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sirenscriptures · 3 months

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⋆⭒˚.⋆ angel dust — s. ryomen ⋆｡˚

synopsis: he couldn’t believe the day you’d fallen down into his home. it was such a dark place, filled with such voids that most would consider horrifying. but you…you seemed to brighten up those areas just with your presence alone … 3k

before you read: fem-bodied reader, fallen angel ! reader, kind of counts as monsterfucking??, corruption, breeding, size difference, true form sukuna, soft to rough-ish sex, mainly soft sukuna, some asphyxiation, oral sex, cock worship.

author comments: if you’ve seen this before, don’t fret. this is a reupload from last year that came from my previous blog <3 also, i would greatly appreciate any feedback on this idea. it was very well received on ao3 and i’d love to know what you think of this idea!!

there was a biting cold air spilling throughout the dark, enormous malevolent shrine that evening. it was odd, since the deep marrows and walls of the domain usually seethed with a heat that seemed closest to what hell would feel like.

quiet as usual, his looming figure sat high within the mouth of the gaping shadows that swallowed the entire space. mountains of bones sat him as his throne; rotting and decaying ones piled at the root, whilst the more robust collection of ivory spines and jaws crowned the top.

even if his gaze read otherwise, he knew something strange was circulating. the domain no longer felt as though it could hold him, yet he didn’t know why. where it usually felt so hollow and barren, it now felt heavy, as if there were something weighing directly on its surface.

sukuna could feel the tension slithering up his arms. his usually harrowing eyes were now darting around, frantically checking each and every wall, crevice and shadow like a madman.

however, standing up was worse. immediately as his feet met the surface, a painful spasm rippled through his head, his hand smacking against his forehead in response. following the sudden pain, a high pitched ring bulleted through his ears.

he let out a yowl in reaction, his entire core tensing in near unbearable pain.his body heat felt like it was burning him alive, and the entirety of his muscles felt as though they would cave in on him at any given moment. it was as if his whole body were crumbling away, alike to the bones at the very bottom of his throne.

what in the hell is wrong with me…?

with no time for another thought or exclamation, a sudden, nearly blinding light glistered over his entire vision. it was like a lightning strike when it cracked down upon a tree. but upon the impact, the light expanded outward, casting a permanent coat of shining white over what used to be orifices of shadows.

the light only lasted a few moments before slipping away, the shadows eating at the remaining whiteness casted in the malevolent shrine. but for sukuna, it felt like ages before the piercing brightness faded away.

hiding away his face in the fabric of his robe sleeves, the pain in his body from before had completely vanished. he felt now that he was in one piece, and that everything was mostly back to normal again.

that was, until he looked in front of himself.

in front of him was what looked to be a pile of white sheets strewn about messily into a wrinkled pile.

with him still trying to adjust his eyes from before, it was still a bit of a blur. the flash from before had strongly impacted his vision for a good few moments before he could truly see properly again.

but when his vision did clear, he was certain he’d been hallucinating. his eyes widened as he realized.

in front of him lay an angel…one with battered, gently stained wings. they looked to be twisted, as if they’d been purposely bent and misshapen by cruel hands.

the little clothes that they wore were torn, stained with some sort of black, ash-like debris, as if they’d been caught in some sort of smoke or fire.

now fully adjusted to the sight, he saw the faint, aura-shaped glow that was cast around their body. the dim light shifted in and out of different hues; appearing like the breathing leaves of a tree at one moment, and like ocean waves the next, transcending on and on into different textures and colors in only a matter of minutes.

even for him, the very king of curses, this was a truly mesmerizing sight. in all his time, he couldn’t ever recall encountering a fallen one.

but that didn’t stop him from wondering just how in the world a creature like you had slipped into his domain.

sukuna’s barrier was stronger than any other domains in existence. only he had the power to call upon it when he wished to trap his victims inside of it. no one could get in or out without his calling to it, and that was always how it worked.

truly, it made no sense how you’d landed here. it shouldn’t have been anywhere near possible, but he’d have to face the facts that it was now.

breathing out deeply, whatever soft expression he previously had, he quickly wiped off. whilst admittedly fascinated, sukuna wanted no more unexpected visitors lurking here. it wasn’t worth any risk, even if he could deal with any type of intruder.

walking towards your body, he stared down at you for a moment, pondering. the idea of seeing a real angel so up close, enough to where he could touch it and see all of its features, felt somewhat dangerous to him.

standing so close created ripples of tension in the air, and he could feel it. it was nearly overbearing, to a point where he almost stepped back. but he stood his ground, not wanting to lose this moment.

gently, one of his hands grasped around your shoulder, rolling you onto your back. seeing your face now, it was hard for his eyes not to narrow.

sukuna had never seen something so beautiful. being asleep and trapped in bottomless darkness for years upon years with nothing but gruesome history and deeds, made him realize just how much he failed to see from the world around him.

he knew very well that there was a world outside of his domain where time was constantly working. where lives ended and began within every passing hour. where every single person, organism, ecosystem and cell worked to keep the cycle of living and evolving forever flowing onward, until there would be nothing left but dust floating about an empty space.

did he care for it much? of course not

out there, he was feared. the very syllables of his name invoked terror into any normal human that lived today. and that didn’t bother him in the slightest. it was a title that contributed to who he truly was: the king of curses.

but this moment that lay in front of him felt much different than just the outside world. just by looking at you, it was clear you falling down here carried much more volume than if a regular human were to fall into his domain.

it was when he began to pull you into his arms that your eyes flicked open. being cradled within four arms was a feeling he only half expected you to react to, but it was still surprising for both of you.

at first, sukuna expected you to flinch away from him. maybe even throw yourself away from his grasp. after all, it only seemed appropriate to him that an angel would fear the initial sight of a curse of his stature.

it was the stare you gave him that threw him off the most. your eyes were brilliant; the color in resemblance to the hazy aura that surrounded your body after the fall. but looking deeper, it seemed like you were...admiring him?

the softness in your gaze couldn’t be described in any other way. it was painted with innocence and light, something that was so foreign to sukuna.

despite the unfamiliar soft feeling blooming within his chest, his expression remained strong, revealing little emotion to you at first. with his eyes fully fixated on you, he smirked.

“i take it you’ve lost your way?” he asked in his low, sonorous voice. red eyes blinked down at you, the contact unbreaking.

when he was met with silence, it wasn’t a shock. angels weren’t so common with the earth language as many others thought they were.

instead, you blinked back at him, that same look in your eye as he remained holding you in his arms. even though he understood that you weren’t vocal, he could begin to feel that same tension lingering in the air once more.

“you really did a number on me when you fell down here.” he chuckled, assuming the pain from before was caused by the impact.

something within your gaze flickered as your hand reached up towards his face. his first instinct was to flinch away or tense up, yet…he didn’t.

your caress on his face was gentle, so loving, it was enough to make him feel like warmth was rushing through the tips of your fingers. sukuna hadn’t felt such a sensation in an eternity. in all of his long life, he couldn’t remember ever feeling a touch as gentle and as ethereal as this one.

it truly amazed him. he’d been so used to fighting, that he forgot what a real, physical loving touch had felt like against his skin. especially in his true form, he’d never felt so many sensations coursing through him at once.

the tension only stretched once he noticed you hadn’t broken eye contact. usually, others would shy their gaze away in fear. but, with the way you looked at him, it was almost as if you were trying to persuade him to look at you.

the way you smiled at him, and the way your body was so relaxed in his grasp…something was drawing him in so deep, that he completely ignored the fact that your faces were now drawn so close together, his breath warm on your skin.

you could feel sukuna start to tense up against your body. he wasn’t saying it directly, but he hated appearing as though his walls were tumbling down. the mere idea of being vulnerable was nauseating to him. but sure enough, it was gradually spreading through him like a slow-killing virus.

for a brief moment, something switched within him. it was a sudden feeling of his normal self coming back to him.

suddenly, he placed you back on the ground. he initially wanted to turn his body away from you, but you stopped him. your hand clasped gently around one of his wrists, a slight pleading look in your eyes. you stood close to his body, battered wings flecking about torn and tangled feathers.

sukuna turned to look at you, slightly amused. if anyone else had done that to him in his domain, he could have their arm sliced off in a matter of one glance.

“what now?” he asked gently.

he almost made a smart remark following his inquiry, until your hands gently started to roam over his body.

slowly, your gentle touch sent that same euphoric sensation through him, causing his breath to hitch. the tenseness in his muscles seemed to be washed away by the feeling as your touch traveled to his waist.

he could feel your breath growing heavier by each minute that passed. your head leaned into the deep crook of his neck, hands admiringly slipping over the bulges of muscles and scars on his skin.

looking back at you, he huffed, that devilish smirk spreading slightly over his lips once more. his large hands crept over your waist, scraping the loose clothing off of your body, leaving you more vulnerable than him.

before you could react, he’d pulled you into his grasp once more, his lips connecting with yours. his tongue aggressively slithers its way into your mouth, causing you to whine.

when pulling away, a string of saliva trailed between both of your mouths, eventually dripping down your breast.

seeing your bare figure so beautifully displayed in front of him, sukuna can’t help but feel like he needs more. that feeling from before was now a craving that he felt wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d had every part of you.

leaning back to sit, he placed you conveniently onto his lap, undoing his robes. you could feel the warm excitement pulsing through you, and you were certain he could feel the same.

those dark eyes fixated on you so strongly, you felt as though he could see through you. he pulled you close to him again, his hand trailing down in between your legs.

you latched onto him in surprise when the mouth on his palm began to lap and lick at you from below. you let out a trembling whimper, wrapping your arms tight around his neck.

sukuna chuckled darkly. “now i’ve found what you like, haven't i?”

it wasn’t long before you were wet enough for his fingers to slip in between your snug walls. you could feel your legs beginning to shake uncontrollably as the mouth continued to suck and slither its tongue inside you, whilst his two fingers pumped into your wetness.

he was fascinated by the feeling. even just a mere two fingers had some struggles fitting inside you. but the way you swallowed him in so well down there made him throb.

fuck…who would’ve thought i’d get to ruin a sweet angel like this? he thought to himself. just the feeling of the dripping warmth around his fingers could drive him mad.

promptly, sukuna removed the rest of his robes, his full body exposed to you now. looking at you, he watched your eyes widen at the sight of just how big he was.

he smiled amusingly, taking your face into one of his hands gently.

“there’s nothing to be afraid of, dear.” he murmured, pulling you into a deep, long kiss.

your little whimpers sent waves of arousal through him. you were so fascinating in all ways…he just couldn’t get enough of you.

before he could do anything else, you positioned yourself beneath him, kneeling right where his thighs were.

he looked at you, confused. he could see that you appeared nervous. compared to sukuna, you felt so small. he was a giant, and you both knew that. but there was an instinct for you to serve him, even if it was just for a little while.

suddenly, you’d begun to take in one of his members into your mouth slowly, your tongue snaking around the tip.

sukuna let out a rumbling groan, muscles back to tensing and pulsing with excitement. even the feeling of your mouth was amazing…so soft and welcoming to his cock.

his head tilted back, the feeling of you sucking at him sending his mind into a blur. it was unfathomable how good you could make him feel, all with simple gestures.

after a few moments, you’d stopped. sukuna looked down at you, panting slightly.

it was the sight of you kissing his cock that made him realize what you were doing. trails of kisses led all the way to his pre-cum coated tip. your hands gently massaged and caressed his skin, humming with pleasure as you did so.

pulling you up to his lap again, he pulled you extra close, breath now hot against your neck. sukuna couldn’t keep his mouth from yours. his large hands groped at your breasts, the mouths engulfing your skin.

he loved the sound of your moans flowing into his mouth as he prepared his cock at your entrance. you sounded so meek, and at the same time desperate. as if you’d wanted more of him, which is exactly what he wanted from you.

sliding in wasn’t easy for him. not even half had slipped into you, and you were already holding onto dear life, clawing at his shoulders and wincing, tears starting to stream down your cheeks.

he cupped your face in his hands, holding you gently. “shhhh, it’s alright.” he assured.

he placed one of his hands on your chest, the thump of your heartbeat racing wildly. staring into your eyes, he never broke his soft stare, his member still partially stuffed inside you.

“breathe for me.” he murmured, hand remaining on your chest as he breathed deeply with you.

slowly, it eased its way past your walls, the warmth now engulfing him. sukuna leaned his head back, groaning.

“fuuuck…” he hissed, feeling the fluttering of your walls around him.

he looked up at you, seeing how tense you’d become. his hands gently rubbed up and down your back, soothing you to where you would relax once more.

accidentally, his hands traveled to your wings. at the initial touch, you let out a cry, but not out of pain, out of pleasure.

once again, fascination overcame him. while he started to pump himself in and out of you, his fingers gently massaged the silky feathers of your back, watching as your head and eyes rolled back.

his pace grew faster eventually, balls slapping against your flesh, your moans sobbing out of you louder. meanwhile, sukuna’s hands roamed all over you, caressing every part of you that he could.

as he fucked you, the tongue on his stomach swirled in delicate circles over your protruding clit. he could feel every part of you begin to tremble. it felt like you were about to break at the seams.

he growled out huskily as his hand wrapped around your throat. slaps rang out as he fucked you, echoing throughout his domain.

he looked at you with hooded eyes, admiring the glassy-eyed look of exhaustion and arousal that you had.

