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ran-orimoto · 1 year ago

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The naughty ponentino

[ Italy miraculously scored at the 97th minute, I published a new Junzumi one-shot after MONTHS of struggling at uni and, consequently, in writing as well. Tbh I didn’t feel that fine in the first part of the year and my self-esteem paid the consequences of the tour down the hill my uni life took for months. You know, you go badly at uni, you will be attacked by parents and relatives everyday, you will get poisoned by all the mean things you hear and you will lose your self. But I’m healing, guys, slowly but I am. Junzumi and my trash about them has been giving me a great boost in recovering a part of my confidence. So…Enjoy this long story, fruit of my STRUGGLE, also because, like I said on AO3, this has been a writing struggle fr real. The amount of drafts I wrote before coming to a decent result could fill a sea!]

Context: This is set during the infamous roman trip Izumi intends to drag everyone in, after having turned Junpei’s suggestion upside down. It’s the last day of leisure in Rome and Fate tricks Izumi again. ]

• Il ponentino malandrino •

“Izumi-Chan? Izumi-Chan, are you sleeping?

…

She had decided to follow the wind in a place where it could have never entered. And yet, that was what had happened: it had managed to slip in a crack of the entrance, had chased her with the trails of its gusts, had sat by her side just to whisper words she, as only human on Earth, only creature in the universe, eventually interpreted and understood…Clearly. Then, after it had succeeded in distracting her from something she wasn’t minimally interested in, it had left, diving into a river turgid of notes and quickly swimming upstream.

Every wind had its own personality, she had learnt as time had passed by. There were sweet breezes that would punctually help her fall asleep, if she chose to leave the window opened at night: chilly and able to spread goosebumps on her skin at their first touch, but provoking those while giving her motherly kisses to reassure her, make her relax, calm the tornado whirling in her chest down. Sometimes, on a break from her photoshoot sessions, she would receive visits from an adventurous scirocco telling her about those seas and shores over which it had passed-by on its warm wings; those exotic corners owning sands shimmering like minuscule, precious stars stranded on our planet. At other times an irritated mistral would come to vent, seek comfort from its favourite shoulder, a bit shy at first, hiding below her curtain of wheat threads but ending up throwing them in the air, one after one, not having managed to control its anger.

And lastly, there was the naughty roman ponentino from her childhood memories, the place she believed it had sneaked in to fool her, to abandon her right at the moment she needed its support the most.

Confused, speechless, shocked…Thunderstruck.

Che cosa ho fatto?! Che cosa ho fatto?!

After having been hit by a lightning, a tree will stand still below the tension of the sky, peeved, until the creaking noises coming from inside its trunk and corroding its fibers force it to curve on a side and make it collapse on the hard ground.

What in the world have I done?!

Izumi petrified as well, but as soon as she felt her back rocking back and forth on its own, she tore up the roots her feet had anchored her to the floor with and tried waving her limbs. They felt weird, numb, like if she had stayed in the same position for an eternity, a tingling sensation reminding her of those little pops fireworks will leave after having exploded in the firmament.

Fortunately, she didn’t need them at the moment. Indeed, she wished for them to remain in that useless state until that spectacle, whatever it was supposed to be technically called, ended. She shouldn’t move, not even breath. Any minimal shift, even the uncontrollable ones of her chest, might lead her to unpleasant consequences, danger. If her palm had perched on her large grimace, concealing its guilt but leaving a small edge exposed, there would it have to stay; if her knees were pressing against each other, they would have to keep on doing that until time began flowing in the whole Teatro dell’Opera again, no matter if bones crackling against each other were one of the most repulsive feelings ever, in her opinion; if her other hand had landed on her skirt, pinching not only its tissue but also the flesh of her thighs, it would have to freeze in that painful nervousness until it was given a signal of stop.

In a nutshell, she would have to totally turn into a pillar of salt, one which, -who knew, she fantasized with shame-, could be disintegrated by that ponentino of her boots, if it came back to assist to the great finale of the orchestra’s performance.

Only her eyes were allowed to swing as much as they pleased, on alert, high allert just like they were supposed to be, occasionally venturing in the meanders of an artificial night to find a stout silhouette slightly leaning forward, round shapes of elbows puffing up on the marble of a sill.

Motionless, engrossed in the frantic escaping of the violins, the relentless rush of their bows, the terror of the chords being urged to keep on running, never looking back at the cumulonimbus advancing behind them.

As if nothing had ever happened.

Izumi’s mouth opened in surprise and she felt her figure disobeying to her steel orders at once, coming back to life, straightening, fully turning in that direction, in his direction, so she could take a better look at him and boggle. So much effort thrown away in the immediacy of a reaction that had skillfully evaded the supervision of her legendary, -beh, in the past it used to be, before that day-, control.

Suddenly, at that sight of utter nothingness welcoming her, she felt disgruntled. Her orbs got squeezed by a very accentuated frown that descended on their contours and unloaded all the weight of its annoyance on them. As paradoxically as it might sound, it was easier to believe some merciful entity, -Fairymon, might it be you?-, had landed on the big clock above the stage and had put a whole minute back on it.

It was easier, much easier to sell that lie herself than believing Junpei hadn’t noticed.

How could she, especially if she recalled all those recollections of hers featuring him listing a series of details about her, which not even she had ever acknowledged to own before? Special fragments of hers only he could grasp, such as swabs of impalpable colour that would bounce behind her, whenever she tossed her gilded strands down her back with an elegant movement of her palm. She had glared at him back then, had also been on the verge of slapping him: to be honest with herself, he had really begun spitting the biggest idiocies, since she had revealed about the motley filter enhancing her surroundings, her days, wherever she might go.

It is…Just impossible, She gave another suspicious glance at him, an eyebrow getting stuck in its arched form as she reluctantly returned to her right, to that column and the elegant bollard attached on it, the only source of frail light she could reach out to in the hope of clearing her mind. As soon as she let the dim halo of its ray embrace her, she felt like punching herself. Actually, it finally dawned on her that was what she had been looking for. That was the chance she had been praying for, the solution to her problems, so there was no reason to feel so upset, so dissatisfied; there was no reason for that pout she had worn without even realizing to exist.

Accepting it was true he hadn’t noticed, he hadn’t felt anything implied she could pretend she had never done that as well. After all, nobody had seen her doing what she had in the thick darkness, there was no one who had witnessed her mistake, there was no camera that had taped that instant. In conclusion, there was no proof of that, except those obnoxious electric ants still crawling on her skin -but they would go away sooner or later, wouldn’t they?- and her still fresh memories making her toes curl at their continuous circling, -but even when it came to them, someday they would turn into nothing more than the remnant of a hallucinated lucid dream, wasn’t that so?-.

Instead of smiling at that idea, though, she clenched her jaw while ruminating about that possibility, afraid of taking that step forward despite being aware it would free herself from so many unnecessary concerns and pains.

Where are you? Why did you escape?

Where had the wind gone? Where? She wasn’t used to filling her head with so many doubts. She didn’t like thinking and getting lost in the maze of her questions, without a guide leading her from up above.

…

“Izumi-Chan? Izumi-Chan are you sleeping…?” Who knew for how long she had been running in that imaginary garden with no destination, if he ended up asking her that. “Izumi…Izumi-Chan? Are you?” In the thick shadow of a theatre box, Junpei’s voice, the chirping of a well-fed robin begging for more crumbs from the railing of a balcony, sounded like being hopping in her ears like the sticks thumping a drum.

“Do you happen to often ask a sleeping person if they are sleeping?” Having got further from the bronzy glow with a hop of her backside, she couldn’t make out where he exactly was, how closer he had got to her, but there definitely was something quite large hovering near to her nose. It was performing slow rotations and pulling away whenever it accidentally grazed the waves of her ruffled hair, as if it could sense the imperceptible shivers running on her bare shoulders.

“Uhm, now that you ask me, I would get pretty angry if someone did that to me. I don’t know what I would do if you happened to be that person, though, Izumi-Chan,” She didn’t feel like adding a word to that externalization of disarming naivety, so she limited herself to internally sigh while continuing listening to his clumsy blabbing, to those sections of its’ he was muttering more to himself than her in a very silly monologue. What in the world was he talking about? He was the only one knowing that! “I would open my eyes and think I’m dead or something because an angel has woken me up, ah ah. Or a mermaid! Because Izumi-Chan’s voice sounds like a beautiful song even when she’s just speaking, ah…”

“Junpei…!” Her tongue suspended in incredulity, she searched for a part of his body she could pat on to fish him out from that swirl he had been trapped in. In the span of less than five seconds, he had dragged her to such levels of exasperation his name had come out from her mouth way too loudly. Predictably, to her utter shame, some old man blending in the indefinition of their surroundings punctually sent her a very bothered warning through a long hiss.

“Eh, someone is in urgent need of a chamomile,” Junpei commented with a snort, unaware her fingers were floating some millimeters distant from his arm. How many other times would he be fooled by those jokes the blackness had been pulling at him?

“Oh…Look at what you have done!” A laughter bursted in her vacillating conscience confirmed that she wasn’t going to aim her gaze at that direction ever again. “It was already embarrassing enough to hear you asking me if I was sleeping!”

