fucking crashed my car on lap three last time he got behind the wheel," I reply back trying to show the situation doesn't stress me out.

"You're fucking petty as shit. When Kimi crashed you were all like 'oh no I hope he's okay! He's just too sweet he better be okay'," Lewis replied back in a voice that was clearly trying to mock my voice.

"You're so fucking ridiculous Lewis. I wish it was you who retired and not Nico," I snap with vemon lacing my voice making Lewis stride towards me and push me against the wall. I knew I took it a step to far but truthfully I didn't care. I trusted that Lewis wouldn't hurt me but at the same time even if he did it wouldn't be the first time we hurt each other. While it was always words I could take a slap to the face like a champ.

"Do you enjoy pissing me off? Because you're a fucking child. You know that? Everyone has to walk on eggshells around you because one wrong move and BOOM the little Mercedes driver with the anger problems is throwing another fucking tantrum," Lewis spits his words into my face making me pull a disgusted face to try and mask the hurt coursing through me.

"You're a fucking asshole, Lewis Hamilton," I spit back making Lewis finally crash his lips onto mine making me gasp against his lips in shock before slightly relaxing into the kiss before pushing Lewis away once I realize who I was kissing.

"Don't fucking do this shit again," I snap at him before both of us fall silent just staring at each other while breathing rapidly.

It was clockwork for us, we go at each other's throats and somehow find ourselves in each other's bed to somehow kiss and make up, but in reality, all it is, is putting a fucking bandaid on a bullet hole.

At the same moment, Lewis and I are back to aggressively making out fighting for dominance. I get Lewis to the bed first making him sit down before I start pushing at his shoulders before I'm climbing into his lap taking control, which lasts about .3 seconds before I am being flipped around resulting in my back roughly hitting the hard physio table.

"Always such a fucking brat, trying to take control like that's your role," Lewis says while grinding his hips into mine making me moan at the pleasure.

"One of these days your little outbursts and attitude is gonna leave you ass so sore you won't be able to race," Lewis says making me roll my eyes at his threats.

"Then you won't get the damn slipstream you want so bad," I fight back with a satisfied smirk on my face with is quickly slapped off. I mean literally, Lewis slapped my face not necessarily softly but far from as hard as he could.

Lewis knew I loved when he mixed a bit of pain with my pleasure and early on found out he could send a quick slap to my face and it'll shut me up pretty quickly.

I just whimper when the sting settles in and I register what happened. Lewis is instantly gripping at my clothes and undressing me with no problem.

When I'm completely bare for Lewis he's like a madman being released because his mouth is instantly all over my pussy while also slipping three fingers into my unprepared hole making me softly scream at the stretch.

Lewis is instantly throwing his free hand over my mouth successfully muffling my screams not wanting anyone to walk by and hear what is going on between the two known rivals.

Lewis knew exactly what he was doing, so it was no shocker to him when I started begging to cum.

"Please, sir. I need it," I whine against his large hand that is still covering my mouth.

"Go on, it's the only thing you're good at," Lewis finally gives me permission making me instantly release my orgasm spraying my pleasure all over Lewis's face and soaking the shirt he was still wearing.

When I gether myself enough I look down to see the damage that has been done and it was so hot to see Lewis soaked with my juices.

"You're giving me at least two more before I even think about giving you my cock," Lewis said roughly while still finger fucking me making me whimper at the overstimulation.

Lewis knew my body better than anyone else ever has, which is only because he tied me to my hotel bed and explored my body until the sun rose finding all the ways he could make me cum, scream, whine, beg, you name it he probably discovered it that night. The night he found out I could squirt several times in a row in quick succession if he just kept going.

"Sir," I announce loudly when I feel the band in my stomach start to grow again.

"Go on," Lewis says with a sass in his voice almost like he was annoyed.

"Oh fuck," I whimper out when I finally feel the band snap making me start spraying all over Lewis's driver's room again.

"God, you're so fucking easy. I bet I could make you squirt if I looked at you hard enough," Lewis said in mockery knowing damn well he could blow a little bit of air on my clit and I'd be cumming for him in a matter of seconds.

"I need one more," Lewis said while speeding up his fingers again making me whine when I feel my third orgasm approaching making me squirm trying to get away but Lewis was far stronger than me making it easy to overpower me and keep me down while he finger fucks me into another squirting orgasm that has me gasping for air. I could hear my squirt hitting difference surfaces around us making the deed that much dirtier.

I am sure everyone will hear about this by the next race because no way the poor cleaner who has to come in after us will keep their mouth shut when they realize the dried liquid all around the room is in fact the evidence of the pleasure of the female driver.

"Good fucking girl! Good to know your ears work sometimes," Lewis says while stepping away from my pussy before sending a rough slap down on my sensitive clit making me jerk and a little bit a squirt come out making Lewis laugh at the slut he had turned me into for him.

"Please sir, more," I gasp when I feel Lewis's tip teasing my dripping entrance inviting him to sink in.

"You know you're so infuriating. Walking around like you own the place and then come back to my room to get fucked properly" says Lewis as he sinks into my pussy making me whimper at the stretch.

"Fucking hell, how are you still this fucking tihgt?" Lewis questions while he starts thrusting making me whimper feeling the stretch all over my body.

"Fuck, I'm gonna have to spend more time in you, maybe make you sleep with my cock burried in this pussy, make it a perfect fucking fit for me to play with," Lewis continues making me whimer and clench around him.

"So good, sir," I gasp when Lewis's hips are snapping into mine at a brutal pace.

"Fuck! How are you about to cum again," Lewis groans when he feels my pussy contracting around his cock ready to fall into another orgasm.

"You know what to do," Lewis says giving me permission for my fourth orgasm of the night making me scream out loudly.

My tightening pussy was Lewis's final straw because next thing I know he's pulling out and cumming on my stomach making sure to paint my tits a bit with his cum.

He loved the way he could coat my body in his cum.

Once Lewis settles down from his pleasure he climbs out of the hard bed looking for a towel he can use to whip me down.

Once I'm clean from his cum he pulls me up slightly so he can stand between my legs while he holds me to his chest.

"You think Toto knows the truth?" I mumble against Lewis's tattooed chest making me chuckle softly.

"Probably and if not before he's definitely gonna think we listened to his advice," Lewis jokes making me laugh with him.

"We have a problem," I mumble burying my face into his chest not wanting to admit the problem.

"What is it, sweet girl?" Lewis questions showing me the sweet side I only got to see after moments like this or early in the morning when we knew no one could see that the two rivals actually had hearts.

"I can't feel my legs and I truthfully do not want to get into someone else's car covered in sweat and cum," I mumble making Lewis laugh lightly.

"Well you have in fact left your sweat and cum in my car so I'll take us back to the hotel, and I have no issues holding you until you're ready," Lewis tells me softly before picking me up into his arms and pulling us to the couch where he held me.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have screamed in your face like that," Lewis apologizes clearly embarrassed by his actions.

"I said some pretty ugly things too. I think we need to work on that," I tell him softly making him hum in agreeance.

"Still want you to fuck me like that, even if it does make driving a bit uncomfortable," I tell him making Lewis let out a belly laugh.

"I'll always fuck you like a whore. You love it too much for me to stop," Lewis tells me making me smile.

We lay like that for another thirty minutes before we heard a knock on the door before we could hear Toto's voice shout, "I see you took my advice! It better fucking work!"

Lewis and I just laugh at being called out but make no move to get up and get dressed knowing Toto wasn't going to open the door.

[anonimusunnoaniswriting]

Tall!Reader x Orc!Nanami

Fluff, no smut, domestic, established relationship.

Nanami was getting frustrated. He knew you were restless. He knew you needed to be constantly moving around – doing something – or you would feel uneasy. Yet, here you were with an injured back, advised complete bed rest, expected to be lazing on a cloud of pillows, but instead, hobbling your way to the kitchen with ill-disguised pain to make a cup of coffee. 

Nanami grunted. He couldn’t help it. His people may have been one of the toughest races in the world, but even the strongest orc would know when to lie down and rest for their good. “Kento, I’m fine!” You said, “You’re being paranoid, I have to move around, I have to work.” You heard the orc huff behind you. “Kento…” 

Truth be told, asking for help for yourself was never something you had been comfortable with. From a young age, you had been forced to be independent, a fact that crippled you today when it came to requesting assistance. You would be loathe to ask Nanami for a cup of coffee when you knew you could make it just as easily – or so you thought. 

And so, you plodded to the kitchen, with your injured back, ignoring the dull ache that slowly increased as you walked. The grimace that you quickly turned into a smile didn't go unnoticed by Nanami who followed closely behind. 

“My flower,” he called out using the name he had specially assigned for you. “Let me make it. Please. You need to be resting.” 

“I am resting, baby…”

Nanami huffed, there really was no arguing with you…but his presence did not fade from behind, barely bumping into you as he moved around.

All of a sudden as you reached out to one of the top cupboards for a mug, something pulled and a sharp pain like a crack of lightning went down your lower back to your waist. You cried out crumpling onto the cold countertop where you had just laid out the jar of coffee powder. Your arm hit it, knocking it over, and the contents spilt out. 

Immediately Nanami was beside you. One thick arm wrapped around your shoulders, and the other lifted your legs up into a princess carry. Your large frame was rendered tiny by his broad shoulders. With one arm wrapped around you, he held you up easily – as if you were nothing more than a kitten to him. 

“Flower…?” there was a tremble in his hushed voice. “Are you alright?”

You nodded weakly. “I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re fine!” You looked up at his face. His lips were drawn into a thin line and his brows furrowed into a frown.  “You keep saying you’re fine when you’re clearly not. You have been told by the doctor to stay put and rest your body, but you refuse to listen. Do you not feel like you can rely on me, flower? Is that what it is? Do you believe I will deny you a simple cup of coffee when asked to make it?” 

“That’s not it… Kento…” You tried. “I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“Woman,” Nanami roared. “I would slay a dragon for you if you desired its hoard. I would part the waves if you wished to see the ocean floor.  I would move the heavens if you wanted to see the moon in the daytime!” He pulled you closer into his broad chest and you felt a fat wet droplet plop onto your cheek.

“Nanamin…” it was your voice that was now hushed. “I’m sorry I didn't mean to make you get so worried…” 

“How can I not, flower? I love you. 

You raised your hand and cupped his cheek gently, pulling his face down. His soft hair, usually combed up into his professional style now hung free over his forehead. Blonde strands that you now ran your fingers through. 

Your lips touched his in a reverent prayer and you mumbled against them, “Thank you, and I’m sorry.” 

Nanami shook his head, his nose brushing against yours. His long lashes tickled your skin. “Will you rely on me from now on?” 

You nodded. “I’m not used to it, but I’ll try, I promise.” 

He kissed you chastely first your lips, then your nose, and then your forehead. “That's all I need,” he hummed, placing his chin on top of yours. “Now, let's see about that coffee shall we...” 

You want more orc!Nanami? Here you go

A/N: dedicating this to @pseudowho you poor bean let me hold you.

Also shout out to wwx for that line. Iykyk.

[lightaflaem]

𝐩𝐨𝐯: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭.

pairing: tattoo artist!suna x f!reader

genre: semi-angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive

word count: 5.1k

content warnings: profanities, suggestive themes, mentions of needles, sticks, poking, sharp objects, blood, mentions of abuse, scars, violence, trauma, addiction

summary: after countless attempts to convince your tattoo artist college friend, suna rintaro, to do your body art, you couldn’t understand why he keeps on rejecting you. not until he told and showed you the real reason why.

“Is this the chair where your clients sit to get their tattoos done?” you asked, pointing at the leather chair in front of you.

“Yeah, where else do you think I got it done?” Suna answered, not removing his eyes from the patterned tape he’s been wrapping on the grip on the gun.

“So, when are you going to do mine?” you hopped on the leather material, arm resting on the extended side as you clean your antecubital area with your other free hand. It’s obviously not set for your height as you tried making yourself comfortable on the depthness of the chair.

“Very funny, Y/N. Now get off that chair and help me set these up. There's small sized gloves under the cabinet beside that chair, wear those before touching anything.” he ordered, not giving a single fuck about your question. Rolling your eyes, you stood up and started searching for the gloves in the compartment.

“Why won’t you do my tatts?”

“‘Cause you're my friend.”

“Seriously, Rintaro? You have favoritism.”

“Seriously, Y/N. I don’t have favoritism and I don’t do tatts for my friends because I already know them. My brain becomes a mush when it comes to thinking of designs when I already know the person.”

Your jaw dropped at his answer. You don’t buy it. Seriously, what the fuck is he playing with? Irked, you intentionally wore the pair of latex with much more force, making it slap against your wrist hard enough to leave marks. You placed a sterile mat on the stainless surface of the table, aligning the vaseline-coated small cups horizontally and started loading it up with black and red inks.

“You’d make a great apprentice.” he commented as he watched you do the preparations the same way he does it before every session. Each and every step was done with fragility, just like how you retained his routine by watching him do the same thing for the past few years of being with him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to get a red tattoo,” you spoke as you continued filling the cups. “It’s sexy and I think I’ll look hot in it.”

“But you always look hot, with or without that red ink.” Suna said casually, making your heartbeat accelerate but you didn’t let it get into you because he probably said it to his clients most of the time.

“I know right. That’s why when my college friend became a tattoo artist, the force of getting it done doubled up. Specifically by him.” you know that you didn’t fail to emphasize how badly you wanted to get your body art done by him but maybe for him, he saw it as nothing but a mere compliment for his works.

Who would have thought that the quiet kid from one of your elective classes way back in college a few years ago who subsequently also became your close friend because of a mutual friend, the Miya twins, who were your classmates since you’re in elementary school, will become a famous tattoo artist specializing in line arts, minimalism, and patchworks.

Suna also probably never saw that his future will be like this. From just surviving everyday to a big time personality of inks and needles. With the freedom and peace he gained from following his calling, he also took a leap of faith to change his physical appearance from cropping his hair shorter, both arms, chest, and neck full of patchwork of random tattoos, and his signature snake bites that captivated the hearts of his crowd.

He never liked fame, though. He always hides whenever he’s got the chance to escape from paparazzi and respectfully declines the clients he doesn't want to work with and cannot work with. He's hard to get. That makes him more fascinating in the eyes of others. It’s like he’s hidden behind those inks and it will take thousands of needles to uncover. He’s surely one of a kind.

His skill in generating different designs specifically for each client is no joke. A lot of local and international artists and internet personalities are hitting up his instagram direct messages, asking for his details of booking. You vividly remember one of his interviews wherein he was asked if he ever recycled a design for different clients and what makes him unique from other tattoo artists. He answered“Each client has their own blueprint depending on their cup of tea. That’s what makes me unique from other artists. I created my own scheme and let it align on my client’s skin like it’s running out of breath and ink’s the only thing it needed to satisfy its hunger.”

He’s distinct. He’s consistent. He’s a genius.

But why the hell wouldn't he do your tattoo?

“You're an ink virgin, right? Why do you want to get your tattoo done by me so much?” With much curiosity, Suna leaned against the chair, arms crossing against his chest as his eyes squeezed, waiting to scrutinize your answer.

“Why not? It’s because it’s you.” you simply answered back, finally capping the bottle of ink. In your peripheral vision, you saw how Suna’s eyes dilated but still kept his unpleasant posture. “But if you don’t want to ink my body then it’s fine with me. I’ve been pestering you about it since you started and it’s been a few years. I’m not getting any younger, that's why I wanted to at least get my first tattoo before I turn 27.”

Taken aback by your statement, Suna stayed quiet for a few seconds. Finished with your extra lending hands with his set up, you threw the pair of gloves into the yellow trash bag and finally faced the 6 '1 guy. Suna’s lips were pursed before he licked the lower part, tasting the cold metal of his lip piercing.

“Where do you want to get your first tatts?” he questioned as his gaze started lingering on your bare skin.

“I don’t know, do you have a preferred part?” you threw back, not having a single clue on where you wanted to get your first one.

Removing himself from the chair, he took a step forward, slowly making his way towards you. You weren’t sure why but your feet felt like it was glued on the ground. The vision started to get blurry, almost feeling dizzy but you found your vision focusing more on Suna, who’s already in front of you with a small curve of smile written on his face.

“If you ask me where,” he lifted his hand, letting his delicate fingers glide from your shoulder up to your collarbone that sent shivers to your spine. “I prefer it to be somewhere where others can’t see it. Somewhere where I’m the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for me.” he smirked and pulled himself away from you. “Kidding. Your body, your rules.”

His touch left your skin yet you could still feel his cold fingertips against yours. You felt your breathing stopped as you held it the whole moment he was in front of you and whispered those words to you. Damn you, Suna. He surely knew how to shake your whole existence in a few words.