“cum for me,” he stammered out. “let me hear those pretty moans of yours…”

you could feel the pleasure washing over you, head throwing back as you let out a final cry.

with a few thrusts, he could feel his seed sputtering deep inside you. his last thrusts made sure everything stayed inside of you, filling you up as much as he could. the feeling of your warmth and fluids mixing together nearly sent the both of you into a trance.

but for sukuna, he was more entranced by you and you alone. he had yet to understand how an angel like you had fallen down here, but he figured he didn’t have to understand everything right away.

all he truly cared about now was possibly keeping you down here with him. it didn’t fully make sense at first why he felt such a drawn protection over you, but now he saw just how special you were.

holding you in his arms, he couldn’t help but smile watching you doze off, head resting against his chest as you listened to the soothing sound of his heartbeat.

written by sirenscriptures. do not repost on any other website. do not translate, copy, or use.

#jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna ryoumen smut #⋆｡𖦹 °.🐚 — sea’s scriptures #true form sukuna smut #sukuna x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #true form sukuna x reader #☾ — nightly yearning

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cubesnap · 4 months

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⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️ DO NOT REPOST / REUPLOAD / USE ART. Thank you!! ⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️

Stuff going on so erm ummmm *vomits out more art* yeaaa. I'm thinking about making an separate blog for candy gore as well

I'm also redrawing Cosmask's ref because I didn't like the previous one (especially the Krill-inspired horns).

Another thing: I really like the bioecosystem? (I THINK that's what you call em) within Iterator cans so I drew a bit of concept art of more iterator can purposed organisms.

Catalysts are very important purposed organisms that create special enzymes within the Iterator can. (If mutated/infected with Rot, the Catalyst will self-destruct to prevent further spread of the pathogen. (Basically just giant Ribosomes really)). It's design is sorta based off ATP synthases.

Enzymes (like the word's definition) restore previous lost data in neuron flies and repair them of ailments. (Essentially just speeding up recovery as well as other processes within the neuron fly).

To this day I STILL don't know what the little worm things are called within Memory Conflux 😭

#rain world #art #character art #original art #digital art #rain world art #rain world downpour #artwork #rw ragequit #rw nsh #rw fp #fp x nsh #fp #spearmaster #rw saint #iterator oc #iterator rain world #I think Cosmask turned into my Iterator sona now.. Whoopsies #Also the first doodle with Santa hats was made like barely a day before Christmas-

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byun-slug · 2 months

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⚙️🕔 Winder of the Railway 🕐🗝️

[Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary, Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore— While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping, As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Edgar Allan Poe - The Raven]

Remember my previous post about AU I'm working on, which is about Hiro? It's still work in progress, but decided to make a quick render to show what I've been working on.

Let me introduce Clockwork Hiro - A time traveler who is forgotten

It's also almost my first time modeling an actual train/locomotive, as well as my first time modeling a train face. I was not familiar with modeling complicated machine, so it was difficult progress to me. But slowly got used with making some small parts, so it's still work in progress but here now I can show him to you!

I'm currently still working on finishing the textures, So when I finish, I will also make a render of final version of him.

Will also make some doodles and more renders of him to explain about the stories and concepts, so stay tuned ✨

Background bookcase model source - https://skfb.ly/ozDn7

(And of course, Clockwork Hiro model made by me)

[🚫Do NOT Steal/Use/Reupload my works!🚫]

#ttte #thomas and friends #thomas the tank engine #ttte fanart #ttte AU #ttte Hiro #Will upload more drawings & renders of him sooner but in short he is kind of villain Hiro #But like I said he is time traveler so more like he is traveling to meet other himself(or even more) for a particular reason

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lovverletters · 10 months

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Yandere! Idol

A/N : Since yan bully post did well i figured making some more :D school just started so pls bear with my post schedules. - Ai

Note that this is a reupload from my previous blog @hyerinrose

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, stalking, abuse of power, possessive behaviour, reader's item being stolen.

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

💌Yandere! Idol who has a humble beginnings, he started off by performing at the side of the streets. While some people do stop by and listens to him sing, it was nothing big.

💌Yandere! Idol who finally lands a deal with a talent agency after months of hard work, thanks to the attention he garnered from people stopping by. He's very grateful to them, if it weren't for them he wouldn't have this huge opportunity!

💌Yandere! Idol who met you officially during his last performance at a concert in your hometown. He had seen your face before in his years performing at the street but never had the opportunity to talk to you.

💌Yandere! Idol who were excited when he saw you outside the venue by yourself, your friend leaving for the restroom. He approached you with his signature smile on his face but deep inside he was panicking. After all these years he can finally talk to you, his biggest fan!

💌Yandere! Idol who despite being used to be showered with praises, melts at your compliments. He can feel his heart began racing, his palm growing sweaty and a prominent heat crawl to his face. What is this foreign feelings? Why is he reacting like this to only you..?

💌Yandere! Idol who realised what the fluttering feelings in his stomach means after seeing the selfie you and him took the other day. He had seen the picture for the 100th time yet the feelings still persist. Of course he would feel like this for you! You were there for him since day 1 when no one even spare him a glance.

💌Yandere! Idol who uses his influence and power to learn informations about you to a disturbing length. It starts of innocent with him being curious of your favourite things to him searching up your entire bloodline.

💌Yandere! Idol who build his shrine of you with the items he stole from you. Technically his bodyguards were the ones who had to do the dirty works but shh Very hypocritical of him considering he had criticised his very own fan of the behaviour yet here he is, stroking a picture of you to add into his ever-growing collection of stolen items.

💌Yandere! Idol who actively tries to instigate any sort of interaction with you to subtly stake a claim on you so that your nobodies suitors can back off already. He also relished in the articals and rumours of you two dating being spread online.

💌 "You dropped this handkerchief, ᶜᵃⁿ ᴵ ᵏᵉᵉᵖ ⁱᵗ? I mean, you're welco- you're welcome."

"Did you caught that?"

"Great. Sent it to paparazzi and journalists outlets. Don't ask questions"

•┈••✦ 🎀✦••┈•💌•┈••✦ 🎀 ✦••┈•

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #tw: yandere #yandere x y/n #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere x darling #gender neutral reader #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines

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theroyalthornoliachronicles · 4 months

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Advent Calendar 2023, Day X and XVII: Tenues d'hiver pour enfants

SURPRISE!

I told you it would be worth the wait!

I know there are few dates where I've been behind. But I thank you for your patience. Working 13 hours a day six days a week on top of being super sick, and then staying up into the late hours to make sure posts went out has been quite a lot for me. But things are coming!

I'm finally able to release the gifts that were due the last two Sundays (Dec 10 and 17th)! There were last minute drama's for each of them, but they are now fit and ready to go!

A huge thank you once again to @historicalfictionsims for her help in converting the dress from an adult frame to a child frame. Many may remember the dress in my previous advent calendar, as it was worn on one of my deco sims, but the dress was too broken and I didn't have any knowledge of how to fix it at the time. So with her help I was able to finally make this dress functional! And of course a huge thank you to @buzzardly28 as well for helping with all the clipping issues! We did it! <3

Robe d'hiver d'Odile

A conversion of @batsfromwesteros Elisabeth Winter Dress from Adult to Child

100 Swatches

Suitable for Children

Tenue d'hiver d'Eugène

A Frankenmesh edit of a top from @historicalsimslife Bodacious Boy's Suit and bottoms from @peebsplays skeleton suit

100 Swatches

Suitable for Children

My TOU:

Do NOT claim as yours.

Do NOT put edits behind paywalls/early access.

Do NOT reupload my content.

Recolours are allowed, so long as you do not include the mesh and give credit where credit is due!

If you feel so kind, please tag me if you use them! Would love to see your sims! (@theroyalthornoliachronicles)!

Download (Always Free!)

Patreon | SFS | Curseforge (Odile) | Curseforge (Eugène)

#ts4 cc #sims 4 cc #ts4 victorian cc #sims 4 victorian cc #1840s #1850s #Victorian Sims

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blackcoffeeofmelancholy · 7 months

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the brothers comfort you during a panic attack

words: 4121

warnings: depictions of anxiety and panic attacks

notes: I'm reuploading my previous work from my old blog, so I have everything in one place. I'm starting with the first piece I wrote for Obey Me. I have a part two with the dateables in my WIPs that I hope to finish one day.

As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Thank you to those who take the time to read and comment on my work; it’s greatly appreciated ♥

LUCIFER

Lucifer is troubled. Following lunch, you disappeared, currently absent from class. This is unlike you, his worry intensifying every minute you’re out of his sight. Yet he maintains his composure, resigning himself to scouring the academy grounds. Time passes at a torturous pace, his thoughts beginning to take a turn for the worse. He contemplates whether to involve his brothers and Lord Diavolo himself at this rate, however, the sound of his D.D.D diverts his attention. A wave of relief washes over him at the sight of your name lighting up his screen, chased by frustration at you, your silence, and himself for losing track of you so easily; he couldn’t bear living if anything happened to you under his watch. He expects this behavior from his brothers, not you. Though his heart sinks, the Avatar of Pride uncharacteristically overcome with guilt while he reads your message. Of course, you are not his brothers. He should not have doubted you.

Your texts are apprehensive, a weighty pause between them as you hesitate to lay bare the darkest depths of your soul. He approaches you cautiously, to avoid upsetting you further. Your words alone convey the sheer panic taking possession of you, the last of your strength used to press send. Outside he discovers you, huddled miserably in an isolated corner of the building, swathed in shadow. The desire to shelter you from the world burns within him, but your eyes widen fearfully in his presence, wounding his pride. Immediately, you apologize. Sorry you’re missing class, that you left without telling anyone, and upset him—especially when you’re aware of his busy schedule. You’re sorry for not having the courage to pull yourself together, succumbing to your anxiety, your shame palpable. The hand clutching your D.D.D is trembling, your chest heaving as you struggle to breathe. He aches for you, each tear shed hurting more than the last, your pain managing to touch the very core of his being and set him alight.

If anyone is sorry, it’s him, pride be damned. Kneeling in front of you, he assures you an apology isn’t necessary—your well-being is of great importance to him. He wants you to rely on him, grateful you confided in him despite your doubts. Hopefully, he can eventually put your mind at ease. His voice is low and soothing as he continues to console you, making sure you’re aware he’s not upset, and your feelings are valid. Although he’s not familiar with the inner workings of anxiety itself, he’s willing to listen, learning how to support you to the best of his ability—starting today, provided you’re comfortable accepting his offer. Initially, he prioritized your safety for the sake of the exchange program and Lord Diavolo’s wish to unite the three realms, now it’s merely out of adoration for you, his beloved. Once you’re ready, he’ll let you know you’re not alone. He’s never too busy on your behalf.

Offering you his hand, a smile graces his features as you accept. Slowly, he helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. He notes the way you relax at his touch, shoulders sagging and head coming to rest on his chest. Only you exist at this moment, his gaze never leaving you, not even for a second. Standing in silence until your breathing settles and you regain your balance, he sees you through the height of your attack before escorting you back to the House of Lamentation. He’ll personally excuse you from the remainder of your classes, understanding you need a quiet place to recover. Classical music plays softly in the background of his room, and he’s content to have you in his embrace, drawing you onto his lap after you finish the tea he brewed to calm your nerves. Lucifer pays you special attention, massaging your tired body and kissing you tenderly, his breath fanning across your lips as he reminds you how special you truly are—brave, compassionate, and incredibly loved.

MAMMON

Mammon mourns his loss, wondering how he let them gain the upper hand; admittedly, a foolish mistake on his part. He dreads breaking the news to Lucifer, and the resentment that shows on his brothers' faces once he confesses does little to ease his mind. Still, he worries about your reaction most of all, knowing his stupidity has put you in a precarious position. In that moment he believes their words—only a greedy scumbag like himself dares to place his human’s happiness on the line. Although certain of his win at the time, he should consider how his actions affect you more often; otherwise, how can he claim he’s the Great Mammon? His confidence is his downfall in the end. Now you’ll suffer along with him. Yet you feign optimism, attempting to soothe everything over despite your innocence. His guilt only grows, a heavy weight on his shoulders; one he deserves.

Three days of waiting on and performing for large crowds at The Fall proves hectic for everyone. He can tell you’re struggling beneath the facade of a composed and hospitable server, going above and beyond to ensure the patrons leave satisfied. You even lend him and his brothers a hand, coming to their rescue on multiple occasions; it should be him making it as easy on you as possible. His concern for you runs deep, no matter how hard he tries to maintain his usual air of indifference, but you have the nerve to reassure him—it’s meant to be the opposite, dammit. Each night he goes out of his way to check on you, frustrated that you continue to dance around the subject. He can see the exhaustion on your face, hear the slight tremor in your voice, the toll his stupid decision is taking on you, and it stings. You comfort him, even when he’s undeserving, so why won’t you allow him to hold you and kiss the pain away? Not that he’s asked. You should realize by now you can rely on him, right?