“I didn’t want to embarrass you, I’m sorry, Izumi-Chan,” She could picture him shaking his head at an increasing pace, his lips probably protruded in a childish mortification. “But, you see, I was worried you had fallen asleep because it would have meant you had got bored.”

And she had to confess he wasn’t that wrong. It was the first time she had gone to the theatre and…Well, she wasn’t really enjoying it that much, if she had to be sincere with herself. To someone like her not being able to stay at a desk and focus for more than thirty minutes, without fiddling with, -for example- ,the zip of her pencil case or making her feet stomp on each other or, again, just contemplating the poetic scenario out of the window, that was resulting to be a struggle. Having to sit on a chair with no support surface in the vicinity was making her feel so restless, making her want to stand up and give kicks in the air. Yet, what was even more tedious about the situation than that that there was…Nothing in front of her. Just people in soulless elegant clothes playing instruments and repeating the same actions over and over again; people whose appearance wasn’t even that distinct, as Junpei hadn’t only got a back luck not finding opera tickets, but he also had had to settle for a theatre box confined to the extreme right of the large area, isolated in his misfortune from the rest of the audience.

Chissà, Like a flyer fluttering through the roads of a big city after having avoided to be torn by a darting car, a cautious hypothesis got thrown out from the incessant, vicious tornado that had generated in her stomach. Her curiosity was quick to pick it up and eagerly read its daring content, even quicker to mold her wince of resigned perplexity in a sly smirk. Maybe I did that out of boredom…

Only when other freed leaflets began crowding her mental space, polluting it with paper scribbled with baubles, rubbish, did she remember she had a bizarre conversation to keep going. Her interlocutor had been in standby mode for a considerable while, but he predictably reanimated without complaints or silly exclamations, -more fitting for him!-, as soon as her attention shifted on him again. He could have waited for a reply, a sign of life from her for hours and hours, for all she knew.

“Why would you get that worried about it? There’s no need.”

“There is, instead. I am the one who invited you to come here.”

“More like you convinced me with a magical trick,” She felt so stupid while attempting to mimic the skilled oscillating of his index, vividly viewing it in her fresh memories from back when they were in the foyer. He had showed, indeed, had put his ticket on display, like if it was a precious possession, a new member of his collection of accumulating bits and pieces.

…

More or less, an hour before

That nagging silver tongue of hers ,which had previously pestered him with so many futile platitudes, was refusing to collaborate with her: it had holed up at the door of her throat, inert, obstructing the passage of her voice, of whatever she could say to fill that silence of hers.

“Junpei…”

She just believed it wasn’t fair he had to be the one always getting let down by events he couldn’t control. If it had been oddly refreshing to have been the one having bad luck for once, having had to wave farewell to her afternoon of leisure, it would have been even more than that if she had been the only misfortunate one for once. She would have been laughing about it all, instead of being taciturnly staring at the young man in front of her who was pretending not to be caring in the least, reading the content of a booklet out loud in an unlistenable italian. He could annoy her even in such an unpleasant circumstance!

“Let’s see…Anutonio Vui…Varudi. Vi…Vardi?”

“I-It’s Antonio Vivaldi,” She managed to formulate a coherent sentence only when she spotted a man holding a broom, a couple of elders sitting on a sofa, the receptionist behind her desk, all those people who had been minding their business in the foyer suddenly stopping what they were doing to look at them. Everyone, no one excluded. She could feel their curious, malicious eyes checking them out from any direction, all the attention of the Teatro dell’Opera on them as if they were a pair standing on a stage, below the spotlight. That was even worse than the moment their plane had landed in Rome and he had started singing a Nel blu dipinto di blu at the top of his lungs. Every passenger, -again, everyone! She had turned to give a glance at the the rows of seats behind them!- had begun commenting about the scene with mean-spirited observations, obviously pointing not only at him, but also at the distressed girl by his side who had eventually been affected by that euphoria because of…A weak immune system?

“Didn’t you say you are a fan of classical music as well? It doesn’t seem so.”

“I really do, Izumi-Chan, but I play piano, not violin.”

Nonplussed, she analyzed that genuine smile extending from a side to the other of his face, those glimmers of joy sparkling in his irises like honey on a little spoon. He had just heard that his last chance to watch an opera spectacle in Italy had gone up in smoke, that there were no tickets left and he was acting like that? She was aware each person’s reactions to disappointments weren’t the same, but he wasn’t looking disappointed in the least. That wasn’t possible, that was just…Inhuman.

“Izumi-Chan…?”

“Has anyone ever told you it’s okay to make a scene, mope, yel-,” She cut herself short with composure, changing the trajectory of her speech by slowing down with a single toe on the brakes. Words were supposed to be pondered while talking to him! “No, yelling is absolutely not okay, especially to someone like you. But you get what I mean, don’t you? I know you were truly looking forward to watching…What was his name? Rossini? It’s understandable you are feeling sad. I would too, so there’s no reason to pretend you are not.”

“Well, I did care about watching that spectacle, but things have gone the way they have. There’s nothing to do about it,” He shrugged, imperturbable, readily tweeting that nonchalant answer without a moment’s hesitation. That swiftness and undeniable frankness made her jaw softening its clench. Then, however, Junpei began growing stiffer, uptight, abruptly averting his gaze and puckering his lips as if he wanted to whistle. His irises flew away to nestle in some hidden tunnel in the ceiling, whereas hers swooped onto her top, their eyelids feeling hot and humid as she blinked over and over again to discern the outline of a pair of slopes, of their borders trimmed with lace.

She had picked the best outfit for a stroll in the old town, had turned her trolley upside down to test every possible combination of styles and palettes in front of the mirror. When the crew had seen her stepping in the hall of the hotel, enwrapped in a dress woven with the white of serene clouds, the boys had awed at the simplicity of her elegance. Overcome an initial phase of astonishment, of gulps that were more audible than his struggling attempts to say something, mumble a few words, Junpei had rambled about how she resembled a refined main heroine from those old black and white movies set in Rome.

She hadn’t been able to react the way she had intended to, taken aback by his lingering stupor, by all those hints making her understand he truly believed she was as graceful as an actress picked by Fellini and there was no one who could ever deny that.

Thus, the more she had echoed that bold comparison in her mind, the more she had found herself liking it, getting into character for fun and making the others exchange baffled glances. The preview of the incoming scenes had looked fascinating. On curtains appearing from nowhere and rolling down the sky to obscure the blinding Sun, she had marvelled at frames of her sitting before the Trevi Fountain, teasing its ripples along with the wind by wiggling her fingers just above them, gasping at its foam’s fog moistening the folds of her skirt.

In the end, in her reality, everything she had on, from her straw hat to her sandals, from the twine of the row of buttons, which broke the monotony of the whinteness, to the empty gap between her loosened belt and her flat belly had got wet, indeed, soaked under a petty summer shower.

Her life could be considered as a film just like Junpei had underlined, but he had evidently made a mistake about its genre: she wasn’t that sure about which it might be, though. In which kind of movie would the main character stand in front of a best friend of hers’, blushing furiously, embracing her chest with a protective gesture, despite having ascertained the worst hadn’t happened and he apparently wasn’t avoiding her spheres because of a matter of decency ? In a cheap one without any doubt, the cheapest ever shot in decades.

“May I ask what in the world you are thinking about so intensely? Allora?”

She didn’t expect him to go back to her so fast. Those thoughts of his he seemed to have no intention to reveal must have got to the roof at that point. Nevertheless, bolts aren’t supposed to return to the roaring expanse they have been hurled from. When they had deluded themselves the sky looked so near it might welcome them back thanks to a prodigy, they had been sent back to the ground, forced to discharge their thrilling, devastating energies on whatever or whoever they had happened to strike. There was no possibility to transgress Mother Nature law’s commandments.

“Uh, about a bit of this and that,” Evasive at first, seemingly confident he could escape from her by making his pupils tiptoe away, he was ambushed by a belligerent blast of ponentino abruptly barging in. It opened both the doors of the entrance with a rough slap and caught him in its implacable current, effortlessly sweeping his spirit, as resistant as a boulder just like he was, back where it was supposed to be. The temporizing Junpei had no choice but to surrender. He had to speak. “I was telling myself that if there is nothing to do about it, it means I will play along with it.”

The Moon of his Cheshire cat grin rose and reflected its mystery over the agitated waves of a green sea. That time it dropped an object that was as light as a feather and trusted those crystalline depths with its extreme fragility.

Once face to face with a very familiar building and its even more familiar porch, Izumi couldn’t keep herself from grabbing, or better, trying grabbing the ticket. Actually, showing to own rather snappy reflexes, Junpei’s palm promptly pulled away from her sight to make her grip grasp at nothing else but thin air.

“Ah, ah, ah, if you touch it, you will spoil everything,” He shook his index in comical disapproval, making her clasp her hands in delight at the realization of what she was assisting to: in spite of that sibylline admonition, the haughtiness suddenly enveloping him, evoked by a pose holding a bizarre kind of sloppy grace only someone like him could emanate, his emphasized tone reminding her of a narrator telling children about a scary wolf eating people in one bite were just unmistakable. “You mustn’t do that, eh eh,” And add those naughty chuckles to the picture too, because he was a particular amateur magician laughing about his tricks even more than his audience usually would.