“I’ll be going away for three days. I’ll go to Tokyo to attend a tattoo convention.” he spoke, not letting his gaze wander to anywhere except you. “If you happen to finally be decisive about the placement before I get back, I’ll do your tatts. In exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” 

You grinned, finally hitting the jackpot. Bingo.

“Deal. I’ll see you in three days.” 

Suna let out a small chuckle when he saw how happy your eyes were. Silly, he thought. Who knew that a single tattoo could mean the world to a 25-year-old adult like you?

“Oh before I forget,” he suddenly remembered, turning to you once more. “Don’t worry. I’ll update for the next three days.”

“Holy shit, Rintaro finally agreed to do yer tatts?!” Atsumu exclaimed, almost flipping the table.

“Shut your mouth, you’re spitting the best burger in Hyogo all over the place!” His twin brother, Osamu snarked at him.

Despite graduating from college and living your lives separately, one becoming a professional volleyball player for Japan, the other opening his own onigiri business, and you having your own clothing line, you couldn’t ignore the fact that the Miya twins literally have a special place in your heart. So here you are, sitting across them in a fast food chain with burgers and fries stuffed in your mouth as you continued catching up with each other’s lives after a few months of not seeing each other.

The twins know how much you wanted to get your first tattoo from Rintaro. Giving all their best shots and trying everything within their might, they still cannot lure their old mate into the trap. They were always shut down by Suna, especially Atsumu since he’s the one who’s been doing all of the talking and bargaining because apparently, he’s got a big mouth according to their fox-eyed friend.

They even went as far as recruiting the innocent Sakusa Kiyoomi, also one of their tattoo artist friends who recently opened his shop to blackmail Suna into inking your body; however, the latter just scoffed at their failed idea and told them to try harder again next time. With that, Atsumu shouldered Sakusa’s business permit expenses as a “payment” for pestering him.

“I mean, I’m also surprised, ‘yah know? It took me years to persuade him and now I just have to decide for the placement. But I would love to get it in red ink, though.” you shared your thoughts as you sipped from your diet cola.

“Did you already have a placement in your mind? Maybe your shoulders?” Osamu pointed at your exposed skin from wearing a tank top.

You just shrugged because honestly, you haven’t given it much thought yet. “I have an idea. But Rin told me that he prefers to do it somewhere exclusive only for him.” 

Atsumu bursted out, laughing his whole ass off that earned a few stares from the people around you. You and Osamu were puzzled, giving him a tyrannical look.

“Fucking hell, man. I am so proud,” he said between his laughs. “Rinrin has grown into a man! He’s got balls, Y/N! He finally got the dick, Samu!”

The rest of the night went well as you guys hit karaoke and arcade after dinner just like the old days. If it wasn’t for Atsumu’s official schedule the following day, the three of you plan to invite Suna for a drink because he’s finally returning back tonight from his 3-day tattoo convention in Tokyo. 

He kept his word on updating you. The very first thing that you saw when you opened your eyes on his first day in Tokyo was a ‘good morning’ text, followed by a mirror picture of him wearing a featured shirt from your summer collection. You blushed at the fact that he’s wearing your own creation even though he’s very supportive of it since the very start. He looked really good in your design.You told him that he doesn’t need to update you that much but his response was ‘Na uh. I’ll still update you so hurry up and think about where you wanted to get it, Ma’am.’. You knew that it was just a polite term yet, it’s enough to make your knees feel weak. But you were quick enough to shake the thoughts off, thinking that it’s just a friendly term to address his future client.

As the darkness engulfed the sky, the twins dropped you off in front of your apartment and bid them goodbye. It’s already 9 in the evening and you wonder if Suna’s already back in Hyogo because your message was left delivered and you haven’t received a single text from him since this afternoon.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed, flashing Suna’s contact photo on the screen.

Rintaro is calling…

“Yo.” you answered, unlocking the door of your unit.

“Ma’am? Did you just get home?” his raspy voice boomed on the other line of the phone. You never knew how much you longed for his presence, not until you heard his voice again for the first time in 3 days.

“Yup. We went to karaoke and arcade after dinner. We’re supposed to invite you for drinks but Tsumu’s got an official sched tomorrow.” you paused, kicking your shoe on the rack. “How about you? Did you just get home?”

“Yeah. Just got here and the first thing I did was to call you after fully charging my phone. It’s been dead since afternoon because I lost my charger. M’sorry for not messaging you.” you don’t know if you’re just a little bit tired from earlier but you could sense the hidden craving behind his voice.

“It’s okay, Rin. It’s no big deal,” you assured, as it was really not a big deal for you. “So, about the offer.”

You heard him clicking his tongue, followed by a soft chuckle. “Have you thought where you wanted to get your first ones, Ma’am?”

“Mhm. You wanna know where?” 

“Surprise me.”

It made you giggle like a highschool kid talking to her crush for the first time. Suna is really good with his words. On the other line, Suna was leaning his head against his black bed frame, unintentionally scratching his bare chest as he’s not used to wearing a top inside his house and saw it. He took a deep breath before biting his lower lip to surpass the fact that he’s thrilled with the thought of him finally marking your skin.

“Where do you want to get it done? It can be in my studio but I can also do home service, exclusive only for you.”

“I want to get it done in the studio. I wanted to experience sitting in your leather chair as a client, Sir.”

Damn. Something ignited inside Suna when he heard you calling Sir, right back when he started calling you Ma’am. It’s like a switch being flipped on. Composing his mind and shaking any thoughts, he nodded as if you’re seeing him right now.

“Alright then. We’ll start tomorrow at nine in the morning. Make sure to get enough sleep, eat breakfast and drink water. I’ll brief you tomorrow once we’re there, Ma’am. Remember that in exchange, I’ll tell and show you something.” he reminded, knowing that you don’t like going to bed early.

“Wow, your customer service is top tier.” you commended as your mind started intensifying with the thought of finally doing it tomorrow.

“Exclusive only for you, Ma’am.” he reminded once again, trying to hint you up.

“Okay, Sir. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll see you. Good night, Y/N.”

Fuck. It’s not the first time Suna has said that to you but your insides are rumbling. You felt your blood rushing as your vital organ increased the pumping because anytime now, you could feel suffocated from the excitement. Calm down. Calm down.

“Good night, Rin.”

With that, he let you hang up the call. Later that night, you tried your best to get a good night's sleep yet in your fantasy, you still feel like you’re sleep calling with Suna. You couldn’t take your mind off with his words earlier. He’s going to tell and show you something? Still trying to squeeze every cell of your brain, you cannot pulp any idea on what it’s going to be.

You just hope it’s nothing serious because it’s actually scary, the thought of him being dead serious on something. You shrugged off any negative thoughts and wished that it's nothing because you wouldn’t be able to grasp if it’s going to significantly impact your life in a pessimistic way. You might lose your shit because you know that you’re clearly, madly, deeply attached to Suna Rintaro.

“So this is how it feels like to sit right here.” you spoke with awe as you comfortably aligned yourself with the chair’s depth. It was adjusted perfectly for your height.

Suna grinned, setting up the materials on the stainless table beside you. You offered to help but he quickly declined it, reasoning that you’re here as a client today, not as his self-labeled apprentice.

Despite being here lots of time already, it felt like this was the first time you’ve seen his studio. The details you didn’t notice before suddenly popped in your vision, such as the fern green wallpaper and plants that he’s been watering regularly. On the outside, it looks like Suna’s more of a monochrome guy but in reality, he adores green so much because according to him, it brings the dull color into life. For him, it feels like life.

You also noticed the usual well-lit led ceiling lights wrapped around the four corners of his studio are now dimly-lit as well as the aroma of lavender mint from his scented candles that he ignited for the first time since he got it lingering probably to cover up the smell of blood, dead skin, and ink. Oh, and there’s also an inspired portrait of his favorite characters from his favorite movies drawn in his own artstyle framed and hung on the walls. His usual arctic monkeys and heavy metal playlist was replaced with some 88rising, r&b, and keshi which are you favorite artists and genre at the moment,

You never took your time to appreciate Suna’s studio this much until now. 

“Okay Ma’am, show me where you wanted it to be placed.” he asked, almost ordering you. Taking a deep inhale, you were surely nervous as heck right now but you already made your mind. Somewhere where he’s the only one who can see it. Somewhere exclusive only for him, huh?

You slowly lifted your white shirt, revealing your red lace bralette that perfectly hugged your breasts. You specifically chose this outfit for this occasion. Swallowing a lump, you pointed at your waist up to the side of your right boob, passing it and nearly up to your armpit. “Here. I wanted to get it here.”

Suna was quiet the whole time yet his widened foxy eyes tell you otherwise. He’s speechless. His eyes were fixated on you, admiring the view which he saw for the first time. He knows that you’re sexy and elegant, but he didn’t expect that you’re this sexy. In his eyes, you are the most beautiful art he’s ever seen in his whole life. He fought the urge to hold you in your waist because he wanted to feel your skin against his.

“Tough spot. Damn Ma’am, you’re courageous.” he commented on your preference. You felt your cheeks heating up as embarrassment started creeping in because Suna hasn’t removed his gaze yet on your body. “Can I…touch it? I’ll just…assess it.”

You nodded, pressing your lips together as Suna’s gloved hand made its way to your body. He traced your torso up to your ribcage and he couldn’t help but to squeeze a small smile in between.

“Will it hurt?” you hesitantly asked.

“It will. But I’ll be gentle, I promise.” you almost choked on his answer because it gave you other ideas. “Now make yourself comfortable. Tell me if it hurts, we’ll take a break. I’ll do my best to make it painless but I cannot guarantee.”

You fixed your position on the inclined chair, making yourself at home on your left side but your torso was slightly flattened down, facing him to get a better access to the area, especially your sides up to your armpit. Suna sat down in the swivel stool and faced you from your left, maintaining his demeanor as he grabbed the stencil he prepared. You intentionally didn’t ask about the design he planned because you also wanted to surprise yourself with Suna's creativity. You wanted to astonish yourself and it pretty much tells how big your trust is when it comes to Suna.

Once he’s done with shaving the excess hair, the paper hits your side, tickling your skin as Suna’s gloved hand starts flattening it against your body. It was followed by the cold sensation of the adhesive washing the paper. His right pinky accidentally brushed against your boob, making you scream internally. In no time, he’s already removing the piece of paper, indicating that the stencil’s already in place.

Suna licked his lower lip and you noticed how he wore his usual snake bites differently today by swapping the horseshoe jewelry into a plain one. He pushed himself forward but still maintained the distance between the two of you. Reaching out for the tattoo gun, you’ve already had an idea how it sounded but when he tested it and made a whirring sound that buzzed on your ears, you found yourself clutching the hem of Suna’s shirt due to the tense building up inside your stomach.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, staring down at you. The whole point of view sent you to spiral as you never imagined yourself being under Suna.

“Yeah, sorry. I hope you don’t mind this.” you pointed at your hands curled into his shirt which earned him a few laughs. Suna thought that it was so fucking cute when look so small to him.

“You’re free to hold me wherever.” he smiled, caressing your exposed shoulder as a sign of assurance. “Remember that if it hurts too much, just tap out and we can take a break, Ma’am.”

Bobbing your head, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath as the sound of the gun reverberated once again. Suna started poking the needle against your skin. The first five minutes were much more uncomfortable rather than painful - almost feeling like a slow rug burn. However, as he moved upwards and started hitting the bones of your side ribs, it started feeling hell that you couldn’t help but small whimpers escaped from your mouth. It stings like crazy.

“Are you okay? We can take a break. Do you want some water?” Suna offered concern as he saw your forehead creased into an agonizing expression.

“N-no, just continue. I’ll eventually get used to it.” you declared, not wanting to raise your white flag.

Suna nodded and started working on it again. You could feel like he’s outlining something in more of a swivel way. You could also feel like there’s a lot of lines and shading going on. The next 30 minutes were spent with the two of you talking about college, reminiscing the memories you shared together as well as with the Miya twins. Another 30 minutes and he’s already wrapping up by taking one last wipe before applying the tattoo jelly on the area. 

“I thought that it will be painful as fuck,” you said truthfully. “You wrecked my expectations, Rin.” 

“Well, it’s an honor to be complimented by you. I told you, I’ll be gentle.” he winked, removing his gloves on his hands. “Congratulations, Y/N. You’re no longer a tattoo virgin.”

Laughters echoed in the room as he clapped at your achievement. He grabbed the mirror that was lying beside your chair and signaled you to sit up. Obeying him, you lifted yourself as you felt your skin being stretched.

“I hope you like my design, Y/N.” flipping the mirror, you saw your inked skin for the first time.

Your mouth parted, eyes filled with wonderstruck. 

There’s a lot of fine lines from the upper part of your side, down to your ribs, and finally your waist. The lines were broken yet some of them were connected with each other. In the middle, there’s multiple flowers drawn in outline, looking like they have bloomed together. You couldn’t elucidate the design in words yet your brain could tell how it looks and your heart could tell how it feels like to be inked distinctively.

You finally understood why they call Suna a genius. Because he’s the only one who has the ability to make you feel like you're abstract and he’s the only one who can understand you.

“Do you like it?” he asked, a little bit nervous as you stayed silent.

“Like?” you questioned. “I fucking love it, Rintarou. I love it so much that it made me speechless… Thank you. Wow…Seriously, thank you.”

You’re not kidding. You’re not exaggerating. You were at a loss for words because only the silence of appreciation could speak for right now on how you feel about the design.

Pleased, a genuine smile carved on Suna’s lips as he watched you beaming with joy on your first body art done by none other than him.

“Now in exchange, I want you to pop my shirt.” he cleared his throat, bringing the mirror down as he signaled you.. Your face was puzzled. Pop…his shirt? “Come here, Y/N. Take off my shirt.”

You were hesitant at first but you gradually moved towards him and lifted his shirt out of his body. You have never seen him shirtless before because as far as you know, it makes him uncomfortable to show some skin to others before that’s why you never saw him wearing sleeveless before. And now he’s asking you to pop his shirt for what reason?

Pulling the fabric above, Suna’s exposed skin was hit with the cool air. You gasped when you saw multiple scars across the chest and lower body. Some of them formed multiple layers above each other, making the skin rise from its base. He doesn’t have any tattoo in his lower body but he has one in his chest, near his heart. And it was…shit. Could it be…?

“You see, Y/N, I never really talked about this before but my dad used to uh, beat me up with a socket wrench when I was a child,” he spoke, voice filled with coldness. “He’s an addict and whenever he doesn’t have the money to support his damn addiction, he’ll find another way to release his stress and that is to beat me up whenever he’s got the fucking chance.”

You felt like all the nerves in your body were paralyzed as your eyes slowly widened, sinking his words inside your head. He’s dad is what? Beating him? With a socket wrench? Fuck.

“I thought I wouldn’t be able to reach college, ya know? That’s why when I was given the privilege to still continue my education, I didn’t let it go to waste as I thought that it was the only way to escape from the madness of my life.” his fingers brushed against his scars. It was healed, probably years ago yet you could visibly see the paint being painted on his face as he felt the trace of his yesterday.

“And suddenly, all of this turned all the way around when I became friends with the twins and you.” he lifted his gaze, maintaining his eye contact with you. Something ignited inside Suna when he met your orbs. He felt like colors bursted in his eyes. “When my dad finally got the help he needed and I made peace with whatever demons I have, that’s when I felt like I had another chance with life. That’s why when I started taking interest in inking, I took it very seriously because for the first time, I saw that I finally saw that I got the chance to stand in life. To live, not just to survive.”

The sincere confession made a short pang inside your heart. All this time, he was hurting. All the damn time, he’s living his life in hell. And being friends with him, just being by his side, made him realize that he can finally free himself from the uncanny of his life.

“The reason why I keep on rejecting your request is because I am not ready yet. Y/N, I spent my whole career crafting the most unique design I could ever create for you. Just for you. I wanted to make it the best among the rest. Also, as cheesy as it may sound, I wanted to be the man worthy of inking your very first tattoo.”

You felt like your heart’s going feral inside your ribcage. Suna stood up in front of you, bare bodies touching each other. You could feel his minty hot breath tickling your nose despite the coldness of the room. Slowly, he grabbed both of your hands and intertwined your fingers together before bringing it in front of you to plant a soft kiss on it.

“I’m sorry that it took me this much time to be worthy of everything. Thank you for not giving up on me. You may notice the lines in your tattoos, it represents the thought of despite being broken, you could still find your way back and bloom within it. Y/N, you gave me that reason to bloom again at my own pace.”

He dragged your hands in his chest, making you feel the only tattoo he has on his upper body. “Y/N, this is your initials. This was my very first tattoo and I intentionally got it in my heart so that whenever I hold my heart, I’ll always remember that you’re here.”