Watching you suffer in silence tortures him. He can’t deny it regardless of his best efforts to make light of the situation. You barely eat or spend time outside your room, saying you’re tired, which isn’t a lie—working is exhausting, no doubt about it—but he understands you well enough to notice the subtle signs of your anxiety, your smile unable to trick him into believing otherwise. Perhaps you find him as insufferable as his brothers do, or worse, and don’t want to see his face after what he’s done. That doesn’t stop him from showing up at your door, hoping he can offer some form of comfort no matter how small. However, you keep up appearances, supporting the seven of them during the longest weekend of their lives. You work hard too, his chest swelling with pride as he watches you care for his brothers and customers alike. How can you like an idiot like him? You’re selfless and loving, looking past his flaws to see what lay beneath his sin. His human. His angel. He wants—no needs—you to be okay.

The last day comes and goes in a blur. Finally, he can toss these ridiculous clothes and rabbit ears in the trash and never perform that dance again. Better yet, you’re free of his burden, though the guilt remains. He can’t relax until he’s positive you’re okay and know he’s genuinely sorry. Standing outside your room, he tries to muster up the courage to open his heart to you—apologies are not his strong suit—when he hears you crying. They’re small, muffled sobs that manage to shake him to his core and make his blood run cold. He should knock, but he can’t control himself, throwing the door open without hesitation and rushing to your side. The sight of your tears is almost too much to bear, and he draws you into his embrace, face heating up at his own moment of vulnerability, but this is about you, not him. He can be strong for you too, telling you everything’s going to be okay, that the Great Mammon is here to help.

After his stupidity, you tell him you were afraid to bother him. He can hardly suppress the shock at your confession, the sadness in your eyes breaking his heart. You wanted to make sure it went smoothly for his sake? You suffered through hell alone because you chose to put his feelings first? Crazy. Though he thanks you, not completely ashamed to admit he’s touched. However, he tells you that you don’t have to put aside your feelings for his benefit; he prefers to be by your side than know you’re having a rough time on your own. He is your first. Taking the initiative, he asks what he can do to make it up to you, no matter how big or small the request is because he’ll do it in a heartbeat. You opt to stay in his arms, burying your face into his chest, and he wipes away your remaining tears, being as gentle as he possibly can. He can feel how tense your body is, your skin flushed, and it takes a while until you stop shaking. It’s moments like these he’ll tell you how much you mean to him—that he loves you—and he wants you to come to him for everything. He’ll hold you, taking your hand in his, and kiss you with all the adoration in the world because you’re incredibly important to him. Mammon can attest to that.

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan invites you to his room to play video games, a daily routine the two of you have comfortably fallen into. He loves gaming with you, though on occasion you opt to watch instead, thoroughly enthralled by whatever is on the screen. Miraculously, you enjoy listening to him ramble—whether it’s about the game he’s playing, anime he’s watching, or TSL among other things—genuinely showing interest in his passions; he’s incapable of expressing how truly grateful he is for your company. His heart nearly bursts whenever you compliment him on his gaming prowess, encourage him during a particularly intense battle, or merely tell him how you enjoy hanging out. How did a gross otaku like him get so incredibly lucky? He can hardly believe you love him of all demons. The thought alone sounds crazy.

Unable to contain his excitement, he awaits your arrival that night, ensuring everything is perfect when he hears a knock on the door. However, his smile fades the moment he lays eyes on you, mind beginning to race as he wonders why you look so miserable, your gaze trained on your hands. Before he can speak, you apologize, dissolving into tears while you return the game he let you borrow. You’re stuttering, completely breathless, and he can barely hear you confess to accidentally corrupting his data in your panic. In fact, he loses track of the number of times you choke out an apology. He treasures his games, his collection extensive, but he cherishes you most of all. The loss is a minor annoyance, nothing that lessens the feelings he harbors for you. Although difficult, he overcomes his insecurities to show you it’s okay—you’re loved.

Not only are you sad, but you’re also terrified, a part of him wanting to destroy the game itself if it means you never have to experience the pain that torments you now. Regarding you carefully, afraid to make matters worse, he reassures you that he’s not upset—far from it, honestly—and that he cares about you more than any game. No stranger to your panic attacks, he reaches out to take your hand in his, hoping you find comfort in what he has to offer. And when you finally glance up, hope shining in your tear-filled eyes, he can’t help but wrap you in his arms. A warmth spreads across his face, heart pounding in his ears, but he knows you need him, allowing his body to relax around yours.

Holding you against him, he tells you everything’s all right, stuttering out how he loves you and, most importantly, wants to you to feel better. Your arms circle around his waist, causing his heart to jump into his throat, but he only pulls you closer. You’re his Henry, and what friend is he if you can’t rely on him? Leviathan is understanding, wanting you to come to him for support at your most vulnerable. Now he puts his knowledge to the test, easing you into his room with continuous words of affirmation. You always know how to console him at his lowest, and he hopes he can return the favor. If anyone deserves to feel loved it’s you, who brought joy into his otherwise bleak world, and he’ll sit with you every day and night if you need him to.

SATAN

Satan knows he shouldn’t be awake, though he finds it difficult to satiate his curiosity as he peruses the books lining his shelves. He barely registers the sound of his D.D.D, reluctant to put the book aside to see who’s messaging him at this ungodly hour; Asmodeus most likely. His tune changes after he sees your name lighting up his screen, his annoyance replaced by worry. He knows you struggle, especially at night, but he can tell you’re hesitant to reach out. Nevertheless, you gradually begin to confide in him, his patience limitless if you’re concerned, and he feels a sense of relief that you choose to trust him at your most vulnerable instead of suffering on your own. Pouring over every book he can locate on anxiety, he studies it religiously, engraining each page into his memory. Not by giving unsolicited advice—he doesn’t want to make that mistake twice—but by comforting you the best he can, even if it simply means staying by your side, waiting for the panic to pass.

A second later, he appears at your door, gaze softening as your eyes meet. In the darkness of your room, he can tell how exhausted you are. You apologize for bothering him, particularly this late, but he dismisses you with a shake of his head and a reassuring smile, sitting beside you on the bed. It saddens him that you feel the need to, but he’s familiar enough with anxiety by now that he understands how much of a manipulative monster it truly is; if only he can destroy it with his own two hands, strangling the life out of it so it no longer taints that innocent soul of yours. To watch you struggle fills him with a rage that he forces deep within himself, fully aware anger isn’t the answer no matter how great his desire to protect you is. So, he cups your face in his hands, your skin warm beneath his fingers as he strokes your flushed cheeks and presses your foreheads together.

Focus on him, he tells you, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and his voice while he whispers words of love and encouragement. He never tires of letting you know how beautiful and strong you are, that he’s always here for you and loves you—all of you. You unravel in his arms, opening your heart up to him, and he listens intently, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips the moment you look uncertain. You’re not a burden, he promises, hoping one day you’ll believe it yourself, but he’ll remind you every chance he gets; forever if he must. It’s worth it in the end when you relax against him and smile, kissing him in return. Slowly, the anxiety leaves your body, Satan grateful that the waves of panic have receded enough to let you rest your weary mind. He remains next to you, pulling you down to lay your head on his chest and closing your hand in his, entwining your fingers. He’s content here with you, watching you fall asleep and chasing away the nightmares.

ASMODEUS

Asmodeus loves shopping, but he loves shopping with you most of all. The day is bright with you by his side, and he can’t help but buy you clothes and matching accessories to bring out your inherent charm. Your potential is endless, and he gushes over how gorgeous you are, unable to contain his excitement when your eyes light up in return. He can hardly control himself around you, gaze fixated on your every movement and heart racing each time you flash him one of the sweetest smiles he’s ever seen; your very soul seeming to shine through and blind him. Nothing prepares him for the love he feels for you, but he considers it a welcome surprise, his desire to grow closer to you intensifying day after day. You captivate him, the Avatar of Lust of all demons. What an exciting turn of events!

Of course, he attracts attention wherever he goes, posing for pictures with adoring fans and basking in the compliments constantly thrown his way; nothing new, but he enjoys it, nonetheless. Who can resist the allure of his very presence? However, anger wells within him at the sight of you being shoved to the side, falling to the ground, and lost to the crowd that has gathered. Their words of flattery fall on deaf ears as he rushes to you, throwing a heated glance at the lowly demon who dared to touch his darling human. He desires nothing more than to punish them for such an injustice, but the fear in your eyes tells him otherwise. By the time he scoops you up into his arms you’re trembling from head to toe, and he can feel your heart pounding against him. A part of him places the blame on himself, an unfamiliar feeling, but he chooses to ignore it for now, focusing on getting you home in your worsening state.

In the peace and quiet of his room, he sits you on the bed, wrapping you in his arms as he affectionately runs his fingers through your hair. He can tell you’re upset—in an absolute state of panic by the looks of it—and all he can do is hold you through it, quietly asking what you need and willing to answer your every beck and call if it means that adorable smile graces your features once more. For a moment he considers seeking out Lucifer, worried something has gone terribly wrong, but thankfully you find your voice, mumbling into his chest about anxiety and panic attacks, that you’ll be fine—eventually—and are sorry for ruining your date. He doesn’t understand completely, though he knows you need him, promising to stay by your side for as long as you want. Kissing your cheek, he assures you there’s no need to apologize to him, your safety more important than anything else; the demon who laid his hands on you won’t go unpunished either.

Admitting a bath helps calm you down, he prepares one for you, steam rising from the surface and the heady scent of roses filling the air. Together you slip into the water, enveloped by its warmth, and he hums in contentment as you lean into him, his arms coming to rest around your waist. He watches you carefully, making sure you’re able to relax and preparing himself in case you call on him; he’ll do anything for you if it brings you the happiness you deserve. Your eyes flutter close, Asmodeus showering you with delicate kisses, comforted by the fact your breathing has leveled out and you appear a lot calmer than before. The day didn’t go as planned, and he hopes to make it up to you, vowing that no one else will hurt you on his watch. He loves himself, he loves his brothers, but loves you most of all.

BEELZEBUB

Beelzebub notices you haven’t touched your dinner and is beyond happy the moment you offer your plate to him. Yet he can’t bring himself to enjoy the food in front of him while you excuse yourself from the table, eyes downcast and voice quiet, the usual smile gone from your face and leaving behind an emptiness that rivals his own hunger. His mouth waters at the thought of seconds, but his concern for you grows, and he decides to follow you without question, disregarding the ravenous growl of his stomach. He catches you in the hallway, calling out your name. You turn to him, his brow furrowing in unease at the sight of your tears and the slight tremble of your lip. It hurts him to see you in obvious distress, and he earnestly offers his support.

The only sound is that of your sobbing. He desperately wishes to hold you tightly and rid you of your pain. However, he falters, studying you. Your gaze is trained on the floor, shoulders stiff with tension, and the color drains from your cheeks. When you speak, he’s surprised by how helpless you sound and the fact you’re trying to reassure him, putting his needs above your own although you’re struggling to hold yourself together. Fear flickers across your features at the echo of the brothers’ voices traveling down the hall, and he mumbles out an apology as he carefully lifts you into his arms, cradling you to his chest.

Before the others can round the corner, he hurries around the corner and slips into your room, determined to protect his vulnerable human. He notices you relax against him, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he can’t help but want to keep you close, relieved after you lean in closer to wrap your arms around his neck. Stroking your hair, he allows you to cry, his patience and love for you endless. Eventually, you mutter an embarrassed apology, thanking him profusely, but he’s merely relieved you’re beginning to feel a bit better, reassuring you that you can always depend on him.

Listening to you intently, he never breaks eye contact. You open up to him about your anxiety, his stomach twisting as you describe what you call a panic attack and how it wrecks you both mentally and physically. Beelzebub knows he has a lot to learn, but he expresses interest in understanding anxiety and, most importantly, how he can help you, so you don’t suffer alone. For the rest of the night, he keeps you company and eases you through the remainder of your attack, giving you plenty of hugs and rubbing your back in soothing circles until you no longer shake, and your heartbeat returns to its usual pace.

BELPHEGOR

Belphegor enjoys the time you spend together, especially when the two of you are alone. He asks you to accompany him in the attic, and it’s not long before he curls around you, falling into a peaceful sleep as he listens to the steady beat of your heart. However, when he awakes it’s to the sound of your soft cries in the dark, which fill him with a fear he can’t seem to shake. Without hesitation he’s at your side, sitting up to softly place a hand on your shoulder and ask you what’s wrong. The sadness in your eyes as you glance up at him, tears staining your cheeks, tugs at his heartstrings. He can’t bear to see you upset.

Once he realizes you’re having a panic attack, he’s attentive to your needs, cradling you in his arms as you cry into his chest. You confided in him about your struggles with anxiety after you fell to pieces in front of him months ago. A part of him understands, the loss of Lilith haunting him throughout the years and instilling a similar feeling of unease within him, especially when his nightmares seem to blur the line between reality and the painful memories of his past. You always came to his rescue and now it’s his turn to comfort you in your time of need. Sleep can wait.

