#[ :: y e a h soooo i hate my life ?? like...... ???????? ;; ]

[chanluster]

10/10 | {m} ; {c} ; {f}

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

“Because what you feel for your best friend cannot be described in words, but in numbers.”

s u m m a r y > > you and bang chan had no secrets between one other. each detail of your life would be discussed with your best friend of forever, no matter how insignificant it may be, through a little system you both had concocted — through a small rating. a number out of ten. a simple concept, used from being a child and rating your cookie a solid eight out of ten to your later years in high school, giving your first kiss a measly five. however, when you confess an average rating of your sex life in one hazy evening, chan decides this dilemma cannot be solved with buying you consolation cookies. he must simply raise that rating, all by himself.

w a r n i n g s > > friends to lovers! au, college! au, music! major chan, music! major reader, you both are literally soulmates, came out the womb holding hands, so much teasing, sexual! tension! chan has a massive fucking cock (i mean isn’t it obvious already), shit loads of making out, aggression, fingering, oral (f. and m. receiving), unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!!), kinda hate sex, orgasming left and right, ex! hyunjin, who’s also really bad at sex lmfaoaoao sorry king, chan is hella soft dom at the start but goes !!! hella hard later!!!! (i mean idk but) shit ton of fluff, friend! jisung which chan gets soooo jealous of, reader is so fucking annoyin, teensy weensy bit of angst, and yeh basically me venting out my love for chan once again

p l a y l i s t > > here!

a u t h o r ’ s n o t e > > this is dedicated to my dear friend chloe, boo i love u so much and thank you for that insane prompt :( also help this feels so rushed to me at the end but i hope y’all do enjoy <3

t a g l i s t > > @hanflix @thatonepieceofpineapple @kimkailover @decembermoonskz @smilesohwas @missskzbiased @illicit-roses @embroideredstarz @freckledquokka @moonluvbunny @aliceu @coupscarat @maedesculpaeusoubi @baby-wolf @multi-fandom-kpop-stan​ @minaamhh @leescrt

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“I’M SORRY, BUT I DON’T THINK I CAN DO THIS ANYMORE.”

Hyunjin’s face faltered completely at your words. It was expected, really. The poor boy was not anticipating this news.

“Wh-what?” he asked, a little too loudly, catching the stares of a few others in the coffee shop. You immediately glared at him, and he retracted back into his seat, but still had a befuddled expression on his face. 

You sighed a little. “Look,” you started, swirling your latte with a thin, wooden stirrer. “I’m going to be completely honest with you. I just think we’re much better off as friends.”

“Friends?” the boy flinched at the term, and even you had to hide your self-distaste. God, ____, at least try to be a little nicer! “Damn it, we’ve been dating for nearly three months, and you think we’d automatically become friends?!” he leaned in, knitting his eyebrows in growing desperation. “What the hell happened?”

You fought hard to not scratch the back of your neck. And possibly run away from the shop. Taking a long sip, you tried to feign the most sympathetic expression you could muster. “Hyunjin, please…”

“B-but, babe—” he started, and his eyes widened, trying to grab onto your hands which cupped the latte. “I don’t understand, we were so happy!” He huffed a smile, trying to convince you of your oh-so heavenly times spent with him. “Why are you thinking like this?”

You tried not to retract your hand from his — not only because it was hard to console him, but because they were embarrassingly sweaty. “Don’t think I have just done this on a whim. I have thought long about this decision.”

Finally, something out of your mouth which wasn’t a blatant lie. You had been thinking of breaking up with this goon — had the notion in your mind for half the time you dated him.

“____,” he said, and the melancholy you heard in his voice had you silencing your tongue. “What’s happened?” He began to caress your hand with his fingers. “Have I...have I done something wrong?”

Oh no. There it was. The reaction you dreaded.

Well, kind of. But still. Not the reaction you imagined in the perfect situation. 

Reluctantly, you put a hand over his fingers, hoping that your face was a painting of sympathy. 

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

Now, you knew Hwang Hyunjin was not the brightest kid on campus. The boy, who once asked you what the purpose of a spork was, may not have possessed the most intelligence, but you were scared that he may be smart enough to figure out that what you just said was complete, utter bullshit. 

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

A few tears spilled from his eyes, and a pang of guilt shot through you. “I-I see.” 

He did not let go of your hands. “We can still be...friends, right?” he sniffled, blinking at you rather irritatingly. “Like, we can still hang out together?”

You raised a brow, but reigned in a sarcastic reply. The boy would probably not even understand. “Of course,” you replied, a saccharine smile on your face. “But I think it’s best if we had some space from each other, okay?”

That was not the answer he seemed to be looking for, but he nodded, a little sadly. “Okay.” He still refused to take his hand away. “Does that mean I can’t rock up at yours midnight anymore if the junior needs a little taking care of?” 

Your brows could not help furrow in absolute exasperation. “Yes, Hyunjin,” you monotoned, unable to believe that you put up with this man for three months. “Now can you let go of my hand?” 

Realising his clammy hold on you, he flushed, looking away from your directory gaze. “I...should go, then.”

“No, no,” you insisted, getting up from your seat as you grabbed onto your drink. “I shall leave. I’m the one who dumped this news on you.” 

You debated leaving without paying for the latte — you knew the boy was still infatuated enough to cover your expenses. Sadly, shame coursed through your veins, and you cursed yourself for feeling a little sympathy for your now ex. “Here,” you offered, fishing out a little cash from your jacket. “For the drink.”

When you nearly stepped past him, you stopped, looking down at him as he tilted his head upwards. Your hand itched to put upon his shoulder, but you knew better. Hyunjin would only take that as a hopeful sign.

“I’m sorry,” was the last thing you said before you left the coffee shop.

Upon falling into a leisurely step onto the street, you let out a harsh breath, an endless amount of relief washing over you.

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

Now, it was not like he was a monster who had caged you into his two-feet-squared, dingy flat. In fact, the boy was, in almost every way, a decent boyfriend, whose stupid personality earned him a few laughs. 

Although extremely corny, the problem was not truly all him.

It was partly you as well.

Hearing your phone vibrate, you brought it out from your jeans pocket, already having an inkling on who the sender was, spamming you with messages.

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

You could not help the eyeroll which escaped from his words, and you decided to ignore him until you arrived at your destination. 

Which, evident from the persistent vibrations still, you figured you could not do.

CHRIS THE PISS :

i KNOW ur reading my messages DAMN just tell me!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

haha dude whats poppin!! best man for ____ by far don't know why she was breaking up w u 

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

hyunjin i promise i didn't mean it when i said u looked like a cheese string w ur new hair

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

Letting the man panic, you turned a left into student residence, buildings lined down the street, providing accommodation for hundreds of people like you in need of a place to sleep, eat, party, and contemplate the inevitability of death under.

Smiling at a few acquaintances, you entered the designated building, finding yourself with dozens of doors of the same, dead colour. Walking along the hallway, you stopped right at the very last one, bringing out your keys.

With a single twist you unlocked the door, but before you wrapped your hand around the knob the door swung open, catching you completely off guard.

“Funny, Hyunjin, how did you manage to transform into a little bitch so quickly?”

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

“Damn it, Chan,” you said, hand on your chest. “You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

You heard him splutter into laughter at your sad attempts to pinch his shoulder, glaring daggers into his crescent eyes. The bumbling idiot was Bang Chan, the one man you managed to keep for your entire life. That too is purely because none of you could manage a stable, healthy relationship — which was a shame, of course, when your best friend, with his fluffy, raven curls, black-oversized hoodie and sweatpants, was admired by so many. You often wondered how you had not fallen at his feet when he smiled at you, but then he’d open his mouth and all would be understood, as your anger would flare up, and rush to hit him as hard as possible. 

He gave you such a smile then, fingers gripping the doorframe. “How is Rapunzel, then? Sent him back to the tower?”

Wrenching his hand off the frame, which nearly had him falling onto the floor, you side-stepped past his stumbling figure, peeling off your jacket. “Rapunzel is never stepping in our lands again.”

After regaining his step, he muttered a cursed endearment your way and sat himself down on the couch, instantly settling his laptop upon his legs. “Oh, God. How badly did you break his heart, ____?”

Smiling, you dumped the jacket on the side table as you entered the living room, settling on the other end of his sofa. Propping your legs upon his, you pondered over the answer, and said, “At least a good seven.”

Chan let out a little whistle. “Oh, he’s definitely causing a shitshow on the groupchat tonight.” A huffed laugh was his answer. “Want Chinese or Indian tonight?”

“Surprise me,” you said as he brought out his phone. He dialled a number, and then you added, “Actually, can we please get Chinese?”

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

You raised a brow. “Didn’t you cry the last time you had their special curry?” 

The man stared at you for a minute before sighing, putting the phone to his ear. “I’d like your least spiciest dish please.”

He groaned as you pushed his legs off the couch, laughing at his pathetic tolerance towards spice. As he carried on with his order, you grabbed the TV remote, surfing through the channels. 

Even after all these years, you still found it endearing how Chan understood the depth of the numbers you tell him. The system between you two had been created during kindergarten, when, on the last day, you both had received such delicious cookies that words could not express the joy you felt when having the first bite. It was a mere joke at first, rating random classmates despicably low in middle school to even more serious situations, when you moaned to your best friend of your mundane kiss, expecting fireworks and butterflies yet were only met with an over-enthusiastic tongue. 

Chan himself used this system  — it was the reason you knew of his distaste towards spicy food, and certain girls he had dated in the past. Even now, when the two of you had started college together, working on the same projects and going to the same parties, this concoction had not been shelved in your memories. Although this may be something which others might deem insignificant, the concept had become a pillar of your friendship with this absolute loser.

The food arrived within the hour, and you both continued your box set as the plastic containers were cracked open, the pungent smell of curries and biryanis filling the room. Chan provided the plates and cutlery while you poured him the sufficient amount, and you rebuked his whining as you added the spicier dishes onto his plate.

“I refuse to let you eat only korma, Crispy,” you scolded. “Prick, careful! Don’t spill it on your laptop!”

“Bitch!” he yelped as a bit of the residue nearly stained his sweats, but was saved by his hands. “Just ruin everything I wear, why don’t you? Now I got curry on my fingers!”

You propped your legs over his again, eyes upon the screen once more, and the action occurring. “Just lick it off?”

“How about you do it for me?” the boy then simpered out, and you nearly tossed your entire dish on his head. 

“Let’s just focus on Tommy and his cocaine problem,” you dismissed him, but returned his impish smile as you elbowed him, nearly causing his food to stain his hoodie.

The two of you seemed to settle down after a bit and watched the show, commenting on the terrible choices the characters were making, and then boasted of how you and him could easily be the better leader from the protagonist. Soon, you had finished your takeout, and after Chan followed, he got up, hurrying into the kitchen situated behind the doorway in the lounge. He then came back, you delighted to find his hands occupied with two tubs of Ben & Jerrys’.

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” you sang, snatching one of the tubs from him and pulling open the cover, digging straight in. “I didn’t know you brought ice cream!”