Suna’s eyes glimmered, mirroring yours as you could feel him getting more emotional any second. Giving up, you stood on your toes, enclosing the centimeters given between the two of you by latching your lips to his. Without giving it a second thought, Suna pulled you closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss. It was a hot, wet kiss that the two of you shared as tears started tearing down in your cheeks. When Suna tasted the salty liquid, he finally let his guard down and cried himself between the sloppy kiss.

Pulling away, both of you were panting as your cheeks were stained with the liquid that you shared. You let out a chuckle and pulled him into a tight hug which he gladly returned.

“You’re never late, Suna. You will always be the tattoo artist that captivated my heart, no matter what and no matter how long it takes. I’ll always wait for your creations, and I’ll kiss every one of your flaws until you realize you’re love.”

© lightaflaem. do not repost on any platform.

bonus

y/n's "exclusive" tattoo made it to suna's instagram :]

[yumegumii]

Soft Confessions (ft. Megumi)

You and Megumi find yourselves navigating the delicate line between friendship and something more, unraveling unspoken feelings. (A/N: Last time i posted was Feb 20.... ANYWAY, here's some megumi fluff ‹𝟹)

It’s a lazy Saturday morning, the kind where the sun spills through the window just enough to make you want to stay in bed a little longer. You blink awake, stretching under the soft weight of your blankets, enjoying the rare peace of not having anywhere to rush off to. For a few moments, you lie there, content to bask in the quiet until your phone buzzes on the bedside table.

Reaching for it, you see a message waiting for you—a single text from Megumi.

“Morning. You free today?”

Your heart skips, a familiar warmth blooming in your chest. You bite your lip, fingers quickly moving across the screen to type a reply.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

The response is almost immediate.

“Want to come over?”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. Megumi inviting you over wasn’t out of the ordinary, but there’s something about the simplicity of the invitation that makes your stomach flutter. You push yourself out of bed, already feeling the excitement bubbling up inside. Grabbing a cozy sweater and your favorite pair of jeans, you get dressed quickly, wondering what he’s up to.

You step outside, greeted by the soft embrace of autumn air. The sun hangs lazily in the sky, casting a warm, golden light that filters through the trees. It’s the perfect day—cool enough to justify the cozy sweater you threw on, but not so cold that you regret not wearing a heavier jacket.

The familiar crunch of leaves under your shoes as you walk down the quiet streets is soothing, and your mind drifts, thinking about Megumi.

 He’s not one to text you out of the blue like this—at least not without a clear plan in mind—so you can’t help but wonder what’s on his agenda for today. The thought makes your heart flutter, a tiny ripple of excitement in your chest. You shove your hands deeper into your pockets, trying to ground yourself as the cool breeze picks up, tousling your hair.

The path to Megumi’s place is one you’ve walked countless times before, but today it feels different. It’s not just the weather, or the quiet calm of the streets—it’s the sense of anticipation that builds with each step, as though something significant is waiting for you at the end of this walk. You can’t quite place the feeling, but you don’t mind it. If anything, it makes the walk more exciting, like you’re heading toward something special.

As you turn the last corner, Megumi’s apartment comes into view. It’s a modest place, tucked away in a quiet neighborhood, but it’s one that feels comfortable and familiar to you. You approach the door, your fingers tingling slightly with nerves as you knock lightly.

A few moments pass, and then you hear the soft shuffle of footsteps on the other side. The door swings open, and there he is—Megumi, standing in the doorway, looking like he just rolled out of bed, his hair slightly messy and his hoodie hanging loosely on his frame. His dark eyes meet yours, and for a second, he looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting you to actually show up, despite being the one to invite you over in the first place.

“Hey,” you greet him, a small smile tugging at your lips as you feel your shyness creeping in.

“Hey,” he replies, stepping aside to let you in. His voice is casual, but there’s something in his expression—something soft—that makes you feel like maybe he’s just as nervous as you are. “Glad you could come.

You step inside, kicking off your shoes by the door and slipping out of your jacket. The familiar warmth of his apartment wraps around you, and you instantly feel at ease. It’s quiet here, save for the low hum of the heater in the corner and the distant sounds of the city outside. The place smells faintly of something warm—tea, maybe, or the faint scent of the laundry detergent Megumi always uses.

You follow him into the living room, where he gestures for you to sit down on the couch. The cushions are soft beneath you, and you settle in, feeling the quiet anticipation of the day ahead. It’s not like you haven’t been here before, but something about today feels… different. Maybe it’s the way Megumi seems a little more relaxed than usual, or the fact that he invited you over without any particular plan.

“I made tea,” Megumi says, his voice a little quieter now as he disappears into the kitchen for a moment. You hear the clink of mugs, the quiet whistle of the kettle being turned off, and a few seconds later, he returns with two steaming cups in his hands.

He hands one to you, his fingers brushing yours briefly as you take the warm mug from him. The contact is brief, but it’s enough to send a spark of warmth up your arm, and you quickly pull the cup closer to you, letting the heat sink into your hands.

“Thanks,” you mumble, taking a small sip. The tea is perfect—not too hot, just the right amount of sweetness. It’s comforting, much like the quiet presence of the boy sitting beside you.

Megumi settles down next to you on the couch, his leg brushing against yours as he gets comfortable. You notice the way he sits slightly closer than usual, his shoulder almost touching yours, but you don’t mind. In fact, you welcome the warmth that radiates from him. There’s something comforting about being this close to him, like you’re both in your own little world, separate from everything else.

“So, what’s the plan?” you ask, trying to sound casual even though your heart is beating a little faster than usual. You glance at him, watching as he takes a sip of his tea before shrugging.

“I thought we could just hang out,” he says, his voice low and unhurried. “Watch something, maybe.”

It’s such a simple suggestion, but the thought of spending the entire day with Megumi, doing nothing but being in each other’s company, makes you smile. You nod, feeling a sense of calm settle over you. “Sounds good to me.”

For the next few moments, you both sit there in comfortable silence, sipping your tea and exchanging quiet glances. The TV hums softly in the background as Megumi flips through streaming options, not settling on anything in particular. You don’t mind; it’s the kind of silence that doesn’t need to be filled with words. It feels natural, like this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

Finally, Megumi settles on some random movie—something light-hearted that neither of you has seen before—and you both lean back into the couch, letting the soft glow of the TV fill the room.

At first, you try to focus on the movie, but your mind keeps drifting to Megumi. You steal quick glances at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how relaxed he seems. 

His arm is draped lazily over the back of the couch, his expression focused on the screen, but you can sense that he’s aware of you just as much as you are of him. Every time your arms or legs brush, you feel a tiny jolt of awareness, like there’s an invisible current running between you.

You shift slightly, leaning into him, and your shoulder gently presses against his. For a split second, you wonder if you’re being too bold, but then you feel him relax even more, his body– not moving away– instinctively leaning into yours. It’s a small gesture, but it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

You can feel the soft rise and fall of his breathing. The warmth of his body against yours is comforting, and before you know it, you’re resting your head on his shoulder.

Neither of you says anything, but you can feel the shift in the air, the quiet tension that wasn’t there before. It’s not uncomfortable, though. If anything, it feels like the unspoken promise of something more.

Time seems to slow as the two of you sit there, shoulders touching, legs barely brushing. The room is quiet except for the faint dialogue of the movie and the soft, steady rhythm of your breaths. You can feel your eyelids growing heavier, lulled by the warmth of Megumi’s presence and the soothing atmosphere of the room.

Without really thinking about it, you let your head rest on his shoulder, the soft fabric of his hoodie warm and familiar beneath your cheek. Megumi doesn’t flinch or pull away; instead, he shifts slightly, adjusting so that you’re more comfortable. His hand drops to the space between you, fingers brushing lightly against yours in a way that feels both casual and deliberate.

You close your eyes, the quiet rise and fall of his chest beneath your head calming your racing thoughts. You can hear the soft thud of his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, and for a moment, you wonder if he can feel how fast yours is beating.

Neither of you says anything. There’s no need for words right now. The comfort of being close like this, the quiet intimacy of the moment, speaks louder than anything you could say. You don’t know how long you sit there, resting against him, but you don’t want it to end.

The movie plays on, but your focus is entirely on Megumi—the way he’s so still, yet completely present beside you, the way his warmth seeps into you like a soft blanket. It’s moments like these that remind you why you’re so drawn to him—why you cherish these quiet, stolen moments of closeness that seem to happen without any effort at all.

You can feel the subtle tension in the air, though. It’s not an uncomfortable tension; rather, it’s the kind that makes your heart beat a little faster, the kind that makes you wonder if he��s thinking the same thing you are. You don’t dare move, afraid that even the slightest shift might break the spell that’s settled over you both.

And yet, there’s something unspoken between you, something that lingers in the space between each quiet breath. It’s as if both of you are waiting for something—some invisible line to be crossed, some acknowledgment of the feelings that have been building beneath the surface for so long.

The afternoon fades into evening, the sky outside turning shades of pink and orange. You’ve switched to watching random videos on your phones now, passing the time in comfortable silence. But there’s something lingering between you—something unsaid.

You glance at Megumi, you can’t help but study his face in the soft light. The way the shadows play across his sharp features, the slight furrow in his brow as if he’s lost in thought. He’s always had this quiet intensity about him, but right now, he seems different. More relaxed, maybe. Or maybe you’re just noticing things you hadn’t before.

“Megumi?” you say his name softly, almost hesitant to break the calm.

He turns to look at you, his gaze steady and thoughtful. “Hmm?”

He looks up, his eyes meeting yours. “What is it?”

You hesitate, suddenly unsure of how to phrase the question that’s been on your mind all day. “Why did you ask me to come over today? I mean, we hang out all the time, but… I don’t know. Today feels different.”

He blinks, clearly taken aback by your question. For a moment, he seems to be weighing his words, and you brace yourself for his response.

“I just… wanted to see you,” he says finally, his voice quiet but steady. His gaze flickers away, almost as if he’s embarrassed. “Is that a bad thing?”

Your heart skips again, and you can’t help the small smile that tugs at your lips. “No, not at all. I’m glad you did.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Megumi shifts slightly closer, his leg brushing against yours. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in it makes your chest tighten.

—

The sun has completely set now, the room dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp in the corner. You’re both sitting in comfortable silence, but the tension from earlier has grown, lingering in the space between you like a question waiting to be answered.

You’re the first to break it.

“Megumi,” you say softly, your voice barely louder than a whisper. “I—there’s something I need to tell you.”

He turns to look at you, his expression unreadable, but there’s something in his eyes—something soft, something vulnerable—that makes your pulse quicken.

You take a deep breath, gathering the courage you need. “I think… I like you.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, you think the world has stopped turning. You can feel your heart hammering in your chest, your palms growing clammy with nerves.

But then, Megumi reaches for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours in the gentlest of touches. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at you, his expression softening in a way you’ve never seen before.

“I like you too,” he finally says, his voice low but sure.

Relief floods through you, and before you can stop yourself, you’re grinning like an idiot. Megumi’s lips twitch in a small smile, and he squeezes your hand gently, grounding you in the moment.

Neither of you moves for a while, just sitting there with your hands intertwined. It’s quiet, peaceful, but there’s a buzzing in the air that you can’t ignore—the awareness that something between you has shifted.

Then, slowly, Megumi leans in. You can feel your breath catch as the space between you closes, your heart racing as his lips brush yours in the softest, most tentative kiss.

It’s brief—barely more than a whisper of contact—but it leaves you breathless. When you pull back, Megumi is watching you with a look that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Was that okay?” he asks, his voice barely audible.

You nod, your face flushing as you manage a soft, “Yeah. That was perfect.”

And in that moment, everything feels right.

[tj-dragonblade]

[FIC] Loyalty Rewards Program

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: E Word Count: 9204 Tags: Human AU, Mechanic Hob, Rich Guy Dream, top Hob, bottom Dream, Dream of the Endless is a Horny Little Weasel, class dynamics, as a kink perhaps, Dream of the Endless is intense and unhinged, Hob matches his freak, Bossy Dream, Agreeable Hob, Service Top Hob Gadling, Enthusiatic Bottom Dream, Dream is Not Quiet in bed, there is a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet at one point, blatant disregard for typical human refractory periods, rimming, anal sex, felching-adjacent, inconsequential ingestion of lube, effusive endearments, dirty talk, overstimulation, anal fingering, help my hookup is growing feelings

Notes: Third in the Turbo Lover series (Customer Service and Every Nerve Alive on Tumblr, if AO3 is down). This one happened because Dream was insistent on getting properly fucked in the garage and I refuse to be the author who uses engine grease or motor oil for lube. This fills the free space (B2) on my @dreamlingbingo card, and is also the longest Sandman fic I've written to date.

Summary: Dream comes back to Matthew's Motor Repairs the next day and Hob gives him everything he asks for

On AO3 Hob re-locks the door as soon as he's ducked inside the shop the next morning; he's not opening for people today.

He has other obligations, after all.

He first makes a thorough job of cleaning and sweeping the floor around the Porsche. Whatever the plan today entails, he doesn't want to wind up kneeling on a bit of gravel or taking a stray hex nut to the arse cheek while he's fucking his rich admirer. Granted he may need to do a quick spot-sweep when Dream shows up—if Dream shows up—since he'll be working on the car in the meantime, but doing it now will make that faster.

…Of course Dream's going to show up, Hob's not worried. Guy was thirsty as fuck yesterday, he'll be back. He's got a car to pick up, after all, and speaking of, Hob had best make sure it's ready.

He strips out of his clothes and dons his coveralls nude, leaves them unzipped to the waist, not even bothering to keep his underwear today. It's cooler than yesterday but still plenty warm, and this will make things faster once Dream shows up. He's pretty sure Dream will appreciate the aesthetic, also.

Hob whistles to himself working under Dream's Porsche, finishing up the clutch replacement that he hadn't quite been able to focus on after Dream left yesterday. It's quick work to wrap it up and he makes sure to let grease smears accumulate on his arms and maybe he deliberately puts a couple of artistically-placed smudges on his chest, for fun.

With the clutch done, he moves on to changing the oil, flushing and refilling the other fluids, and giving the car a general tuneup. The Porsche is a beautiful machine and Hob's thrilled to have the chance to work on her.

He's thrilled to have the chance to work on her owner, too.

When the shop bell rings, Hob's heart leaps. He's just got the car all closed up and down from the ramps and done another quick sweep so assuming that's Dream, and it should be, his timing is perfect. He winds his way to the front, zipping up his coveralls just in case and opening the door.

Dream is there on the other side, as breathtakingly gorgeous as Hob remembers. "Am I the 'special circumstances'?" he asks, coy and smouldering as he taps the handwritten sign Hob had pasted in the window—Closed for walk-ins due to special circumstances; ring if you have an appointment.

"The specialist of circumstances," Hob agrees, effervescent joy and lust bubbling up inside him, spilling into his smile. "Closed up so I'm all yours. Entirely at your service."

"Wonderful," Dream purrs, stepping through the door. "For I am desperately in need of the services of a good mechanic."

Hob pulls the door closed after him, ensures it's latched in and that it's still locked, then turns with a grin. "You've come to the right place then, love. I'm at your disposal, one hundred percent, and I will personally see to your complete satisfaction. Guaranteed." He winks.

Dream steps in closer, tilts his head just enough to gaze up heatedly from beneath his lashes, toys with the tab of the zipper at Hob's collarbone. "Do you offer such comprehensive personal service to all your customers?" He's slowly drawing the zip down as he speaks.

Hob's heartrate picks up and his breath goes a bit short. "Oh no, this comes special with our uh, our loyalty rewards program," he manages, with his best charm-the-customer smile. The dainty fingertips unzipping his coveralls are very distracting.

Dream stops once he's exposed Hob's chest hair, rakes his nails through it lightly, skirting the grease smeared above it. "But this is the first time I have brought my patronage to your shop," he counters, with the prettiest little pout.

Hob shakes his head. "See I count twice; you tried out my services yesterday and found them satisfactory enough to come back today. And I'm very sure, if I meet your exacting standards, I can earn your repeat business. So I'll opt you in, because I have that much confidence in the quality of my work."

He's mixing his references clumsily, the car repairs and the sex getting muddled together, but Dream is smiling all the same. "Let us hope your confidence is not misplaced, then," he says, voice dipping lower in that way that makes Hob's stomach tighten delightfully. "I should hate to be granted such privilege unduly."

With that, Dream draws the zipper down more, then turns and steps away, casting a come-hither glance over his shoulder as he sashays toward the door into the garage. Hob, unzipped to the waist and hard already, is hot to follow, but first—

He tears the sign from the window, hangs the normal 'Closed' sign in its place, double-checks the lock and throws the deadbolt for good measure. He rounds the reception desk and logs into the phone system, makes sure the auto-answer is set to the 'closed unexpectedly' option, and sets the ringer to after-hours so it'll go straight to messages instead of ringing through. Not that he'd be stopping in the middle of whatever they're about to be doing to answer the phone, but this way they're guaranteed no distractions, no interruptions. Then he hurries after Dream.