With you in his embrace, he brings you down to relax against the pillows, pulling the blanket around your shivering form. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he gently brushes the remaining tears from your face, whispering words of love and reassurance. He listens to you when you’re comfortable enough to talk, the slight tremble of your voice causing him to draw you closer and press a kiss to your forehead. Belphegor tells you he’s here for you—forever—and although he’s still learning about anxiety and finding the best ways to comfort you during an attack, he wants you to depend on him no matter what; even if that means you wake him up in the middle of the night. He won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, and you’re peacefully sleeping in his arms.

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isaksbestpillow · 2 months

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Ossan's Love Returns episode 7 eng sub

It's me and some freshly baked subs again! Notes below the cut. Two more episodes to go, I try my best to finish them in the upcoming weeks. This episode is so lovely, please watch it!!!!

Previous episodes, welcome on board: Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6

Episode 7

RAW

subtitle

Do not reupload to any streaming sites.

Notes

The title of the episode (How do you live) is also the title of a novel by Yoshino Genzaburou and the Japanese title of Miyazaki's The Boy and the Heron. I've been lazy and not translated the previous titles but this one felt important enough to include.

Fukuro/bukuro: bag

Isshou isshoni itekureya: When Izumi completes Haruta's sentence after asking him about Maki, the line is a lyric from Lifetime Respect by Miki Douzan. It was a big hit in 2001.

youtube

Single mothers are some of the most socially disadvantaged groups in Japan and their plight is only worsening. 50% of single-parent households live in poverty.

Drag/drug are pronounced the same in Japanese (doraggu).

Anta: This is a rude second person pronoun that stands out because Izumi is usually well-mannered at work and never calls Haruta anything but Haruta-san. I obviously couldn't translate it literally since it literally just translates to you.

They make you drink barium at the annual health checkup to screen stomach cancer. I was very weirded out this when I first got the invite to a screening but apparently stomach cancer is still one of the leading cancers in Japan due to helicobacter.

Shiruko: a dessert made with azuki beans.

Tag list (let me know if you'd like to be tagged!):

@babeluda @twig-tea @nieves-de-sugui @nongnaos @veikonvihannekset @bengiyo @thirstkanaphan @my-rose-tinted-glasses @faillen @ellieellieoxenfree @randifrn @fromisstar @lurkingshan @penguin251159 @i-remember-yyou @remadi @thesedamncannibals @sewichii @littleragondin @thegalwhorants @mirkoscarrot

Please enjoy!!!!

#ossan's love returns #ossan's love #my translations

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k-evans-reads · 18 days

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In Living Color

Chapter 25

We do NOT give permission for our works to be reuploaded, translated, or reposted on any other site. Our work is our own.

Previous | Main Masterlist | In Living Color Masterlist

July 25th, 2022

Chris let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into his mother’s house from the back door, the cool air of the home giving him and Scott a reprieve from the heatwave outside. They found their Ma in her kitchen, putting away some groceries with a smile on her face as she saw her sons.

“I certainly didn’t expect to see you here today,” Lisa greeted, coming over to hug them both. She hugged Scott before hugging Chris, holding her oldest son's arms as she pulled away and told him, “I figured it would take at least another day for you to recover from the press tour.”

Chris laughed, the sound echoing through the otherwise quiet home. “Oh I’ll be going to bed early tonight, that’s for sure,” he assured her with a nod.

Scott smirked at the words, moving to grab a cup from a cabinet and fill it with water. “I’m honestly surprised that you didn’t just fly straight to San Francisco to see Nat,” he drawled, his voice booming.

“Yeah, it’s been what? A month since you’ve seen her?” Lisa asked, raising a brow as she dropped her hands from Chris’ arms and headed back into the kitchen, pulling groceries from the bags resting on the island counter.

“I was with her over the fourth so almost a month,” he corrected, leaning down to pet his Ma’s dogs as they danced at his feet. But then he thought back to his visit earlier in the month, at the fleeting moments they’d had together, but otherwise… he’d been alone. Nat’s schedule was busier than ever, if it was even possible, and she spent so much time glued to her laptop that he missed her even when he was there. “I miss Nat so fuckin’ much but I’m almost thinking about staying here.”

Lisa raised a brow suspiciously as she closed the fridge, tucking the reusable grocery bags into each other. “Oh really?” She asked him while she looked at him curiously.

“I’m just so exhausted. Going from filming earlier this year to the Lightyear press and right into The Gray Man press, I’m just so tired,” he murmured with a shake of his head as he leaned his hip against the island. “And now that I’ll be going to Atlanta soon for Pain Hustlers, I feel like I just need a break away from everything.”

“Maybe Nat could come out here instead?”

“Yeah I think I might ask her if she could,” Chris nodded his head. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see her, in fact, the opposite was true but after being dragged from one interview to another then put on a plane to make another appearance and do the whole routine again, he was craving his safe space more than ever. He just wanted to be home and sleep in his own bed, have home cooked meals, and decompress in the place he felt the most himself. Chris ran a hand through his hair while he mused, “I want to see her so bad, but when I’m there during the week, she’s at work anyway so it’s not like we get to spend much time together.”

He watched as Lisa pursed her lips while she listened to his words. “Well maybe once you rest up a little more, you could go out for a weekend,” she suggested, her eyebrows raising hopefully as she looked at her oldest son. He shrugged his shoulders at that as he heard Scott’s small noise of agreement and sighed.

“I don’t have many more weekends before I start filming again,” he began as he stared down at the marble countertop. He’d gotten the official schedules for both shoots a few weeks ago, and there was virtually no spare time once he started the first project, but what little time he had left before was quickly getting filled up in Massachusetts. He hadn’t been home for a long stretch of time since the previous year, and even then he spent most of 2021 in Los Angeles, growing his relationship with Nat. He’d missed home, missed seeing his family, the kids, getting to just live without constantly looking over his shoulder. And the growing list of responsibilities from ASP that he’d been ignoring while working were piling up, and his schedule was full of tasks between now and the middle of August. By then, he’d jump right into the shoots around Florida and Georgia with the cast of Pain Hustlers to then be in Atlanta working for months on end for Red One, having no real opportunities to visit Nat in California. “I just hate to disappoint Nattie.”

“Honey, you know Nat will understand,” Lisa placated her son, looking at him seriously as she listened to his words. “She won’t want you to kill yourself just to come see her.”

Chris shook his head, explaining, “Oh I know she’ll understand, Nat always does.”

“I know a certain dog who will be happy that you’ll be around here for a while,” she pointed out with a small chuckle, shaking her head in amusement.

“You should have seen how I woke up this morning. Dodger was laying right on top of me,” Chris laughed, thankful for the shift in conversation away from him changing his and Nat’s plans.

Scott’s dry laugh cut through the room as he told their mother, “He’s been right on Chris’ heels all day.”

Lisa smiled at the comment, before her eyes turned curious and she looked at Chris as he finally sat down in a barstool next to Chris. “What were you guys up to today?” She asked them both, looking between them.

“Well…” Chris started as Scott bit his lip, turning to look at him as well. With both his Ma’s and Scott’s eyes on him, a smile crossed his lips. “That’s actually part of the reason we came over…”

“Why’s that?”

A warm smile crossed his lips as his brain was able to switch from the exhaustion his whole body was clouded in, to instead thinking about the purchase he made hours earlier and the meaning that came with it as he told his mother, “I bought something for Nat today that I wanted to show you…”

He could feel Lisa’s eyes on him as he pulled the velvet box out of the plain white bag and handed it over to her. He watched as she flipped it open and saw the shining diamond ring inside as she gasped, “Chris, you got her a ring? You’re going to ask her to marry you?”

“Yeah Ma, I am,” a warmth spread throughout him as he said those words out loud.

Chris could see the tears glossing her eyes as she gasped, “Oh honey, I couldn’t be happier.”

“Me neither,” he shook his head almost in disbelief that this was really happening. His own tears started gathering in his blue eyes, making him blink furiously before he swallowed the emotional lump in his throat, “I think I’ve known for a while now that Nat was the one for me but when I was with her in San Francisco for our anniversary earlier this year I just… knew. I just don’t want anyone but her.”

“I knew from that first time I met her that you two would be together,” Lisa stated firmly before going over to hug her eldest son tightly.

“I think we all knew that one,” Scott chimed in with a chuckle from where he had sat down at the counter, knowing that Chris and Nat being together was something they all saw coming a mile away.

Chris had to wipe a hand along his cheeks, swiping away the tears as he admitted, “I just love her so much. I never even knew it could feel like this,”

“I’m so happy for you Chris. I can honestly say this is the best decision you’ve ever made,” his mother encouraged him with a hand rubbing up and down his back but then wanted to know, “When are you going to ask her?”

The question was one he’d been thinking about a lot but still hadn’t figured out an answer to, letting her in, “I’m not sure yet. I don’t really have a specific time so I’m just going to ask her when the moment feels right.”

Lisa couldn’t help but give him another hug, squeezing him tightly as she once again told him just how happy she was before the conversation shifted toward dinner and the brothers decided to stay and help get things ready. As Chris was pulling out the plates, his gaze drifted down to the ring box that was sitting open on the counter and felt the conversation happening around him seem to drift away. He picked up the box and looked at that sparkling ring, imagining what it would look like on Nat’s hand and almost finding it unbelievable that at the beginning of the previous year he hadn’t even met her, but now here he was ready to place this on her hand with the promise of forever.

He loved her so much it almost hurt and even as insecure and indecisive as he could be, this was one decision that didn’t leave any doubts in his mind other than the timing. With his schedule being full with two more movies and Nat being in San Francisco for her job, he didn’t know the next time that they’d get any extended amount of time together and although it left him at a loss on how to fully support her while he wasn’t there, he had come to see through their breakup that none of it mattered. Sure, it was a hurdle they’d need to figure out how to cross, but all that mattered is that he had Nat in his life and he wanted her forever. Chris knew that this was the best thing that could ever happen to him, but what he didn’t know is that while he stood here full of joy and peace, the woman he loved was across the country feeling desperately trapped in the new job and life she had chosen and felt more stuck that she ever had in her life.

Nat shut the creaking door behind her and locked the deadbolt, closing her eyes and leaning her head against the door as she felt her muscles tense. She looked around her dark apartment, feeling… indifferent to everything. Coming home had always been something sacred to her, her escape, her happy place, where she hosted friends, family, game nights, and movie nights. But here… she’d hole up for days over a weekend without having anyone here who would reach out to say, “Hey! Haven’t seen you this weekend, want to grab brunch tomorrow?”, only to hear a ping alerting her to new emails. It was no longer a place of refuge to her, instead, it felt like a place where she couldn’t take a deep breath, where she could never relax, where no one would come looking, or even stop by. She was completely alone here in this silent apartment, but the one bright spot that had gotten her through so many days was knowing that in one day, her apartment would be occupied by the heart-of-gold man that she loved so dearly. His laughter would fill the tiny space, his hands would rub her aching back, and his presence would fill the void in her heart that had been hurting so badly.

When her phone started ringing, she pulled it out and saw his name on her screen, bringing out the first genuine smile in a long time as she held it up to her ear and greeted him with a hello that sounded a lot less enthusiastic than she intended but just couldn’t seem to muster anything more.

“Hi honey, is this a good time?” He asked her, his voice filling her ear.

She nodded, suppressing the sigh that caught in her throat. “Yeah I’m just walking through my door,” she told him, hanging her bag on the hook by the door as she kicked her shoes off.

Nat heard him huff out a breath, his voice quiet as he pointed out, “Nattie, it’s almost eight there.”

She shook her head, frowning at his concern. She knew it was well placed, it always was. They cared about each other to be making those jabs at the other, but it didn’t mean her shoulders relaxed a little at every concerned comment he made. If anything, it made her feel a little worse. “I know, it just was a busy day,” she explained, her voice quiet as she turned on the lights and stepped further into the apartment.

“Will you promise me that you’ll have some dinner?”

“I promise I will,” she told him, glancing towards the shoebox of a kitchen before she headed into the living room, sitting down on the couch with a sigh. “I actually am a little surprised to hear from you. I figured you’d be asleep with you flying out here tomorrow.”

“That’s actually what I wanted to call you about,” he began, pausing as he sighed. Nat froze, listening as he finally asked, “Nattie, would it disappoint you if I didn’t come out to San Francisco?”

Her brows furrowed and her hand reached, plucking a few threads from the worn blanket on the couch as she fidgeted anxiously. “Is everything okay?” She asked worriedly, unsure if something had happened

“Yeah, yeah it’s fine, I’m just so exhausted,” he admitted and Nat could have been able to know that without his admission. The weariness in his voice was evident even if she hadn’t known how packed his schedule had been but kept listening as he sighed, “I feel like I’ve just been going non-stop for the past couple months and then with heading into doing two more movies this year, I just feel really overwhelmed. I just want some time to decompress.”

“Of course I’m sad not to see you but that’s fine Chris, I want you to take care of yourself,” Nat told him truthfully. In reality, hearing those words felt like a punch in the gut or as if all the air from her lungs had just been taken away. Having him come out to see her had been the one saving grace through all of this. She knew that if she could just make it to when she’d get to have his arms around her again, then maybe she could do this. Maybe that would help center her again, but in an instant that had been stolen away.