“Ok, then. What do you want me to do?” Just like when they were kids, it took not even a second for her to get excited about what he had in store, feeling like clapping in merry anticipation and almost forgetting she was in a place swarming with strangers.

That time it seemed Junpei would need her full concentration. He didn’t really give her any explanation about what he wanted her to do, but she could guess the whole magic was going to revolve around that ticket. There was no card she would have to pick from a deck, no meaningless ritual formula at whose rhythm their tongue would have to dance at the unison. Only that ticket, wrinkled because of his fidgeting and sweat. Why was he so nervous? He should have known she wouldn’t be disrespectful in his regards, if the result of his spell wouldn’t be what he was desiring it to be like, if that poor, crumpled ticket remained there and, -who knew what he was planning!-, didn’t get replaced by some flower and its lilac petals.

Obviously, they would be lilac: after seven birthdays united by the memory of lovely boxes adorned with huge lillac ribbons and presents manufactured by him, each of them being painted with the hues of early dawns, she could recognize he knew what her favourite colour was.

Though he hadn’t told her to do so, she spontaneously closed her eyes and breathed in a sweet scent only she could smell, because carried by gusts blowing from the far land of a dream.

Meanwhile, too focused on his immense feat, Junpei made the ticket swing from right to left and viceversa at an increasing speed, movement those trembles provoking spasms even in the core of his chest didn’t luckily hinder.

“Ok…Now you see a ticket,” She heard him chanting in a way too theatrical fashion, but his intonation, along with those consecutive stresses hopping from a syllable to the other, soon grew persuasive enough to build a crescendo of hype in her body and soul, a tenuous formication marching on her whole frame with muffled steps, as if she was made of snow. “But nothing is what it seems. If I make the ticket come here and go there, come back here and return there, you will get to see what your eyes couldn’t until now. And…Sorupuresa!”

Sorpresa.

She wasn’t disappointed not to have been greeted by a violet at her awakening, but she didn’t react at what Junpei had called surprise in his butchered italian with one of her, Commozione!

“Eh, eh,” Junpei wasn’t either. Indeed, he had apparently predicted the failure of his special effects and the final result, putting on the mask of an imperturbable jester to try covering his awkwardness in vain. “Surprise, uh? Surprise might not be the right term to use. It’s not like you are into this stuff.”

Unbeknownst to him, to those bleak fantasies his negativity was burdening his cheerfulness with, Izumi had just been left lost for words. She fairly gave him the wrong impression she was vexed with him, so repulsed by his game, terribly pensive, but ,actually, she wasn’t thinking about anything substantial because her brain had turned a blank sheet, a tabula rasa. Therefore, she limited herself to gingerly reach out again, this time being allowed to touch the ticket, or better, that second ticket which had materialized from nowhere, and free it from the weight of Junpei’s thumb.

It was a copy of the first one, its twin. They were identical with the same title in bold , the same photo of the outside of the theatre, the same scarlet background reminding her of a red carpet, the same frame edged with golden which gave them an aura of unexplainable, sophisticated preciousness, -no matter the miserable state of Junpei’s-.

It was so obvious.

“You bought another ticket for me.”

…

Still, for some reason, her statement had sounded more like a question, confused and diffident, ellipsis opening a window to let her discover what else the wind and the leaves ,with no destination just like her spirit, wanted to tell her.

“I wonder what I would have done, if I had messed that up again”.

She landed back into her present with a thump. The recollection of those loquacious gusts she hadn’t got to listen to mixed with a rumble she couldn’t understand where it might come from at the beginning, disrupting the carefreeness of a Carnival of pink and azure but never physically showing up to crash the party. The thunderstorm was as chatty as them. It wanted to talk to her and it had a lot to say too, though she wasn’t used to its booming, to translating its roar into a human language without having to ask it to repeat it.

“Uh?”

“My magical trick. I’m glad you liked it because it has been the first time I have succeeded. At home I tried with some pens. Maybe it was too long as an object to practice with and that was why the duplication never worked as it should.”

In a strong dejà-vú, in the vice of some kind of cursed time loop, she abruptly shook herself out of her physical and mental torpor with an involuntary twitch of her fingers, paper rounded edges peeling against their tips. After having attempted to reproduce that hectic sway, determined to find out what was the ingenious mockery behind that stunning enchantment, -How? How had he managed to do that?!-, her ticket had wilted, had grown soggy like a biscuit dipped in milk, its side eaten by her sticky touch.

“But oh! Wait! Why would I say something so embarrassing in front of Izumi-Chan?! Ah…! I-I hope you liked it, Izumi-Chan…”

“Shhh, Junpei! Perfavore !” She would have added so much more to that sibilant scolding just to ignore and suppress another unmistakable guttural hiss slithering towards them, making its way avoiding the low yet heavier musical phrases. Anything not to begin feeling like shrinking in her chair, not to die of embarrassment. Ehm, it was more appropriate to call it second-hand embarrassment! Because she wasn’t the one who had been bothering that man with her incapacity to adjust the volume of her voice!-.

“I’m so sorry, Izumi-Chan! I did it again.”

If only there had been more light; if only she could have found his face as easily as she had…A while before: she would have seriously stuck a whole fist in his mouth! In the absence of valid alternatives that could give her such a sense of satisfaction, she had to settle for squeezing that unlucky ticket as hard as she could, frozen in the expectation for a debacle of historic proportions, a heated discussion in the middle of a violin concerto.

But, needless to specify, the fire never broke out, no door ever opened behind them, either. The old man obviously, -and fortunately-, mattered more about listening to the melody of a melancholy winter than wasting that cathartic experience arguing with two foreigner who had no respect for the miracle music was to human life. Most likely, he had cooled his anger with a huff, had glared at her, - so he believed he had, at least-, for a last time and had faded in the inscrutability of the blackness once more. Izumi didn’t calculate how long she had been sitting still, but when her body began complaining about that unnatural immobility, she melted that general tightness right away. Unless the man was struggling to take off one of his shoes without being able to see where he was exactly putting his hands, she could sigh out of relief, certain her reputation would be safe and sound.

Look at what kind of trouble I will get into because of you!

She had survived to the storm. Again. Still, may that be the last time it happened!

“That man should know better. It’s rude to tell a woman to shut up,” And speaking of which, Junpei’s indignant grunt and the rustling of what clearly sounded like shirt sleeves being rolled up sturdy arms were surely going to bode ill. Her resolution to cherish that fluke by not throwing it away in the span of a single second like that was so impetuous, as much as a hurricane, the impact against his shoulder and something else he instantly snatched away occurred without her having to grope in the dark.

“Now, now, where were we? Ah right, the magical trick,” She was pushed downwards along with the sagging of his muscles. A hint of tension, however, still lingered within them. She could sense it under her palm, a rigidity that was in stark contrast with the softness of the area, closer to the inflexibility of bones than the malleability of flesh. So precisely, carefully in detail. It almost felt like she could describe that feeling because it was changing her own body to the core; because it was more hers than his. Perhaps, it felt both simultaneously due to those pins and needles irradiating from him to her. Again. Right when they had finally started vanishing like she wanted them to! “Well, to be honest with you, I would like it better ,if you explained me how you did that.”

“That wouldn’t be fair, Izumi-Chan. A magician never reveals his greatest tricks. He’s just like a chef never divulging his secret recipe.”

“This isn’t fair, either!” It dawned on her Junpei had never turned down a request of hers until that evening. Once, even more incorrigible than usual, exploiting the fact they had remained all alone to rattle on an avalanche of pointless stuff, he had stammered he would give her the Moon as present, if it was possible, because he could tell how intriguing and marvelous it was to her. If she still had Fairymon’s wings she would set off for the night firmament, he was so right. Back then, she had just given him a nudge right into his stomach and had walked past him, unable to find a worthy continuation to his foolishness, feeling so…Small, minuscule just like she would before the magnificence of a full Moon, totally unsuitable as object of that overbloated admiration.

And yet, he couldn’t give her that, couldn’t whisper in her ear where that ticket had been hiding before coming out in the open. How stupid was he! And how stupid was she too, following that train of thoughts without refusing to. She got the confirmation in a place where sight was mostly useless, her other sensorial perceptions seemed to have really been boosted, especially the ones tied to her conscience’s roaming.

His chirping could ring in her ears differently as well, like the vibration of a robust cello wanting to weave stories about an endless spring retaining hints of wintry reticence here and there.

“But ,you know, if I wanted to I wouldn’t be able to give you an exhaustive answer. I really don’t know how I managed to make it. It’s not like I don’t remember, I just don’t know what I did that was so different from before! My hand went here, then there, I followed the script like always and, puff! The tickets were two and I was as baffled as you looked”.

“I-I wasn’t expecting you would give me a ticket,” She admitted with faint awkwardness, obviously omitting -it goes without saying-, the unnecessary detail of the flower. While she was absently rolling some ruffled locks, that sticker left on the tall pile of her thoughts was whirling like them and progressively losing its petals one after the other, new butterflies surfing on the waves of the wind; of the galloping ones of the ponentino.