Dream is completely naked when he gets back to the garage, leaning pale and pretty and barefoot against the side of his Porsche with his arms loosely folded and his cock hanging ready, half-hard, beautiful.

"Well hello, gorgeous," Hob says, unabashedly enthusiastic as he approaches, wondering if he's meant to just dive in or wait for a cue, if he's allowed to pull Dream into his arms and start with a kiss. His gaze falls to the delicate arches of Dream's feet, the soft pale curves of his toes (with black-painted nails!), and he's really glad he swept up first.

"You occupy my thoughts incessantly, Hob Gadling," Dream says, pushing off the car and stepping close to Hob again, hands reaching to toy with the open edges of his coveralls.

"Do I, now?" Hob decides on a caution-to-the-wind approach and snakes an arm around Dream's waist, raises a dirt-stained thumb to brush over his cheek. Dream hadn't hesitated yesterday to say what he did and didn't want; Hob will trust him to do the same today. "They're good thoughts, I hope?"

"Very," Dream breathes, gripping the coveralls, tugging marginally; his eyes are dark, his pale cheeks faintly flushed with excitement, his pretty pink lips slightly parted, and Hob sees no reason to resist the temptation presented.

The noise Dream makes when Hob kisses him is soft, eager, encouraging, and Hob presses closer, lets both hands play over Dream's bare skin, up and down his spine. Dream is kissing back, heated and insistent; he slips both hands inside Hob's coveralls, around his waist and down to grasp his arse cheeks, squeeze appreciatively, pull him closer.

Hob breaks away with a gasp, delighted and impossibly turned on; Dream squeezes again, nips at the scruff on his chin. "You are not wearing any underwear today, Hob," he murmurs, in a tone of pleased discovery, and Hob can't help grinning.

"Thought you might appreciate it," he says, breathless, hands stroking up and down Dream's biceps, leaving faint smudges behind. "Makes things a bit faster, easier—"

"And are you easy, Hob Gadling?"

"Only for you," he answers, which is truer than it would have been two weeks ago. "God, you smell good today—" He really does, floral-herbal freshness wafting from his hair, faint notes of soap and a light cologne lingering on his skin; Hob lets instinct shape his words. "So clean and pretty, too; come down to the garage to get properly dirty, have we?"

The way Dream shivers against him tells him that was indeed the right thing to say.

"Perhaps," Dream replies, and squeezes Hob's arse again. "I very much appreciate your wardrobe choices, in that regard." He brings his hands around front, one dipping to cup Hob's dick while the other draws the zipper all the way down underneath.

"Thought you might," Hob manages, while Dream's slender fingertips touch his balls, stroke with gentle pressure, and then Dream is moving, grasping at the shoulders of Hob's coveralls and pushing them off.

"I would feel you, bare, against me," is what he says, which sounds like a fine idea to Hob. He struggles briefly with the rolled-up sleeves but as soon as his arms are free Dream is in them, pressing up against him, kissing him fiercely and completely derailing any attempt at getting the coveralls all the way off.

Fuck it, Hob decides, letting them just fall around his legs as he wraps Dream close and kisses him back, hungry and insistent to match Dream's fervor. He backs him up a step, two, until Dream's narrow arse hits the Porsche again and he squirms prettily, his cock nudging up against Hob's as they break the kiss, panting.

"Over the bonnet then, love?"

Dream shakes his head, an effortlessly imperious little gesture. "I wish to ride you, first." He gestures to the creeper. "Please."

Clearly, clearly Dream's got some very specific fantasies about cars and mechanics and Hob is delighted that he gets to help make them happen. "Absolutely," he grins, shuffling down into position on the board.

Dream grabs a condom and a bottle of lube from where he'd stashed them between the windscreen and the bonnet and drops next to Hob. Which is just as well since Hob's supplies are with his clothes in the locker on the other side of the garage; he leans back on his elbows as Dream tears open the condom and rolls it onto him.

"You've got such pretty hands," he breathes, shivering at the glide of Dream's touch along his shaft, and doesn't miss the breath Dream sucks in at the compliment. "Gonna show me how you use those fingers to open yourself up? Or do I get to do that for you, hm?"

"Neither," Dream answers, rising and turning to lean over the side of the bonnet, which confuses Hob for half a second until he speaks again.

"Spread me open," he directs, and Hob is only to happy to sit up and comply, to see the greasy smudge of his fingerprints smeared on Dream's lily-white arse—

Dream is wearing a plug.

Hob's libido, already cranked to eleven, ratchets up another notch. "Oh, fuck," he breathes reverently, wide-eyed. Dream had put that in at home, had come here sitting on it, walking with it inside him, just to be ready for Hob's cock?

Christ, but that's hot.

He watches raptly as Dream's slender fingers grip the wide base and start pulling; he takes his time and Hob gets to just hold him open and watch as Dream's hole slowly stretches around the flare of the thing, bigger and bigger until it finally passes the widest point and slides the rest of the way free, and the hungry little sound of relief Dream makes as it comes out makes Hob's dick ache.

He desperately wants to slip his tongue in there, wriggle it into the shrinking gape and let Dream's body close to grip snugly around him, but Dream is a man on a mission, and that mission is getting Hob's prick inside him. He straightens up, turns and straddles Hob, fingertips to Hob's chest pressing him down as Dream squats over his lap. He drops the plug aside, reaches behind to take Hob's slicked-up rubber-wrapped cock and guide it into his body as he comes down, and the sound he makes plus the tight warm sheath of his arse have Hob absolutely riveted.

Dream lifts himself, thighs straining and hand firmly on Hob's chest now, fucks himself up and down on Hob's prick while hovering over it, letting out the most decadent moans each time he sinks onto it. He'd said he wanted to ride Hob but he's only made it as far as squatting, like he's so desperate for Hob's cock he can't even wait to get all the way into proper position for it and Hob (and his dick) definitely feel some kind of way about it. Dream's own prick bobs stiff and eager in front of him, a little drop of fluid glistening at the tip already, and Hob almost wishes he was enough of a contortionist to get it in his mouth. Later, perhaps. Right now he's got this gorgeous creature pistoning eagerly on his cock and well on his way to losing his mind, from the sound of it.

Hob spreads both hands over the tops of Dream's thighs, feeling how they tremble with exertion, and finally draws them down, forward, coaxing Dream out of his squat and into a proper kneeling position. He shifts his grip to Dream's hips and pulls him onto his cock at the same time, all the way down until he's buried deep up inside and Dream is panting the breathiest little 'yes, yes, yes's as he bottoms out, eyes wide and glazed. His hand is still planted on Hob's chest and Hob takes it up carefully, draws it to his mouth and kisses Dream's fingertips; Dream whines, gaze sharpening and honing in on Hob's actions. Hob's lips brush the pads of those fingers as he speaks.

"Did you still want to ride me, darling? Or should I hold you still and start fucking up into that pretty little hole?"

Dream shivers, makes another needy little noise and draws himself up on Hob's cock, sinks back down, does it again, and again, faster, harder, until he's panting breathless moans on every pass. His hands are planted on Hob's chest, up near his shoulders next to the grease smeared beneath his collarbone, and Hob rests his hands at Dream's hips, ready to take up the slack if he's needed.

Dream rides like a pro, to be honest, finding his rhythm and moving steadily in pursuit of his pleasure. His arse is snug and hot and slick, his voice like a song as he glides so easily up and down on Hob's prick; he feels amazing, and Hob has to remind himself to breathe as it goes on and on, to keep a rein on his own pleasure until Dream's gotten everything he needs.

At last Dream's pace begins to falter, his panting moans stuttering into broken little whimpers as he flags in his feverish bouncing. "Hob," he whines, arse wriggling lower, his fingers clutching at Hob's chest hair. "You feel. So good, inside me—"

"Do I?" Hob breathes, fingertips brushing over Dream's flanks, and it's weak, so weak as far as dirty talk goes but he can't help it. He's enamoured, struck senseless by how into this Dream is, and words are failing him.

"Yes—" Dream squirms forward and back, circles his hips beneath Hob's attentive grease-stained hands, moans prettily. "Hob, please—"

He doesn't even have to specify, it's clear enough what he's after now, and Hob moves to grip him properly, to lift him just slightly. He clutches tight, fingertips digging in to what little meat there is on Dream's arse, plants his boots on the concrete floor and thrusts up into him.

Dream cries out, clenches his fists on Hob's shoulders and throws his head back, chest heaving. Hob draws out and thrusts again, full force, and again, and Dream shudders, gasping, delighted. "Hob—yes—yes—" He squeezes tight around Hob's prick and groans, drops his head to meet Hob's gaze with fever-bright eyes. "Fuck me—I want—"

"Tell me," Hob breathes, mesmerized, shifting his feet for better leverage and thrusting into him again, and Dream warbles beautifully.

"Faster. Deeper—as hard and as deep as you can, Hob—!"

"'Course, love," Hob gasps, hips moving to comply with barely a thought, and Dream's voice rises into a long keening wail as Hob gives him precisely what he's asked for.

"Yes—yes—yes—!" He tosses his head back again, the arch of his throat working beautifully as he chokes out 'yes' after 'yes', arms stiff and trembling, hands still braced tight on Hob's shoulders.

Hob grunts with exertion, pounding up into Dream with everything he's got, thighs damp and sticking slightly where they press against Dream's. He's transfixed by the rapture in Dream's face, the sheen of sweat on his neck and chest, the stream of noises coming out of his pretty mouth; he looks and sounds like having Hob's cock in him is the best thing ever, like it's everything he wanted, and Hob is fast falling in love with how expressive he is about sex.

Dangerous thoughts, those; he puts them far away, concentrates on pumping hard and fast and deep up into Dream's lovely arse to make him come. He's careful still not to come himself; Dream has clearly got plans and it's his job to stay hard as long as Dream needs his cock.

"Hob—Hob—ahh, don't stop, Hob—!"

Hob squeezes Dream's arse, spreading his cheeks just a tiny bit more, and shifts the tempo down slightly, fucks up into him long and smooth, deep, steady. Dream wails, lost in the pleasure of it, and droops suddenly to lay over Hob's chest, a graceful fall into an open kiss interspersed with Dream's panting and whimpering. Hob shifts his hips to accommodate the changed angle and Dream sobs into his mouth, needy, desperate. His prick is nestled against Hob's belly, wet at the tip, hot and hard and Dream is moving helplessly as Hob fucks him, rutting through the hair on Hob's stomach in little jerks. He's tense in Hob's arms, trembling, skin damp with sweat all over and Hob thinks he could do this forever if he had to, fucking this gorgeous creature curled atop him but he doesn't have to, he knows, he can tell, Dream is nearly there—

Dream goes rigid abruptly, breath choking in his throat as his mouth opens wider, still meshed to Hob's. A high thin sound trickles out of his throat and Hob laps it up, fucks into him once, twice, again, and then Dream convulses with a wail, wet warmth blooming on Hob's belly. He buries himself as deep into Dream as he can and holds it there, flexes against the rhythmic clutching of Dream's arse around him, kisses Dream through the tremors and pulses of orgasm until he goes limp.

He spends a moment petting up and down Dream's spine then while Dream lies boneless atop him, catching his breath. He's still warm and tight around Hob's dick, perfect and tempting and—

And heavier than he looks, honestly; Hob shifts to take him by the shoulders, lifts him off his chest just a bit. Dream takes the cue, raises himself somewhat, blinks the haze from his eyes as he meets Hob's. The smile on his lips quickly sharpens to something simmering with heat, but Hob saw. He saw that glimpse of softness, the glow of bliss on Dream's face and he feels the way his heart trips, knows he's losing his battle.

There's a faint smudge of grease on Dream's forehead that probably came from Hob's collarbone and his dick twitches to see it. Dream shivers and squeezes around him and Hob sighs, a full and happy sound.

"You're pretty when you come," he says, gathering his wits about him again. He smears his hand through the mess on his stomach, picks up a little grease from just beside it, reaches to cradle Dream's face. "So, so pretty." He strokes his fingers back through Dream's hair, leaving a faint black smudge and sticky colorless smears on his cheekbone and more than a trace of filth in his hair.

"Only when I come?" It's a tease, accompanied by a gentle squeeze around him, and Hob shivers.

"'Course not," he murmurs, flexing his dick in response, delighted by the shiver that runs through Dream in turn. "You're pretty when you're bouncing on my cock, too. And when you tell me what you want me to do to you. And yesterday." He flexes again, warming to the topic. "You looked so pretty yesterday, with grease smeared on your face and my prick in your mouth."

Dream makes a pleased sound, squeezes his arse around Hob again, and Hob is more than ready to carry on, if Dream is. He strokes his thumb over the tacky mess on Dream's cheek. "Can I dirty you up some more, beautiful? Make you come for me again?"

"I should be very disappointed if you did not, Hob Gadling," Dream purrs, and there's that imperious little smirk again, the one Hob is already too attached to.

He'll give this man whatever he wants, and love every second of it.

"What next, then, sweetheart?" He's slowly pulsing up into Dream now in unhurried rhythm, too leisurely to be called fucking but ready to pick up the pace in a heartbeat. "Keep going like this?" The creeper is getting a bit uncomfortable, truth be told, and he wouldn't mind getting up off the floor but if Dream's not done yet he'll tough it out.

"No." Thankfully Dream sits all the way up, wriggles deliciously on Hob's cock, bottomed out and heavy-eyed with the pleasure of having it so deep inside him. "Next, I would have you—ahh—" He squirms, back arching, mouth falling open as Hob gives in to the temptation of dragging the rough grease-stained pad of his thumb over one pristine petal pink nipple. "Bend—bend me over the bonnet. Fuck me until I scream—Hob—!" He's panting as Hob caresses the tender little bud of flesh, writhing as if he could take Hob any deeper.

Hob shivers. "Fuck. Alright. As you wish, you precious beautiful man—" He lifts Dream's hips, lifts Dream off his cock as he sits up, then wraps one arm under Dream's narrow arse and heaves them both up with a grunt of exertion, his other hand braced on the car for support. It's awkward as fuck with his coveralls still wadded about his ankles and he can tell already his back and thighs are going to hate him for it tomorrow, but it's entirely worth it for the arousal that flares in Dream's widened eyes, the way he clings and wraps his legs around Hob, the way he surges in to kiss Hob again.

Hob shuffles round the front of the car using his one hand for guidance while Dream devours his mouth, and carefully lowers Dream onto the bonnet. He knows it's not the position Dream was looking for but he can't help slipping his cock back into him like this, when Dream is still wrapped around him and ripe for the plowing.

Dream breaks the kiss with a reedy little whining noise as Hob nudges inside him and sinks deep; he claws at Hob's shoulders and draws his legs back, open and practically begging and alright, okay, Hob can give him a good minute like this first, fucks into him in soft smooth rhythm. Dream's pretty pink cock is stiffening up again already, laying thick and half-filled against his belly and jolting with every thrust; he's panting open-mouthed, the sweetest little sounds falling out of him each time Hob pushes in.

"You're gorgeous like this too," Hob gets out, needing the talk to divide his focus, to keep himself going without risk of finishing. "So eager, so open, so fuckable—" Dream shudders, biting off a deep whine at the word, leaned back and still hanging onto Hob's shoulders for support, feet braced on his hips, and Hob zeroes in on his advantage. "Has no one ever called you that before, sweetheart? Fuckable?"

"None I would care to hear it from," Dream moans, pulling himself up closer, disrupting Hob's rhythm. "But. From your lips. It sounds like a benediction—" He kisses Hob, tongue plunging into his mouth, arms wrapping tight behind Hob's neck. His legs shift also, wrapping back around Hob's waist and he pulls himself close, up off the car as Hob gets his arms quickly underneath to support him.

"Give a bloke an ego, talking like that," he gasps, when Dream lets him up for air.

"It's well-deserved," Dream counters, nipping at his lower lip and shifting his weight so that Hob steps back to keep them balanced. "You are exquisite, and talented with your dick, and I wish to be so deeply and thoroughly fucked over my car that I will still feel you inside me tomorrow." He plunges his tongue back into Hob's mouth and unlocks his legs from around him, lets Hob set him back on his feet.

"Do you need a refresh on your lube first?" Hob gasps, mindful of what they've already done and what Dream still wants from him and the serviceable life of water-based lube.

Dream pauses, considering. "Perhaps," he says, with the restlessness of someone eager to get back into action but recognizing the wisdom of the question regardless.

Hob leans around him and reaches, snags the lube off the bonnet. "Let me slick you up a bit more just to be safe." He glances at his hands, perpetually stained and still dirty enough to leave smudges on Dream's skin. "Or you can, since your hands are cleaner?"