But she couldn’t tell him that. She couldn’t burden him with the knowledge of how much she was struggling while he was so burnt out and had to recharge before being thrown into filming again. Besides, he had warned her. He was the one who told her that this job wasn't for her and that it didn’t seem like the right move for her and he had been right. Nat just couldn’t let anyone, especially herself, know how much this job was taking a toll on her. It was just a job and the fact that she couldn’t seem to handle it only made her feel like even more of a failure than ever.

“I hope you know how much I want to see you and it has nothing to do with that,” Chris went on to assure her, but it brought little healing to her heart because all she could feel was that she was alone yet again. “I also figured that when I’m there during the week I don’t get to see you much anyway and thought that maybe you could come out for a weekend if you have time or I could come out there before Atlanta.”

“I’m not sure yet what my schedule is but we’ll figure something out. I want you to just decompress,” she rushed to tell him, trying hard to cover up the tears and heavy emotion in her voice.

“Are you sure, Nat?”

Nat just took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice before responding with, “I am, I want you to rest. I know how important it is to you to be able to be away from everything in Boston.”

“Thanks for understanding, baby. I love you so much and I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Nat pushed out a quick “I love you too” before hearing the line hang up. She couldn’t even pull the phone away from her ear before silent tears started spilling out of her eyes. With a shaky finger she clicked the red button before trudging over to the couch where she laid down and grabbed a pillow, clutching it to her chest as the tears just wouldn’t stop pouring down her face.

Nat was so proud of Chris. She was so proud of all he’d done this year, pushing himself with the films he was doing and going through the press tours he hated so much while traveling the world in a whirlwind. She was so happy that he could recognize when he needed a break, and just decompress. She was so glad that he had a place to do that, where he had a home to just be himself and relax but right now she just hated it so much that the home wasn’t with her.

Using the sleeve of her sweatshirt, she furiously wiped at her eyes and sat up. Nat tried so hard to just pull it together, but the moment her eyes glanced out the window of her apartment and she saw the almost tauntingly beautiful view of San Francisco, heavy sobs started pouring out of hers as those tears that she had just wiped away were quickly replaced. Just one look at that view reminded her that she was here in the city by the bay, completely and utterly alone.

She had always loved her job, working as an animator was truly a dream come true. Nat was just a normal girl who had been given an incredible gift by having a father who believed in her, sending her to art school to follow her dreams but it felt like somehow her real dream, the real longing of her heart had slipped through her fingers. Nat had been so happy working at Disney, settling into a life in California over the past decade and having an incredible group of friends, including Mark and Jamie who had become more like family to her.

But COVID had changed everything for her. In that time frame, her engagement to Shane had ended, Nat had become so much more self assured and knew who she was, but after being able to spend months at home with her family, she had moved back to California with a loneliness in her heart and a longing for something more. For the first time in her life she had seen how much she wanted more than her job. She wanted her own family and to be able to love someone and have them love her in return.

And then Chris came into her life.

So much had changed since he’d made his unexpected entrance in her life and Nat had found out so many more things about herself and what she wanted. He helped her to rest in who she was and embrace what it was that made her… well, her. He was her best friend and gave her peace in a way that she couldn’t quite explain. But there was still a part of her that let those little voices into the back of her head, remembering the looks she’d gotten from people when she was younger and said her dream was to be an artist. She remembered the jokes so many made when they asked what she was going to do for a ‘real job’ and the sting of that in her formative years still was underneath the surface.

Nat’s fingers were clutching tight on that pillow as she thought back to her dad dropping her off at art school as he hugged her tightly and told her how proud of her he was and that he knew she’d do great things. Ever since then all she had wanted to do was prove him right, to show everyone she wasn’t just the overemotional chaotic artist little sister behind two intelligent successful older sisters who seemed to be able to do all the things she viewed herself incapable of.

So here she was. Accepting this job that she thought would somehow prove something. That somehow would be the icing on the cake of ‘See? I can be a successful artist’ but all it had done was show her just how right Chris had been about all of this. This wasn’t what she wanted. She hated every bit of this job. She wanted so much more than this now. She wanted Chris. She wanted a family. She wanted to create for herself. But there was no turning back now. There was no way that she could go to her boss only a couple months after starting and basically say she wanted to be demoted, especially when her position back in Burbank had already been filled. Not to mention that she had taken a stand with this job and Chris, resulting in them temporarily breaking up. That felt like such a huge failure in her mind and that was something Nat simply just couldn’t take at the moment.

So here she had been, putting her nose to the grindstone and putting in her hours, trying to get through the days with the light at the end of the tunnel being August. The month when she’d get her best friend back. When she’d finally get to feel his arms around her. When she’d finally not dread the weekends and spend them crying in bed but instead fill them with laughter and happiness with Chris. When she’d finally get to relax for the first time in weeks. Knowing that he was coming to her was like a lifeline, knowing that she just had to make it until then and then hopefully things would be better. But now it felt like that lifeline that was dangling just out of her reach was snatched away and she was left drowning.

But there was no way she could ask him to come. It was just too selfish. She couldn’t possibly know just how packed his schedule had been and hear his weary voice saying how much he just needed to go home and then ask him to come be with her instead. So here she was. Sitting alone on this couch, tears streaming down her face as she felt completely alone and completely stuck.

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hostilemuppet · 4 months

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Brozone (and friends (and enemies)) twitter drama au

Collaborative between me and @squirrelpatties. Truly our magnum opus

Jd: previously a frequent twitter e-clown infamous for name searching and starting beef with people who insulted him. His fanbase thought it was hilarious in a "grandpa escaped the hospital" way. Eventually was forced to relinquish control of @/brojohndoryofficial to his pr manager (clay) after he responded to 14 y/o @/j0ndryballzweat.

Floyd (part 1): his sex tape (with a fan he didnt know was a fan but thats hardly relevant) gets leaked. For the first three days everyone's timeline was full of "do NOT share it around, dont even look for it, if someone sends it to you IGNORE it, this is a disgusting breach of privacy" until Floyd addresses it by tweeting "decided to put on a different kind of show for you guys" and all hell breaks loose. Every tweets hidden replies are full of screencaps and reuploads for a month. People edit the video so just before anything explicit happens it's replaced by a video game cutscene or meme, which Floyd retweets a lot of. His brothers ask him to stop (both for publicity and bc it makes them uncomfortable) so he starts posting thirst traps on insta. Clay yells at him so Floyd tweets "clay just asked when I'm gonna get a girlfriend :/" which brings us to-

Clay: homophobia allegations. Admittedly the least serious and would have blown over quickly if it weren't for him panic tweeting "I'm not homophobic! My girlfriend is a bi lesbian!" People were NOT happy. It takes him three days of retweeting 'helpful educational threads and carrds' on lesbianism written by 14 y/os for people to get off his back. Viva understands.

Bruce: stays off social media bc its the mind killer so he lets clay take care of @/brobruceofficial. This goes well until clay gets drunk and thinks he's on his private account but is actually on Bruce's public. When he wakes up (hungover) in the morning hes got Bruce banging on his door asking why TMZ is reporting on him cheating on his wife. Bruce tells him to clear things up but clay JUST got the lesbians off his back and can't afford to be back in the hotseat...

Branch and poppy: branch was annoyed by all the branch/poppy rpf fanfic (poppy likes them bc she thinks they're cute and funny. When brozone go on tour she reads the smutty ones) so he suggested to poppy that they stage a fake breakup. Poppy is initially against the idea until branch brings up how much fun itd be to sneak around like a couple of teenagers. Poppy scrapbooks the tabloids about their breakup. Clay and Bruce blame clays drunken tweets on branch so clay seems like the victim. Poppy acknowledges this on twitter in a way that very heavily implies they broke up bc branch was cheating on her with her own sister. Viva does not understand. This one doesn't have a resolution yet bc we moved onto:

Barb: previous lesbian icon turned reactionary transphobe. Riff stopped associating with her once she started getting really public with it and now she keeps tweeting stuff like "you-know-who left me just to work with misogynists. Really makes you think 🤔 " which he ignores.

Riff: while still working with barb he was approached to collab with creek (damage control for the... unsavoury things he said about rock trolls). The second the song released he tweeted "wow that guy was an asshole LOL" bc he didn't realise he wasn't supposed to do that. Cut contact with barb once her transphobia went from "mild, I can fix her" to "jesus fucking christ". Briefly worked with Floyd until his second controversy at which point riff tweeted "cmon, man" and turned off his phone. Riff hasn't done anything wrong and he deserves a lot better

Velvet: crafted the perfect expose thread on Floyd when she was in prison, including "pro life" "publicly sharing inappropriate sexual content" and "uses the toothpaste flag". Posts it the second she gets let out of prison and instantly becomes #1 on trending (alongside "floyd" "pro life" and "#HUGS4CLAY).

Floyd (part 2): tweets "why does it even matter that I'm pro life if I'm gay and don't 'believe' in 'voting'" before doing another line off his boyfriends torso. People bring his leaked nudes back up and start insulting his dick size and its the first time hes ever let a controversy bother him. His next tweet is "I am not ashamed of my body" and the top reply (creek pfp) is "you should be ❤". Clay is biting the skin off his own tongue.

#text

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xianyoon · 2 months

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TO BE LOVED ⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧

CH. 2 ━ ZHONGLI, THE POET

synopsis. ⤷ to be loved by genshin men who appreciate art forms – where their favourite piece of art is you. a series where you, the reader, are their muse. let them love you in the way they know best – their mastercraft. this is a reupload + additions of my work from my previous blog.

genre + warning. ⤷ poet!zhongli x gn!reader. comfort & fluff.

to be loved by zhongli, the poet — the words he spins materialises out of his infatuation for you. at first glance, the words seem so bombastic – so huge, so big, that they don’t make any sense. but they are beautiful; his words are so sweet and lovely, coming together to form endless love poems addressed to the one person he has fallen harder and harder for every single day. you.

“are you sure that’s a real word?” you laugh lightly, peering over his shoulder to glance at the newest word on his yellowed paper. eudaimonia, you read curiously.

“my dear, i would assume so,” he replies, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “i believe it means for a person to be of a flourishing, happy state. the thesaurus that tartaglia had obtained for me says so, but if you think otherwise, we can most certainly track down the author to contest that.”

“i trust the author.” you giggle.

“as do i.” zhongli presses a kiss to your forehead, and turns back to his pen.

you watch as he strings together sentences – sentences so lovely, you could never have ever imagined them to be about you. there is a flutter in your heart as you realise that he does so with such ease – words about you come easy when they are all that have consumed him.

he describes the slight smile on your face when you reread one of your favourite books, or the fact that your laugh has two sounds – one like the tinkling of wind chimes, the other a boisterous, unbridled roar. his pen greets the paper once again, and you hear the gentle scratching of the tip against the sheet. he talks about them with such beauty that you cannot help but wonder if it really is about you at all.

you, my dear, are the reason i am able to rest at home with eudaimonia – my pillar, my rock, my lifeline.

“that’s beautiful. your poems are is lovely as always.” you whisper, wrapping your arms tenderly around him from behind. he leans into the warmth of your touch, sweetly, lovingly, falling into your embrace.

“well, my dear – it would only make sense for my words to reflect the most pleasing of things to me.”

he laughs lightly as you press a kiss to his cheek.

#― latest brew.#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x gn reader #genshin impact x gn reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x gn reader #zhongli x you #zhongli x y/n #zhongli fluff #genshin drabble #genshin drabbles #zhongli drabbles #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #astronetwrk

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daizymax · 9 months

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a fanciful affair | hjs (m)

summary: your sister is getting married, and you are the maid of honor in the wedding party. to your surprise, the only other person in the wedding party is a previous fling whom you would have rather never encountered again, so maybe it's the “love in the air” that makes you agree to round two.

pairing: jisung x fem reader

genre: some angst, smut

word count: 8.9k

rating: mature (18+)

warnings & features: profanity; alcohol consumption; mentions of sibling favoritism; mentions of societal/parental pressures; some heteronormativity; the wedding takes place in a church but there aren’t any heavy religious elements; pessimistic views towards marriage; jisung and the reader have poor communication at first but eventually they start to get on the right track; graphic sexual content; mentions of (past) casual & drunken sex; some dirty talk; a little bit of foot play; vaginal fingering; oral sex; semi-public sex

author’s note: reuploaded from my old blog and rewritten for stray kids bc i wanted to. i hope you enjoy!

( click here to read on AO3 instead )

---

“I’m on my way right now.”

That part is essentially true.

“Yeah, I’m in the car.”

That part is a downright lie.

“Yes! Stop worrying so much. It's just the rehearsal, isn’t it?”

It takes two heartbeats for you to realize your mistake, at which point your heart practically stops. You close your eyes curse your loose lips. You hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud — it just slipped.

Detonation imminent in three... two... one...

“Just the rehearsal?!” Jihye screeches. “Are you kidding me right now? I mean, yeah, I guess it's just the rehearsal. …For my goddamn wedding! It’s only the practice for the most important event of my life. It needs to be perfect, and my Maid of Honor is probably still at home, probably not even dressed yet, telling me it's just the rehearsal. So typical of you, Y/N. Oh, and for the record, Mom and Dad aren't happy about you not being here yet, either.”