“Thought it’d help with the breakup,” he confessed, settling back into the sofa, shuffling closer to you. “But it doesn’t look like you need it.”

“Oh, I can’t believe Hyunjin broke my heart like this!”

Chan shook his head at your melodrama. “You may fool the looney princess, but you’re not fooling me.”

“You know me too well,” you said, which he agreed to with an absent-minded hum, eating his dessert.

There was a short pause, a comfortable silence reigning upon you both for a little before your best friend broke it, gulping down his ice cream.

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

Chan prodded you lightly with his foot. “No, I don’t mean that. I was just wondering something.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re not...upset, right?” He took a bite of his ice cream. “Like, I know you always complained about him, but breakups can be difficult.”

You looked at him, and saw genuine concern painted on his face — along with a little vanilla stain on the corner of his lips. “You don’t have to pretend to be happy if you’re not, okay?” he continued. “Especially with me.”

Your heart melted slightly. “Of course, Chan, don’t worry. I wouldn’t ever lie to you.” 

Turning to the TV screen, you sighed as you thought of your recent relationship. “There were good moments for sure. He was still a sweet guy, you know?” You then stabbed the creamy plains inside the tub. “It was just so...dull.”

The man beside you took in another bite, if a bit slow. “What do you mean?”

Following him, you relished the chocolate goodness, swallowing. “Dates were kind of boring. I carried most of the conversations because he’s too thick to talk about anything.”

Chan let out a soft snort. “I remember you telling me about it. I can certainly believe it.”

“Well, you won’t believe what I’m about to tell you next.” You focused on your ice cream, a sarcastic smile plastered upon your face. “Hyunjin. Hwang Hyunjin was terrible at sex.”

You did not need to see your best friend to sense his shock. “What?”

A small chuckle escaped you. “First time he fucked me, I think I cried. Not because it was so good, no, but because it was so bad.”

“No way,” Chan said, brows furrowed. “Didn’t you say he had a big dick or something?”

“That’s the downside, bud,” you countered, halfway through your tub. “Because he had a massive cock he thought that was enough for me to enjoy. But it’s not. He just did not know what to do with it!” 

The man had been silenced. He took another bite of his ice cream, in disbelief. “So you were...deprived of pleasure?”

“Deprived?” You scoffed. “Chan, I thirsted for a crumb of pleasure. God, can you believe I’ve faked nearly all my orgasms with him?”

This time, your friend glanced at you in horror. Carrying on, you said, “The only real orgasm I had was not even because of him. God, I was thinking about Lee Donghyuck singing between my legs.”

A soft growl entered your ears. “Oh Christ.”

“Bastard was so proud when I came all over him,” you crowed, trying to sweeten your bitterness with the dessert. “If only I told him I undid myself for an idol I’m never going to meet.”

Your friend did not say anything. The episode finished, and when you noticed his further silence, you used it to your advantage, starting a romantic comedy before he could even complain.

Even with the movie on for about twenty minutes, and the romance you thoroughly enjoyed, the man stayed quiet, idly stirring his melted ice cream in the tub. You ignored his rather odd behaviour, assuming he was either thinking of his assignment or had gotten a brain freeze. Either way, it let you watch your movie in peace, swooning outwardly at the man’s teasing to the girl.

One hour in, and you asked if Chan was okay. “Yeah...yeah, I’m good,” was his answer, sending you a second-long smile before going back to his brain freeze. You raised a confused brow, but went back to the chick flick, gasping when the boy went back for his love.

This was it. The fireworks, the passion which exuded from the mere actions of lips enveloping lips, hands holding onto waists or necks or locks and refusing to let go. You craved for your heart to drop down in lust as you let yourself fall, be wrapped up in another as you undid yourself. Where was this? Where was this for you?

Did you not deserve your desires to be fulfilled? Did you not deserve to have your entire world turned upside down in pure exhilaration?

Before you knew it, the credits rolled, and you let out a long, laboured sigh, leaning into the cushions. “Maybe it’s time I find myself a millionaire who’d pay me to have sex with me.”

The man was still looking at the now black screen. “Do you mean a prostitute?”

“Well, yes, but—” you groaned. “You know what? Maybe I’m meant to stay forever displeased.”

It was after a long time your best friend spoke. “Or…” he cleared his throat. “You find yourself someone who would pleasure you.”

You turned to him. “Wowie, thank you for a perfect solution! I really wouldn’t know what I’d do without you.”

Then, you saw his eyes darken. “____.” He propped the tub upon the coffee table. “Why search for other alternatives when you have options right here?”

Confusion marred your mind, not just from his words, but his entire change of character. “Chan, what are you on about?”

“____,” he said, and his hand inched closer to yours. “ I’m saying you should have a friends with benefits.”

The silence was suddenly heard. You did not realise the sheer weight of this man’s gaze till his very stare gravitated you to him. The lights were dimmed, and all you could see from the laptop’s light was his face — his beautiful face. 

What was all this? Why was your best friend looking at you like that? Why were you being affected by his gaze?

“I…” You could barely get the words out. “I never thought about that before.”

Chan had no such problem. “Well, maybe you should. There are many who would gladly be that person for you.”

You gave him a look. “And who would they be?”

A slight cock of his head. “____, who is your best friend, in the same class as you, share the same interests and would help you out in any way whatsoever?”

The question rather befuddled you. Why couldn’t the man just say the answer already? You thought of the few viable options, tossing, turning the names. 

Then it occurred to you. Your friend’s face sparked a little in what could only have been hope.

“I know!” you exclaimed, holding onto his arm. “I should ask Jisung!”

The little sliver of hope in his eyes morphed into annoyance. “What the fuck?”

Raising your brow, you asked, “Is that not the right answer?” You listed out the evidence. “He’s basically my best friend, is in music with us, we like similar things and would be willing to help me in any situation. I think.”

When you were done, you found yourself more confused when Chan closed his eyes, shaking his head. “What?” you demanded.

“Oh my God.”

His fingers caressed yours, and you gasped to find your skin prickling at the touch. You raised your eyes to his, and found yourself lost for words.

“You dumb bitch, I should be your friends-with-benefits.”

Your mouth dropped.

Perhaps you would have said something, but then his thumb began stroking your skin, and you figured it was better to relish that instead. Thus, you looked at him, gobsmacked, not entirely sure what to say to his declaration. 

It seemed Chan was a little nervous too. “Look, I can tell you’re surprised…” he paused, a little lost for words as well. “Fuck, I guess I shouldn’t have suggested so early into the breakup, but you just…”

He pinned you with his gaze. “I couldn’t have my best friend miss out on the pleasure she deserves. And if that means giving you the pleasure myself, then I will do it.”

Bang Chan. Not just the best friend you’ve ever had, but the man who proposed benefits to this certain friendship.

“Well,” you got out, after what seemed like eternity. “Well damn.”

“We don’t have to do anything right now. Or even anytime soon.” He let go off your hands, and you did not know why the touch was missed so greatly. “Just...think about it for me, will you?”

You didn’t really have it in you to refuse. “Of course,” you said, feeling the need to touch something. Your eyes fell upon the remote, and figured you should distract yourself by watching the next episode of the series you previously watched. 

You needed a clear distraction, or else Chan would not need to wait long for his answer.

The episode began, and you watched, clamping your lips together as you felt the man shuffle closer to you, one hand sprawled on the top of the couch with his other hand idly surfing on his laptop. You rooted your eyes to the screen, finding yourself engulfed in 1920s England, trying to forget that your best friend left no space between you two.

Managing to somehow distract yourself from the lack of distance, you even began to relax, swooning softly of the gangster’s mannerisms towards his love interests, their intimate dancing in her bedroom. It was touching, and you even let yourself lean into your friend, who, too, glanced every now and then, a little smile upon his face.

Everything was fine and dandy until the characters started to kiss.

Now, there was nothing wrong with kissing. You were a hopeless romantic, and adored to see the actions of love on screen, the final breaking of barriers between two characters.

The problem was, the kissing did not seem to end there. The bigger problem was that this lust on screen made you all the more aware of your best friend beside you.

You froze, watching with no small amount of confused shock as the characters increased their desires, unbuttoning their clothes, discarding them as their lips moved against each other’s. Your eyes widened at the nudity, once never a bother but suddenly extremely embarrassing, as they collided, bare chest to bare chest.

The matters did not help at all when you sensed the increased beating of Chan’s heart, almost as loud as the instruments harmonising in the background. His searching on his laptop had ceased, as frozen as you were as his eyes refused to look away to the man and woman making love.  

It was too much. You had seen much worse scenes in your life before, but never had one made you so hot and bothered. Of course you knew why, though. Of course you knew, when the man you laid your head upon was breathing harder than you do when you walk up a flight of stairs. 

You did not waste a minute longer as you pointed the remote to the TV, and switched the screen off. Completely black, void of further lust radiating through the glass. 

A shuddered breath escaped Chan. “Well...double damn.”

You did not answer back. Only distanced yourself on the sofa, his fingers on the couch brushing against the back of your head. His touch may have been the last thing you needed then.

But that was not true. Seeing that sex scene, all glorified and affectionate, had you craving his touch. Your eyes could not bear to meet him, but his presence was suffocating enough. God, if you did not leave that couch now, you would dare to do something quite unimaginable.

Chan did not seem to move either. Your presence, too, had him nearly choking out a pained sob. Anymore time spent, and he would have another problem erecting soon.

At last, when a few minutes seemed like hours, you felt your friend stir. You were surprised to be devastated at the prospect of him leaving.

You were further shocked when, as Chan mustered all the strength in himself to get off the couch, he was stopped by your hand encircling his wrist. 

Whirling his head at your direction, his eyes widened. He was met with your own aghast ones, as your hand tugged him back to the couch.

You did not let go of his wrist as you whispered the words you never thought would have left your mouth that night.

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

For a second you thought he died under your grasp, but the way he parted his mouth went against your judgement. Perhaps you had sent his living soul flying out of his body, but you could not blame him — you did not feel at all like yourself just then.

“I wanna do it,” you murmured, refusing to let go. 

Chan’s eyes darted to the tight hold upon his wrist, and then to you once more. He opened his mouth, closing it straight after as he glanced away.

With a heavy sigh, he looked to you once more, an abundance of emotions swirling in his usually mischievous, soft eyes.

“Are you sure, ____?” He leaned a little closer, causing your heart to malfunction for a second. “You don’t have to think about it now—”

“Well, it’s all I can think about,” you cut him off, eyes never leaving him, despite the reddening of your cheeks. “And I want to do it.

“Like I said, Chan.” You shuffled a little closer, and your knees brushed against his. “I am deprived of pleasure.”

The man blinked once, twice, taking your declaration all in. He had to tell himself that this was not a dream, but a very much a fortunate reality, and that you were asking him of something he had been wanting to give you for a very long time.

There it was. Something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. You wanting your desires met by him was so much more than enough.

Dreaming still, he slithered one hand around your waist, almost like second nature as the other found refuge upon your face. His fingers were tender, softly caressing your cheeks as his eyes beheld you in a way he had never before..

This change of sight had you unable to look away from him.

“If you feel uncomfortable with all this…” he swept away a stray curl. “I will stop. That’ll be the end of it.”