"Yes," Dream agrees, taking the bottle and squirting some out. He reaches behind himself and Hob gets to watch his face flicker through half a dozen little expressions; he's clearly moving for function over pleasure but there's enjoyment to be had all the same, from the look of it.

"There." Dream straightens as he finishes, eyes Hob with new heat in his gaze. "Are you clean."

"What?"

Dream narrows his eyes, clearly conveying both horniness and impatience in equal measure. "I am clean; I test regularly. I want your come inside me. Are. You. Clean."

Hob's libido flares, wildly. "Yes. Fuck. Yes, okay." Caution to the wind, and all that.

Dream reaches down and removes Hob's condom, drops it aside and picks up the lube again. He slicks up Hob's cock, kisses him fiercely while doing so, then turns and drapes himself over the bonnet of his Porsche and lifts up on his toes, arse presented. "Fuck me," he demands over his shoulder, breathless and eager like he hadn't just come bouncing on Hob's cock not ten minutes ago. Insatiable. "Hold me down with your work-dirtied hands and fuck me—"

Hob doesn't need to be told twice. He lines up and pushes in, bare slick and easy, all the way to the hilt. Dream makes the most appreciative and desperate little moan, wriggling backwards; Hob grabs his hip with one grease-stained hand, plants his other in the middle of Dream's narrow back and fucks.

Dream cries out, high gasping breaths punched from his lungs with every thrust and Hob just revels in it, moving in sure and steady rhythm. It's easy, so easy, smooth and slick and so good, and Dream's enthusiastic response is—it's heady, to have someone react to him this way, to want him this much, and he'll do everything he can to give Dream what he wants, to make it worth it. It's no hardship, far from it.

"Your arse is so hot," Hob pants, "so tight, absolutely perfect. Can't believe you wore that glass plug here so you'd be ready to get plowed." He grinds his hips deep in emphasis, draws out a little and relishes the way Dream whimpers when he slams back in. "Sweet of you, though. Did it turn you on, sitting on it in the cab? Feeling it move inside you when you walked? Were you horny and eager the whole way here, darling, stuffed full with your toy and imagining my prick in its place?"

"Yes, yes, yes!" Dream cries, as much an answer as it is interjection. He's thrusting backward as best he can in Hob's hold, eager and desperate, and Hob keeps fucking, keeps talking.

"I loved watching you take it out. Your beautiful hole stretching bigger and bigger around it, how open you were after. Wanted to stick my tongue in there, sweetheart, wanted to eat you out, make you squirm."

Dream is gasping, wailing, trembling where Hob pins him to the car, head tossing, breath heaving under Hob's steady hand. His cock is surely leaking a mess all over the bonnet; Hob'll have to clean it for him again when they're done.

"You've got the prettiest little hole I've ever seen," Hob continues, steady and unflagging in his rhythm. He leans back, drags both hands to Dream's arse cheeks and squeezes, spreads them so he can easily see himself sinking in, his naked prick pushing and pulling at the puffy pink rim of Dream's hole again and again. He slows, savoring the sight, and Dream whines, clenches around him as he presses back in. "Absolutely beautiful," Hob breathes, thumb moving to stroke over the delicate skin stretched tight around the girth of his prick. "Exquisite. I'm so lucky I get to ravish it."

He knows on one hand he sounds ridiculous as he picks up the pace again, but on the other it's doing the trick on both counts—distracting him from his own pleasure to draw it out, and driving Dream higher at the same time.

And Dream is absolutely being driven to the heights of pleasured madness, that much is clear. He's writhing on the bonnet under Hob's steady pounding, fingers clutching futilely at the glossy surface, skin flushed and sweat-damp and sticking to the car, ribs heaving. And the sounds coming out of his mouth? Good god, he's noisy, so fucking loud and it's not like Hob doesn't love it, not like there's anyone around to hear or any other reason to hold back. It does great things for his ego, the way Dream's wailing like he's never been railed this good in his life, but Hob's got an idea and his instincts say it's spot-on, so he goes for it.

He claps his hand—still grimy from the tune-up, still a little tacky with Dream's come—he claps it gently over Dream's mouth, stifling his volume, and Dream jolts, then goes wild. His head goes all the way back, giving Hob easier coverage; his breath comes short and sharp through his nose, faster and faster in time with his cries that go higher and shriller, muffled by Hob's not-exactly-clean hand. His body has gone tense, trembling, hips thrusting back against Hob's with mounting desperation and god, but Hob is in love. "That's it, sweetheart, come for me again," he murmurs breathlessly, bending close to Dream's ear and the dried mess on his cheek and squeezing his hip, flexing the hand that covers his mouth. "Take your fill of my cock, shoot your load all over your car—I'll clean it again for you, don't worry—"

Dream stills abruptly, shaking, voice a strangled muffled shriek as he comes; Hob thrusts deep into his pulsing clenching arse and holds, intending to let Dream ride out his orgasm. But Dream wriggles, wrenches his head free of Hob's hand, gasping.

"Move—don't stop—"

So Hob moves.

He straightens up and sets both hands back on Dream's hips, fucks eagerly into him, quickly re-establishing his rhythm and speeding up. "Good?" he grunts, sweat dripping down his temple, and Dream warbles out an affirmative.

"Harder—Hob—use me, claim me, fill me—!" His voice shakes; his hands are spasming against the bonnet, his arms trembling, and his arse is so tight and slick and hot, clenches so beautifully around him, Hob isn't going to last but another moment.

"Use your pretty little hole for my own pleasure?" he gets out, pounding into it now with everything he's got, spiraling up to the horizon, and Dream sobs.

"Yes, Hob, yes—!"

"Claim it for myself?" Hob gasps, grinding deep, slamming into him again and again. "Fill you up with my come—ahh—here it is—Dream!"

Dream wails, and Hob comes, gasping, grunting, the euphoria sweeping through his veins in a warm rush. His hips jerk involuntarily, shoving deep, emptying himself thoroughly into Dream's clutching arse.

"Fuck," he pants, pulse pounding in his ears, "oh, fuck—"

It's good, so damn good, feels like it goes on forever, everything in his body alight with pleasure and pouring out through his dick, until at long last it subsides and he collapses, barely catching himself before he crushes Dream. He takes a minute, just panting above him, and then pulls out carefully—still wet and messy, regardless—with a groan. Dream whimpers, a sound of abject loss, but does not move from where he has gone limp on the car.

Hob turns carefully to perch beside him, resting his arse on the bonnet, catching his breath.

"Alright there, Dream?" he asks, after a moment.

"Mmh," is the only reply, and Hob takes a moment to just look at him, gaze sweeping over the lines of his body and the grey-black smudges he himself has left on that pristine pale skin. He lingers over the curves (such as they are) of Dream's arse, leans far enough to see where there's a mess of lube and semen dribbling down Dream's perineum to his balls, a glistening runnel of it trickling down his inner thigh—Hob shivers, arousal sparking despite the remains of orgasm still simmering in his blood.

"Christ, you look beautiful like this," he can't help saying. "Fucked out across the bonnet of your Porsche with your legs spread, and my come dripping out of your arse…"

"Silver tongue." Dream does not move from where he sprawls, languid and heavy-lidded, spread-eagled on the car, even as Hob levers himself up, moves to stand behind Dream again.

"Mmyes, that's right. Said something about having a use in mind for it, didn't you?"

"Perhaps."

"'Perhaps' he says," Hob drawls, grinning, but the idea's back in his head now and oh, he would like to get his tongue in Dream's arse, lube or no lube. He saw the bottle, it's water-based, it's not going to kill him to lick a bit of it up. "Why don't you tell me if this is what you had in mind, then."

He drops into a squat and flicks the tip of his tongue around the puffy rim of Dream's messy and very-pink hole, circling it with a light touch, and the sound that Dream makes is nothing but encouraging. His own come is no particular delicacy but just like the lube, he doesn't mind that he's getting a taste in the course of eating out this beautiful man. Dream's hole is swollen with use and sensitive and Hob kisses it softly, wets his tongue and wriggles it in, gently at first with slurping licks in between but with increasing enthusiasm until Dream is squirming against his face and he's as deep as he can get, grease-stained hands gripping those milk-white cheeks and spreading them wide.

The keening noise Dream makes urges him on and he delves back in again and again, breathless and eager, feasting until his face is sticky and his jaw aches. Finally he draws back, panting, senses filled with the smell and the taste of this man and still, Dream remains insatiable.

"More. Hob, I want more, do not send me on my way so unsated—"

He has come twice, surely he is not sincere when he says 'unsated', and yet. Here he is, pleading for more, as needy and eager as he's been the whole time. And god, but Hob wants to give him everything, is itching to finger him out but he's not doing that when his hands are still dirty, he's just not. Nor is he going to make Dream wait while he scrubs down with the Swarfega. He casts about, thinking, tongue lapping soothingly around Dream's sloppy hole all the while; there's the plug Dream was wearing but it's been sitting on the shop floor so no; it's shaped for stretching more than fucking anyway. His fingers really would be best—

"Did you bring more than just the one condom?"

"Mmh?" Dream sounds keyed up and hazy, blissed out on the attentions of Hob's tongue and Hob smiles, plants a kiss over his hole.

"Condoms, love. Have you got another?"

"Yes. Trouser pocket—"

"And where did your trousers escape to?" He kisses again, flicks his fatigued tongue inside in a teasing lick.

"Front seat." Dream wriggles, needy, restless and wanting.

"Brilliant. Hang on, got an idea—" He scrambles up and around and finds the clothes rumpled in the Porsche's driver seat, rifles through the pockets for the promised condom and tears it open, slips it over his first two fingers as he shuffles round the front of the car again, coveralls still tangled in his boots. Dream is a vision sprawled face down and spread-legged on the bonnet, eyes tracking Hob's return, and Hob won't leave him waiting another instant.

"Here we are," he murmurs, condom-clad fingers sliding down the cleft of Dream's grease-smudged arse and slipping deftly into his hole still slick with lube and Hob's jizz, Hob's spit. Hob pushes deep, curves his touch down and massages, and Dream cries out, going rigid.

Grinning, Hob leans over the bonnet beside him, fingers working deep and steady, and watches Dream's prettily-dirtied face as he comes apart. He's mewling, eyes wide, mouth open and gasping; he's come twice already and his insides are swollen and sensitive, his pleasure easy to stoke to trembling heights. Hob shifts briefly to drizzle more lube in for good measure and then gives him no quarter, fingers steady and relentless in their attentions until Dream is shaking, sobbing, tears leaking from his eyes and saliva drooling from the corner of his mouth. He pushes up on trembling arms, collapses back to his elbows, head hanging low between his shoulders. "Hob—aah—Hob, please!" It's unclear if he's begging for more or begging for mercy, but the way he flexes up on his toes and pushes back on Hob's hand is telling enough.

"Shh," Hob soothes, leaning close enough to brush his mouth across Dream's bicep in an open kiss, and then, because he can't help being just a touch evil: "Do you want to come again? Or did you need me to stop?"

"Do not stop," he manages, and it is very much an order despite his gasping breathless delivery. "Your hands are exquisite, Hob—!"

"You say the sweetest things," Hob murmurs, kissing his arm again and rubbing particularly hard with both fingers.

Dream wails, head tossing, trembling, helpless, and Hob draws his fingers partway out only to drive them back in, again and again and again, curving his touch to hit that spot on every thrust. He twists his hand as he goes, employing every expert technique he's honed in his time to bring Dream up to the edge again.

God, he loves this, having another person trust him with their pleasure and being able to give them everything they want and then some. It's heady, addictive to have this beautiful man sobbing in delight because of him, shaking apart, because of him; he desperately wants for this to not be the last time. Predictably, his mouth starts running again, pleading his case.

"You can have this anytime you like, love, I'd be delighted to take care of you again. Your pretty mouth, your pretty cock, this pretty perfect eager little hole—" He twists his fingers just so, curls and presses.

Dream warbles out a wet, broken sound that may or may not be Hob's name, bends trembling knees to widen his stance just a little, letting Hob that much deeper inside him.

Beautiful. Perfect.

"Come see me anytime you just need a good hard fuck, mmh? Whenever you want a fun and filthy seeing-too from your handsome bit of rough down at the garage?" He pauses with his fingers buried deep, strokes them fast and firm over exactly the right spot again and again and Dream wails, a high thin keening noise deep in his throat that rises into a proper scream as he comes at last. His body spasms, clenches hard on Hob's fingers in pulsing rhythm and Hob doesn't let up for a long moment, milks him relentlessly through it until he collapses onto the bonnet, boneless and panting.

Hob stills his fingers at that point but doesn't yet pull them out, savoring the snug warmth they're nestled in and the beautiful picture Dream makes like this.

He did that. He made Dream come three times, worked this posh pretty thing into a limp fucked-out mess sprawled across his expensive car.

God, but he wants to do it again.

"Do you think you've got one more in you?" He can't help it; he's always been greedy.

Dream groans, a low sound that stirs something deep in Hob's stomach. "Three times, Hob. I am spent." Yet he makes no move to rise from the car or pull off from Hob's hand, which he could easily do.

Greatly daring, tempted beyond reason by this ravenous marvelous creature, Hob twitches his fingers where they're still pressed against Dream's prostate.

Dream jerks, a shudder running through him, then squeaks when Hob does it again. "Hob—!" His eyes fly open, shining beneath his wet lashes.

"I'll stop if you say so," Hob hastens to assure him. "But you did chide me to not send you home unsated and I just want to make sure I've given you everything"—he presses again—"you need."

Dream whines through his teeth, sucks in a great gasping breath as Hob lets up and cries out when Hob's fingers curl mercilessly within him again, and again, and again. He scrabbles uselessly at the bonnet and lifts his head, mouth open, muscles straining, body trembling as Hob starts taking him apart again before he's even pulled himself back together from the last orgasm.

Hob's good with his hands, in this as well as his work, and he's quite certain he can make Dream come again in fairly short order given how sensitized and overstimulated he is. Hob is also quite certain he can draw this out just a bit longer, work him up even more before pushing him over the edge again and quite frankly, that sounds like more fun.

"Stay with me sweetheart," he murmurs in between Dream's cries, shifting his hand to stave off the cramp that wants to start. He strokes Dream's insides with both fingers, together at first and then one after the other; the condom and the grip of Dream's body restrict his range of movement somewhat but not so much that he can't do his job well.

"God, I'm so fucking lucky," he breathes, fingers still moving steadily, and kisses his way softly up Dream's arm. "You're beautiful, perfect, so pretty and so hungry and so eager—" He's planting kisses across Dream's shoulders and back between words, moving down his spine next. "And you let me touch you, worship your body, get you off again and again and again—" He bends over Dream's arse, draws his fingers partway free and spreads them as wide as the condom allows, stretching open Dream's swollen well-used hole. He dips close, slides his tongue into the gap he's created and Dream moans, gasping, trembling. Hob takes a good minute with his tongue before pulling back and sinking his fingers deep again. "This hole, this perfect hungry insatiable hole, you let me fill it as I please, with my cock and my come and my fingers—so lucky, I am. Would you let me fill you with toys, too, sweetheart? I'll bet you've got a drawerful at home; I'd love to try them with you one by one, learn the best ways to play with each, to make you scream and sob and shake—" He's massaging Dream's prostate again, thorough and unhurried and Dream is indeed sobbing, incoherent. He moves, suddenly, draws up one knee beneath him on the bonnet and then the other as Hob moves with him. He's up on all fours briefly and then sinks down, folded double on his knees with his arms stretched out to grip where the bonnet meets the windscreen and his arse opened wide, letting Hob's fingers sink as deep as possible.

"Finish me, Hob," he begs, gripping weakly around Hob's diligent fingers, voice hoarse and shaky, "make me—make me—fuck, I can't—I can't—" He sobs, trembling, and Hob. Well. He's neither a cruel man, nor strong in the face of temptation, and his hand is ready to give out as well. So he buries his fingers to the hilt, seeks out that spot and gives it his all, strokes it quick and steady and firm, both fingers together, then one after the other, together again and Dream's knees spread wide, his spent prick pressing soft against the bonnet. He's making one long sound now, low and thin and straining in his throat, interspersed with gasping gulps of breath. His body trembles, jolts every time Hob presses harder at his prostate, and Hob leans back over beside him, softly kisses the curve of his shoulder.

"I've got you, sweetheart, we're almost there," he breathes, fingering relentlessly. "Is it still good?"