Suddenly, there was a shift.

To the audience of the theatre it was the one of the clock hands, their overlapping on a glowing number announced by an imperceptible clicking sound; the cessation of the music represented by the gentle thud of the first violin in the crook of a velvet arm; the unearthly silence. To her, instead, it was that mischievous blowing and the goosebumps it brought along, thar bouncing brush of her hair against her skin, that whiff of laughters tickling her lobes.

And, again and again, Junpei’s ever-changing voice, distant, so distant, from the chanted poetry of the winds of the world, but still greatly appreciated by them. That was what was her orbs could see, the only beings standing out quite crisply in the last minute of the illusion of the night: lively puffs of air dancing around him like virtuous nymphs.

“I know you weren’t. I wasn’t as well, in a certain sense ah ah. I told you. Maybe, it was because you were there. Yeah! I didn’t make a fool of myself thanks to you. I’m sure of that,” Firstly his pitch got lower, much lower, almost making him sound like someone Izumi didn’t know, then, all of a sudden, completely surpassing an intermediate level, it shrank into the squeaking of some dog toy. Izumi’s teasing sarcasm and its arrogance risked to be crushed by that elevator.

“T-This might be the most original, nonsense excuse I have ever heard.”

“No, Izumi-Chan. I would never lie to you, it’s the truth. I just thought about you, about how I wanted to spend…Yeah, the conclusion of this holiday with you, because I had so much fun visiting the Colosseo in two, trying that special gelato from that cafè, tasting yours, letting you taste mine as well, chatting with you in the hall of the hotel before going to bed. I wanted more of that but I had given up, until you were caught in the storm and you seeked shelter below the porch. I thought it was sign of Fate! Now, though, I’m afraid I’ve been selfish... With you here, this has been better than any Rossini I might ever listen to, but it hasn’t been to you. You would have preferred going to the stadium with Takuya and Tomoki or to the museum with the twins. I-I-“

While he had gone through half of that week the crew had spent in Rome, she had let herself be taken back in time along with his gab. Dragged to all those memories, to all those chances to watch opera Junpei had thrown away to stay with her. The first late afternoon the group had split, that moment each of them had agreed about the impossibility to satisfy everyone’s interests and wishes, she had spotted Junpei carefully reading a poster attached to the glass of the bus shelter. Once he had heard her approaching him, he had turned to her and had asked her about where she intended to go. Like that, with a large grin, without further questions and second thoughts, he had tagged along with her, no matter where she had planned to head for. As long as he was with her, -he had said among sheepish chuckles-, he would be happy, words she had quietly made slip by with a shrug as she couldn’t see any harm in letting him come along, especially if she considered she would have been alone if he had had other plans. Junpei might be noisy and more often than rarely he would make her wish she could hide her head in sand like an ostrich would, but he could offer a nice company at the same time. A very enthusiastic one… She had no doubts those memories they, only they shared still felt alive in her heart because of that overemphasized excitement of his latched on them: his yells joining hers in their cacophony to cheer for Takuya at the stadium; the extinguishing fire of the Sun inflaming the ruins of the Colosseum and making his spheres shine so intensely as the rays bathing a summer day; the delicious taste of that long spoon filled with pistacchio e cioccolato he had made easily slide between her lips; all those conversations about this and that she could perfectly remember, the fresco of the bustling Rome in background looking more vibrant, a riot of colours, at her occasional glances.

She had been happy too, she had enjoyed herself as if she was a solitary drop of ponentino, mocking herself but also smiling at herself at her own motley trails guiding her decisions.

“There is a door behind us,” She breathed to Junpei who had got further from her to clap the violinist and the orchestra. “If I had got that bored, rest assured I would have used it.”

The night came to an end, but she took advantage of the lingering penumbra offered by the dangling red drapes. Hidden below them, blending in the thunderous applause of the entire theatre, she shortened the gap between them by getting closer and closer to him. Then, she leaned forward, stretched her neck and…She did it.

She placed her lips on his puffy cheek. Just a little peck on his soft skin. It lasted longer than the first as she was no longer scared by that electrostatic energy bursting in her whole body, without prior warning, darting through her veins and nevers to elicit every millimeter of her organism. Yet, it still was as fleeting as a butterfly perching on her favourite flower and taking off immediately afterwards, before someone could catch her.

Thus, she parted from him. And she noticed it, indeed, them.

“Izumi-Chan, what is it?” When the curtain closed, he raised an eyebrow at her, once more incredibly oblivious to what she had just done.

“Oh nothing, nothing…Non è…Niente.”

“What does it mean nothing?! You are-“!

…

Two lilac butterflies. There were two lilac butterflies on one of his cheek. The pair of the first outstretched on the one of the second looked like the petals she had been daydreaming since she had stepped in that theatre.

She might not be the great actress he believed she could become, but she undoubtedly was a fantastic magician, as fantastic as him, with secrets she would never reveal.

Or so she thought, at least.

XXX

Italian notes:

•Ponentino: it is a wind typical of Lazio and Toscana, very frequent in Rome. It is considered as a naughty stronger breeze blowing over people in love to act as a matchmaker ahaha.

• Chissà: it’s a sort of “who knows”, very mischievous in some contexts.

• Antonio Vivaldi: Composer from Baroque age. The violìn concerto Izumi and Junpei are assisting to features Le Quattro Stagione (The four Seasons). The story starts when the orchestra is playing Estate, (Summer), which has got a movement echoing the dramatic dance of a thunderstorm.

• Nel blu dipinto di blu: It’s a song by Domenico Modugno, the VOLAREEEEE cementing a part of our identity as a country loving music.

• Gioacchino Rossini: One of three Belcanto opera composers along with Bellini and Donizetti. Rossini is a very particular genius of our lyrical panorama. His music is brilliant, witty, so funny, I can see Junpei enjoying it very much.

• Allora? : It’s a kind of “So?”

• Fellini: Federico Fellini was a film-maker, one of the most important in the whole world. Some of his masterpieces are La Strada, which we fondly remember along with its soundtrack composed by Nino Rota, 8½, and, dulcis in fundo, la Dolce Vita to which I’ve given a very small homage in my own style lol.

• Cioccolato and pistacchio: Simply chocolate and pistache ahahahah.

#junzumi #junpei shibayama #izumi orimoto #digimon frontier #junpei #izumi #yeah I think it’s a month I don’t dare to look #I HAVE FINISHED IT AFTER A MONTH I CAN’T BELIEVE IT #the Muse coming whenever I need her the least hm hm #anyway this is Junzumi in my head #a couple of dorks who will end up together without drama and soap opera #I mean Junpei will date someone in the middle but that’s just some fun for me ahahah #zura writes

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boyslit-moving · 9 months ago

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aaaaaaaaargh i have to pick a new book to start reading to get my gems before tomorrow aaaaargh

fine. we'll go for lou, lynt bores me and well. jasper's literally the last man standing

edit: i just remembered im still mad at lynt for that one stupid event where you basically go on a nice date with Toa and Lynt acts like a jealous little kid the whole time and it was extremely annoying!

#codvn #honestly it would be. hysterical if the game was just guy accidentally acquiring a harem of other princes #i keep going 'hm. they could work' and making the dollies kiss. but its always gay and someone. i mean gay. i mean. clears throat.#he has a voice line about lynt being pleasant to be around and how everyone should have someone like lynt. like be ffr.#im going to wrap you in the toothpaste flag and roll you down the stairs you fucking dunce #anyway this tag ramble was prompted by my rececnt musings about would lynt be better off with guy who tolerates being napped upon.#or perhaps toa who is nice and cool

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aghostics-moved · 2 years ago

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what if i move and clean up my muse list,,

#I'd probably keep the old muses as request only on a secret menu idk #ofc I'd move AFTER answering the asks in my inbox ... hm.#idk i just... want a cleaner blog and aesthetic??#plus i night make a completely new muse my front boy #considering most my muses are NOT modern anyway #( commentary : ooc. )

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lcfthaunted · 7 months ago

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SOMEONE give this bitch a come to jesus talk i am so tired of her abysmal self-worth

#i can't even say it with a straight face • ooc #( if you/r muses think it's frustrating imagine how I feel )#( i have to LISTEN TO IT all the time )#( i want someone to call her out on her self-sabotage )#( i also want her to get angry about it and accidentally spill her reasoning behind it )#( hm. maybe i'll just turn that line into an open.... )#( anyway just know whenever mazie says something stupid and self depricating )#( i am reaching to throttle her from the sidelines. maybe hit her with something. )

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nenemura · 3 months ago

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ATTENTION — (nrk x reader)

summary : riki is trying to get your attention and he knows just how to do so.

cw : smut (mdni), non protected sex (girl ew), dry humping

wc : 2k

nene’s note : first time writing smut it has been DIFFUCULT I WAS ABT TO CRY anyway if u don’t like it pls don’t read <3 lmk how is it… thanks!!

riki had been craving for your attention all. day. long.