You nodded, finding solace within his eyes. “I know.”

But there was no discomfort. Rather an impatient welcome, a growing urge for your needs met. Promises fulfilled. 

When you sensed him lean closer, so shy and yet so determined, hands still holding you, those vows were sure to be carried out.

You found out in the best way possible — the second when Chan brushed his lips against yours. 

His touch had you flying out your skin; well, not really, but it sure felt as such, when his mouth moulded with yours, a confirmation that he was strangely perfect for your own two lips, that he was meant to embed himself upon your mouth. 

You closed your eyes, heart climbing up your chest as your hands skimmed around his neck. Chan began his movements, and you were so unaccustomed to the actions that you could not help but be led by his kiss. The man had a way of making you listen to his every order, vocalised or not. 

The kiss was so...unreal. It was all that rang in your mind, over and over as the man took his time; he carried out a sensual rhythm upon your lips, not only to avoid overwhelming you, but to fully take in his situation — that he was kissing you, and no other girl who he had never dreamed of. 

He had all the time in the world for this.

The hand upon your waist gripped onto you a little harder, nails skirting around the hem of your shirt. His tongue teased you now, running along for entrance, to delve inside and drink in your every essence. Your mouth practically begged the man to prowl inside, opening up to him completely, a signal of full trust. 

You wanted this as much as he did. 

His elated rush was expressed through his tongue, when it slithered inside your mouth. Butterflies erupted in your body at the way he swirled it along with yours, almost playing with your tongue as if you both did. Of course, this is slightly different, because your gimmicks with Chan never had you salivating at the mouth. Nor feeling like you’re about to leak into your clothes from his touches.

Which really was the situation you ended up in; Chan, his hand now skimming under your shirt, revelling the skin of your abdomen, warming beneath his touch. The hand, once upon your face, had latched upon your locks, while you ran your fingers through his own velvety hair, nearly undoing yourself over the soft feel. 

Just when you thought he was going in for more, he broke away, hands still upon you — your breathing was ragged, the man in front of you panting slightly as well. His eyes, with no small amount of surprise, seemed a little feverish, whether that be from a random cold he contracted during the minutes he kissed you, or…

Or, as you found yourself biting your lip, he took an intoxicated toll over you, and how exquisite it was to drive his tongue in your mouth.

“Better than Rapunzel?” He whispered, so close his breath fanned your lips, spit-slick thanks to him. 

You made sure he was aware of your fingers threading in his locks, eliciting a low murmur. “Rapunzel better not leave the tower again.”

Chuckling, he wasted no time before he was upon you again, an invisible leash on him threatening to snap. He drove the shirt higher, skirting up your sides until he broke away from you for a mere second before peeling the shirt off of you and tossing it beside him.

Heaving, the sight of you in a bra was making the leash all the more tight, hands never leaving your sides as he latched onto your neck. Leaving open-mouthed kisses, down and down until his lips trailed past your collarbone, you let the moans leave your mouth, heightened and quick and unexpected. Suddenly he descended on you, kneeeling on the floor with hands following suit. 

Pleasure. You were oozing with pleasure as you hurried for the hems of his black hoodie, needing to have it off and run your hands on the expanse of his chest. Chan, a little preoccupied, did not realise your demands until you whined out your request.

“Chan—!” you gasped out as his lips left your belly, fingers upon the buttons of your trousers. “Hoodie, I need it off!”

The man only continued with his task, taking the zip down. “Up,” he rushed out, gesturing with his hand.

Dazed, you replied with a confused murmur, only understanding the need to take his stupid hoodie off.

He looked up from his endeavours, and the sight of him hovering between your legs nearly undid you. “I mean your hips, baby, put them up.” He grabbed onto the sides of your jeans. “I wanna take this off.”

Gulping, you raised your hips, giving Chan ease to pull your jeans, all the way down until your legs were bare, save for the soiled underwear which he instantly landed his eyes on. 

His mouth slipped out an uneasy fuck, which was just the right way to have you leaking even further. “Chan, come on,” you hurried, seething at the throbbing. 

His hands pushed you back on the couch, travelling down until they caressed the back of your knees. Pulling you closer from there, he leaned in until he was a few inches away from your moistened cunt, hurting more the longer he made you wait.

It wasn’t his fault, really. He still felt as if he’s living a dream he did not deserve. 

Fingers drumming against the back of your knees, the man blew a little upon your folds, and you let out a strained hiss at the soft breeze. This hypersensitivity was going to be your undoing, but even the smallest of actions brought you such thrill.

“I’m about to spoil you good, ____,” he whispered, and before you could reply, he descended.

The first kitty lick along the surface had you in shock.

Tendrils of pleasure gushed inside you, lurking all over your body as Chan swiped his tongue along the outside of your cunt, teasing, shying away, awaiting your reaction. You answered him with an indecipherable noise, a sound which had never escaped you before.

Maybe because no one had ever played with your cunt like this.

You truly had wasted your time with Hyunjin — this man, tasting your arousal, let out a satisfied hum, and when he dug deeper with his tongue, spreading your legs further, the moans you let escape were, for the first time, absolutely real. No acting, no bullshit.

Just like your best friend promised.

“Chan—!” You stuttered out, when he began circling your clit. “God, just like that!” You encouraged further, hips shaking at the way he made a mess of you. 

In response his hands left your legs, pressing them upon your hips. To your horror he paused his actions, peering up from your legs. 

The slick shining upon his lips could well have made you cum on his face right then and there. “I need you to stay still, baby,” he said, his hands on your hips keeping you in place, as his eyes did the same. “So I can do this properly.

“I don’t want you getting half-assed pleasure, okay?”

His soft demands, his calm explanations brought you in a further state of frenzy. You could not nod faster, chuckling emitting from him as his hands travelled down once more. 

“Good girl.”

And his mouth was upon your cunt again, this time the leash finally snapping as his tongue hardened against the seams. Your moans could have been heard in the hallways, but you didn’t particularly care when Chan, in the midst of his ravenous lapping, introduced the prospect of his fingers, caressing your dripping folds, swiping them over around the edges.

You didn’t know what to do — your hands scrambled to fist the fabric of the couch, laying back against the pillows. The hold grew tighter when your best friend slid his middle finger inside of you.

The journey may have been slow, but that was what made it all the more delightful. Feeling it go deeper and deeper had a particularly loud groan flying out of you, but the rhythm he adopted, pulling it out, but then diving it back again without leaving your cunt, had you delirious. 

A once foreign, unimaginable feeling you never thought you’d experience, was back inside — the heavy sensation deep within your gut, like a dull ache which grew more known the harder Chan worked between your legs. The feeling you had only ever experienced when you imagined Donghyuck instead of your ex-boyfriend in this similar situation. 

Fuck, there it is, you thought. The feeling of your incoming orgasm.

And it was not going to go if this man worked harder than the devil tonight.

“Chan—fuck—” you got cut off when he increased the speed of his finger inside of you. “I-I’m close.”

Never ceasing his finger, he looked up at you, hooded eyes welcoming you despite the tenderness on his face. “You’re doing so good, ____. So fucking good for me,” he cooed, melting your heart despite the situation. 

This time, he accompanied his fingering with a second digit, stretching out your walls and working harmoniously together in making you submit to him. Already you felt as if he’d filled you up, and the actions of his digits practically scissoring inside of you had every muscle in your body readying for release.

He dove back in, merciless to your clit, and all this work, everything at once, was so much that when you cried out, your release had to follow through. You couldn’t control yourself as you let your cum escape, staining the couch and the floor — most importantly, how most of it landed in Chan’s mouth. 

Breathing unevenly, and louder than you ever thought possible, you closed your eyes, slumping further into the couch. You sensed an emptiness inside you, and figured Chan had taken out his fingers. Opening your eyes, you saw him close your legs together, propping his head upon your lap, hands supporting his chin. He looked up at you, licking his lips free of your residue.

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

The man smiled at you. “Satisfied?” he asked, fingers caressing your skin. 

Oh, of course you were. Damn it, you were more than satisfied — you were positively elated. If he had managed to make you cum with his fingers and tongue alone, imagine what he could have done with his dick.

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

Perking up, you looked to the man kneeling before you still, anticipation brimming in his stature. “Please tell me you didn’t fake it.”

Embarrassment engulfed your body at the idea. “Chan, if you really think I faked all of that then I deserve an Oscar.”

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

You then watched him slowly get up, climbing over you, hands skirting up your figure till he captured your face in his hands and pressed his lips against yours. You had enough strength to kiss him back, but failed to exceed him when he began nibbling upon the swell of your lip, making you revert to stage one of your growing need all over again.

Breaking away, you glanced up at him, holding onto his hoodie. “I want...more.”

The man stilled his actions, hands going limp upon your skin. You had about three seconds of panicking as you tugged on his clothes, whispering, “Wait, Chan, it’s okay if—”

But suddenly, his hands left your face, and the panic increased with you being lifted into the air, his hold under your knees and back as he brought you close to his chest. 

His eyes upon you were a hazard to your well-being. “God, ____, you could really ruin me.”

Your flustered nature was interrupted by Chan rushing to his bedroom, kicking the door open with his feet and pressing quick kisses upon your mouth, your cheeks, all over your face as you giggled out in reaction, arms locked around him.

His room was the same as his attire, black on black on even more black, save for a few gold corners and grey instruments settled in the far end of the space. His bed, however, was vast and comfortable, a place you have slept in many a time when late night recording sessions turned into sleepovers.

Gently, he laid you down on his bed, feeling the cool sting of the night air on your cunt, making you shiver. Your bra was useless in keeping you warm, but when Chan began to take off his hoodie, shirt dragging out along with it, you suddenly began to feel a lot hotter.

Discarding the clothes, you were rewarded with the image of shirtless Chan, slightly disheveled due to his endeavours between your legs. His smile revealed a hint of arrogance as he acknowledged your blatant staring, slowly taking off his sweatpants. 

“Careful, baby, or you’ll cum right there,” he mused, noticing the way your legs shivered in ecstasy. He dumped his clothes along with the others, catching sight of his Calvins barely containing his erection.

You felt the mattress press down as he prowled to you upon the bed, the more chaos erupting in your gut the further he came closer. You could barely contain yourself when he hovered over you, lips mere inches from yours. A powerful force within you halted your very breath — you knew, though, that at this particular moment, your entire soul rested in the hands of this man, looking at you through long lashes. 

He enveloped your lips, grinding his clothed erection against your cunt, drinking in your whines, your silent pleas of replacing it with the real deal. He smirked against your mouth, opening the seams as his one hand grabbed onto yours, leading it to the waistband of your boxers. 

Your fingers fumbled to take peel down the fabric, Chan parting from your lips to take it off entirely. His cock sprang free, and you let out a god-awful, shrill-like noise at the way it stood, red and angry and so very fucking big. 

“Fuck me,” you slipped out in a breath, earning a chuckle from him. 

“I very much plan to,” he had the nerve to reply, you wanting very much to slap his shit-eating grin off of him. Or perhaps kiss it till your breath was lost. 