"Yes—fuck—fuck—Hob!" Dream scrabbles one hand down in Hob's direction and Hob seizes it, laces their fingers together; Dream is sobbing, breathless, utterly wrecked and Hob's hand is giving out but he refuses to stop, to quit, not until—

Dream's body stiffens, convulses, bearing down on Hob's stuttering fingers in tremulous pulses and his voice has gone high, whistle-thin, and then he is gasping, tension falling out of him in a rush as he goes limp, breathing hard and heavy against the bonnet. Hob stills his aching hand at last, draws it out carefully and peels off the condom with his teeth, flings it aside. He'll clean up later. He stretches the cramping sensation from his hand and settles it lightly on Dream's still-heaving ribs, unable to keep from touching him even now that they're done.

"Alright, dove?" Hob asks, gently stroking up Dream's spine. "Can you move?" He gives a soft squeeze to their still-joined hands and is gratified to feel brief pressure in return. Dream turns his head, lifts it slightly; his eyes are wet, his hair sticking damply to his forehead and the grease smudge there; his mouth is open, a bit of drool still in the corner and Hob is helpless, gone, so fucking besotted and far too deeply attached for what this is. He dips in, kisses Dream with every soft emotion squirming captive in his chest and Dream just kisses him back, quiet, exhausted, willing.

"C'mere," Hob murmurs, straightening up, sitting back, leaning on the bonnet. He draws Dream after him, tucks him awkwardly up against his side and Dream allows it, nestles underneath his arm, still catching his breath.

This is the drawback to sex in the garage, Hob decides wryly; there is nowhere really suitable or comfortable for post-coital cuddles. He's seriously considering whether he can slide into the passenger seat of the Porsche with Dream in his lap when finally Dream stirs, lifts his head, shivers all over as he straightens and graces Hob with a small smile.

"I believe I will make use of your shop for all my future service needs," he says, primly, with a playful note underneath the exhaustion.

Hob laughs, hearty and full-bodied and joyous. "Glad to hear it," he says, when the laughter subsides. He's so utterly gone on this man, no matter how unlikely a pair they make, and he feels far too good right now to care about the future heartbreak he'll inevitably have to deal with.

He helps Dream down from the car then, steadies him on his feet and sees him around to the driver's seat where Dream first downs half the bottle of water he brought with him and then proceeds with re-dressing. Hob makes to get his coveralls pulled back up into place at that point but Dream stops him. "You promised to clean my spend off my car, I believe," he says, with that tone in his voice that makes Hob's insides go warm despite himself.

"Absolutely," he confirms, waiting, because there was clearly more forthcoming.

"I should like to see you with your trousers around your ankles and your arse on display while you do so." Dream blinks at him, all coquettish charm that is somehow enhanced by his disheveled and dirtied and half-dressed state. "If you are amenable, of course."

"I can do that for you," Hob agrees, delighted, even as he feels his face heat. It's not at all what he's used to but being ogled, being objectified—especially by his beautiful Dream—is no hardship, whatever his reason.

He finds a rag and the polish while Dream finishes putting himself back together and comes round the front of the Porsche again, and then Hob cleans up the bodily fluids on the bonnet, sweat and semen and lube and anything else, coveralls still around his ankles as requested. He wiggles his arse just a bit, since Dream is watching, and when that gets a pleased little sound out of Dream he does it a bit more, putting his whole body into the cleaning motions, bending at the waist and letting his hips swing in wide suggestive arcs.

"There," he says, finished, tossing the rag aside, and his arms are full of Dream as soon as he turns.

"Magnificent," Dream breathes against his mouth, and kisses him, warm and wet and thorough. Hob gives back as good as he gets, threads his hands into Dream's hair, and Dream's hands skate down his bare sides, around his hips and lower, seizing his arse cheeks and squeezing. His fingernails comb through the hair there and Hob squeaks, delighted, dick twitching with interest.

Dream breaks the kiss after only a few seconds. "There is so much more I want to do with you," he murmurs, kneading Hob's arse in slow sensual motions, "but I am spent. Well used. Sated, despite my lingering desires." He releases one cheek, moves to draw a fingertip along the slit of Hob's mostly-soft cock, where he surely encounters the tacky lube-laced remains of Hob's earlier orgasm. He brings that finger to his mouth, makes a show of licking it delicately before slipping it into his mouth to suck properly, and Hob whimpers.

"Dream, love, I meant what I said. Pop by anytime you need, I'll take care of you—"

"I believe you. After all, you have opted me into your loyalty program, yes? I must be sure to claim all of my associated benefits." He steps back, pulling out his phone and handing it to Hob with the contacts open. "Your number, please."

Hob types it in gladly, hits save, hands the phone back.

Dream cradles it close, a look on his face like he's savoring the addition of Hob's number, and glances up at Hob through his lashes. "I look forward to employing your services again, Hob Gadling. You are very much worth the trip."

"You just like me for my rugged filthiness," Hob says, a tease to keep his head in the right place—there's still no sense getting sentimental, after all, no matter the elated cartwheels his ego is doing at those words.

Dream regards him haughtily, one eyebrow lifting; the grease stains do nothing to diminish the expression. "I am quite certain I would enjoy you equally as much cleaned up and dressed up, that I might wine and dine you, take you home to my bed for an evening."

Hob almost, almost detects a hint of vulnerability threading the words and grins, a little pang of tenderness tugging helplessly behind his chest. "Think so, do you?"

"Would you like to test my theory?" There is something both hesitant and eager underneath his casual tone, and Hob's heart trips a little as that tug grows stronger.

"Why, Mr. Atelíotes, are you asking me out? On a proper date?"

"Perhaps." It's equal parts caginess and coy teasing, and Hob is forced to admit—again—that he's smitten despite himself.

"Well." He grins, dialing it up to his most charming. "Rumor has it I'm excellent company whether my dick's involved or not. And while a standard dinner date may not be as fantasy-worthy as getting plowed by the rough mechanic in his garage, I think we could still have a good time." He's showing his hand a bit, gently calling Dream on the fantasy fulfillment that has obviously been going on here, but what's life without a little risk? Especially when the potential reward is so very worth it?

"You are very confident of your own appeal," Dream replies, mouth turning up at one corner in a way that tips over from 'cautious' to 'amused'. And if Hob's not mistaken, there's a hint of pink blushing over his porcelain complexion under the filth clinging to his cheekbone.

He grins, spreads his arms, still stark naked with his coveralls around his ankles. "Am I wrong, though?"

"…No," Dream decides, after a long moment of deliberation, and Hob steps closer to him, dares to touch his face affectionately.

"Why don't you pick me up here at seven tomorrow night. Tell me exactly how posh I should dress, and we'll see where it goes?" He leans in, presses his lips softly to Dream's.

Dream hums into it, pleased, and palms his chest gently before pulling away. "Very well. Seven, tomorrow night. I will make us a reservation and text you the dress code."

Hob smiles, an effervescent sort of happiness bubbling up inside him. "Sounds perfect."

He finally puts his coveralls back in order after that, zipped just past the waist, and makes certain that the condoms are picked up and Dream gets his lube and his toy all collected before he shifts back into business mode. Dream is no more interested in cleaning his face before leaving today than he was yesterday so Hob moves on; he explains the repairs and runs Dream's credit card, then returns his keys and guides him in backing the Porsche out of the garage. Dream leans out the window once he's clear and Hob ducks down, delighted to get a final kiss.

"I'll be waiting to hear from you," he says, trying to temper the giddy anticipation he feels against the reality of their acquaintance, and Dream's soft smile turns sultry around the edges.

"I will be counting the hours until I see you again, Hob Gadling," he purrs, and drives off.

The way the Porsche jerks when he shifts after turning the corner makes Hob wince.

Maybe, if they do continue whatever this is beyond a single dinner date, maybe Hob can give him some tips on driving stick so he doesn't burn out the new clutch.

Then again, the more Dream abuses his poor car, the more excuse he'll have to invoke his 'loyalty rewards'.

And Hob doesn't think that's such a bad thing, in the end.

= Started: 5/4/24 Drafted: 9/17/24 Posted: 9/21/24

[kyseya]

what if the reader tries to call an Uber/family member to pick them up from the farm eventually but they wait till night time bc they can feel something is “slightly”(yeah right) off with the brothers

Since I imagine them being practically in the middle of nowhere, it would be hard to get a strong signal in the first place. Even though they can watch TV in the living room it’s harder to get a good connection on the phone.

(I don’t actually know anything abt phones or signals but this is my fic so it’s ruled by kyseya-logic)

But let’s say reader did get a call to go through to a friend or a family member. This would go differently depending on when she’s try to escape. If she’s try to do it early on/the first night then this would likely go down:

She’d make the call at night and whisper into the microphone as quietly as she could while trying to make herself heard. After retelling all the events to the other person on the line, they’d tell reader that they’ll be there as soon as possible. Unfortunately, it would be a long time until they’d be there since the farm was so far out. It meant she would have to find a way to stay out of trouble and survive. Not wanting to stay there, she gets dressed and packs her things into her bag again. Every move she makes is made with outmost caution. She wouldn’t want to wake them up, not when the consequences could be fatal.

After making sure she’s ready to go, she thinks it can’t hurt to wait a little longer to go. The rescuer wouldn’t be even close until hours later. It was late enough that the brothers should be asleep, but not early enough that they’d soon wake up.

Carefully making her way downstairs, she tiptoes over the floorboards. Thankfully none of them creaks as she walks on them. Finally, yes, the doors is so close! She will make it, she’ll be free! As the door comes closer, her excitement grows. Maybe she was worried about nothing. Getting out turned out to be a life of cake. These guys were probably not even that dangerous to begin with. Did she overreact? Perhaps. Was she gone stay there? No, definitely not. Even if reader doesn’t have proof, she trusts her gut and decides to leave.

Reaching for the handle, she turns it. What? Nothing happens. She tries opening it again. The door doesn’t move and inch no matter how much she pulls it. It’s locked. The horrifying reality sets in and has her panicking. What should she do? She can see a keyhole under the knob, so there is no way to unlock it form the inside without the actual key.

“Why are you running away?” A voice speaks from the darkness behind her.

Out form the shadows steps Lucas.

“Were we not good hosts? It that it?” His questions have an easy tone and seem simple, but if you looked into his eyes, you would be able to see amusement. Not the type you feel when riding a rollercoaster or watching yoru favourite movie: the sadistic kind. “It’s kinda rude to just take off in the middle off the night without saying anything. Please don’t be rude, it’s not pleasant for anyone.”

In his hand is a meat cleaver.

————

So yeah, if it was early in when reader came to the farm, they would most likely kill her. Even though both of them felt some kind of liking towards reader, they still wouldn’t know her enough to want to spare her. They can’t connect to her yet, you know.

If she tried to escape when she’d been staying at the farm for a while, then it would be different. I’m currently writing a fic on what would happen if the reader found out what’s inside their special barn, so that will add to this story. If she tried to escape by calling a friend/family member pretty much the same thing would happen as in the fic that will come out soon, so I won’t write anything more here.

That is all thank you.

[meademalove]

How can you not love her? 😭🩵❤️

Viv: “I’m really happy with the reception I got from the fans and from all the other girls, it was pretty special. Coming back for the first time is a difficult thing to do. It’s the first time you’re coming back home to the place where you’ve been for seven years, so it’s not easy, it’s not like any other normal game, but I think Gareth has been really good with me in checking in with what I wanted to do this week, and the girls have helped me through today, and I’m just really happy the game is done and dusted now and we can move on.”

“I wanted to be respectful for the fans who have stood by for the last seven years and are still standing by me, so I think I did the right thing in that sense. Coming back here today, mainly the focus was on surviving and getting through that game, and then everything else that came with that was just a bonus.”

GT: “I had some good conversations with Viv this week, and I could tell this [returning to the Emirates] was one she just wasn’t comfortable with. It’s really difficult when you go back to your former club.”

Viv: “You could see on the pitch at times that I’m back to being old me, and I can spread some passes and score some goals, and I think that’s the only thing I need to focus on right now and keep on going. I’m happy I stayed in England, I’m happy I stayed in the league. I feel free, I feel like I can be myself, and that’s really what I needed.”

[theelizamanelli]

Tengoku

Reina Iyashi wants a normal, mundane existence until Satoru Gojo takes a special interest in her uncanny ability to bring people back to life (or so Itadori says) and offers her a job as his assistant at Jujutsu High. Tags: 18+, satoru gojo x female oc, boss x assistant, golden retriever x black cat, forced proximity, slow burn, eventual smut, romance, one bed, implied/referenced suicide attempt, blood and violence, grinding link to all chapters link to ao3

——————————————————————————————————

Chapter Ten

——————————————————————————————————

“With all that cuddling we did, I didn’t think you would mind,” Gojo leaned against the wall, gesturing towards the bed. 

Heat spread through Reina’s neck, kissing the edge of her cheeks. Standing abruptly, she stomped towards her luggage attempting to snatch it from Gojo.

He yanked it out of reach, sliding it behind his body. 

“It was a joke, Iyashi. It was the only room they had.” He placed a key into her outstretched hand with a chuckle before rolling their suitcases towards the opposite wall. 

Reina scrunched her face and let out a deep sigh, “You’re lucky. Next time there better be two beds.”

“Are you scared you won’t be able to resist my late night charm?” Gojo fell onto the edge of the bed, turning to prop himself up on an elbow. 

“You’ll see all of this and just have to touch it?” He gestured with his free hand down the length of his body.

“In your dreams, pretty boy.” Reina scoffed, crossing her arms.

“Every night, Iyashi.” Gojo replied sweetly before standing up from the mattress. 

Reina began unpacking her suitcase, placing her clothes in the dresser systematically. Gojo leaned over her shoulder, watching her process with care.

“Looks a lot better than mine,” He took a few steps backwards to where his luggage lay on its side, the contents spilling out. 

She winced at the sight, turning her attention back to the drawer. Reina began to tap her foot, glancing at Gojo as he rifled through his things - furthering the mess. Throwing her shirt down with a huff, she took a step towards him. 

“Just give it to me,” she said with exasperation, nudging Gojo out of the way. 

He sat cross legged on the bed, watching Reina fold his clothes and place them alongside hers. Hanging his button up shirts in the closet and lining his shoes along the wall. She slid their suitcases into the closet, his blue a dark contrast to her pink. 

With a satisfied smile, Reina spun in his direction, “Are you ready?”

Gojo clasped his hands together and swung himself off the bed, “Here we go!”

——————————————————————————————————

The path outside of the inn ran parallel to the river, a sliver of the sunset remaining on the water line.

“So, there’s going to be a next time?” Gojo asked, referencing her earlier comment. He turned his body to face hers, walking sideways in order to meet her gaze.

Attempting to avoid eye contact, she dodged his line of sight by moving her head in different directions. 

“If you’re good,” she replied, spotting an elderly woman standing a few buildings down sweeping the front stoop. 

“Satoru Gojo is always good,” he stated in a serious tone, straightening up with exaggerated pride. 

Reina snorted at the notion, quickly averting her face as Gojo laughed. 

“What a beautiful couple!” remarked the older lady. 

He paused, tossing a devilish grin at Reina before he twirled around. 

“Isn’t she?” Placing a hand on Reina’s shoulder, Gojo gazed at her lovingly. “You should have seen her on our wedding day.”

He wiped a fake tear from his cheek, Reina struck him with a sideways glare. 

The elder clutched the front of her shirt, “That is so sweet! Oh, to be loved like that. You are a lucky woman.” She faced Reina with a soft smile, glancing between the two of them.

Gojo squeezed her shoulder tightly, an indication to play along. 

“The luckiest,” she grit out, a tight smile splaying across her lips.

“Are you two here celebrating something?” she asked, propping her broom against the door frame. 

“Yes, our anniversary.” Gojo reached for Reina’s hand, she kept it tight to her body - her face hardening. Gojo pulled, forcing her to release the tension in her arm. 

“It’s a pretty town, you should visit the bakery up the road,” she gestured down the path.

“Are there any places we should avoid? It’s my duty to keep my wife safe.” Gojo nodded solemnly, placing his free hand over his heart. 

The woman appeared to melt at the words, throwing a scathing look at Reina’s indifference before responding. “Well, be careful to avoid the eastern side of the woodline at night.”

She paused, gazing towards the trees with a somber look, “There have been a few missing cats and dogs as of late. My little Pochi has been gone for three days.” 

Pulling a photo out of her pocket, she pressed it forward into Gojo’s line of sight - avoiding Reina’s attempts to look. A smiling woman sat in a chair with a small white dog in her lap.

“If we see him, we will let you know,” Gojo replied sincerely. “Thank you for the advice!”

“Come along, sweetheart!” Still holding onto Reina’s hand, he yanked her towards him and continued down the path. 

“Our anniversary, huh?” seethed Reina, “Is this how you always act on your jobs? Lying to get what you want?”

Gojo casually inspected the surroundings, “Yeah, pretty much.”

Walking in the direction of the woodline, Gojo intermittently stopped to converse with the locals. Spewing a similar story - the women gasped with glee at his retelling, casting judgemental glances in Reina’s direction as she sat awkwardly on the sideline. 