You reopen your eyes just to roll them, then return to fishing your car keys out of your bag.

They may not be happy, but it's not like your parents can be surprised by your tardiness. It’s their younger daughter — the perfect student, the perfect athlete, the perfect musician — who is the stable, reliable one.

Sure, you know for a fact that your mother and father love you. They’d do anything for you, give you anything and everything they can. But you’re also well aware that Jihye’s compliant, placating nature takes a lot less of a toll on them. Your parents must be beyond grateful for her. Their nerves are frayed and frazzled from suffering through your rambunctious “phase” that still hasn’t passed.

Your teenage years can be summed up in a series of jaundiced words, whiny protests, and indignant groans from your side of the ring, and stern lectures tapering off to exhausted sighs from your parents’ end. Whenever your attitude became too much, your mother and father would turn their attention to Jihye. She would present them with yet another trophy or academic achievement to soothe their souls and assure them that they were capable of raising a “successful” human being in the eyes of society.

These days, you are keeping your trend alive and well by refusing to conform to your parents’ expectations of settling down in a monogamous heterosexual relationship for the purpose of “stability” and starting a family of your own. And, just like always, your parents have turned to Jihye for comfort. They are spending a fortune on your baby sister’s wedding, a clear display that they favor the direction her life is going.

But Jihye — like most everyone else in the world — deserves happiness, of course, so why not try to make this special day as perfect as possible for her? If she wants to get married, she is certainly entitled to her dream wedding.

Just shy of four months ago, in a show of sibling camaraderie and familial commitment you knew would please your parents, you had promised to be nothing but supportive of all of your sister’s wedding plans, from the humblest of requests to the most exorbitant demands. Your stamina had kept up fairly well, but you are gradually losing steam as the end draws nearer.

Only a little over twenty-four more hours to go, you remind yourself with dull cheer.

Though, if you’re being completely honest, you aren’t even sure that Jihye getting married is such a good idea. At least not so soon, anyway.

She and her boyfriend (fiancé now, of course) had only been dating for eight months when he proposed. Surely that was not a long enough period of time to truly get to know another person, and you blatantly told her as much. But Jihye was over the moon and she couldn’t — wouldn’t — hear of it. She swore up and down that she knew in her bones Chris is definitely the one, which took you aback. Your sister was never one to be overly romantic. Jihye always, always keeps a calm, disciplined, pragmatic head on her shoulders. So even while you are quite skeptical of her declaration of having found her so-called soul mate, you also trust her judgment. She is the smartest person you know, after all.

Besides, you can’t deny that by the rigid standards of society which your parents hold in such high esteem, Chris is everything a husband “should” be. He is charming, handsome, clever, funny, financially stable, and the epitome of etiquette. And, above all, he seems to make Jihye genuinely happy. He hasn’t changed her, but he does get your uptight, austere little sister to giggle and joke and relax and adore life. You have to admit you’d be hard-pressed to find a better partner for her to spend the rest of her life with.

But do they have to be so hasty about it? And do they have to get married on their one-year-anniversary? It makes you want to gag.

Presently, you collect yourself and say, “I know, honey, I'm sorry. Still trying to get my shit together and act like I’m the older sister here.”

Jihye sighs quietly on the other end of the line. When she speaks again, her voice is much calmer and softer. “I didn’t mean it like—”

“Yeah, I know,” you say. “I'll be there in ten minutes, okay? And for the record, I am dressed.”

She giggles, and you know you’re on your way to being forgiven. “Okay. Drive safely, Y/N. See you soon.”

---

Everyone who arrived at the church on time gives you peculiar looks when you join them inside seventeen minutes later.

It takes a moment for you to realize it is because they all dressed up for the rehearsal while you are still clad in a pair of ripped, black denim shorts and a white tank top with the name of your favorite band advertised across your chest. Evidently the universe decided you just needed something else to mentally kick yourself over today. You only hope that Jihye and your parents will be too absorbed in other, more crucial details to waste energy scolding you.

No such luck.

In a flash, your mother is on you like a vulture to carrion.

“I thought we told you this would be semi-formal!” she whisper-hisses in your ear as she hugs you.

“Hi Mom,” you say with an unapologetic smirk. “Hi Dad.”

“Hi pumpkin, glad you could make it,” says your father. He leans down and pecks the air near your temple.

“Oh look, hon!” your mother exclaims to your father. Something behind you has caught her attention. “That must be Chris’s sister and her two kids. When did they get here? Let’s go say hello...”

As quickly as that, your mother ushers your father away to leave you standing alone, but only for a second.

“There you are!”

Oh no, it’s the Bridezilla! you panic playfully, turning towards the sound. Jihye waves excitedly and hurries towards you with quick and dainty stiletto’d steps. Her fiancé follows her at a much more leisurely pace, hands in his pockets.

Chris catches your gaze and smiles. Then he glances at the back of Jihye’s head, gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, and looks to you again with raised eyebrows as if to fondly say, Yeah, she’s been a little much today, but we love her.

You grin back at him from over your sister’s shoulder as she slams her frame into yours and wraps her arms around your neck affectionately. The scent of her signature shampoo makes you think of home.

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you say. “I'm the worst.”

“You are not, don’t say that. It’s fine, Y/N.” She might be reassuring herself more than you, but you’ll take it.

Jihye pulls back and squeezes your bare biceps. Her eyes sweep over your outfit in the same judging manner as your mother’s did, but she manages to hold her tongue. She’s trying to keep it together for the rest of the day.

“I’m just glad you’re here now,” she says instead, smiling warmly. “This should all be really simple. The minister already talked me, Chris, Mom, and Dad through most of it. We just need to ‘act it out.’ If we can just find your partner now, I think we’ll be ready to get started...”

By “partner” you know she means whoever Chris elected as his Best Man, whom you have never met before. His and Jihye’s relationship has been such a whirlwind that you’ve never gotten the chance.

It will just be you and the Best Man in the wedding party, which is one decision of Jihye’s for which you are admittedly thankful. Large wedding parties are typically too ostentatious in your opinion. Though you can’t help but wonder if there would have been more people involved if your sister had only given herself more time to plan.

Jihye peers around with sharp eyes. “Darling, have you seen Jisung?”

Chris also makes a cursory inspection around the place at her request.

“Hmm... Well, I don’t- Ah, here he comes now, sweetheart,” he says with a gesture of his hand somewhere to your left and Jihye’s right. You look to where he is indicating and see a man making his way towards the three of you from between the pews.

The immediate thought that registers in your mind is that he is extremely good-looking. Thick dark hair parted slightly off-center, eyes the color of bitter coffee, wide shoulders. The sleeves of his button-down shirt are rolled up to his elbows, granting a nice view of veined and sinewy forearms. He isn’t especially tall, but his legs are a bit long for his body proportions. His smile is wide but a little nervous for some reason…

… Oh no ...

You’ve seen him somewhere before.

You’ve spoken with him before.

You’ve slept with him before.

And he was one of the worst one-night-stands you have ever had.

It was something around six months ago when you had gone out with a group of friends to one of the city’s hottest night clubs. It was a scene you felt like you were starting to outgrow, to be honest, but your mission success rate had always been one-hundred-percent, and you were in the mood to score that night. The mission was simple: get laid.

It was always easy to find someone to take home or leave with for the night, sometimes scarily so. It was nothing a form-flattering dress, sexy heels, and a boat load of confidence had ever failed to accomplish, in your experience.

It was two shots and half a cocktail into the night when you spotted his friends dragging him to the dance floor. He was laughing, that much was clear. You think you may have even heard the sound of it over the chatter and thumping music. Maybe that was why you continued to watch him.

He was awkward getting started, likely embarrassed, but he was good when he finally let himself go and really dance. His friends were objectively better — their moves were sharper, cleaner — but it was he who held your attention. Even from a distance, you could see his bangs were damp from his exertions and the heat of the suffocating crowd. His face was dewy and glowing. Even while dancing, he didn’t stop laughing and talking with his friends.

“He’s cute,” said one of your girlfriends. “And he looks like he’s having a good time.”

You didn’t need to follow her line of sight to know who she was talking about — you’d already been staring at him for minutes.

It was when you had finally lowered your eyes to the dregs at the bottom of your glass when your friend had leaned in closer and said, “He's looking at you!”

You remember snapping your eyes up to find she was right. The music had changed, and the man didn’t look awkward at all as he stared right back at you. He must have caught you staring.

The events between then and when you entered his apartment were a thrilling mix of drinking, laughter, and shameless flirting. Some memories have been blurred by the shots you consumed, but others you remember vividly. His touch on the small of your back when he ushered you out the door. The heavy cloud of stale smoke in the Uber to his place. The exact angle of the tent in his pants while taking the elevator up to his apartment.

If only the X-rated scenes that transpired after tumbling into his bed were as worthy of such detailed remembrance.

He had been a messy kisser, but that was something easily excused by the healthy stream of alcohol muddying his veins. Unfortunately, it did not help his head skills as you’d hoped it would. His fervent desire to go down on you had initially turned you on greatly, but you soon grew frustrated at the sloppy way his tongue lapped at your folds — never in the right spots, and never with the right consistency. Several times you had climbed close to your climax, only to never quite crest.

Frustrated, you opted for urging him to just fuck you already with the prayer that having him inside of you would be better. And it was better... until he came within five minutes of entering you, pulled out, then slumped to the side.

Unfortunately, he was not the first man you had hooked up with to finish so quickly and leave you unsatisfied, but he was the first one to fall dead asleep within seconds afterward. He didn't even bother to remove the soiled condom from his softening dick first. You also left it right where it was and fled his place as quickly as possible, feeling an odd sense of petty payback while thinking of the gross mess he would have to deal with in the morning.

On your way home, you sulked over the disappointing night that you thought held so much potential. There had been such chemistry between the two of you at first, after all. Sadly, he ended up just being some hot guy you enjoyed flirting with for a couple hours and a pitiful story you could tell your friends about later.

You never expected to see or hear from him again, yet here he is. What a small, funny world.

Except you are far from laughing.

Your heart kicks into overdrive with worry and fear over the impending awkward situation, but you do your best not to let it show on your face. In fact, you resolve not to mention your previous acquaintance with Jisung at all. Definitely not in front of your sister and her fiancé at their wedding rehearsal.

You manage to get your heart rate down to what you estimate to be a smooth one-hundred-ten beats per minute by the time Jisung the Terrible Lay is standing directly in front of you.

“Hi,” he says, still smiling. “I'm Jisung. You must be Jihye’s Maid of Honor?”

Oh, so he’s also going to play dumb. Good.

You nod and introduce yourself (again) while giving his outstretched hand the briefest of shakes.

“So, how do you know Chris?” You mentally applaud yourself for the calm steadiness of your voice.

“Best friends since middle school,” is Jisung’s simple answer.

“I wish you two could have met ahead of time,” Jihye chimes in apologetically. “It would have been nice if you had gotten to know each other at least a little bit before the wedding. I should have made the time for all of us to go out to lunch or something, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s no big deal,” says Jisung. His smiling eyes do not leave yours. “I mean, it’s not like we’re the ones getting married.”

He has the nerve to punctuate his stupid jest with a wink. You pretend to be flustered by forcing out a giggle in harmony with Jihye’s.

Your sister glances back and forth between you and Jisung for a moment, and you can practically see the gears turning in her head. It wouldn’t be a surprise if she took a stab at playing matchmaker at some point today to hook the two of you up.

Already beat you to it, you brood silently.

“Shall we get this show on the road, then?” Chris asks.

“Please,” agrees Jihye. She waves to the minister to signal she is ready, and he nods.

The minister takes his place near the alter and requests that everyone else congregate at the other end of the chapel. Jisung sidles up next to you at a proximity that is a bit too close to just be friendly, but you refuse to acknowledge him by even moving away.

It’s funny how senses work — a whiff of his cologne takes you straight back to that night. Your memory flashes you a vision of you leaning against his arm on wobbly legs, and you suddenly remember the feeling of his warm, slightly callused hands cupping your elbows to steady you. You swear you can even remember the sound of his amused laughter at your inelegant state, and the taste of his beer breath in the air.

You force yourself out of your reverie before you become lost in it.

“It’ll be very simple, everyone,” assures the minister, echoing Jihye’s earlier words. “I think everyone has already been made aware of the seating arrangements, so let’s just get straight into the processional order, and then do a rundown of what the ceremony itself will entail...”

As more instructions are given, Jisung leans into you and murmurs under his breath, “You look nice today.”

A laugh almost escapes you at his unexpected comment. He utters it with the perfect ratio of humor and sincerity.

You manage to play off the smile on your lips by flashing it towards the woman your mother said to be Chris’s sister when you suddenly catch her eye.

“Uh, thanks,” you say to Jisung in an equally hushed tone.

“I mean it,” he insists. “You look every bit as pretty as when I saw you in the club.”

You ignore his compliment and try to move your lips as little as possible as you say, “Can we please not talk about that here?”

Jisung lets out a soft snort of laughter. “Sure, no problem.”