Embarrassed, you tried to look away, but his fingers gripped your chin, leading your eyes to his. Other hand holding onto your hip, he gently positioned himself between your legs, precum already staining your folds. Breathing stunted, your stare reflected subservience, a request to bury his dick inside you already.

He read your every plea. 

Pressing his forehead against yours, he let out a shuddered breath before beginning the final descent.

Slowly, ever so slowly, Chan slid his cock inside — your mouth parted from the transition, at the tightening sensation as he kept going, burying those inches until your eyes were as wide as saucers, unable to look away from him. You dared not move, fear of snapping more a reality in your head than some far-fetched delusion.

Dragging his stare from your slit to your face, he caressed your cheek, offering you a small smile.

“Don’t be quiet, okay?” he asked, hand on your hip like iron. 

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

Just as gradually, he began to slide out, and, with his words in mind, you let yourself be shameless. The rhythm of his hips, the pain-stakingly tempered movement, made you whine profusely, and when the man slithered inside once more, moaning lewdly was your only reaction. It was all your brain could think of, when his cock was the sole deity which mattered in this moment.

His pace began to fasten, though, grunting erratically as his grip on you tightened. Your cunt was taking a toll, your second orgasm of the night a great possibility as you felt it inside you, as tangible as the dick being pushed and pulled out into you. 

“F-faster!” you wailed out, and God bless Chan, for he obliged you completely, increasing his rhythm, practically abusing your slit with the way he fucked into you. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes, and you let them fall, for there was no hiding your emotions with this man.

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

Chan’s strength seemed unhuman as he thrusted his cock into you faster and faster, and you knew if he did not stop then you would cum all over for the second time. The very image had you on the edge of your sanity.

When his cock hit your g-spot you really believed yourself hitting seventh heaven of delight. White spots blurred your vision, tears now your beloved companion as they trailed down your cheeks. “I’m c-close, fuck—” you tried to voice, but were cut off when slid out once more, tip never leaving your folds. 

His hair stuck to his forehead, beads of sweat peppered on his face as he crushed you with his lips, relishing your whines. His tongue befriended yours, and the swirling of your muscles with each other had brought a new form of high bubbling within you. 

You moaned his name onto his lips, hands sliding around his neck, pulling you as close as physically possible. This was it. You could not wait any longer. You wanted your undoing, and you wanted it now, in these sheets, within his arms, within his hypnotic presence. 

It was incredibly fortunate that Bang Chan could read you like the back of his hand.  

Parting from your mouth, he kissed a sloppy trail all the way to your ear, lips grazing against the lobe. 

“Go on, then,” he purred, leaving a small kiss to your skin. “Cum for me.”

His words were all you needed before you let yourself go, crying out as release poured from the tight spaces your cunt offered, and onto the sheets below. You wheezed in a few breaths, tired gasps gripping your body.

Chan, within the second, pulled out, just in time for him to let out a pained growl as he came onto his bedsheets. Some of the fluids sullied your legs, but seemed the perfect time as he collapsed right beside you, breathing as heavily as you were. 

You and Chan were the only noise in the room — however, if one could translate emotions into sound, that would be an entirely different matter. 

At least for you. You could barely contain your elation.

An emptiness may be present inside of you, but it was now replaced with a full heart. Fuck, you could not believe you had finally been given pleasure, such unadulterated satisfaction that you wondered whether it truly occurred, or was just another fantasy — this time with Chan’s face plastered rather than your infatuation of the month.

Sensing the said-man move, you turned to your side, smiling to see his stare fixated on you. Shifting closer, he curled a stray lock from your face behind your ear. “How’re you feeling?” he asked gently, hand on your face still.

You laid your head against your arm. “I am so pissed I didn’t break up with Hyunjin sooner.”

Laughing, his fingers trailed downward, sketching onto your collarbone. “You…” he paused, biting his lip with what you saw, surprisingly, as apprehension. “You really liked it?” 

Your eyes darted to the surroundings, smirk spreading across your lips. “I mean, I am an insanely good actress...”

His shock horror had you spluttering into laughter. When he tried to turn his back to you and sulk, you held onto his arm, keeping him in place. “Oh, stop! You know I’m joking, you big oaf.”

Pouting, he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. “You better be,” he muttered, earning further giggles from his truly. The laughter was replaced with your yawning, which Chan instantly picked up on. “Hey, ____, you should sleep.” He began stroking your hair. “You’re really tired.”

You tried to object, but your intended groans become more deep yawns, proving his point. He passed his fingers over your eyelids, fluttering them close. “I’m not hearing anything else!”

Stinging out your tongue in what you hoped was at his direction, you grudgingly obliged. “Fine.”

You felt him sigh upon your face. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

“Nevermind, I hope you have a terrible sleep.”

With your last round of exhausted laughter, you let yourself fall into oblivion, safe in your best friend’s arms. 

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

It was not such a huge disappointment. The man had warned you before that he had to leave early to meet up with his supervisor. In all honesty, maybe it was good he was not there, next to you in his sheets. 

Your hands gripped those very sheets, raising them right under your chin as you looked up to the ceiling, watching the dried swirls of black paint overlapping each other.

“Oh my God.”

Indeed. Here you were, in your best friend’s bed, basking in his scent, in his world. Of course, you always seemed to smell of him, considering you both never seemed to let go of each other, but last night was different.

Obviously, because Bang Chan had never rocked your shit before. 

Your legs began to tingle at the thought. Even the mere memory had you feeling a mysterious sensation all over your body, reminders of the places Chan had looked, touched, tasted. God, you did not think, did not let yourself think further or you’d be calling that man this second.

You knew you had to get up at some point — you had some recording to do today, and more assignments to hand in. You had tasks, obligations to take care of. Unfortunately, the warmth of your best friend’s bed was much too enticing for you to submit to the requests of reality, and so you let yourself lay there for moments longer, in hope you can recreate the scene in your head once more.

There was no lie about this. Bang Chan knew how to fuck you into another dimension. 

Just when you were about to dream into last night, your phone vibrated harshly against the bedside table. Curious, you stretched out your hand, grabbing the object and checking who so rudely disturbed your shameless manifesting.

CHRIS THE PISS: 

just stopped by the medical room,,, want me to get a wheelchair?

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

Now here was a rating you couldn’t bring yourself to confess.

All you wanted to do was give him a solid ten — the man finally offered you a better view of sex and how it can be appreciated, and the way he guided you through it was more than just adequate.

But the thing was, you and Chan hadn’t ever given each other 10/10s.

A perfect score was a rarity in your dynamic; possibly a rating never revealed before because you and Chan had promised each other never to exaggerate on this system. The only time you had ever used the solid ten was when he made you his first ever song at the tender age of nine. At the time, it was a terrible tune, with beats all over the damn place with no form of rhythm, but because he made it especially for you, you voiced your true opinion and rated him the perfect score.

Again, the situation here was different.

So, instead of the truth, you resorted to irritation. 

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

Only the shrill ringtone of your phone, snapping you further into consciousness. 

Groaning, you swiped right onto the screen, pressing the speaker button.

“Now I know you’re lying!”

Laughing, you propped the phone beside you on the bed, upon the place where Chan would have been. “You got a big ego there, hun.”

“That may be true, but my cock is bigger, so I still win.”

You were glad he was not here — the man would have sensed your embarrassment in an instant. 

It was worse because he was not lying. “Now tell me, Pinocchio,” he continued, voice interrupting as the noise of the students around him came through the receiver. “Out of ten.”

“I already messaged it to you, buddy,” you said impassively, or at least you tried. “A solid two would suffice.”

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

Perhaps he felt it too, for he answered, with no small amount of pride, “I’m gonna pretend I fucked you so good you forgot how to think properly.”

You could not help gulping, raising the sheets over you. It wasn’t exactly hard on boning, but even so...you really thought for a second you’d lose all feeling in your legs last night.

“Shut up, Chan.”

“Shut up, Chan,” he parroted, which had you threatening to hang up. “Don’t think I’ve let you go on this subject.”

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

“And for Christ’s sake, stop calling me ‘buddy’,” he demanded. “Or else I’m pulling a Hyunjin.”

“A Hyunjin?”

“Yeah, a Hyunjin.” You heard the sound of horns blaring at the end of his call. “Ruining your sex life.”

That nearly made you freak. “Damn, I won’t say it again, Christopher Bang, musical name Bang Chan, nicknamed Chris the Piss—”

You heard his chuckling through the phone. “All that for my dick. I must have changed your life, ____.”

Heating up from his stupid comments, you grabbed the phone from the table. “I’ll see you in the studios, asshole.”

His smugness ran rich in his voice. “Buh-bye, baby.”

The minute the call ended, you sighed heavily, clutching the phone to your chest.

He did change your life.

Not necessarily your entire life, but certainly a huge aspect of it. A small part of you was horrified at how easily he shifted your daily balance, making you ponder over him more often, with much more intensity than before. Were you a sex maniac? Were you so deprived of being touched that one night of fun had you begging like a woman starved?

“Whatever,” you groaned, swinging your legs to the side of the bed, and upon the carpet. “Fuck Chan.”

Hopefully tonight.

FUCKING AROUND WITH CHAN MIGHT HONESTLY BE THE BEST DECISION YOU HAVE EVER MADE IN A LONG, LONG TIME.

And you weren’t the one to make good decisions. You get up an hour before the afternoons, drink Pepsi Max to compensate for your lack of water drinkage, and worst of all, you would gladly sell your body for Colin Firth, especially if he dressed himself up as Mr. Darcy at his age. Whatever setbacks you possessed, you knew that this, at least, was a step in the right direction.

Bang Chan may have been as big a loser as you were, but the man made you feel like a powerful entity. Hell, in all the state, with the way he made you act.

Never before had you become so daring — libraries, which were once your place of study, became a rendezvous for his slender fingers inside your cunt. The living room had become a breeding ground, and even your shower was stained of your promiscuity. There was no place left where you and Chan hadn’t done something scandalous, and you wondered, with no small amount of excitement, on how this new side of your friendship with him would progress. 

These thoughts accompanied you as you walked to your destination. It was not far off as you entered campus, and smiled at the few students who passed by.

Soon, you found yourself in the music department, and walked through the familiar halls, littered with posters of different artists and singers in their peak careers. A few trophies were boasted of behind a glass screen, but the surroundings all became irrelevant when you approached your designated music rooms.

Expecting Chan to be inside, headphones adorned, you did not bother knocking, strolling straight into the room. However, you stopped completely when a giant, hoodie-clothed back did not greet you.

Instead, it was a tinier hoodie-clothed back, faded yellow over the trademark black. Although not your best friend, you instantly recognised the alternative, and smiled.

“Jisung!”

The boy did not seem to hear, for he kept bobbing his head, no doubt trying out beats. 

You tiptoed slpwly until you stood right behind him. Then, in a flash, you snapped your hands upon his shoulders.

“Boo!”

A shrill, terrified yell erupted, chair being swivelled suddenly as the back hit against the controls. You took a step back out of shock too, a choked giggle escaping when you beheld the face of Han Probably-shit-his-pants-Jisung. 