There was a consistent resounding concern for the eastern border of the trees. A few had noted the disappearance of tourists - abandoned cars in the clearings nearby. That was all the confirmation the pair needed before they entered the forest. 

——————————————————————————————————

The night had settled in between the trees, forcing Reina to focus her energy on avoiding rogue roots rather than locating the curse. 

Gojo walked ahead, confidently, moving branches out of her way. 

Stumbling over a rock that Reina failed to note, distracted by Gojo’s frame in the moonlight, she steadied herself on a tree.

Gojo turned towards her, one hand in his pocket as he commented, “You’re not the most graceful, are you?”

“Sorry, we can’t all have sixteen eyes or whatever,” She grumbled, pushing off the bark.

Gojo chuckled and stepped forward, surveying the area. “People have always been unsettled by them.” 

Sliding in next to him, Reina watched as he used his index finger to pull the blindfold out - letting it spring back into place. 

She furrowed her brows at the prospect, “I prefer to look at them,” she replied without thinking. Straightening up, she hurried forward so as to not catch his eye.

“You’ve mentioned that before,” he murmured, the hint of a smile in his voice. “It’s easier to have the blindfold or sunglasses, it can be an information overload.”

A crack echoed through the woods causing Reina to take a step backwards - bouncing off of Gojo’s stomach. 

He leaned forward - whispering in her ear, “What? Are you scared?”

Goosebumps pimpled along the back of her neck. 

A fox sprung out from behind the bushes, its claws digging into the ground. The entrance of a den hiding behind its body, four beady eyes shining from the hole. 

“We found your youkai,” Reina said with a sigh. 

“Poor Pochi.” whimpered Gojo. 

——————————————————————————————————

The heat spread across the counter and slithered underneath the door from the shower. Reina used a towel to lazily dry her hair before pulling on shorts and a tee. 

She opened the door slowly, Gojo sat on the floor scrolling his phone. His pallet of blankets spread underneath him, he slid his gaze upwards. 

“It’s a cold night and all they have is that fireplace,” He pointed to the corner of the room where he had kindled the flame. 

She looked down at her clothes, “It’s all I brought for pajamas.”

He shrugged, leaning back onto his pillows. She carefully skirted around his space before climbing into the bed. Reina quickly covered herself with the comforter, the cold beginning to seep into her bones as the warmth of the shower disappeared. 

Silence stretched in the air as Reina gazed out the window, admiring the stars.

“Thank you for coming, Iyashi,” Gojo said quietly. Reina felt the heat in her cheeks, she leaned forward to peer down at the pallet. 

Gojo’s eyes were closed, his arm resting on his forehead.

“You’re welcome,” she replied softly. 

Reina thought of their earlier conversation, wondering how lonely little Gojo was. She reasoned that they had more in common than she realized.

The fireplace crackled in the corner, supplying minimal heat to the bed. She looked over at Gojo, seemingly unaffected by the brisk air. His proximity to the flames proved advantageous to not freezing to death. 

Her teeth chattered loudly, her body shivering uncontrollably. Reina pulled her knees upwards to meet her chest and tightened her grip on the comforter.

“You’re shaking the bed,” muttered Gojo from the ground.

“Sh-sh-shut up,” her mouth fighting against the clattering.

“You know, I could think of a few ways to warm you up,” he teased. 

“I hope you catch fire in your sleep,” Reina replied with an annoyed tone.

“Suit yourself,” the blankets rustled as he re-adjusted. 

Reina stared into the darkness, observing how the light of the fire danced along the wall. Desperate to distract herself from the bitter frost threatening to swallow her. She glanced down at Gojo who was resting comfortably in the opposite direction, facing the window. 

She turned her attention to the ceiling - reasoning with her conscience. Huffing, she gathered the comforter in her arms and slid softly to the ground. Tossing it lightly over his body, Reina pulled the edge of the blankets up and slipped underneath.

The immediate warmth spread into her toes and worked slowly up.

The heat radiating from Gojo coaxed her closer, she fought momentarily before succumbing to its allure. Reina pressed lightly against his body, careful to not wake him.

She felt her lids begin to drift shut, the smell of his cologne caressing her nose. Reina nuzzled her head into the back of his shirt, she froze - her eyes widening. Wincing, she inwardly chastised herself - he would never let her live this down if he woke up.

A few moments passed, Reina let out a sigh of relief when Gojo didn’t stir. Relaxing against his body, she allowed herself to close her eyes. 

Lifting a leg to maneuver herself, Reina settles into Gojo’s lap. Sliding a hand up his torso and around his neck - softly playing with his hair in the back.

He lets out a groan, leaning his head into her hands.

Reina shifts her hips against Gojo’s growing hardness. A moan slipping from her lips as her fingernails dig into his shoulder.

She grinds, Gojo grabs her hips desperately - begging for friction.

He drags himself up and down, a blush spreading across Reina’s cheeks. 

Gojo leans forward and kisses her neck, whispering into her ear “Are you warm enough?”

She tilts her head to the side, trying to understand his words.

“Are you warm enough, Iyashi?” 

One leg strewn across his body, Reina’s shorts were riding his boxers. Her head lay softly on his chest with an arm around his neck, her fingers holding onto a piece of hair. 

Horrified, Reina bolted upright - pressing herself into his groin. A low groan stuck in his throat as he reached for her hips. 

“Please, no more movement,” Gojo stared up at Reina, a pained look in his eyes. “Haven’t I endured enough torture this morning?”

——————————————————————————————————

Sulking behind him, Reina dragged her feet along the sidewalk as Gojo wandered forward. 

“Lighten up, Iyashi. It was only a dream - at least you weren’t cold,” He said playfully, a sideways glance in her direction.

With a huff, she smacked his shoulder. “Don’t,” she warned. 

He laughed, returning his gaze to the path, a group of teenagers stood outside of a cafe - gossiping loudly.

“Yeah, he went to that old well again. God, who’s going to tell him that thing’s an old wive’s tale?” remarked one of the boys with a cruel chuckle.

“I mean, how stupid could he be? Does he think that’s going to make her like him? How embarrassing.” a girl giggled, leaning her head back.

Gojo paused, listening intently. Reina nearly ran into his back, stopping herself with a quick dig of her heels. 

“What?” she asked, attempting to peer around him.

The kids continued on towards the river, a man walked forward to clear the table they had been sitting at.

“Sir? We are trying to do some sightseeing.” He looked back at Reina, pulling her forward. “It’s our honeymoon.” He patted her arm, she smiled at the man in an attempt to play along.

“We heard of an old well?” He inquired, watching the man’s reaction carefully.

He dropped a glass, clattering to the table. “The Yamamoto Well?”

“That’s it!” Gojo said excitedly, Reina knew he didn’t know the name but was attempting to drag maximum information from the man.

“Oh, well, that’s more of an old legend. A long time ago, there was a young girl named Mai Yamamoto who fell in love with a nobleman. He left her for a woman of better standing. She went to that well and prayed for him to love her. Using a spell a local majo had given her,” The man shivered slightly. “When it didn’t work she killed herself, throwing her body down it.”

“Now teenagers mostly use it as a way to scare each other. I have heard of some trying love spells at it again.” He shrugged, pointing in the direction of the well, “Not really romantic if you ask me.” 

Gojo thanked him for the information before hurrying them along. As they neared the area he had referred them to, the air began to thicken. Reina watched her breath swirl around her mouth, she tightened her coat around her waist. 

“There’s a lot of cursed energy here,” Gojo stated. The street gave way to a small clearing, surrounded by trees. A stone well sat at the edge, covered by a wooden awning splintered by age.

“Spooky,” muttered Reina as they neared the well.

“Very,” Gojo concurred, peering around it. 

A young boy crouched behind the stone, his long dark hair wrapping around his face - his fingers clutching the edge. He was notably shaken, mumbling to himself, “Why? Why? Why?” his volume slowly increased.

Gojo bent down, hands resting on his knees as he confronted him, “Hey, buddy, what’s up?”

He continued to mutter under his breath, rocking slightly. A slow whistle rose from the bottom of the well. Reina stiffened at the sound, taking a protective step towards Gojo. 

She glanced down, the edge of a knife jutted out from the boy’s palm - his hand trembling. 

The whistling grew louder, the sound reminding Reina of a bottle rocket. 

“Gojo,” she whispered, a soft warning as he neared the boy and the well.

“It’s okay, you’re safe.” Gojo said softly, reaching for him. 

His eyes widened in response, stumbling backwards to avoid the touch.

At that exact moment, a gray figure exploded from the top of the well - Reina reached for Gojo. 

It landed on the edge in a crouch. The curse resembled a young woman in a tattered kimono. Her dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail. Three eyes glanced from Gojo to Reina. 

Reina reached for the kaikens strapped to the outside of her pants, stepping into a defensive position.

Gojo straightened up, his eyes still on the young boy. He rolled his neck before turning towards the curse. 

“You’re it?” He asked, lazily trailing his gaze over its body. 

The monster cocked its head to the side before springing towards Gojo, hitting his limitless effect and sprawling backwards with a thud. 

“How embarrassing,” He said, pity drenching his tone.

He stepped towards the curse, “How about you pick on someone your own size?”

It raced towards him again, its speed difficult for Reina to track with her eyes. 

The boy was crawling around the well, in the opposite direction of the curse. She took a step towards him, the curse nearly reached Gojo when it stopped abruptly. Turning towards the boy.

Reina’s face hardened as she ran towards him, sliding across the grass to throw her body in front of his. The curse collided with her, she grunted at the impact - Reina slammed the kaikens into each shoulder. It roared before digging its claws into her side. 

She managed to get a knee in between their bodies, she used the space to position her foot on its stomach.

Reina thrusted her leg forward, throwing it into the air. She groaned at the growing pain in her ribs, pushing her body backwards - forcing the boy to scoot along the ground retreating to the woodline.

“Help me up,” she gritted out, the boy faltering before shoving her upwards. She stumbled forward, straightening as the curse scurried in her direction. 

Gojo knocked into it from the side, causing it to slip on the ground - it dug its claws into the grass to stop its momentum. 

In the collision, he had reached forward to pull out one of the pink kaikens from its shoulder.

“You’re always losing these in fights, Iyashi.” He flipped it into the air, catching it with ease. “You should take better care of your toys.”

Reina scowled at him as he threw it in her direction, “At least I’m doing something, unlike some people.”

“Oh? I’m not doing anything?” Gojo turned to Reina, his hands in his pockets. The curse ran towards him, he maintained eye contact with her. Without moving he sliced through one of its arms, it lay mangled on the ground - desperately attempting to reach for him.

She rolled her eyes, “What a show off.”

The curse reeled, shaking its head before running towards him - he suspended it in the air momentarily.

“Bye bye,” Gojo said with a smile and a small wave of his hand.

Reina slammed her kaiken into the back of its skull. It shuddered before falling to the ground.

Gojo stepped over the corpse, walking towards the boy who sat trembling near the trees. He crouched down next to him, watching as he gripped the knife - his knuckles turning white.

“It’ll get better, kid,” Gojo placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, slowly removing the weapon from his grip with the other. “Don’t be in such a rush to end your youth. It’s a gift not everyone gets to enjoy.”

He stood bowing before running towards the street. Reina observed Gojo, his eyes followed as the boy rounded the corner - a strange look on his face. As if he reminded him of someone. 

A crack sounded from the edge of the wood, she braced herself for the appearance of a second curse.

“You have got to be kidding me,” muttered Reina as a small white dog bounded towards Gojo from the trees, pouncing into his arms.

He twirled him in the air - shouting gleefully, “Pochi!”

Walking back to the town, the elderly woman stood conversing with the kid and his mother - he was crying as the woman hugged him. She ran towards Gojo, the dog barking happily at the reunion as it jumped towards her.

The mother of the young boy thanked Gojo profusely, bowing repeatedly as she held his hand tightly. Locals began to gather, taking turns shaking his hand. He accepted all of the praise with humility, desperately attempting to point them in Reina’s direction. Insistent that she had helped equally - a few had looked to her in response, thanking her.

The elderly woman looked to Reina with a nod of approval, Pochi wagging his tail in her arms. 

She nudged Gojo, “Aren’t you going to thank your beautiful wife for all of her help?”

Excited murmurs spread through the crowd, the young women giggling - looking between Gojo and Reina.

He straightened, his eyes softened as he admired her - her appearance lighty tousled in the wake of the fight. He searched her face for permission as the older lady pushed him forward.

“Well, husband?” Reina cocked her head to the side, a smile playing on her lips. She had been instructed to play along. 

A grin spread across his face as he reached for her, one hand rested on her cheek and the other on the side of her neck. 

Reina held her breath in anticipation, her heart racing.

He leaned down, his cologne hugged her senses as his warm breath spread along her face.

Gojo’s lips pressed softly to hers, she let out a small gasp at the contact. He smiled against her mouth, moving his lips on hers. He leaned her head back, deepening the kiss - his tongue sliding against the inside of her bottom lip. Her moan slid into his mouth, Gojo groaned as he rubbed his thumb against her jaw. 

“Oh, to be young again.” sighed the elderly woman. 

Gojo pulled away slowly, his hands still connected. Reina could see a tinge of pink on his neck as she fought her own growing heat. 

“Better than my dreams,” He mumbled low enough for her to hear.

——————————————————————————————————

“I’ll miss that dog,” Gojo swiped an imaginary tear over his blindfold. “Iyashi, can we get a-”

“Absolutely not.” Reina replied sternly, rolling their suitcases in the direction of the train. 

Slumping into the window seat, Gojo leaned his head against the glass with a yawn.

Reina slipped in next to him, settling in comfortably. She leaned back against the headrest with a sigh. 

Reaching a hand towards her face, she ran a finger along her bottom lip before swiping her tongue across the inside - it still tasted like him.

——————————————————————————————————

chapter eleven

[twisted-confessions]

https://www.tumblr.com/cheekinpermission/746227919612936192?source=share

Hope not late! 25 , 5 and 28👀👀

Nope not late at all!!

25. Which character(s) would you actively avoid? Personally, you would not see me anywhere near Vil, Rook or Sebek.

I can appreciate Vil's efforts to have people more self-confident in their own image however I absolutely despise how forceful he goes about it, especially with Epel and the dance troupe. If I EVER caught him trying to change parts of myself that I'm proud of (my australian accent, my nerdy sense of fashion, etc.) it would be ON SIGHT- (Can you tell I'm still not over Book 5?)

For Rook, i can say I..... respect his dedication and loyalty to his beliefs. However? That man... he scares me... Also, i'm still extremely salty over the VDC/SDC results WE SHOULD HAVE WON THAT AND WE LOST TO THE TWST EQUIVILANT OF BABY SHARK- Rook, i don't care about your reasonings for why we weren't at our best, I've seen the video performance AND THE NRC TRIBE FUCKING NAILED IT!!!

And then our croccy boi- Now don't get me wrong, I do love Sebek as a member of the first year gang of idiots. I also don't know a lot about him personally since I've only known him in events and havent started Book 7 yet. From what I have seen, he does annoy me a lot with his blatant disregard and disrespect to anyone who isn't Malleus or Lilia. His ego and his racism also really piss me off and make me wanna slap some sense into him. I understand it comes from a place of self-loathing but dude, PLEASE read the room for once and not screech our ears off. I'm certain that I would eventually befriend him but if we actually met face to face, it would be a miracle for me to not punch him 1 minute after his insults.

5. If you could have any unique magic / signature spell in the game, which would you choose and why?

Ooooh I've never thought about that until now actually. Personally, i would want something that would be useful and practical both in a day to day life or in a fight since I'm not very physically strong. Going with that idea, i'd more than likely pick either Split Card or Paint The Roses/Doodle Suit. Multiple me's to help me do chores around the house or distract someone in a fight? YES PLEASE!! I also have a lot of sensory issues so I feel like Paint the Roses would really help me eat the things i need to or make a certain texture that feels funny to me turn comfortable. We've also seen how useful it can be in a fight during Riddle's Overblot when Trey turned the rosebush into cards and saved us.

If just for fun though, I'd love to try out any of Savanaclaw's UM's/SS's. Now THAT would be chaotic heheh.

28. What is the TWST related content that you've produced that you are most proud of?

I personally really love my HTTYD x TWST fic that i've been writing. Knowing myself, I probably wont ever finish/post it so I'll have what I've written linked here for anyone who's interested in my favourite brainworm lol. Bella is a very special oc near and dear to my heart as she's the first one that I've enjoyed writing for since being kicked out of home over a year ago. She gave me back my creativity and I couldn't be more thankful for it.