but it seemed like everything was far more interesting than him: suddenly you needed to catch up with a TV show, to buy some groceries, to clean your whole apartment. there wasn’t a single moment where you had time for him.

he tried to distract himself by playing some games on his playstation or listening to some music, but you just couldn’t leave his mind. and he decided it was enough.

you were engrossed in reading a book, when it got snatched away from your grasp. you looked up in shock, meeting riki’s gaze locked on you. “riki, what the hell? give it ba—“ your words were interrupted by him, sitting next to you and grabbing your waist, making you straddle his thighs and sit on his lap.

your breath hitched when you felt riki’s big hands on your waist, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief and his lips forming a smirk. the book was long forgotten, discarded somewhere on the floor, but your heart was beating too loudly for you to care. “i was reading that.” you muttered, your voice lacking conviction. there was something about the way he was looking at you that made your confidence falter. “yeah? and now you’re not.” he tilted his head, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your now warm skin, pulling you closer. “tell me, which one is more interesting, me or the book?”

you swallowed, feeling the warmth of his hands seeping through your — actually, his — shirt. “i’m not replying to that.” you whispered, trying not to show how affected you were by the position you two were in and how his touch was burning up your skin. riki leaned in, his lips now ghosting just over your ear. “and why’s that?”

you bit your lip, you couldn’t just let him win. but both you and him knew he had a way with you, making it impossible to hide your true feelings. you were an open book to him. his hands squeezed your hips, as though he was encouraging you to answer. you finally spoke up, your voice quiet, barely above a whisper. “because you already know the answer”.

he hummed, his lips now grazing the skin of your neck in a delicate way, not wanting to give in immediately. he wanted to make you wait, exactly like you did with him all day. “hm, i don’t think i know..” he muttered against your neck, leaving a soft kiss on the burning skin.

a shaky breath left your lips as his touch sent shivers down your spine, goosebumps appearing all over you. his grip on your waist tightened just slightly, keeping you pressed against him, without a way out, as he trailed slow, teasing kisses along your neck. “riki..” you murmured, your hands finding their place on his broad shoulders for more support.

he chuckled, clearly amused by how worked up you already got. “say it,” he mused, his voice smooth yet laced with something deeper. “tell me what’s more interesting.”

your resolve was slipping, fast. the way he was looking at you, his voice, the way his touch ignited something deep within you. it was all getting too much to handle. “you..” you whispered, your voice barely audible even though you two were practically glued to each other.

“hm?” his hand slid up your back, fingers tangling in your hair as he made you look at him. his lips hovered over yours, his breath warm mixing with yours. “you need to speak up, baby.” his thumb brushed against your lower lip, his gaze jumping from your slightly parted mouth to your quivering eyes.

you could feel your heart threatening to jump out of your ribs, the tension getting more and more unbearable. “i said you.” you repeated, this time a little louder to make sure he heard it, even though you were almost sure he did the first time as well.

“wasn’t that hard now, was it?” he asked after a chuckle escaped his lips, his eyes never leaving yours as they grew darker and darker. even though his gaze was heavy on you, you couldn’t dare to look away, waiting for any next move. he glanced at your mouth again, getting impossibly closer as his lips ghosted over yours. one small move and they would collide, a thought that made your heart flutter.

the anticipation was killing you, making it hard to breathe properly as his lips were so close, yet so far from where you truly wanted them. your hands moved from his shoulders to his neck, fingers interlocking with his hair. “riki..” it wasn’t a plea — you surely didn’t want it to be — but it revealed just how much you wanted him.

his smirk softened, just slightly, but his eyes still carried as much mischief as ever. “what is it, pretty?” his tone was infuriatingly teasing and smooth, causing you to roll your eyes. he couldn’t help but chuckle at your reaction. “you know i can’t read your mind.” he added, his nose brushing against yours as if to underline how close the two of you were.

“stop teasing, ki..” you whined, completely giving up on your mission to remain calm in front of him. you were craving his touch, you couldn’t wait anymore. and he seemed to feel the same.

the tension between the two of you snapped like a tight string finally giving in. he finally pressed his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands moving to your thighs, grabbing them tightly. it was almost overwhelming, everything you had been waiting for wrapped into a single, perfect moment. you melted into him immediately, fingers gently tugging at his locks while you responded just as eagerly as him.

he let out a satisfied hum against your lips, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, tongue gently caressing your lower lip as to request access. you didn’t hesitate to part your lips, letting him in without a second thought. his tongue met yours in a slow, teasing dance, making you feel lightheaded. one of his hands traveled to the small of your back, pulling you completely flush against his chest.

a whimper escaped your mouth in the motion, and riki smirked against your lips, clearly pleased by your reaction.

he finally pulled away, his lips barely an inch from yours, his breath warm and heavy. his dark eyes were set on you and your plump lips, now red and swollen. he bit back a smile as he brought his thumb back to your lips, caressing them. “you wanna go back to your book now?” he teased, smirk full on display as he waited for your reaction.

you scoffed, annoyed by his constant teasing. it didn’t make the situation any better and you really wanted to slap that smirk off his face. “…shut up.” you muttered, voice breathy and weak, which only made him grin wider.

he tilted his head, a laugh escaping his mouth as the hand resting on your thigh started trailing dangerously up, while he leaned in just enough to make your breath hitch again, kissing you again.

you didn’t take too long to kiss him back, hugging him by the neck to keep him close. his kisses were never rushed, always slow and full of passion.

he grabbed your waist and moved your hips against his, making you feel him hardening under you. at the sudden friction, you let out a little moan, muffled by his lips devouring yours. you rolled them again, desperate for more friction as your own excitement increased.

riki broke the kiss, letting out a low groan. he gripped your hips and moved them faster, his breath becoming heavier like your own. “fuck,” he whispered more to himself than to you, throwing his head behind, against the sofa, his plump, lower lip captured by his teeth. “keep going, baby.”

as you kept humping your hips against his, he started leaving a trail of kisses from your jaw to your chest, biting here and there to leave faint maroon marks. you tilted your head to leave him more access and he quickly found that sensitive spot that made you become louder every time.

his hand sneaked under your tank top, finding one of your breasts and he squeezed it, causing you to moan against his ear. he watched your every expression as he toyed with your nipple, pinching it and pulling it slightly. he urged you to lift your arms to take your top off.

riki immediately attached his mouth to one of your nipples, the other being teased by his fingers. with his free hand, he helped you roll your hips against his, the pleasure increasing with every little movement or twitch of your body on top of his.

suddenly, he stopped your movements, picking you up and laying you comfortably on the sofa. he peeled off both your shorts and panties at the same time, tossing them somewhere on the ground. he took a moment to observe your body, every curve, every little imperfection that in his eyes made you even hotter.

you were completely bare in front of him, his gaze was filled with hunger and something deeper. you watched him as he took off his own shirt, revealing his toned abs and chest, your mouth watering just at the sight. he then removed his bottoms as well, his erection now free of every restriction.

riki rubbed his tip against your entrance, teasing your clit as well while he admired how you reacted to his actions, a smirk displayed on his lips. you were about to complain when he thrusted into you, slow and deep. your back arched at the sudden wave of pleasure, one hand gripping the backrest and the other his shoulder. “riki..” your voice came out more like a whine, closing your eyes because of the overwhelming pleasure.

low moans escaped riki’s mouth as well, his pace starting to pick up the more time passed. “look at me— fuck, please” he grunted in your ear, and you obeyed, keeping your eyes on him and his expression full of bliss.

“riki.. i’m about to—” your words were cut off when he started hitting that sweet spot that made you see stars. your moans got louder and louder, and you hooked your legs around his waist, making him reach even deeper inside you. “i know, pretty...” his breath was heavy, his grip on his waist tightening. “ hold it for a little longer, please— it feels so fucking good.” he whispered against your lips, capturing them in a kiss right after.

you nodded, focusing on delaying your orgasm for a little longer. his thrust got faster and faster, making your nails dig into his shoulders. riki bit his lower lip at the feeling, holding back a groan.

he brought one hand to your chest, folding one of your breasts while he kissed your neck and jaw. your hand found its place in his hair, tugging at them with not too much force, but enough for him to moan against your neck. he hooked one of your legs on his shoulder, letting him pound even deeper into you and making you arch your back again, your chest pressed against his.

“oh god— i can’t hold back anymore..” you whined loudly against his lips, which he pecked right away. “let go, baby.” he whispered softly as his hand found your clit, rubbing it in small circles and adding up the pleasure for both you and him, given how you started clenching around him.

you both reached your peak around the same time, riki slowing his thrust down to let both ride out your orgasms. he slowly pulled out of you, careful to not overstimulate you and observed how his cum slowly spilled out of you. he quickly ran to grab a towel to clean you up, again very delicately. then, he lied next to you, holding you tight in his arms.

“y’know.. maybe i should ignore you more often..” you jokingly said, caressing his chest while listening to his heartbeat. he shook his head with a chuckle, his fingertips brushing against your shoulder down your arm. “if this is the outcome, maybe you should” he replied, kissing you sweetly after you giggled.