“Oh my fucking God,” he rasped out, hand on his chest. He then locked eyes with you, and suddenly his quivering mouth melted into a smile of relief. “Ah, ____!”

“The one and only.” You sat down on the neighbouring chair. “Sorry if I made you shit your pants. It was fully attended.”

“Stop,” he insisted, taking off his headphones and scooting a little closer to you. “These are new jeans as well.”

“Not my fault if you’re a pussy,” you chanted, picking up the headphones, settling them upon your ears. “Can I listen?”

“Of course!” Jisung pressed a few keys on his laptop, and the music began. 

Your eyes widened in surprise to hear pleasant, almost lo-fi background before his voice flooded in, comforting you with his soft lilt and meaningful lyrics. On instinct your head bobbed along to the rhythm of the beat, smiling at the wordplay and the rising vocals.

“Jisung, this is really good!” you exclaimed. The boy waved off the compliment, but you instantly saw his face reddening. “Oh, stop it, you know that you’re one of the best out here.”

If you thought he couldn’t get more flustered, he proved you incredibly wrong. “Don’t say that,” he shrilled, propping his feet up on the chair and hugging his legs tightly. When he saw the look on your face, though, he smiled, teeth and all. “Thank you, ____. It means a lot coming from you.”

“Oh, I’m no musical genius,” you said, pressing the play button to hear his music. “Just a motherfucker who can appreciate a song of the year when she hears one.”

Jisung nearly passed out from your compliment, but you did not take it much into account as you focused all your attention on the piece. It was an undoubted fact that Han Jisung was an extremely talented dude. You already knew you could never compete with him, but he was certainly up to Chan’s level of musical expertise. With all this talent brimming around you, you made a mental note never to make more gifted friends in the future. 

Once the song ended, you took off the headphones, propping them gently upon the table. “I think you’ve inspired me to do some actual work.” 

The boy was still smiling as he reached his hand out, planting it upon your own on the table. “Well, I’m honoured to be your inspiration.” His eyes reached yours, and you were engulfed with his warmth. “The feeling is more than mutual.”

You offered him a grin, and were about to say something when the door opened.

Turning, you were welcomed by Chan’s dark figure at the studio entrance, holding two cups of coffee. Despite his black attire, you found yourself admiring a little too brazenly the bare face he never exposed in public, the beanie hiding his curls, and the tick in his jaw, which heightened further when he took in the scene.

The actions were quick — the darting of his eyes as they started on you, then travelled to your hand, engulfed with another’s. He raised them to the man guilty of the touch, and found himself staring at Jisung, beaming not only from you anymore, but at the arrival of his friend.

The joy was not returned. 

“Chan!” Jisung greeted, letting go of your hand innocently as he ushered your best friend over. 

He nodded in return, gaze back to you as he walked, a little too slowly, to the two of you. He put the two beverages upon the table next to the keyboards. “I didn’t know you were in as well,” he said. After a pause, he added, “I would have gotten another coffee.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” he assured him, even though it did not look like he needed any reassurances. 

Catching onto Chan’s attitude, you slid your coffee to the boy beside you. “I don’t want any right now. You take it.”

You took note of the pursed lips, and ignored it as Jisung widened his eyes. “No, no, it’s okay—”

“Ji, I insist,” you pestered him, driving the cup within his grasp. “You look so tired.”

He offered you a lovely smile before taking the beverage. “Thank you.”

Chan, watching this little conversation, had him clamping his lips together, possibly to not say something stupid. It was a little habit of his, thankfully in action. He slid the other cup to you. “You can have mine.”

You looked up at him. “I’m good, buddy.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

You rolled your own, taking a sip of the coffee, and thanked yourself for not being petty enough to refuse him. “Fine.” 

Jisung swivelled his chair so he faced Chan, fingers upon his laptop. “Do you wanna listen to the demo?” He grabbed the headphones, holding it out to him. “I’m nearly done with it.”

“You can send it to me later,” was his curt answer, as he took the cup from you and drank. 

You looked at him in exasperation, but the boy nodded in satisfaction, picking his bag off the floor. “That’s chill!” he said, heaving off the chair. “I got all the time, so don’t worry too much about it.”

He then turned to the two of you as he strolled to the door. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask you both something.”

“Spit it out, then,” Chan jeered, which had you glaring at him. What the fuck was his problem?

Jisung did not catch on, continuing. “So, later this week, Changbin and I are throwing a party, and I was hoping you both would like to come.”

You perked up at that piece of information. “That’s something I like to hear!” Snatching the coffee cup from your friend, you purposefully took a huge gulp. “Any specific date?”

“I was hoping Friday night.” A small sip of his drink. “We just wanted to have some fun after a difficult week, dissertations and all.” His gaze never faltered from yours. “You in?”

Chan, noticing, settled in the space previously taken, and raised a hand in objection. “Sorry, Ji. ____ and I always do something Friday night. Gotta uphold the tradition.” 

You turned to face him, a brow raised. He wasn’t wrong, in all honesty. But why did he mention it now?

Jisung, too, was a little curious. “Oh?” He fixed the strap of his bag. “I won’t get in the way, then.”

He turned, and you made to open your mouth only to have Chan press a finger to your lips. His brows were furrowed, which you matched until he left the finger as the boy looked back once more. 

“I’ll see you around, guys!” he exclaimed, eyes sliding to you before opening the door, and leaving the studio.

After a few seconds of silence, you faced your friend, who had the audacity to sigh in relief. “What the fuck was that?”

The man shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes you do!” you finished the last of the coffee, throwing the empty cup in the bin nearby. “Why were you being such a dick to Jisung?”

“No I wasn’t,” he only said. “I was being the perfect gentleman.”

“Stop it, man!” You couldn’t believe his stupidity in the situation. “He was being so lovely, asking for your opinion on his music, inviting us to his party and shit. Why were you being so mean?” 

Chan only shook his head, turning away from you as he made to put his headphones on. You, on the other hand, were not going to be satisfied with silence, and grabbed his arm, wrenching him toward you. “Chan?!”

He turned to look at you, and you hitched in a breath — you had never really pondered over your friend’s angered face, nor really drank in his heightened features before. However, in this moment in time, with his eyes darkened, bare face twisted, frizzy morning curls all over the place, you had to stop yourself from the butterflies fluttering downwards. You’re supposed to be mad, not horny.

Your hand upon his arm — his tensed bicep, specifically — seemed almost feeble now. Still, you were glad it was on there, if only to feel his muscle bulge.

Chan studied you and your dazing, and made you jump when he guttered. “What?”

Instantly getting back to the situation, you cursed yourself silently for letting your desires try to take the reins. “I said,” you continued, trying your hardest not to be fazed by his eyes, “Why are you being such a massive prick to Ji?”

He cocked his head slightly, and if he leaned any further his lips would brush against yours. “I’m being a massive prick, ____, because he really fucking likes you.”

You felt hands upon your waist, tugging you off your seat. With a yelp you found yourself upon the man’s lap, hands encircling you fully.

Even though you looked down at him, his stare had you shaking. “And that really fucking pisses me off.”

You couldn’t suppress a shudder, an action which had not gone unnoticed. A smile ghosting his face, he craned his neck upwards, catching your lips and rendering you completely at his mercy. Your fingers went straight in his morning curls, carding through the locks as he captured your bottom lip in his, sucking on it to the point a whine escaped you, helpless and shameful. 

He left a trail of heated kisses down your throat, fingers skirting underneath your cardigan, your shirt, and savouring the skin. His mouth landed on a particular part, grazing his teeth against it as he softly nipped at the skin. Your breath quivered at each flushed kiss he branded upon you, but when his free hand began undoing the top buttons of your shirt, you finally called out his name.

“Chan!” you gasped out, shivering at the lovebites stinging your throat. It did not seem like the man would stop, unbuttoning your shirt just so he could glimpse the sliver of your lacy bra, humming with satisfaction. “Chan, w-wait!”

He paused his actions, tilting his head upwards in irritation. “Do you mind?” he asked, pouting too cutely for his words.

“Yes, I do,” you answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Why are you so mad, buddy?”

A harsh scoff was your reply. “Well, first of all, because you never stop calling me that.” 

You pinched the back of his neck, but when he pursed his lips, you leaned in, pressing your forehead against his. “Chan, you’re overreacting. He’s just a motherfucker trying to gain your approval.”

“I think it’s more your approval,” he countered, nuzzling his head against your shoulder. “With the way the asshole can’t keep his name out of your mouth. God! And the way he held your hand? Like you were his one and only?!”

“Jealousy isn’t a cute look on you, hun,” you mused, but in reality, you were lying through your teeth. His jealousy was like fuel to your turned on fire.

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

“You might have to put a hold to that.” 

“Fuck.”

Raising his head, his agitation grew in his eyes as you beheld him. “He just...goddammit, he just makes me so angry at times.”

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

9/10. A rare rating, you noticed with quite some surprise. It did reflect the fury which Jisung unintentionally ignited, but you did not realise how much it truly affected him. The two had always been friends, as far as you were concerned, but you had to admit that Chan never really felt as easy with him as he did with you.

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

“I know,” he said then, snapping you out of your thoughts. “It’s...unreasonable...but I don’t care. I really don’t give a shit.”

Clamping your lips together, you watched him look away, swaying you back and forth upon his lap. Well, you couldn’t have a dear friend sulking away when you knew Jisung meant nothing and less to you.

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

“Chan,” you murmured, fingernails grazing against his neck.

 Sensing goosebumps form there, you were met with his undecipherable gaze. “Yeah?”

You brushed a chaste kiss to his forehead. “How about,” you began, trailing down to his nose, “I help…” you carried on, another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Soothe your irritation?”

Although completely compliant to your touches, he grumbled, “The only way you can do that if you consent to me giving Jisung a broken nose.”

“Hmmm…well...” you peppered another kiss, and felt his hands wander lazily once again. “This is a very close second.”

Catching the implications dwelling in your gaze, you could have sworn the man’s breathing halted. His tongue swept along his teeth, and you had a dire wish to replicate that action with your own tongue.

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

The lower octave had you nearly squealing as you pressed your lips fully onto his, giggling when he responded with twice more ardency, the desperation lurking beneath his physique. He pried your mouth open with his tongue, swirling it along with yours as he pressed your body completely against his, refusing to let you go. 

On instinct you grinded against him, sensing the outline of his boner beneath you with no small amount of excitement. He groaned into your mouth at the friction, digging his fingers into your skin.

It was a dire shame you had to break away from the kiss, catching his disappointment. “Tease,” you heard him mumble, which had you pecking his lips quickly before sliding your own down his neck, leaving his skin altogether.

Slumping downward, you kneeled before Chan as he spread his legs before you, struggling down his black trousers till he revealed the angry outline of his erection underneath his dark boxers. You noticed, with pride, how the top of the fabric was stained with arousal. 

“I think your dick is angrier than you around Jisung right now,” you said, failing to contain your amusement. 

Chan’s eyes promised murder. “I’m so glad my cock will shut your stupid mouth up,” he jeered. 

Thank God you were kneeling, cause that comment alone would have made you fall.