Right now, I've even been imagine a Fairly OddParents x TWST fic in my head which I think would be a BLAST to write, where my Twisted version of Timmy Turner (a girl called Izzy) would use their rule free wish to be a part of Wanda, Cosmo and Poof/Peri's family as their bio daughter when they're no longer her godparents and becomes a half-fairy hybrid in the process. The idea of a "magicless" girl at NRC who out of nowhere suddenly can not only make but GRANT wishes that bend the laws of reality around her is absolutely hilarious to me. Haha take that you pricks, you thought I was weak? BOOM you're a hedgehog, now you really are a prick. Rewatching FOP and seeing how Timmy can be such a menace/pos really makes me think he would fit in GREAT amongst NRC lol.

I'm also really proud of the Card edits I've done for other people where I turn their OC's into different rated cards so it looks like it's from the game. Seeing all the different kinds of OC's and hearing about their characters is so amazing.

Feel free to send in any more asks or questions!! I love interacting with the Twst Community <3

[chimindity]

Father figure

Summary | Rafe's sister seeing him as a father figure. Request by @/anon

Pairing | Rafe & sister!reader

Warning | Rafe acting tough towards his sister.

A/N | (Rafe icons by @marvelfanfics1 ♡!!) writing this might have healed my father/brother issues😚. to anon; this is definitely not weird at all🫶🏻

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Ever since your dad doesn't really pay attention to you and your brother, you have created a strong link between you and Rafe. He has always been the one taking care of you and got your back whenever you needed it, despite the fact that he always acts rude towards you. But deep down, he loves that you rely on him; it makes him feel special.

You storm into Rafe's bedroom after a hard day at school, causing him to jolt at your sudden presence -"What are you doing in my room? Have you ever learned how to knock?" He rolls his eyes as he glances up at you, breathless from how fast you were rushing to his bedroom.

You drop your backpack on the floor and stumble your way to his bed where he is sitting up, -"I just missed you Rafe," you say as you are about to hug him. Suddenly, he pushes you away, -"Don't you have any homework or something?" He sighs as he slides his fingers through his hair.

You start fidgeting with the hem of your shirt, feeling sad about the rejection, -"I already did them at school. I'm hungry. Can you make us something for dinner, please?" You ask, noticing him roll his eyes once again.

He brings his hands to massage his temples before looking right at you -"You're grown enough to make yourself something to eat, don't you think so, uh?" He grins, knowing you love it whenever he cooks. You simply shrug your shoulders, glancing down at your fingers -"I'm tired and I love when you make dinner, Rafey," you mumble, hoping it would eventually make him give in.

And you know it, when you hear him sigh and stand up from his bed, a wide smile appears on your face as he looks down at you -"What— what are you smiling for?" He chuckles while walking past you, going downstairs to go into the kitchen. You follow him behind and giggle every now and then.

-"Nothing," you try to hide your smile as you watch him picking up all the ingredients to make a fast meal. He simply shakes his head in annoyance -"Alright, stop being weird and be helpful for once in your life, set the table," he steps back so you could crouch down to pick up two plates from the counter.

You carefully hold them against you and set them down on the table. You stumble your way back to your brother and wrap your arms around his waist from behind, resting your chin against his back -"What are you trying to do? I'm not a goddamn pillow," he huffs, trying to stay focused on the noodles that are being cooked in the pan.

-"Just want to be close to you," you mumble, peeking your head to the side to watch what he is doing. -"It smells so good, Rafey, could you teach me how to make this next time?" you ask, enjoying the presence of your brother. He simply nods and brings his free hand on top of your head to stroke your hair, causing you to melt at his action.

Your grip around his waist tightens as you feel protected and listened to by Rafe, -"Go wait at the table, k'ay? I'm almost done with it," he gives you a light tap on the cheek before you go sit on your chair, waiting patiently for your pasta to come.

He finally joins you at the table and picks up your plate to serve you some pasta, and serves himself as well. After minutes of silence, he is the one who breaks it, -"How was school today?" He asks, not glancing up at you. You pause and place down your fork before beginning to explain everything that happened today, -"Sounds like a tiring day. Where do you still get all that energy from, uh?" He chuckles as he looks at you.

You slowly push your plate away on the table, but it still catches Rafe's attention, and he quickly points it out with his index, -"No, you have to eat everything. I want this plate to be empty in five minutes," he glances at it and at you. You simply sigh and pull your plate closer to you, -"Eat it or you won't get any ice cream," he knows how much you like ice cream and definitely knows how to make you obey him.

Even though he acts all tough and sometimes rude with you, he insists on telling you to rest on the couch and to let him do the dishes for once. When he gets tired of your stubbornness, he simply drags you to the couch and walks back into the kitchen to keep doing the dishes. After he finishes, he pulls out two ice creams from the freezer and sits beside you on the couch, removing the wrapper before handing you your ice cream.

He keeps repeating to you to 'eat it fast before it melts onto your hands.' You simply giggle and try to reassure him that you're handling the situation. But after a while, he starts hearing your sweet snores and turns his face to look at you. He sights the wooden stick tightly wrapped in your fist, he sighs, and leaves a kiss on your forehead before picking up the wooden stick and placing it on the coffee table. He grabs the nearest blanket and places it over both of you, turns off the TV, and snuggles to your side to protect you, 'just in case you would get a nightmare,' he tells himself.

Taglist

@marvelfanfics1 @nemesyaaa @jjsfavgirl @mrvlxgrl @ziggyfaremen @wearemadeofstardust0 @mylettterstoyou

[katsona-the-katsequel]

Specialized Extracurricular Execution Squad Activity Report

Part 2

4/22 (Wed) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

...Geez, Junpei...what's wrong with that...Oh, sorry, it's Takeba.

Well, Junpei Iori, that rude idiot, yelled abusive language at a woman, so I just had to give him a little warning.

For an hour.

By the way, Junpei has a cold. He has a high fever and looks like he is in pain, but I don't care.

After all, after the exploration of Tartarus, he stayed up late watching late-night TV, so it was all his fault.

...I guess today's post wasn't really a report, right? Sorry.

4/23 (Thu) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo.

There are no Student Council activities today, so I took a quick look around Paulownia Mall before heading home... It seems like the number of Lost people has increased significantly. To be honest, I'm a bit worried, but the reality is that we have no choice but to build up our strength in Tartarus. I hope the second-years, our new fighting force, will do their best.

Speaking of which, it seems that the sports clubs have started recruiting new members, and that's the topic of conversation in the lounge. Akihiko seems to be excited at the thought of club activities, but I'll have to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn't start training on his own again. The field leader seems to be interested in club activities as well. I hope he chooses a club where he can put his skills to good use in real situations...

4/24 (Fri) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Today, while chatting in the school hallway, a second-year student said something that concerned me. Apparently, a friend of his dropped out of school and has become a recluse. Since there is a possibility that he is a Lost, I reported this to Ikutsuki-san just in case... I hope that nothing bad happens, but I don't think we can be optimistic.

It's really frustrating to see damage happening in places close to me like this. Even though my job right now is to heal my body...

Hurry up... let me fight.

4/25 (Sat) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hi, it's Junpei.

Wow, time flies, and tomorrow will be another week since I moved into the dorm. A week that seems short but long... a week that seems long but short...

No, nothing dramatic happened. Anyway, life is comfortable! I'm not tied down to anything.

But it's more free than living at home, or maybe it's just a sense of freedom? It's a bit of a pain to get food, but I can eat whenever I want, I get to choose the channel I want, and best of all, I don't have to hide *it* under the bed... oh no. I'm deleting the last one.

But how can I turn it off? Hey, wait, sir!

4/26 (Sun) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Ah, it's Takeba.

Today is Sunday, so I went out in the morning to do some window shopping and eat around town. It feels like it's been a really long time since I've had a day off.

Well, shadows don't have any days off, so you really shouldn't let your guard down...

That's fine, right?

It seems that Junpei and the leader also went out. I wonder where they hang out? I can imagine what Junpei does, but the leader doesn't seem to have any hobbies. Oh, he seems to like music, so he probably goes around CD stores.

The seniors were in the dormitory. Kirijo-senpai said that she feels more relaxed when reading, but I wonder if that was because she was being considerate of Sanada-senpai who can't go out due to an injury? Hmm, I don't really understand Kirijo-senpai's personality, so I'm not sure.

I don't think this is really a report or anything, but this was Takeba.

4/27 (Mon) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo.

Today I invited him, our field leader, to join the Student Council. I hoped that he would use his adaptability to help me on campus, but maybe I was being a bit too pushy?

Well, right after the invitation, I got permission from Toriumi-sensei and he came straight to the Student Council room, so at least it seems there's not a complete lack of interest.

...When I see a person with an ability, I naturally tend to judge that they would be happy to utilize that ability... but maybe that's a bad habit of mine. I should reflect on this. But even so, I have high expectations for his work.

I introduced him to the members of the Student Council, and it seems he has already caught the eye of the disciplinary committee chairman, Odagiri. To be able to take a liking to such a difficult guy like him, he must be no ordinary person.

But... compared to that, look at the principal's attitude this morning! What a huge waste of time! Do I need to do something about it...?

4/28 (Tue) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

The lines that were cut off by the recent Shadow attack have finally been restored. I normally don't use the internet that much so it won't have much of an impact on me, but it will be a relief for Mitsuru, who has to investigate various things. Also, Junpei was making a fuss about online games. That guy plays too much.

Honestly, my ribs are just like the cables.

I hope I can just replace it with a new one and end the treatment... But maybe it'll be nice to go online for a change of pace.

I remember someone in my class saying that the video of the world title defense match the other day was available. I should check it out...

4/29 (Wed) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hey!

It's Junpei!

Holiday! It's a national holiday!

Am I the only one who feels like I've gotten a huge bonus when I have a day off other than Sunday?

…Oh, by the way, what day is it today?

Well, that's ok, but anyway I enjoyed my holiday! That's it!

Oh, Tartarus and SEES are on holiday because the Senpais are out.

By the way, our leader said that he saw Sanada-san in front of the police station at night... Could it be that he forgot that Kurosawa-san wasn't there and went to buy a weapon?

Hehehe, the other day he said "I can't buy it at night, so please be careful."

Even though he was saying "I'll do my best", he ended up being the one who got carried away. …Maybe Sanada-san is actually an… air-headed person?

4/30 (Thu) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Uh, this is Takeba.

The world is definitely in a Golden Week mood. I saw on TV that the cherry blossoms are in full bloom at Hirosaki Castle in Aomori. In the class next door, some kids are taking Thursday, Friday and Saturday off and have already been to Guam since yesterday.

...Well, that's fine. Even if there are no missions, there is no way I can go out and play. However, when I thought that the battle without a goal would continue on and on like this, I felt a little uneasy, or perhaps I wanted some kind of feedback that I was useful. Haha, I'm feeling a bit down. Sorry! This is Takeba.

5/1 (Fri) - Reporter: Junpei Iori

Hi, Junpei here!

Today, at Sanada-san's request, I was able to accomplish my mission of carrying important documents to Tatsumi Memorial Hospital, where he was admitted for a medical examination!

...No, sorry. This is a report with some dramatization. Even the watchdog and the leader came along, so it just seemed like we were all visiting the hospital. Oh, by the way, the important document is the class list for class 2E. Sanada-san, what is that for?

Oh, and I met someone at the hospital who seems to be an acquaintance of Sanada-san. Someone who is apathetic.

No, how should I put it, he was like a knife, with an aura that said "I'll punch you if you talk to me"... He looked strong... Somehow, I got the feeling that Senpai really trusted him, and when I saw that... I was kind of jealous...

Ah, hahaha, something's weird about me.

5/2 (Sat) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo. Today is the 8th night of the lunar calendar. I was contacted by the Kirijo family to say that they will be sending me some good Gyokuro tea soon, as they do every year. They say that this year's harvest is even better than before, so as a tea lover, I'm looking forward to it.

Even so, I was surprised to find that it was already that season. I really feel how quickly time passes.

At school, Golden Week starts tomorrow, and my classmates are busy planning trips and fun activities.

I don't have any particular plans, and the whole day is spent... well, maybe I'll read a book. I tuned up my bike the other day because I had too much free time. At times like this, it's hard not to have a hobby to kill time. I'm not interested in TV either... Oh, that reminds me. There seems to be a lot of talk about some suspicious shopping program lately. Amazing Commodities...I think it was a common name, like "Yamada" or "Suzuki"...Yeah. It should be on air tomorrow, so I might as well take a look.

5/3 (Sun) - Reporter: Yukari Takeba

Eh, this is Takeba...

Sorry, I don't really have a good voice.

Don't worry about it. No, it's not like the Chairman's pun really touched my heart.

Something bad happened during the day.

Can I tell you? Is it okay?

Even though I was saying it was a report... I'm also in a hurry. I mean, please listen to me, anyone is fine! This is the worst! I went to see a movie with a friend from my club today. It was a super popular movie that was released just in time for Golden Week. I was really looking forward to it. So, we met at Paulownia Mall, and there was still some time before the screening so we decided to walk around for a bit. I said I wanted to go look at some clothes, but the girl said she wanted to go to a bookstore. But she was a huge bookworm, and I don't know if it's a used bookstore, but she loves books so much that when we go to a bookstore, she loses herself in reading books.

I knew that, and I didn't have any particular books I wanted to read, so it would be boring to go, and when you go into a bookstore, you feel like you want to go to the bathroom, don't you? So I didn't want to go, and I told her I didn't want to go either because she probably wouldn't come back.

She said she was just there to pick up the book she ordered and would be back soon. But I had a bad feeling, so I told her I'd wait by the fountain and that she should go alone...I mean, if you have a bad feeling about it, you shouldn't go! In the end, she never came back...

(Recording stopped due to memory capacity exceeded)

5/13 (Wed) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

It's Kirijo. Yesterday, a member of the Gekkoukan Academy staff was killed in a landslide by a car.

There was a traffic accident in which a man fell off a road and sustained serious injuries. It hasn't rained recently, so I thought it was just a coincidence, but it seems that it may not have been an accident. What's more, it may have been something to do with a shadow...

Whenever there is a suspicious accident or incident within the police, Kirijo's lab is secretly contacted, and this accident was caught in that net. Apparently, when they were investigating the ground to investigate the cause of the accident, they found evidence of a landslide caused by an external force. However, this is not certain, they also said that it "seems to be an external influence" to the extent that it is merely a symptom of the problem.

Afterwards, I asked for more details, but apart from the fact that the accident occurred around a certain time, there was nothing to suggest that the Dark Hour was related. Hmm... Maybe I'm being a bit overly sensitive.

5/14 (Thu) - Reporter: Akihiko Sanada

Today was an extremely peaceful day, with nothing to report as part of SEES, and nothing I wanted to personally think about. ...Well, that's just on the surface, after all...

Hmph... There's no point in being shy, so I'll just tell you. There are only a few days left until the midterm exams. The dormitory and the school are quiet on the surface, but deep down, I can't help but feel like a pretty violent storm is raging.

As for the guys in the dorm, Mitsuru and I are acting the same as usual, but Takeba seems to stay in her room after coming home from school and never coming out. I'm worried about whether she's eating properly, but in this respect, girls are better than boys. The field leader seems to be cool, and he seems to be doing what he needs to do, such as stopping by the library at school and studying with the lights on until late at night.

The problem, after all, is... Junpei. I'll have to give him a warning tomorrow.

5/15 (Fri) - Reporter: Mitsuru Kirijo

This is Kirijo.

Recently, as I continued my daily Shadow surveillance, I noticed that the number of shadow activities had decreased dramatically since the large Shadow was defeated the other day.

I can't let my guard down, but I feel like I've had a weight lifted off my shoulders for the first time in a long time.

I was aware that I wasn't putting my all into it, so I thought it wouldn't be so bad to spend this weekend sitting at my desk like a student would...

I've been told that Akihiko will be able to return soon, so let's think about how to organize ourselves so that we can start full-scale activities after the exams are over. Yes, I'd like to have more... manpower...

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[bewilderedbunny]

got too emotional thinking about libraries. again. ☹️

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 301

Ellie, during one of her stints of what do I do with my life right now, decides to, with the help of her Original Dad-Person (Look he’s aging and she’s not and it gets less questions the older he gets if he says daughter instead of sister with how the Fentons are getting older too) creates a Boo-Tube channel. No, not a Youtube channel, those are stuck to a single dimension.

Bootube on the other hand? Due to being through the Realms (and wow is Tucker getting so much income from creating it) is interdimensional. Which is so cool honestly. And she doesn’t know what to do at first, and honestly there’s already so many travel blogs that she kind of just… decided to do something that she wished someone had done for her and her brothers and Danny when she was new to the world. 

So she creates the channel CAAW: Clone Awareness, Accommodations, and Welfare. They had to learn things through trial and error, but maybe she can help someone out there learn how to find their own selves, or even help someone not melt.