#riki x reader #enhypen fic #ni ki x reader #enha ff #enha fics #enha x reader #enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen ff #riki smut #ni ki smut #ni ki fanfic #riki fanfic

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fightingthetides · 6 months ago

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[水]

Mizumachi looked startled for a moment before he laughed a little bit. The ‘Hana yori Dango’ was a pretty popular idiom in Japan, and it just so happened that a manga used the idiom as a title. He didn’t read it himself, but he did hear that it was pretty popular, enough to get some drama or movie adaptions. There were some other countries that adapted the series as well, now that he thinks about it.

“Haha! I thought you were referencing the common saying of Japan. It means to prioritize things of substance over yanno, things like looks. So over flowers, you’d prefer to have dango. What a coincidence!”

Eating things with expired ingredients made sense, because you ran the risk of getting sick, or the food tasting off. He also was pretty careful about eating things that were before the expiration date. There were some things that he may be willing to go past the date if it was the ‘best by’ date, because it just meant that the food wouldn’t taste as fresh, but it hadn’t gone bad. At least, that’s something he learned recently.

“Ha! I can’t eat as much as Kurita-senpai, but I can eat my fill. Food to feed an entire army won’t scare me away from being summoned. I’ll eat like a warrior and die like one.”

By ‘die like one,’ he really meant that he’d eat until he passes out from a food coma, wake up again, and eat some more. A true warrior way. He comment about the loyal henchmen was funny to him, because he was well known for being loyal, and when you thought about a ‘Demon Commander’ like Hiruma… yeah, everyone was like a henchman to him. The horror stories he’s heard from the others- but ya gotta admit, he knows his stuff! He may rule with terror, but he’s still a good guy at the end of it! … Mostly!

Upon registering his next query, Vivian had to pause for a bit, because for as much as she loved both manga and anime, shoujo was a genre she actually tried to avoid like the plague... if only because she didn't care to read about girls getting to date the boy of their dreams; after all, girls in shoujo manga were usually much prettier than her and nowhere near relatable. Why, at least with otome games and fanfiction, there was still a degree of self-insertion present, making the romance more digestible for her, but shoujo manga, on the other hand, manages to remind her her love life was practically non-existent, to the point where she refuses to read them.

Heck, Vivian would rather even roleplay fictional anime boys herself, because despite them not sharing her gender, the ones she had most muse for would still share similarities to her and be a more idealized, masculine version of herself that gets to live out her maledom fantasies. Either way, she'll soon proceed to shift her gaze off towards the side before shaking her head.

"Nah. To tell you the truth, I haven't read nor touched a single shoujo manga for seven years now, so if my previous over-exaggeration sounds like a Hana Yori reference, I'll have you know it was one made by accidental coincidence," came her eventual admittance. ...Then again, considering how old Hana Yori was, Vivian wouldn't be surprised if her younger self did read or watch it, only to inevitably forget the rest of the plot... the same way she had with Fruit's Basket.

"And thankfully, I don't have any food allergies. I just simply abhor stuff that's made with expired ingredients..." she then adds. Honestly, the more she recalled the taste of banana bread using overripe bananas, the more she finds herself shuddering, because while she was able to easily swallow it and keep it down, the texture alone was so disgusting, it was enough to make her want to hurl. Vivian, however, doesn't manage to focus on that for long after hearing Mizumachi speak up again.

"Oh, you don't say? Would you still answer my summons like a loyal henchman, provided there was enough food to, say... feed a whole entire army?" she then questions while stroking her chin with her thumb and adopting a more pensive expression.

#Unladielike #(Vivian03)#RPans #((Muse; Vivian))#Mizuqueue #((Ohhhh interesting. I don’t think I’ve ever noticed that among my moots))#((Most of my moots have very similar rules so they don’t contradict))#((I have def seen the you say these things… and yet your actions contradict your own rules…))#((Oh but I have seen the wait… you’re following that person? Why? They already broke one of your block on sight rules))#((Some may consider it me starting drama or what but I view it as me being curious and asking))#((It would come to light eventually anyways so why not just let them know now. That’s how I see it))#((Mhm some people like me are just curious nebshits and we go to snoop because we just wanna know lol))#((Oh yeah? Hm… I guess I can’t really say because most of the people I’ve interacted with are female or are non-binary or trans))#((I’ll take your word for it though because that just somehow feels on brand))

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kitkat13001 · 8 months ago

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⋆°• ☁︎ 𐙚 𝚍𝚊𝚢𝚍𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖

>> l lawliet x reader

>> fluff, established relationship

you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and being lulled to sleep by the rhythmic clacking of L’s keyboard.

“you know what i wish?” you muse, watching the light coming off his computer brighten and darken as he flicks between screens.

“wishing is of little consequence,” he replies, almost automatically. “it won’t change the reality we live in.”

you ignore him. “ryuzaki, you want to know what i wish?”

he sighs, knowing you’ll persist anyway. “what do you wish, my love?”

“i wish that we were in a romance manga,” you tell him, clutching a pillow to your chest and letting your head hang off the side of the bed. “and you’d be just a detective and i’d be just me.”

he’s silent for a moment, taking in your words before he responds. “but i am a detective and you are you. where would this divulge from reality?”

“no one would die, because it’s a romance manga and it’s not that kind of story,” you say with a sigh. “the biggest mystery you’d be solving was how to ask me out and the only crime committed was how you’d stolen my heart—” he almost laughs at that part, “—and we could have a beach episode and montages of cute dates and a christmas special and—” you prattle on, excited merely over the prospect as you list off other fantasies.

ryuzaki listens as he works, used to this dreamy behavior from you (especially when you’re half asleep like this). your ramblings amuse him.

“i could take you to the beach,” he muses, eyes wandering in thought.

“hm?”

“watari owns several private islands,” he says, wheeling around in his chair to face you. “they’re used for different purposes, mostly as safe houses for emergencies. but i’m sure he wouldn’t mind us staying there on a long weekend.”

“are you being serious, ryuzaki?” you ask after a moment, clutching the edge of the mattress to keep yourself upright. your eyes are big and curious and hold a little ember of hope and giddiness.

“when am i not serious?” he mumbles in reply, clacking away on his keyboard but unable to hide a small smile.

you clap in delight, letting out a happy squeal. “oh my god! a private island retreat!”

“it’s nothing fancy,” he insists, turning back to his work, “so don’t go thinking this is some grand occasion.”

“ryuzaki, what about a private island isn’t fancy?!” you reply, clambering off the bed in a hurry. you whirl about the room, darting between the closet and nightstand and dresser. “i have to pack all my swimsuits and summer clothes and oh, my sandals! and my hats and sunglasses!”

“i didn’t say we were going now,” he chides, casting you an incredulous glance as he watches you flit about the room. your manic energy is endearing, if somewhat exasperating.

you straighten from where you’d been bent over the drawers, grinning and sweeping your hair from your eyes. “ah, you said a long weekend. there’s a holiday next week! if we leave in the next couple days, we can beat most of the travel congestion for the break.”

a small smile manages to overtake him at your spindle of logic. “so you’ve got it all worked out then?”

if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was teasing you

“yes,” you reply indignantly, “now get watari on the phone and tell him i said ‘pretty please with a cherry on top’.”

he huffs with a soft laugh, shaking his head. you aren’t demanding of much, but once you have your sights set on something there’s no stopping you. “very well, my love. i’ll call watari, but that ‘cherry on top’ you mentioned will be for me, accompanied by a significant amount of cake.”

“deal,” you grin, shooing at him to make the call.

#i 🫶 writing dumb stuff #please your honor he’s my stupid husband #l lawliet x reader #l lawliet death note #l lawilet #death note x reader #death note fluff #l fluff #l x reader #l x reader fluff #l lawliet fluff #ryuzaki #death note ryuuzaki #ryuzaki x reader #ryuuzaki x reader #kitty.writes!

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lyvhie · 4 months ago

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── .✦ technically... he found your inner self

park jisung x fem!reader

𓂃 ࣪˖ summary: a bad decision about something that was supposed to be fun led your boyfriend to deal with things with his very own hands (quite literally) 𓂃 ࣪˖ cw: smut, public sex, fingering, unprotected sex, pet names. 𓂃 ࣪˖ a/n: errmm... so, i'm kinda busy with college right now, but i'm working on your requests, wait for me! ANYWAYS, ENJOY, FRIENDS!!!!!!!

You know those videos where Haechan drags Jisung around, and he just follows without complaining? That’s exactly how Jisung is with you.

If you wanted to do something, he’d do it with you—no matter if he wasn’t particularly excited or didn’t want to. He just liked seeing you happy. That’s why he let you drag him to all sorts of things—spontaneous late-night drives, random cooking challenges that always ended in a mess, even that one pottery class where he nearly destroyed his clay piece within the first five minutes.

And that’s also why he was okay with you bringing him to this stupid spiritual retreat, just because you thought it would be fun, even though he knew you wouldn't last too long without at least a small dose of internet to keep your brain entertained.

“Baby, can you please stay still?” Jisung whispered in your ear as you kept shifting around on the futon, trying not to wake up the other people in the room.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered back. “I’m feeling too… energized.”

It was another day of connecting with nature, finding your inner peace, and listening to the guru drone on about vague spiritual nonsense during the morning classes.