Shuffling closer, you raised your hand to his boxers, feeling his clothed length between your fingers. The touch had your friend growling much too loud, a reaction you enjoyed thoroughly. 

“How about a little less teasing,” he seethed, gripping onto the arms of his chair, “And a little more sucking, baby?” 

Baby. You didn’t know why now, of all times, it struck a deep chord within you. His command had you reaching for the waistband, pulling his boxers down until his cock sprang free. 

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

You don’t know why you kept forgetting how insanely big Chan’s cock really was. Its length was inside of you on almost a daily basis, so maybe all this foolery had finally gotten to your head. Observing it now, hard and veiny as it curved against his stomach, the only reaction you could offer was your mouth breaking its seams. 

“Staring at it won’t be enough, ____.”

Gulping, you planted one hand upon his leg, the other wrapping around the shaft. Even the slightest contact had the man hissing, making you smirk at his helplessness. Slightly gurgling, you spat on the head, lubing his member with your fingers, and then you began.

A string of groans escaped him as you commenced, a slow rhythm of pumping his cock as your hand moved up and down. The repetition was constant, neverending as Chan’s grip on his chair threatened to snap the plastic, but you dared not slow down. You knew this was not how he gained his satisfaction — he needed a perfect graduality, a refined art-like stroke or else he’d lose his high. Fortunate for him, though, you never let him down.

You increased your pumping, sensing him containing his moans. You could feel him holding back, but that didn’t stop you at all. In fact, that only had you progressing to the next step, an action that would have him screaming your name.

Shifting even closer, you spread his legs further, Chan’s eyes rooted to you as you directed the tip to your mouth. Letting your tongue free, you swept it along the shaft, and sure enough, an obscenely loud moan emitted from his truly. Chuckling, you carried on, trailing all the way up to the head and ending your journey with an ironically chaste kiss. Staring up at him, you smugly observed his lust-struck face, mouth releasing irregular breaths already. You couldn’t wait to have him curse at you.

Eyes back on the task at hand, you grabbed the base of his cock, opening your mouth. Slowly, aggravatingly slow, you sunk down, taking in inch by inch — Chan pushed his hips forward, and you nearly gagged at the impact of his head hitting the back of your throat. 

“Shi-shit baby,” he sputtered, watching you in awe at your work. “You better tell me if you don’t want your throat fucked.”

You answered him with your progression, slowly releasing his cock from your lips, tongue licking his slit before descending back on him again. You tried to be slow — you didn’t want to go straight to deepthroating, but the way Chan choked out his curses was sweet encouragement. Holding his dick still, you began bobbing your head and down, shallow at first, testing the waters.

When the man instinctively began bucking his hips, pushing his cock into your mouth further, you opened your jaw wider, taking in the remaining inches. The gag reflex kicked in like a bitch, but you refused to cease your labour as you increased your pace. Chan leaned in a little, caressing your cheeks as he rutted against your mouth.

“God, you’re fucking perfect, baby,” he cooed breathlessly. “So good for taking my cock like that.”

Unable to smile, you answered him with your hands, now playing with his balls, slapping them slightly to make him groan out in pleasure, head laid back against the chair. “I’m close, ____,” he warned, never stopping his own thrusts. You hoped he never would, when his end was so near.

Taking all of him in, you pressed your hands on his legs, urging you to look at him. With one final home run, you hollowed in your cheeks, surrounding his entire cock in your mouth as you imprisoned him with your hooded gaze.

The image of you, a beautiful ruination, was his undoing. 

Chan let out a vicious string of curses as he released, ropes of cum spilling inside your mouth. He slumped into the chair, breathing in the entire county’s worth of oxygen as all energy left him. This time, to add to his lust-driven shock, you swallowed his release, thanking your lucky stars that your friend finally listened and ate some fruit. His cum, at last, tasted more than bearable. 

After a few silent moments, the man finally raised himself from the dead, sighing as he beheld you kneeling still. “I think I can’t live without you.”

Chuckling, you heaved yourself up, legs unsteady. “That’s just your inner horny speaking,” you said, nearly falling over on your own feet. Quickly, Chan brought you back onto his lap again, creating an iron grip around you.

“Think what you like,” he began, peppering small kisses on your neck. “But your head game is stronger than my will to punch Jisung, that’s for sure.”

You hummed as he plunged his teeth upon a certain spot, pressing your legs together. “It better be.”

Finding your lips, he lazily kissed you, hands skirting higher as you move your mouth against his, never tired from his touches. 

“Have we christened the studio yet?” The man asked in between kisses, pushing his chair forward till your back hit the table. 

You shook your head no, already sensing his unbearable grin. You could not help returning his enthusiasm.

And as you both continued in your shameless arrangements, there was one thought that lingered in your head. 

There was absolutely no way you were going to that party. 

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

You looked to the building, the whole ground floor alight with different, ever-changing lights, and a dim pandemonium welcoming your ears. Your phone pinged with messages, but you dutifully ignored them, taking a deep breath as you took a step inside.

Greeted with a half-full hallway, it was not hard to find the party house, greeting awkwardly to a few drunk acquaintances before entering Jisung’s dorm. You were instantly hit by the smell of sweat and alcohol as the noise of popular music made your ears ring in discomfort. An abundance of students were cramped as they danced along to the tunes, screaming and laughing and simply enjoying themselves. 

While observing the scene, a small part of you wished your best friend was with you, an arm slung around you as he makes a comment on the specific people dancing rather terribly in the centre. You could already imagine him in his Friday attire, midnight-kissed with gold chains dangling off his belt, rings adorning his fingers and a little makeup to elevate his already exquisite features. Maybe, if you had insisted, he would have let you paint his nails, something which you adored on him. 

Fuck, you thought, searching through the crowd for a place to get a drink. Maybe you shouldn’t have come. 

You shook your head, though, beginning to squeeze through the partygoers. No. You can’t let Chan win in this.

And so you found your way to the kitchen, cans of beer, vodka and tequila stacked in broken pyramids to drink away. Just as you made to grab the Smirnoff your hand brushed against another’s. You turned to the direction, and beamed to see Jisung holding out the can for you.

“____!” he exclaimed, barely heard from the commotion yet could feel his joy radiating from him. “Don’t you have a thing with Chan on Fridays?”

“Well, that can happen every Friday, Ji, but your party was only today,” you answered him, and he was more than satisfied. 

He grabbed the same drink as yours, cracking it open as he looked at you, stare lingering upon your black dress. “I’m really glad you came, love.”

You blinked at the sudden endearment, but before you could say anything Changbin had interrupted the both of you, threatening to bring the roof down with his whining.

“Pleeease Ji, get me away from her!” he begged, holding onto Jisung’s arm and rocking it back and forth. “She keeps tryna drag me into the bedrooms and I can’t do it with her, bro!”

The boy adorned hints of irritancy, but he let himself be led by his friend, glazing at you. “Wait for me,” he requested.

His answer was a little wave, which he returned dutifully as he began to berate his friend for tearing him away from you. Raising your eyebrow, you turned back to the alcohol, finding some soda water and pouring it into the empty cups along with the Smirnoff. You would have drank the vodka straight from the bottle but you decided against drinking your tits off tonight. You didn’t really have a great desire for intoxication. 

You cursed at a few passersby as they bumped against you, nearly knocking the drink off your hands. Fixing your dress, you took the first sip, relishing the strong taste. The songs kept changing, the dancing getting wilder, and at this rate you knew someone was going to get handsy soon. 

Drinking away, you snapped the cup on the table beside you, waiting for Jisung to come back. 

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

It was ridiculous how you were unable to have any idea which didn’t centre around that prick. If he did not want to join you that was on him. 

Then were you feeling miserable?

Great. You poured yourself some more diluted vodka. Now you’re a full-time simp.

That helped you down the drink some more. At least this time, in fortunate circumstances, you were not a lightweight, and so were still completely aware of your surroundings. 

Aware enough to see a more tousled Jisung stagger toward you, giggling like a little child. 

You watched him lunge towards the tequila cans and crack one open, downing half the thing in one go. “Careful, Ji, or you’ll fall to your death!” you warned him, laughing as he exhaled with great exaggeration. 

He staggered to where you were standing, slumping against the wall and taking another can. “I’m so sorry!” he simpered, much too loudly for your sober ears. 

You raised a brow, about to ask him for what but he was already answering your question. “I made you wait so looong!” he dragged, drinking some more. “Look at you! Leaving you all alone.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly, crossing your arms, drink still in hand. “Just say I have zero friends.” 

“Hey, don’t say that!” You were taken aback by Jisung grabbing onto your arm, pulling him to you. He looked you dead in the eyes, wide and alive. “You do not have zero friends!” he declared, louder than before. “I’m your friend.”

Your poor ears hurt like a bitch, but you smiled at his words. “Yes, indeed you are,” you said in earnest. “Thank you, Jisung.”

It was then he blinked slowly, parting his lips as his fingers upon your arm began to wander. “But I wish you didn’t think like that.”

His touch did not go unnoticed at all. You looked at him, raising a brow, but that action went unnoticed. “What do you mean?”

“Come on, you’re a smart girl,” he slurred, voice still soft and innocent as his hand travelled to your shoulder. “You know exactly what I mean.” 

Freezing up, you felt the pads of his fingers caress your face. When he tilted his head, you finally saw what he had been trying to show you since the start of the year, the emotions he was too drunk to hide any longer. 

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

It was like a lightbulb had finally switched on in your grape-sized brain.

“Oh my God!”

Instantly, you pressed your hands to Jisung’s chest, pushing him completely off. He nearly fell flat on his ass, but grabbed the table just in time to stagger back to balance. He glanced upwards, and you saw his eyes widen.

“____?” he got out, but you raised a finger, which he was still intelligent enough to figure out to shut up.

“Ji, what the fuck?” You slapped your drink down on the table, making him jump. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking another can. “But it’s the truth, damn it, and I’m tired of having to pretend all the time about it!”

Fuck, you suddenly thought, realising that you needed to get out of this crammed residence. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Jisung, look—” you started, but he groaned out loud, waving off your answer.

“No, no, I know what you’re gonna say.” He then did a terrible impression of you, simpering, “Oh, Ji, I can’t go out with you because I’m soooo in love with my best friend in the whole wide world!”

You snapped your head to his direction. “What did you just say?”

“You heard me clearly!” He finished off his nth can. “Okay, maybe it isn’t a Romeo and Juliet shit going on, but I know something is going on between you two!”

A laugh huffed out of you, but the boy was not convinced. “We’re just friends. Good friends, that’s all.”

Your answer was a hysterical bout of laughter, confusing you even further. “Come on, ____. I’m stupid, but not completely braindead.”

He took a step closer to you, careful of your hands still. “I know Chan practically adores you.”

This little statement made your shit freeze. “Stop it,” you murmured.

“Why?” he demanded. “Because I’m saying something the both of you refuse to listen to?” 

“It’s none of your business,” you snapped. “Don’t get mad because I don’t wanna go out with you.”

“I’m not mad because of that.” With one last tequila can, he grabbed it, turning on his heel. “I’m mad because the both of you keep lying to yourselves.” 