He leaves your side when his turn comes to practice standing behind Chris near the alter, and you follow immediately after to take your place on the opposite side, all too aware of his eyes on you for the remainder of the rehearsal.

---

His eyes are still on you when you take a seat directly across from him at the dinner table.

Jihye, in her mildly Bridezilla-esque way, opted to forgo the big, customary rehearsal dinner with the families in favor of a more intimate meal with just her fiancé, her fiancé’s Best Man, and her Maid of Honor. Your parents were more than a little offended about not being included, and perhaps Chris’s were, too, but who were they to deny a bride’s request on the eve of her wedding day? What they don’t realize is that this is the cordial outing Jihye wished she’d planned for just the four of you months ago. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes when she suggested this arrangement back at the chapel, but you weren’t at liberty to reject her wishes any more than your parents were.

“Ah, I’m so glad we’re doing this now!” Jihye says buoyantly. She even bounces a little in her seat to show how physically overcome with joy she is. She beams back and forth between you, Jisung, Chris, and back to you again. Sometimes you still see your kid sister in her.

“Absolutely,” Chris agrees at once.

“Yeah, this is... lovely,” you decide unenthusiastically. You swivel your eyes back to your menu when your sister shoots you a scolding look that says: Be nice.

“So, have you guys been here before?” Jisung asks the betrothed couple conversationally, waving a hand through the air to show he is talking about the restaurant.

“We came here on our first date, actually,” Jihye answers in a chipper tone. She scrunches her nose at Chris in a cutesy way and proceeds to tell the table all about the memory.

In the spirit of neatly categorizing him back into place amongst your other lousy one-night stands and nothing more, you try not to grant Jisung too much of your attention when you fall into the conversation. It proves to be quite difficult, however. Listening to and observing him in this casual, non-sexually-charged scenario is intriguing. It also brings to mind a thought that had not occurred to you before: Jisung could make a wonderful boyfriend.

You had been so wrapped up in your mission of merely hooking up that night months ago that you never stopped to think about whether or not the person you went home with could be more than a one-night-stand, or could even be dating material.

But Jisung is.

He’s witty but not arrogant. Funny but not obnoxious. Charming but not cheesy. Gorgeous but not conceited. His smile is distracting and compelling. His stories are interesting and comical. His laughter is merry and infectious.

No wonder he’s best friends with perfect-fucking-Chris. But there has to be something wrong with him...

And then you remember there is, in fact, a catch: his bedroom manner.

That thought makes you snort out loud into your drink, and you sweep away the romantic notions clouding your mind.

Some time between dinner and dessert, a local band begins to play music near the dance floor, and Chris whisks a giggling Jihye away from the table. As soon as they are gone, you contemplate making up an excuse to slip out, but Jisung is already speaking to you.

“Good, we’re alone now,” he says.

“Good? How so?” The question spoken with a different tone could sound cute and flirty, but the flat disinterest in your mumbled words is moody and a bit harsh even to your own ears. It doesn’t appear to dampen Jisung’s sunny demeanor, though.

He simply grins and says, “Because now we can talk to each other.”

You shrug your shoulders. “We’ve been talking.”

“Don’t play coy with me, pretty lady,” he says. “You know what I mean. We can talk about the night we met, and why we haven’t met up since.”

You groan and cross your arms over your chest as you lean back in your chair. “I’d really rather not.”

Is he really that clueless? If he truly has no idea what went wrong that night, it is not worth your time explaining it to him. But god damn him for being so handsome and likable otherwise...

“Okay...” Jisung says slowly. “If you don’t want to talk, then how about a dance?”

“What, here? Now? I don't think so.”

“What if I put it this way: we can sit here and talk like adults, or we can dance and I won’t say a word. What do you think?”

The silent dance is definitely the lesser of two evils in your mind, but you are afraid of what other nostalgic feelings could be dredged up while in that intimate situation. Your only real option is to elude the decision he wants you to make.

“You can’t make me do either,” you say.

Jisung’s grin widens. “Is that a challenge? What if I picked you up and carried you to the dance floor?”

You allow yourself a laugh at his joke. “Do you think that would be cute or something? I think everyone else in this restaurant would throw your ass out for trying, especially if I was kicking and screaming the whole way.”

“You wouldn’t dare cause a scene like that, would you?”

“You wouldn't cause a scene like that, would you?” you throw back at him.

“I just might.”

“Do it, then. I dare you.”

The pair of you sit there smirking across the table at each other in a weird sort of stand-off, waiting for the other to make a move. He caves first by breaking the silence.

“Dance with me,” Jisung implores in a soft, honeyed tone. His eyes twinkle brightly. He looks wholly unafraid of being rejected.

God, he really is clueless, isn’t he?

“No, thank you,” you answer shortly, stubbornness getting the better of you.

“Would you dance with me if I was the last man on Earth?”

His follow-up question comes as a surprise. He must be determined to get some sort of positive answer from you tonight.

The best you can do is laugh away the silly question and wish him a good night. When you get up to leave, Jisung offers to at least walk you to your car, and after a moment of hesitation, you agree.

You both say hasty goodbyes to Jihye and Chris on your way out. Jihye pouts a little at your abrupt departure, but she doesn’t complain, and you know it is because she is pleased to see you walking out with Jisung. Everything looks to be going according to plan in her brilliant match-making mind.

When you and Jisung reach your car in the parking lot, you turn to tell him goodbye once again.

“You were really awful in bed,” you find yourself blurting, apparently unable to keep the words bottled a single second longer.

Jisung at least has the decency to flinch at your blunt assessment. The wrinkle of his face is noticeable before he turns his head away and takes a step back from you. You wait for him to retort, but he stays silent.

Unbelievable, you think. He’s not even going to defend himself.

Just as you turn to leave, his fingers close around your wrist. True to the nature of electricity, a spark jolts through you nearly instantaneously. His hold is delicate but it feels as though you are being branded. You whip your head around to regard him curiously.

“Sorry,” he says, letting go of your wrist as quickly as he grabbed it. “Just— please wait. Let me say something. Please.” He emphasizes the pleasantry as if it means all the difference. He takes a deep breath; it goes in shaky and comes out resigned. “I know I was terrible. I could make excuses about being drunk and about you being so fucking pretty that I couldn’t help myself from coming so quickly. Both of which are true, for the record, but they’re shitty excuses and you deserve better because from what I can tell, you’re a pretty great woman. All I can say is that I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, Y/N, you don’t even know how sorry I am. And I know you don’t owe me anything, but I would love to have a chance for us to start over.”

At the end of his little speech, he reaches out for your wrist again and gives your hand a little squeeze. It is a soft gesture and over in a flash, but a warm tingle still ripples through your body and doesn’t fade.

You can still feel it on the drive home... in the shower... when you climb into bed.

You can still see his smile reflected in your windshield... against the tiles in your bathroom... in the blackness of your room.

You can still hear his laughter in the lonely car ride... over the drumming of the water in the tub... over the serenade of crickets outside your window.

And you can’t understand why it matters to you so much that he was terrible in bed that one single time.

---

The ceremony went off without a hitch.

The decorated chapel — stuffed with flowers, wreaths, streamers, candles, bows, as well as people donned in silk, lace, velvet, perfume, diamonds, gold and pearls — was a vision worthy of any bridal magazine showcasing the “ideal” wedding. Beyond the floor-length glass windows, the sky was dyed like cotton candy from the fading sunlight. A violinist stood to one side and played light, dreamy tones before and during the processional, then the classic Wedding March for the bride’s entrance.

Jihye played the part of the radiant bride beautifully. Seeing your little sister’s eyes coated in glassy tears as she walked down the aisle on your father’s arm, then hearing the tremble in her normally steady and authoritative voice as she vowed her devotion to another person (all while wearing a several-thousand-dollar dress meant for this one single occasion) was almost enough to make you cry, too.

Several times during the vows, you couldn’t stop yourself from looking across the aisle just to see the beautiful smile on Jisung’s face. It had been there since he met you at the other end of the aisle and presented you with a beautiful, white orchid corsage to match the boutonniere pinned to his lapel. When he slipped it onto your wrist, the touch of his slender fingers started to rekindle the spark the two of you had had months ago.

“You look beautiful,” Jisung had whispered in your ear. “You are beautiful.”

The same could have been said of him in his dapper black tuxedo and bow tie, but you could not locate your voice to tell him as much.

The nervous flutter of your heart was made visibly apparent in the way your fingers trembled when he lifted them to kiss the back of your hand, but Jisung couldn’t take notice because his gaze was fixed on your face, and yours was fixed on his in return. The pools of his eyes were so easy to drown in.

In that moment, immersed in the whimsical atmosphere all around you, you were prepared to give him the answer you couldn’t give him last night when he proposed to starting over. You were ready to tell him you had been foolish for not giving him a second thought all these months, and you would appreciate a do-over very much.

But then Jihye was hissing from somewhere off to the side for Jisung to get moving, and you lost the chance to speak your wishes. Something about the small bounce in Jisung’s gait down the aisle told you he already knew what you had wanted to say, however.

Now, here at the reception, it is time to forget about such sappy things and get drunk.

If only the waiter with the tray of champagne would circle back around so you don’t have to go chasing after him and start up some “alcoholic spinster” rumors for your family to enjoy at your expense.

“Hi!” Jisung appears at your side like a miracle, bearing a knowing grin and two flutes of the same champagne you were just ogling. “You looked like you needed a drink,” he says, letting you lift one from between his fingers.

Your lips are already around the edge of the glass. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little, but hey, who cares? It’s a party.” He pauses for a sip of his own drink, then says, “I liked your Maid of Honor speech, by the way. The story about your little car surfing adventure was hilarious.”

“Oh, thanks,” you giggle. “I’m afraid my parents didn’t find it quite as funny.”

“Well, no, but they wouldn’t, would they?” Jisung laughs. “But they did like the part when you said that Jihye getting married is far braver than all your teenage stunts combined.”

You hum in agreement. “Hm. Yeah. Luckily, they don’t seem to know the difference between bravery and stupidity.”

Jisung’s grin tilts lopsidedly at your comment. “Not a big, uh, proponent of the whole marriage thing, I take it?”

“Nah,” you dismiss at once. “There are billions and billions of people in this world, and folks want to tie themselves to just one with a sheet of paper recognized by the government? To some person they met in a teeny tiny corner of the world without ever having stepped outside of the thirty mile radius they’ve lived in for their entire life?” The bubbly alcohol in your glass sloshes haphazardly as your hands become animated, but you pay it no mind. “And so many marriages just end in divorce anyway, so then people have to go through that whole fuckery. Lose half their money, half their shit. And the things they do get to keep, they have to look at and get a big fat reminder of how they picked it out with their ex-spouse during a time when they thought they were in love. They probably went to the store that day hand-in-hand and had no idea things were going to totally implode spectacularly—”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute,” Jisung interrupts, laughing loudly. “How drunk are you right now? Maybe I should take that back...”

“I'm not drunk!” you say hotly and a bit too loudly, jerking your glass away even though he isn’t actually reaching for it. A few nearby heads turn in your direction, so you lower your voice and grit, “I’m not drunk.”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” The expression on his face does not look particularly sorry. “Can I ask you something else without you going off on a rant?”

You deflate with a sigh, calming yourself before saying, “Sure, what is it?”

“Dance with me?”

You force the corners of your mouth down a bit to prevent your smile from growing too wide at the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

“Sure.”

He does take your drink now, setting it aside with his before taking your hand next.

If people are watching the two of you when you step onto the dance floor together, you are oblivious. The only thing you can focus on is the warmth of Jisung’s other hand radiating through your dress from its place on the small of your back when he pulls you in close, and the solid plane of his chest heating you from the front. You absently wonder if he can feel your heart racing. You think maybe you can feel his.

“I haven’t looked around in a minute,” Jisung says quietly when you both settle into the soft rhythm of the music and begin gently rotating. “But am I suddenly the last man on Earth?”

An ungraceful bark of laughter pops out of your mouth. Too late, you cover your lips with your fingers, but Jisung does not accept the movement of your hand. He reaches and brings it back to his shoulder, then gives it a few pats as if to embed it firmly into place.

“You’re not the last man on Earth,” you admit without looking at him.

“So you want to dance with me?” he presses, playfully ducking his face into your view to force your eyes on him.

You exhale a softer laugh. “I do.”

“Funny. Your sister said those exact same words a little while ago.”

“So did your best friend.”

Jisung curls his lips down and protrudes his chin thoughtfully. “I guess that makes them both stupid.”

“Or brave,” you argue matter-of-factly.

“Yeah. Or brave.”

A few silent twirls go by before he speaks up again.

“I have another question,” he begins slowly, then goes quiet for long enough that you eventually look at him questioningly. The resident smile is gone from his face because his lips are pressed together rather seriously.

“What’s your question, Jisung?”

He parts his tight lips and whispers, “If I were to kiss you right now, would you consider it brave or stupid of me?”

If he could not adequately feel your heartbeat a moment ago, he certainly should be able to now.

You take a moment to consider your words. “Neither,” you finally decide. “I’d consider it cliché.”

“Ah. Well, what do you think about cliché, then?”

You swallow hard. “I think I can handle it.”