You needed to do something that actually made you feel active. It was unbearable to end the day without exhausting yourself. You couldn’t find the urge to sleep, unlike your boyfriend, who seemed to have no problem with it.

“We didn’t do anything again, and we still have three more days of this,” you complained, tossing and turning. The room was faintly illuminated by the moonlight filtering through the thin curtains of the large window.

Jisung sighed, rubbing his face before turning onto his side to look at you. "You're the one who dragged us here," he reminded you, voice groggy with sleep. "And now you're complaining?"

You huffed, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought it would be fun! I didn't think we'd just sit around all day listening to some old guy talk about breathing."

Jisung snorted. "That's literally what a retreat is."

You turned your head to glare at him in the dim light. "Well, I regret it."

He chuckled softly. "I knew you would," he murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you firmly against him, his face burying into the curve of your neck. "I think I can help with that, baby.”

You blinked, feeling the warmth of his breath tickling your skin. “Oh? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?” you asked, a playful lilt to your voice.

Jisung hummed, pressing a lazy kiss to your neck. “Well, if you can’t tire yourself out, I guess I’ll just have to do it for you.” His voice was low, teasing, but there was something in his tone that sent a shiver down your spine.

His hand slipped under your shirt, warm fingers tracing slow, lazy circles over your belly.

"Okay, I know what you're thinking," you began, voice hushed but firm. "Absolutely not. There are people in the room."

Jisung only chuckled, his breath fanning against your skin. "Then you just need to be quiet," he murmured, his hand drifting lower, fingers teasing at the waistband of your shorts.

Before you could even think about wriggling away to stop him, his other arm slid beneath you, holding you firmly in place as he pressed another lingering kiss just below your ear.

"Jisung…" you warned, trying to sound firm, though the heat pooling between your legs betrayed you.

"Just be quiet and enjoy," he murmured, his hand slipping under your shorts, fingers gliding over your slick folds, making your breath hitch. "No panties, hm?" he mused, his voice dripping with amusement as he traced slow, teasing circles. "Were you waiting for this?"

He nipped at your earlobe, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine as you pressed your lips together, trying to suppress a gasp.

He didn’t hesitate, slipping two fingers inside you at once, your slickness making the intrusion effortless. The sudden stretch had a moan slipping past your lips before you could stop it, and you hurriedly clapped a hand over your mouth, heart pounding as you glanced at the other couples sleeping just a few feet away.

“I told you to be quiet,” he nuzzled his nose against your neck affectionately, his words carrying both amusement and a hint of warning.

"I'm sorry," you mewled softly, your voice barely above a whisper as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady, delicious pace. The heel of his palm pressed against your clit with each movement, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Instinctively, you parted your legs just a little more, giving him better access, he took full advantage of it, a satisfied hum leaving his lips as he quickened his pace.

"Spreading your legs so easily for me… you must’ve really wanted this, huh?” he chuckled, amusement laced in his voice. "Bet you’ve been thinking about this the whole time we’ve been here,” his words sent a rush of heat straight to your core, making you whimper softly against your palm. “Poor thing… should’ve told me sooner. I would’ve had you crying on my fingers hours ago.”

His fingers moved with purpose now, curling perfectly inside you, pressing against that spot that made your toes curl. “You’re so mean,” you managed to whisper, your voice breathless as you tried to glare at him over your shoulder.

Jisung only chuckled again, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. “And yet you’re squeezing around me like you love it,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

He rubbed his fingers against your gummy walls, feeling the tightness, the heat, as he slowly scissored them apart—just enough to stretch you without overwhelming you. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in slow, steady circles, giving it the attention it desperately needed. You didn’t know how you were managing to stay quiet, but somehow, your moans came out soft, muffled, barely escaping your lips as your body trembled beneath his touch.

He smiled lazily at your restraint, admiring how well you held yourself together—it was cute, how you were trying to stay quiet, even as your body betrayed you. His long fingers moved in perfect sync, thrusting deep into you, rubbing against that sensitive spot inside while his thumb expertly flicked against your clit, giving you equal pleasure.

You were getting so close, the pressure building with each motion, your body trembling with need. You pushed your hips down to meet his thrusts, chasing your climax as your breath quickened, desperate to release the tension he was expertly drawing out of you.

“I know you want to come,” he smiled, his thumb flicking faster against your clit. “Go ahead and let go. You can’t hold back much longer, can you?”

The knot forming in your core suddenly untied, and with a soft, desperate whimper, you came undone. Your body spasmed slightly at the feeling, milking his fingers as they continued to move inside you, coaxing every last bit of release from you.

“That was good,” you whispered breathlessly, gulping as you glanced around the room to make sure no one had heard you. The soft, lingering aftershocks of your release still made your body tremble, but you almost didn’t notice when he gently grabbed your leg, pulling it over him. He was still spooning you, his chest pressed to your back, his warmth surrounding you as he held you close.

“Jisung?” You raised your brows lightly in confusion, your voice soft, but the sound of his name still carried an edge of uncertainty. He simply hummed in response, his hand gently brushing the tip of his cock against your glistening pussy, making you gasp softly. When had he pulled his pants down? “Baby, we already—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, his voice low and insistent, as he rubbed his length against your clit, teasing you. The friction sent a jolt of sensitivity through your body, and you could barely contain the moan that escaped your lips. Your body was still so sensitive from your last orgasm. “I told you to be quiet and enjoy,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. “I’m helping you, remember?”

You didn’t even have a chance to respond before he slid his hard cock inside you, the motion effortless as you were already a mess, so ready for him. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you to the brim, made you cry out his name, and a soft, relieved sigh left his lips in response.

“You can’t stay quiet like that, can you?” he teased, his voice low and commanding. “I’ll help you, sweetie.” Without waiting for a response, he pushed his fingers into your mouth, silencing you, while his hips began to move at a slow pace.

He buried his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to fuck you slowly, pressing his fingers against your tongue to make sure you stayed silent. His other arm held you close, locking you in place. There was no rush from him, just steady, deep thrusts that made you feel weightless, like you were melting beneath him. You couldn’t help but drool on his finger as your muffled moans escaped, barely audible to him, each movement of his pushing you closer to the edge once again.

The slow pace made your body burn with need, every inch of him stretching you as you clenched around him, desperate for more. He felt the way your hips bucked against his, silently begging for something faster, but he just held you in place, his grip firm yet loving.

“Just let me take care of you,” he cooed, his palm gliding over your belly in a slow, affectionate caress. He pressed down just enough to make you feel every inch of him buried inside, the pressure almost making you roll your eyes to the back of your head. Your thighs trembled, your walls gripping him tighter in response.

“Just like that,” he hummed in approval, and as he felt the way you sucked on his fingers. His hand drifted from your stomach back down to your clit, pinching it roughly—just enough to make you jolt—before soothing the sting with slow, firm rubs, keeping you right where he wanted you.

His movements remained slow, deep and unrelenting, pushing into you with precision, making sure you felt every inch of him. His fingers on your clit moved faster, the pleasure teetering on the edge of overwhelming. “Come on, baby, give me another,” he coaxed, his breath hot against your ear. “I know you can.”

The overstimulation was too much, the combination of his words, his deep thrusts, and the relentless attention to your clit sending you spiraling. Your body tensed, your walls clamping down around him as you came again, legs shaking in his hold.

“That’s it,” he cooed, pulling his fingers from your mouth, a thin string of saliva breaking as he did. His hand trailed down, gripping your thigh and caressing the soft skin on the inside, his touch gentle in contrast to the deep, slow thrusts he used to fuck you through your high, drawing out every last pulse of pleasure.

“So good for me, baby,” he murmured, his voice warm with praise as he turned your face toward him. His lips met yours in a soft, unhurried kiss, slow and deep, just like the way he had just fucked you.

As he pulled away from the kiss, your breath was still uneven, your chest rising and falling as you tried to steady yourself. He pressed a few soft kisses against your cheeks, grounding you, until your breathing slowly returned to normal. Then, with a satisfied sigh, you melted against him, snuggling closer as he wrapped his arms around you, adjusting the blankets over both of you. His touch had done more than just soothe you, now, you were fighting off a yawn.

“You should replace that fake guru,” you murmured sleepily, your voice laced with drowsy amusement.

He chuckled, pulling you even closer. “Are you saying I should fuck everyone who signs up for this useless retreat?”

“…Never mind.”

↝ taglist: @yizhrt, @sinisxtea, @peterm4rker.

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nereidprinc3ss · 1 year ago

Text

whiny and spoiled

in which reader is being a brat but spencer just can't help himself from taking off her clothes and going down on her anyway!

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: MUNCH!SPENCE (aka canon compliant!) oral fem receiving (duh lol) reader referred to as a girl, bratty reader, idk if this is soft dom spencer or if this is just pure unadulterated munch spencer who will eat pussy at the drop of a hat, overstimulation kinda, sexy and hot, will make u bust a/n: requests are tentatively open in that i may not complete them but i will surely consider them!! thank you guys for all the positive feedback, it's so motivating and i love that you seem to like my stuff so much! please lmk if you like this and what you'd like to see more of in the future! so many ideas and WIPs

You’re lounging on Spencer’s bed when he gets home, fiddling with one of his Rubik’s cubes and kicking your feet in the air absent-mindedly.