Before you could counter back, the boy stumbled away from you, hollering to the crowd to leave some space on the dance floor for him. You wondered for a second how he’d handle dancing when he could barely walk properly, but then your thoughts drifted back to the more dire subject at hand.

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

There it was. The question you should have addressed ever since you started this arrangement with Chan.

Were you really just friends? 

You knew the question to that yourself. Both you and him had transcended past that point now, and in a horrifying realisation, you didn’t mind it that much. After experiencing his touch, his whispers, you doubt that you could ever see him as a friend again. 

But...to be more?

Fuck indeed. You had a lot to think about tonight.

“But first,” you muttered, “To be out of this stupid party.” 

Quickly, after taking two Smirnoff cans, you squeezed past the million drunkards, making your way to the exit. When you were out of the residence, you breathed in the cool night air, a rarity in these sweaty dorm rooms. 

You had a small hope, as you walked down the lanes, that Chan would be there, right at the entrance as you left, but he was not there. He had a little habit of going wherever you were supposed to be if you were not home at the expected time, worried sick if you had drank or done something more stupid than usual. 

But he was not here today. Maybe going to Jisung’s party made him extremely pissed.

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

Soon, you were at your building, entering inside and finding your door at the very end of the hallway. Fishing out the keys, you slid them into the lock, careful of the cans, hearing the click! of the unlocking.

Your hand rested upon the doorknob. Eyes staring at the lifeless colour of the door, you closed your eyes, letting out a deep breath.

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

Your body shivered at the words. Quickly walking inside the living room, you found the back of the sofa greeting you as per usual, with Chan’s head peering on top as he watched the TV. Walking further, you noticed yours and his favourite show playing on the screen.

“Yeah, it was quite boring, but the real question is,” you began, irritation marring your features, “Why are you watching this without me?” 

He didn’t even glance back at you, nor pause the TV. “Oh, I don’t know, ____, maybe because it’s Friday night, and it’s our thing to do this every time? Do tell me if I’m wrong!”

“Shut up, Chan,” you seethed, dumping the Smirnoff on the coffee tables in front of him. “This is the one time I missed this, so stop being such a baby.”

“Oh, so you tell me to shut up,” he jeered, snapping the remote on the table, making you jump slightly. “Fine, I’ll shut up. You won’t hear a word from me again.”

You took a glimpse of his face, and caught this cold fury simmering beneath his skin. Oh no. Had you going to Jisung’s party made him this angry? It was beyond nonsensical now. Bang Chan was the most reasonable man you ever befriended.

Taking in the emotions inhabiting on his face, however, proved otherwise.

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

Making your way into the kitchen, you figured to make yourself a midnight snack, hearing the crack! of a can opening behind you. Asshole, you refused to voice out loud, but opened the fridge, taking out leftovers and heating it up in the microwave.

“Anything interesting happened, then?” you heard the dry question travel to you. 

Scoffing, you turned, taking out your food. “Oh, I thought I wasn’t hearing a word from you again.”

Your best friend’s smile was anything but sweet. “Well, I figured if you weren’t going to tell me things, I had to ask you myself.”

That snatched any faux amusement you might have harboured. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“You know what the fuck that means!” he snapped, getting up from the couch, pausing the screen. “I can’t believe you’re not telling me.”

“How about a little less attitude and a little more truth, you prick,” you rebuked, putting the cartons on the kitchen counter. 

“Fine, I’ll tell you the truth that you’re too much of a pussy to say yourself!” He thundered into the kitchen, Smirnoff still in hand. 

You backed up against the counter when he caged you with his glare. “Since when did you start going out with Jisung?”

Instantly your brows furrowed. “Who the fuck told you that?” 

“Shit, I knew that bastard wanted to get in your pants,” he roared. “And you let him use you!”

“Woah, woah, buddy, slow down there!” You raised your hands in objection. “I’m not dating Jisung!”

“What?” He took a gulp of the vodka, confusion mixing with his fury. “You’re not?”

“Of course not, the fuck?! Who told you this?”

“He—” but then the cogs turned in Chan’s head, and suddenly it made sense to him. “Oh, for Christ’s sake!”

“What happened?” you asked, but he was drinking some more, cursing himself for even believing such nonsense. “Chan?”

“That son of a bitch called me before you came,” he started, swirling his drink in the can. “And I don’t know why he did, but he kept telling me to back off from you.”

You let out a low curse, but your friend was not finished. “I told him to get some sleep, cause clearly he wasn’t right in the head, but then...he said some words which literally shut me up.”

Then, you saw him hitch in an uncertain breath. “____, he bragged that he asked you out and...and you said yes.” 

His reaction had you widening your eyes, mouth parting just a little. “And, damn it, I thought that this is why she’s so nice to this little fucker, giving him my coffee, or missing Friday night for his stupid party. Hell, even suggesting him first to be her friends-with-benefits.

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

You watched in horror as he finished his drink, crumbling the can and throwing it in the bin beside you. A shuddered breath escaped you at the explanation, but you sucked it in once more when you blinked back the sheer intensity of this man’s stare. 

“So...yeah.” He ruffled his hair, breaking the stare as he looked away, face flushing with colour. “That’s why I just...yeah.”

A small part of you melted at his words, and his now embarrassment after expressing his desperate worry for you and your potential relationship.

Still, you had some problems that needed solving. “Chan, then why were you so angry at me?!”

You crossed your arms. “You didn’t even wait to hear what I had to say on the matter.”

“I don’t know, okay?!” he exclaimed, propping his hands to his sides. “I heard Jisung saying all that bullshit, and at the time I was so pissed that…”

“I can’t believe you’d think I’d go out with him, you dumbass!”

“Well, I don’t know, he’s just such a nice guy like you keep saying, and all that flowery poetry for him just went straight into my head!” 

The situation almost seemed comical now. “Oh my God, did you really think I liked him?!

“Of course” he cried out, slapping his hands on the counter top next to you, unable to let you escape. As if you even wanted to. “Of course I thought that or else I wouldn’t be shitting my pants all night!”

“Then you’re the dumbest fucking prick I’ve ever met!” you screamed, as you grabbed hold of his hoodie, pulling him closer to you. “Because I don’t like him!

“I like you!”

“Well, I like you too, you stupid bitch!” 

The confession had you both stopping, preventing the two of you going deaf from your shouting. The whole fight was completely ridiculous, but when you looked at each other, drinking in the words that just left your lips, the realisation finally dawned on you. 

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

The one thing you’d been hiding ever since you decided to fool around with him. 

Maybe this was the last way you wanted to tell him, shouting out your declaration to prove his suspicions wrong. It was almost like something out of an unfunny American sitcom — this weird, comic deflation, but at least it was out in the open now.

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

A pinch of that anger brewing within his features settled a little, hands still fisted on your sides. His eyes darted on every point of your face, as if he’s trying to memorise every inch, every detail etched upon your skin. 

Although his blatant awe made you flustered, the aching inside spoke for you. “Are you going to keep staring all night or just kiss me already?” 

God, you were such a bitch.

Chan seemed to think so too. “Nevermind, I fucking hate you,” he snarled, capturing your lips with his in an instant. You smiled against his mouth as you kissed him back with the same intensity, the same need which spread like wildfire in your body.

Kissing him should have become a routine with the amount of times you did it, but every locking of your lips with his sent you in a frenzy, lust-driven emotions spiralling out of control. You welcomed his tongue inside your mouth, the strong taste of tequila and desperation enlivening your inner workings, heightening your need for him, him, and only him.

His hands had no restrictions — the pads of his fingers had their very own needs, their own desire to feel every crevice of your body, your every curve and corner till you have no secret stored in your figure which they did not know of. You welcomed their ravaging, embraced their interrogation as they tried to uncover everything you held dear. 

Once these hands found a weakness in the form of your dress altogether, they cleverly found an opening, reaching for the end of your dress lined at your thighs. His fingers hitched the hem upwards, skirting it higher until it bunched at your waist, revealing a red, silken thong, embroidered with black thread. You relished in Chan practically salivating all over the image, but his lust slapped him out of his dazing, and hurried to get it off, hands slipping it down your legs until it was discarded on the kitchen floor. 

In an instant the man thrust two fingers inside of you, stretching your walls and creating a hypnotic rhythm of removing and inserting them back again. Your moans could bring down the whole residence, but none of you cared when Chan was scissoring you with his digits on the kitchen counter, desire radiating off his stature, and a determination to completely ruin you stark on his face. 

“M-more!” You begged, knowing you could take it, and you were rewarded with a third finger, filling you up as you cried out in pleasure. His mouth quietened you, sucking on your lower lip and then taking all of you, had you delirious, but this insanity only progressed as the thrust of his fingers hit lighting speed. 

The three digits had quickened your potential release, right on the tip of your cunt if he did not stop. “I’m g-gonna—fuck—!” 

You were interrupted as Chan’s lips left yours, trailing down to your neck, collarbone, brushing his teeth between your chest as he fell to his knees. Pulling you forward, on the edge of the countertop, he spread your legs apart, cock twitching at the drenched cunt which awaited him, like a feast displayed for a starved, wild animal. 

Looking up at you, he growled, “Cum when I say so, understand?”

Your hurried nods was all he needed as he dove right in, tongue sliding up your slit, lapping up your arousal as if it was an eternal cure. He fastened his stroke as he welcomed in his sight your clit, swiping his tongue along the bud. 

You moaned out his name like a cry for help, and he answered at first ring when his fingers still laboured, faster and faster, along with his heavenly tongue licking your clit like ice cream on a summer's day. 

“Chan, please—!” You choked out, one hand carding through the man’s hair, driving his face deeper into your cunt. “Please, I need to cum!”

Completely ignoring you, he carried on his ravishing, making you shake your legs to a point your body was beyond your control — you were at his mercy when his head was between your legs, when he prodded at your core as if it was no one else’s but his. 

When Chan brushed against your g-spot, it took every muscle in your body not to cum on his face then and there. He was being cruel; this was punishment for going to that party, justice for choosing Jisung’s company over his.

You did not know punishment felt so pain-stakingly amazing. 

Calling out his name for the last time, you knew that if the man carried on, you would go against his wishes and free yourself of the burden pushing down on your gut. Gripping onto his hair hard enough to rip right off, Chan spared a single glance at you from above, licking his lips off your mess.

“Cum for me, baby.”

That was the first time you came that night. Shaking as you freed your juices unto him, he gladly accepting the release. It was like you possessed a vessel of your release, the way you kept it inside for so long. He could never refuse though, when he knew he was responsible for driving you down that road of vulnerability. 

However, even with all of that, you still wanted more. 

And as Chan ascended on his feet, yanking his fingers out of you, he saw it in your eyes. The uncontainable passion. The unadulterated desire. 

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

He was upon you like a beast, no mercy upon your lips as he bruised them with his teeth, your pleas drowned out by his mouth as he lifted you in his arms. His kisses never ceased as he led you in his bedroom, nearly ripping the hinges at the sheer intensity of slamming his door shut. 