To put that statement to the test, Jisung suddenly dips you backwards, and you squeak in surprise. He keeps his eyes locked on yours while waiting to see if you will protest. After a long enough moment of receiving no resistance, he leans in after you and matches his grinning lips to yours.

Several whistles and cat calls ring out all around you. The supportive sounds encourage Jisung to lift you back upright and continue the kiss ardently, which you reciprocate in full. Instead of simply enjoying it, your brain chooses to analyze the kiss and how much it differs from the last time you did this with him — in a good way. Either he has been practicing or alcohol completely abolishes all sense of his coordination.

With that thought, you start to laugh until you are unable to maintain contact with his lips. Jisung celebrates your laughter by beaming and squeezing you tightly.

The audience of people crowded around begins to applaud at the endearing display. Even the bride and groom — the people who should be the sole center of attention all night — are standing on the sidelines clapping their approval. It’s as if none of them have ever witnessed two people kissing before.

Then you see the unmistakably hopeful look on your parents’ faces, and it dawns on you that they are excited by the prospect of you entering an actual relationship with someone. You know how their minds work. No doubt they are already going so far as marrying you off to Jisung despite the fact that he is essentially a stranger to them — and to you.

Those bothersome thoughts threaten to spoil your cheerful mood, but Jisung reels you back in by pecking your mouth chastely. It feels like the punctuation to an unspoken agreement to a new start.

You gift him with a flattered smile and allow him to lead you back into another dance, and everyone else resumes their own business.

The fast pace of the next song immediately reminds you of the infamous night that has been on your mind ever since Jisung reappeared in your life yesterday. The way his eyes are following the motion of your hips tells you that he is remembering, too. With just a few well-timed shakes and some not-so-accidental brushes, things quickly alter from sweet and charming to hot and tense.

Jisung brings his lips to the edge of your cheek and whispers towards your earlobe, “You’re giving me some dangerous thoughts right now, baby.”

Boldly, you entreat, “Tell me.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “I’m thinking about asking if you want to get out of here, but I don’t think I should.”

The scent of his cologne tinged with just a hint of sweat is positively intoxicating. The tips of his fingers grazing along your hips makes you lightheaded in the best possible way.

“Why not?” you ask.

“Well, you see, the last time I left with you like that, I screwed up and didn’t see you for six months,” he tells you. The smile on his face is a bit forlorn. “I don’t want to make the mistake of sleeping with you too soon again. I want this new start to be perfect.”

His words are wise. You put your hormones on pause for a moment and envision yourself going on sweet dates with him in all the usual places — to the beach, to an amusement park, to his favorite café — before one night the two of you finally make love to each other in a perfectly romantic setting.

As darling as all of that would be, you have no patience for it now. There will be plenty of time for those fanciful scenarios later. Or at least, that’s what you’re planning on.

“The problem wasn’t us sleeping together too soon,” you explain. “The problem was that you were bad.” You pinch his earlobe to let him know you mean what you say, but in a playful manner.

Jisung snorts and shakes his head away from your fingers. He seems unwilling to say more on the matter, so you have to continue and make your desires known.

“Jisung, I’ve been waiting for months to get laid at this reception, and you’re the only one here I’m interested in following through with now,” you level seriously. “Besides, if we’re starting over, I need to know that the first time was a fluke.”

“It was a fluke,” he insists.

You press your lips to the shell of his ear. “So prove it.”

When you pull back, there is still a somewhat hesitant expression on Jisung’s face, but the desire in his eyes is growing; the brown that used to be there is being swallowed by black lust. His gentlemanly resolve is crumbling.

“Can the Best Man and the Maid of Honor even leave the reception?” he worries, still clinging to his better judgment.

Good question. Honestly, you have no idea what the standard protocol is for the wedding party’s attendance after the ceremony is finished and the obligatory speeches have already been made at the reception.

You contemplate just going to Jihye and telling her outright that you and Jisung are leaving. Certainly she has no further need for you to be here. But then again, there is probably something more you are supposed to be doing for her. Helping with the gifts or cleaning up the mess afterward, perhaps. But didn’t she hire a crew for that? You can’t remember. In any case, you can hear her incredulous tone now, scolding you for wanting to duck out early on her big night just to hook up with Jisung — even though she wants you two to become a thing.

You gaze around and spot your sister sitting beside her new husband at their specially reserved table, feeding him a bite from her fork and laughing. She seems distracted enough for the moment.

“We don’t have to leave. We just have to be quick,” you say, taking Jisung’s hand and tugging determinedly. “Come on.”

You half expect him to remain rooted in place and hiss another anxious remark at you, but he comes along willingly. The things you assume of him never go as expected; you should probably stop assuming things altogether.

Without stopping to survey the curious looks that you know are being shot in your direction — because it is clear that you are moving with a purpose and Jisung is along for the ride — you lead Jisung straight to a side room containing the gifts you were just wondering about and shut the door behind you. Not a second is spared before you grab the flaps of Jisung’s tuxedo jacket to pull him in for a more heated kiss.

“This is crazy,” he laughs after you release his lips again with a wet suction noise.

It is crazy, but it is also too thrilling to stop.

“Well, it wouldn’t be my sister’s wedding reception if I didn’t try to cause some sort of scandal,” you joke off-handedly.

“You mean your speech wasn’t inappropriate enou- hnghh, holy shit.” Jisung’s laughter dries up when he witnesses you sliding your panties off from beneath your dress. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

With a smirk, you say, “Come on, we have to be quick, remember?”

Your fingers work quickly at unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. Your hand slides past the band of his underwear to find him not very hard, but not completely soft, either. His breath hitches at your touch.

“Ffffuck,” Jisung breathes. “You really want it, don’t you?”

You grin wickedly. “Mhm. Really want to be fucked the way I should have been months ago.”

You give his cock a squeeze, earning a full moan from him. You rub him up and down as best as you can from the angle permitted by the confines of his clothing. His cock stiffens rapidly and a lustful sigh overflows from his mouth.

With a few quick shifts and yanks, you guide his erection out of his pants and boxers and drop to your knees in front of it. You don’t remember it being quite this thick, but you’re pleased. It looks so delicious. The head is ruby red, and the vein curving around the smooth underside looks fit to burst.

Jisung gasps at the first kittenish lick you draw on the slit of his cock. One of his hands comes down to hold the side of your face. You peer up at him through your lashes and smile as you press the head of his cock against the tip of your tongue. He groans lowly in his chest at the sight.

“We don’t have much time,” he tells you as though you haven’t already told him as much. His voice is already getting husky. “So we’d better make the most of it.”

Unexpectedly, he curls his hands around your arms and pulls you back up to your feet. The action utterly confuses you. No man you have ever been with has ever stopped a blowjob before it has even started, and there is no way he could have misinterpreted your intentions. Is he afraid of coming too soon again? That’s certainly a likely possibility.

Before you can question him, Jisung takes the back of your head and brings you in so he can slant his mouth over yours. The force with which he crashes into you is enough to bruise your delicate lips, but oddly enough, you don’t mind. The sincere passion he is pouring into the kiss is burning you from the inside out. He moves to assault your neck next, freeing you to speak.

“Jisung, what—” You clear the rasp in your voice and start again. “Why did you stop me? I wanted to—”

He interrupts you with a moan that rattles against your collarbone. “I know, baby. As much as I would love to have your lips around my dick, the point of this is to make you feel good right now. We can worry about me later.”

He breaks away from your skin to glance around the room. There isn’t exactly a four-poster bed in the vicinity, so he decides the best option is to sit you down in a small chair. Either that or the gift table, but that feels like it would be a bit too disrespectful to Jihye and Chris.

Jisung kneels in front of you and removes your heels carefully as you take a seat. His thumbs rub gentle circles into your smooth skin as he shuffles closer to you on his knees and leans in to peck your lips twice. His touch is sweet and relaxing, letting you know without words that he is going to take good care of you. The anticipation is nearly overwhelming.

Soon, Jisung’s fingers trail upwards, following the muscled lines of your calves under the skirt of your dress. You swiftly drag the expensive fabric up over your thighs to give him unfettered access. He grins at you then looks down at the view you have so generously granted him. His hands creep higher and higher on your legs until he is tantalizingly close to where you need him most.

“Jisung, we can’t take too long,” you remind him impatiently. The whine in your tone is apparent, but you don’t care.

“I know, baby,” he says again. One of his index fingers skims just over the lips of your pussy. “Indulge me for just a minute, please.”

He distracts you with another kiss, and you meet his probing tongue with a whimper of need. Since using words isn’t an option at the moment, you try to convey in other ways how much you need him right now. You pull on his arms and at his hair. Your feet glide along his legs and he opens them wider. When your toes bump against his cock still standing out from his pants, he groans loudly against your mouth, and you can tell it is not out of pain. He likes it. Emboldened by his reaction, you press the ball of your foot directly against his cockhead with a bit more pressure.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he pants against your chin. “I bet you’re good with your feet.”

Honestly, you have never tried serious foot play, but he sounds turned on enough to make you want to try.

“Maybe you’ll find out,” you tease with a giggle. “Right now I want you to prove you’re good with your fingers.”

“You got it, baby.”

He finally pushes a thick finger between your folds and curls it, beckoning a gasp into your lungs. Your hips automatically jerk forward to seek more friction. Jisung obliges your body language and buries a second finger deep inside your walls alongside the first.

“Shit. Your pussy is even tighter than I remember.”

“Have you thought about my pussy a lot these past six months?”

“Absolutely,” Jisung admits freely, and you have no reply for his honesty because you were not expecting it.

He draws his fingers out to just the tips, then plunges them back inside without delay. He repeats the motion again and again, gradually increasing the pace. The sounds coming from your core are sticky and obscene. Your eyes roll back in your head, and your head falls back as well.

“Fuck, just like that,” you urge breathlessly. “Touch my clit, too, please. I need more.”

Jisung lets out a hungry moan. Instead of using his thumb like you figured he would, he bends forward to brush his tongue against your swollen bud. Your thighs twitch reflexively at the sudden contact on your most sensitive area, ready to either snap against his head to stop him or fall away even further to invite him in. They decide on the latter.

A whimper squeezes out of you, along with a string of barely coherent encouragements.

“Oh God, J-Jisung. Yes, yes, y-yes! Like that. Don’t stop. F-Fingers a little s-slower. Tongue faster. Please. Oh f-fuck, yes!”

He redistributes his weight on his knees to get comfortable between your legs, then hastens to follow your commands. His tongue sharpens and digs relentlessly into your clit. The points of his fingers graze against your g-spot with each deliberate stroke, and that’s when you twist your fingers in his hair.

“God d-damn it, Jisung,” you moan. Your body starts to writhe uncontrollably, trying to ride his face to your finish.

“Yes, baby,” he coos sweetly, face still planted firmly against you. The vibrations of his voice tickle your clit gloriously, and you can feel his grin against your hot skin. “You taste like fucking heaven. Is this good? Does it feel good?”

“Yes, fuck, oh, fuck, k-keep going.”

He hums and continues with renewed vigor.

Every time his fingers drag backwards from your pussy, you suck them right back in with a tight squeeze. His lips wrap around your clit and his tongue slips under the hood. The ministrations on your raw bundle of nerves drive you straight to the edge of madness.

Your fingers curl against Jisung’s warm scalp. Your toes curl against the cold tile floor. Your back stiffens to keep your center firmly locked against Jisung’s face. Your breath hangs suspended in your chest for a long moment...

...then suddenly you’re exhaling it with an expletive cry of satisfaction when you tumble over that blissful edge. Spasms wrack through your body repeatedly as it struggles to harbor the intense pleasure crashing over you.

Somewhere in your electrified mind, you are aware of Jisung’s other hand on one of your hips, trying to pin you back down to the chair. You let go of him and move back quickly when you realize you must be suffocating him, and his fingers slip from you in the process with one last parting squelch. When you look down at him, you can clearly see the glisten of your juices slathered over his nose and chin and mouth.

His grinning mouth.

“I think you enjoyed that, baby,” he comments proudly, “considering I just about drowned just now.”

You huff out a laugh and shake your fuzzy head. “Fucking hell, Jisung. Why the fuck couldn’t you have been that good the first time?”

“I wish I could have been. Then I would’ve been doing this with you this whole time.”

“Oh, you think so? You think we would’ve stayed together up to now?” You grin at him and push your toes against his shoulder playfully.

He doesn’t answer you right away. First, he takes your foot and brings it up to his sticky lips to kiss the pads of your toes gently, one by one. Your smile falters when your mouth droops open at the strangely erotic sight, but his smile only widens.

“Yeah, that’s what I think, pretty lady.”

His presumptuous yet sweet admission leaves you speechless. All you can do is tug him towards you to kiss him with newfound admiration, heedless of the mess still glued to his lips. Truthfully, you relish the taste of yourself on him; you think of it as proof of the capabilities you thought he lacked, and you have never been happier to stand corrected.

Jisung is the one to break away first, still smiling. “Can I have one more dance before I take you out of here to make you come some more? Preferably on my dick this time?”

The bizarre combination of endearing and lewd words makes you laugh heartily. What a surprising man he has turned out to be.

“Absolutely.”

---

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