You look up as he opens the bedroom door and gestures for you to remove your headphones, looking a little bemused at the scene in front of him.

“How was work?” you ask, eyes tracking him as he shrugs off his bag and comes to kiss you in greeting.

“It was fine,” he dismisses, hands braced on the mattress as he leans over you, looking you up and down. “Why are you wearing boots in bed?”

“Because I didn’t feel like dealing with the laces.”

“Take them off, please. You have no idea how much bacteria and filth you’re introducing to the place I sleep.”

“Probably no more than I do with my hands,” you shrug, shaking the Rubiks cube in his face for added emphasis. He plucks it from your hand and sets it on the bedside table.

“I’m asking politely,” Spencer says, raising his eyebrows slightly and standing up straight, probably wondering if this is the thing you’re going to push him on tonight. You chew your lip, cocking your head as you regard him.

“I want to keep them on. They’re my good luck charm. People leave the scary girl wearing the stompy boots alone.”

He circles to the foot of the bed.

“Are you saying you want to scare me away?”

“No. But I don’t need the boots to scare you,” you tease.

You squeal when he grabs your ankles and pulls you down the bed, beginning to unlace one of your shoes.

“Do these actually intimidate people?” he asks absent-mindedly, focused on loosening the laces.

“I mean... I don’t know. Maybe some people,” you splutter after a moment, slightly flustered.

“Hm. I guess I don’t find you all that scary to begin with,” Spencer admits, tugging the first boot off and tossing it to the ground before getting to work on the second one.

“Shut up. I’m totally scary.”

But you’re losing your steel as he looks down at you, eyes raking over your body. There is a hungry sort of sparkle in his eyes now—one that has become familiar and sends a thrill through you.

“Maybe to people who don’t know you very well.”

Your eyes narrow.

“Don’t patronize me.”

The second boot is removed and joins the other on the floor. His hands begin running up and down the front of your legs. You shiver.

“I’m not patronizing you, honey. I’m just being honest.” The movement of his hands ceases as he seems to consider something. “Do you want me to be scared of you?”

You swallow, eyes darting over his face and looming frame, wishing he would keep touching you.

“No,” you find yourself saying. “But fear is respect. Everybody likes being respected.”

“I don’t know if I agree that fear and respect are the same,” he muses, smiling ever so slightly, “but I respect you very much.” He resumes moving his hands, higher this time, over your thighs and under your skirt. “I just can’t imagine such a sweet girl being perceived as intimidating.”

“I am not sweet,” you mutter, distracted by the way his hands skim so lightly over your skin—flipping your skirt over your stomach.

“Right. You’re terrifying,” he amends gently, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your tights. “Up.” You lift your hips, allowing him to tug the sheer fabric down your legs and carefully off your feet. “The pink underwear are really scary,” he teases, snapping the fabric against your hip.

“Shut up,” you repeat breathlessly, face heating. “You’re the one that got them for me.”

“I did, didn’t I? They look good on you.” Finally, he looks up from the pink lace to your eyes. “Can I take them off?”

“You don’t always have to ask, you know,” you breathe. Sometimes, the answer is obvious enough.

“I like hearing you say yes.”

You flush, because what he really means is that he likes when you get desperate.

“Yes, you can take them off.”

A smile flickers over his face as he slides the underwear down and off, making sure to take his sweet time. Every brush of his thumb on your calf, every delicate pass over your ankle gives you anticipatory chills.

“Before I’m dead?” you ask, slightly strained. He tsks, tossing them on the bed.

“Someone should do something about that attitude of yours.”

“My attitude is your fault.”

“Because I like giving you what you want? Sue me.”

“Spencer,” you grit.

He slings your ankles over his shoulders.

“See? You’re not scary. You’re just whiny and spoiled.”

And before you can defend yourself, or at least make a sufficiently withering reply, he’s leaning down, licking a broad stripe between your legs that for once renders you speechless. Any comment on the tip of your tongue dies as the tip of his becomes all you can think about, melting into a content moan while you rake your fingers through his hair. He sucks lightly on your clit until you’re rolling your hips and then he releases, moving to press kisses to your inner thighs. “Are you going to be nice now?”

“Mhm,” you promise, wanting only for him to keep pleasuring you in that mind-numbing way of his.

“Are you just saying that?”

Another kiss.

“No! Mean it,” you whimper.

“Good girl,” he says, rubbing your outer thigh.

The next kiss is planted on your clit, before he’s taking it into his mouth again and leaving you a whiny mess. You throw your head back and your eyes flutter shut, melting into the bed and not bothering to hold back your sounds.

“Fuck.” Your voice is small, a gasp as he begins to flick his tongue over the bud, each brush against the sensitive spot making your hips stutter. He rubs your leg soothingly but doesn’t let up—you look back down to watch as best you can through your hazy, half-lidded eyes. “I love you,” you murmur.

He laughs against you and the vibrations only make you feel higher, whining and bucking slightly when he begins to lap at your slick entrance—kitten licks so light they’re torturous.

Spencer obviously has a goal in mind; there’s no hesitation and the teasing is minimal. He just wants to make you feel good. And it’s working. The man eats pussy like he’s in love with it.

His name is rolling off your tongue when he kicks into full gear, firm, fast circles around your clit that make you dizzy and hot.

“Oh, my god—” you cut yourself off with a languid, shameless moan, rolling your head to the side but keeping your eyes glued on him. He groans in approval as your hands card through his hair, moving one hand to slide affectionately up and down your stomach as the muscles there tense and flex.

“Fucking obscene,” he mutters, pausing for another filthy, wet kiss to your cunt. “Taste so good, angel girl.”

“Mm... wanna cum,” you beg, rolling your hips and hoping he’ll get the message.

“You will.” Spencer takes a long, luxurious lick as if to prove his point, pulling a desperate mewl from your parted lips. “Because you always get exactly what you want, don't you?”

“Mhm,” you agree, eyes screwing shut, but the reply quickly devolves into a stream of little ah’s that are so sweet Spencer has trouble reconciling their sanctity with their pornographic nature. And the way you unconsciously, innocently begin to pull him closer, trying to press yourself further into his mouth—well, it’s like he said; fucking obscene.

Sometimes Spencer likes to tease you at this point, to pull away and say sweet and dirty things that always bring forth your most adorable, embarrassed, desperate whimpers. But you taste so good, and you are whiny and spoiled, and you make such pretty noises when you’re all soft and needy like this and he can’t bear to pull away. Not when you deserve to cum. And it’s thoughts like these that are the reason you’re a spoiled princess, he muses peripherally. Because he’s fucking whipped for you.

“That’s so good,” you exhale, “just like that, please—fuck!”

He knows you’re going to cum, and there are many things he could do, many things he could say to fuck you over for his own enjoyment, but now he wants more than just about anything he’s ever wanted to work you apart and taste you cumming on his tongue. So he keeps running a reassuring hand over your stomach, trying to remind you to breathe as you approach your peak.

You finish, a slow wave of ecstasy washing over you, chanting his name as your hips sporadically roll and stutter into his face, and he’s making out with your soaked, messy pussy in a way that would never lead one to believe he’s ever been shy or squeamish or hesitant in any way.

“Spencer,” you yelp, incandescent warmth radiating in soft waves from your core and slowing your movements as your hips twitch in an attempt to escape the continual onslaught of his mouth.

“You can take it for a minute, honey,”

A defeated, half-pleasure half-pain whine lets him know he’s won as he continues to kiss your throbbing cunt, but soon small, weak moans are slipping unbidden past the barrier of your lips. You realize he’s going to make you cum again and there’s nothing you can do about it but tighten your hold in his hair, groan, and ride his tongue as he eats you for all that you’re worth.

The second orgasm is softer, blurrier, and equally perfect as the first. It threatens the already tenuous hold you have on your consciousness, strand after strand snapping until you’re barely hanging on.

“Spencer,” you repeat, slurring as you try to shut your legs. “Please, can’t, baby.”

“You could,” he says, sitting up and closing your useless legs for you, massaging the weak muscles. “You’ve done more.”

“Mm-mm,” you disagree, chest rising and falling as your breathing slows. “Don’t wanna.”

“That’s okay, angel. I’m not gonna force you.”

You sigh, obviously satisfied. “That felt really good.”

“I bet it did,” he chuckles, finally moving to lay down next to you. Immediately you curl up to him, and he smooths your skirt back down before tracing soothing patterns on the leg you’ve slung over him. “You’re so cute.”

“Don’t go spreading it around.”

“Never,” he promises, mocking but in good nature. The two of you lay in comfortable silence for a few moments, as you consider his decidedly unsatisfying answer.

“You’re not even a little scared of me?”

He smoothes your hair away from your eyes.

“No, honey, I’m not. But I’m sure other people find you utterly terrifying.”

You open your eyes to regard him ruefully, before they narrow again.

“You have a little something...” you begin, gesturing to your mouth. He snorts.

“Oh, do I?”

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