Throwing you on the bed, your breath whooshed out of you at the free fall, heart running miles as you witnessed Chan take his shirt off, his entire chest glistening with sweat, no doubt from the work he put in mere minutes ago. 

Upon you in seconds, his mouth robbed you of any more oxygen, prying it open as he attempted to unzip your dress from the back. Then, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat, he tried to loosen the zipping, but the damned thing got stuck in it’s trail, unable to satisfy. 

Letting out an angry growl, he damned the dress when, using his hands at the front, he ripped the fabric in half, completely down to the hem. 

“My dress!” You gasped out, watching him discard the torn fabric as if it were a minor inconvenience in his path.

You were cut off by his mouth, scorching you down to the bone. “I’ll buy you ten more, baby,” he muttered, skimming his hands down your bare sides.

You had the audacity to roll your eyes at his words. “Why do you keep forgetting you’re a college student?”

It seemed Chan did not take kindly to your comment. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he snapped, resulting in you leaking right onto his sheets. 

That kept you wilfully obedient, and rightfully so, when he unclipped your bra, tossing it to the side, and settled upon your breasts. Grinding his clothed cock upon your bare slit, he licked your right nipple, making you whimper out at him. His reply was swirling his finger on your left nipple, toying with your body as if it was his plaything. You would have had a right mind to shout at him if he didn’t bring such euphoria along with it. 

“Chan,” you whispered, gripping onto the sheets as he continued sucking your breasts. “Chan, I...I need you to fuck me already.”

He paused his assault on your bud, raising a groomed brow. “What do you say to that?” He asked, too calmly in a crazy situation like this. 

Of course, he wanted to make you beg. Considering you did not care the least for your self respect, or lack thereof, you completely obliged him, rutting your bare cunt upon his trousers. 

“Please, Chan. Please.”

Hearing the little pleases had him kissing you insane as he urged you to take his pants off. You willingly obeyed, tossing the clothing along with his Calvins, and when his cock sprung me you felt the inside of your mouth water at the sight. 

The man hovered just above you as he positioned his dick right at the entrance, poking between the folds. “Say the magic word, now, baby,” he commanded quietly, and just for the last time, you had to be the most annoying person in the world. 

“Donghyuck!”

The second that damned name slipped out of your mouth, you completely regretted it as instead of making sweet, slow love to you, Bang Chan thrusted his cock so hard into you your whole body flinched with the impact. You couldn’t suppress the whimper that escaped, tears settling in your eyes, but alas, your best friend had little sympathy for you. 

“Bitch,” he seethed, pulling out, widening your eyes only to have him slam his cock back into you, sending you into another universe entirely. 

You envied his strength — you could barely hold onto his arms while his grip on you could probably compete with the Earth’s gravity, stable and safe and inescapable. He imprisoned you in his hold as he pulled out slowly, and then drove back inside, but you wanted to be in this cage, to never leave his midnight eyes that offered something other than rage and lust and humour. You dared not wonder what it might be, but when you closed your eyes, your mind began to ponder, float amongst the stars of ideas and questions which defined your relationship.

As Chan began to fasten his pace, thrusts more erratic, you held onto his dark curls, mouth never refraining every moan and whine which he fucked out of you. There he was, the man who deemed you worthy of being pleasured, despite risking your decade old friendship to see you have the same advantages as any old person who was sexually frustrated.

But this man did not just give you any old advantages — he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer. 

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets. 

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again? 

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness. 

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers. 

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration. 

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth. 

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked. 

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!” 

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips. 

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

[odetolocksmiths]

“Make that Three”

A/N: I’m back! It got soooo busy with school and everything and it was causing so much stress so I set this blog aside for a little while. While going through my drafts yesterday, I saw this story and I really liked it. My original author’s note said I was so, so sorry because I thought it was bad? But coming back, I’ve come to the realization that I actually like this story ha! Anyway, if you’re still reading this author’s note, I hope things are going well in your life, and if they are currently not; I am sending out my thoughts and positive energy for you. My dm’s are always open <3 Enjoy reading :) xo Xuck

Summary: A few weeks before Molly decided it was time to bring the family back together, you run into George. After a special afternoon while spending some time with him, you show up at the ‘family sleepover’ holding a big secret.

 Warnings: Fluff, mentions of pregnancy and a piece of art written with some grammar mistakes 

"Y/N, my dear! How are you doing?” Molly asks while coming at you with her arms open wide, inviting you into a cuddle. You laugh and hug her back. 

“Hi, I’m doing good. How about you?” You answer while unwrapping your arms. Molly lifts her hand, places a hand on your cheek, and smiles. “Now that you are here, I’m doing great!”

“I’ve missed you all so much! Come, come. Let’s get you something to drink.” Molly’s hand grabs your wrist and before you know it, you sit at the kitchen table with a cup of hot cocoa in your hand. You look around the kitchen and you see that practically nothing has changed, everything was in the place where it belonged. You let your eyes roam over the wall of photographs, every member of the family was on the wall multiple times. There were photo’s of all the Weasley children while they were still young, photo’s of everyone celebrating Christmas, and photographs of the children with their significant others. 

You giggle at the photograph of Ron and Hermione on their wedding day, remembering the prank the twins had pulled on Ron. Fred and George had stolen his wedding suit and had it hidden somewhere very obvious. You have never seen Ron so stressed. Yeah okay, normally he is pretty stressed already, but this day topped it. Eventually, everything turned out to be fine.

You let your eyes roam the pictures again, now searching for the photographs with you in it. There were a lot because ever since you came home with Fred and George that one holiday, you were a part of the family and Molly saw you as one of her own. You let your eyes linger on the photograph of you and George longer than the others, your heart fasting up its pace and forming a small smile. It has been a couple of weeks since you last ran into him and things took an unexpected turn. It was a night of secret confessions, stolen glances, and lingering touches. The things that happened that one night, turned into a big, little secret no one knew of.

Molly intruded your thoughts as she began saying that it shouldn’t be long before the others are here. “It’s been a long time since everyone was home at the same time!” 

You laugh at her and before you get the chance to answer, the front door opens and reveals the sounds of the voices from the rest. Everyone planned to show up at the same time, bombing the silence in the burrow.

“Y/N/N!” Hermione screamed, flinging herself into your arms. “Dear Godric, I missed you soooooo much.” She says and you giggle. “Hi ‘Mione, how are you doing?” 

It took a good ten minutes taking the time to greet every member of the family minus three. Fred and George still had to work in the shop that day, so when the shop is closed they could come over with Fred’s significant other, Angelina. 

Everyone is taking their places at the dinner table, as it is the best place for everyone to be catching up at the same time. There are so many stories to be told, some needing to be told multiple times because the others got into a conversation of their own. No one got a hold of the time and before you know it, a couple of hours have passed. 

The front door slams open once again, revealing the last three persons missing at the table. Fred and Angelina took the first steps into the house. “Good evening my dearest family! How are you all doing?” Fred practically screams with a huge grin on his face. The whole family flew to the new people, hugging them and saying their greetings.

You were one of the last to greet Fred and Angelina, telling them your hi’s and how happy you are to be seeing them. Last but not least, you were the last to greet George. You e/c eyes catching his deep brown ones, showing a sparkle. He smiles softly and wraps his arms around your waist, while you throw yours around his neck. “Godric, I’ve missed you so much.” He mumbles and presses a secret kiss in the crook of your neck. With one last squeeze on your hips, he releases you and walks into the kitchen, ignoring the funny look on Fred’s face.

-

You and George were not official. There was in no way you could say you both were dating and it got a bit on your nerves right now. Everyone was done with eating and were now having a conversation - the millionth time today. You looked around the table and your gaze lingered around George’s. He was already looking at you. His mouth made the slightest smile which made you blush. It took everything in your strength not to fly over the table, grab George by his tie and kiss him on the mouth. You sigh and took another sip of your seventh cup of hot cocoa. Normally you wouldn’t have this much chocolate to eat, nevermind to drink, but lately you were craving it more and more. You knew why, it was a secret no one else knew so far.

Suddenly Molly gasped, flinging her hand over her mouth and looked surprised. Everyone stopped talking and stared at her. “Oh my, I’m so sorry!” She looks around, setting her eyes on Arthur. “I have made a mistake with counting the beds! We are missing one bed.” She puts her head in her hands and takes a deep sigh.

“It’s okay honey, we’ll figure it out.” Arthur says, putting his hand on Molly’s back.

“Well one of us has to sleep on the couch then.” Fred jokes and Ron laughs. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You say and look Molly in her eyes. “No, no. You won’t have to sleep on the couch.” She mumbles and pulls her arm around you. 

“No Molly, it is okay. I don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ve grown to love it, to be honest.” You grin and take another sip of your hot cacao.

It's true, you have grown fond of the couch. You stopped numbering the moments you fell asleep on it, finding yourself waking up with a blanket wrapped around your body.

“Are you sure?” Molly asks and you nod. “Don’t worry, as long as I have my blanket and pillow, I can sleep everywhere.” You wink and she laughs.

-

It’s two o clock in the morning. Everyone went to their beds over two hours ago, leaving you in the living room with a blanket and a pillow. Molly has asked you a dozen times if you really didn’t mind and after practically sending Molly upstairs, she eventually accepted your answer. Right now you were sitting on the couch, the blanket wrapped around you while reading your book when you heard footsteps behind you.

“You really shouldn’t be sleeping on the couch. Take my bed, please.” The voice of George sounded. He came to sit next to you. “And sleep with Fred and Angelina in one room? No thanks.” You giggled and put your book down. 

George opened his arms, inviting you into a cuddle which you gladly accepted. You put your head against his chest while folding your arms around his waist.

“I missed you, you know.” George whispered into your hair, placing a kiss on top of your head. You felt your face heating up, happy he couldn't see you blushing. "I hate that we haven't talked since that night." 

"I know, me too." You mumble, pressing your face more into George's chest. "Do you really meant what you say back then?" You ask.

"Yes, I do." George puts his finger under your chin and lifts it so you have to look him into his eyes. "I want to continue this. What we have." He places a kiss on your mouth. Before you could answer his kiss, he has removed his lips already. 

"I want that too." You smile at him. He grins and pulls you closer. 

"Mom's going to ask us tomorrow if we all want to come along on vacation this summer. Should I say she has to reserve two places? You and me?" George asks, wrapping a string of your h/c hair around his finger. 

"Make that three." You whisper, looking into his eyes. You see his eyebrows turn into a confused state.

"What did you say?"

"Make that three. Three places." You repeat and you grab his hand and place it on your belly. "I meant to tell you tomorrow when I saw the chance of getting you alone but here we are." You throw him a soft smile. Scared of his reaction, you distance yourself from him and look into the fireplace.

"Are you serious?" His voice sounds hoarse. All you can do is nod. "Checked it multiple times, different methods. All came back positive." You mumble, still not looking towards George.

"Look at me." Was all he said, but you didn't hear him. "Love, could you please look at me?" He asked.

When you turned your head, all you could see was George with one of the biggest smiles you have ever received from him. He grabbed your face and placed a kiss on your nose. Then one followed onto your forehead, both your cheeks and eventually he left one on your mouth.

"I love you so fucking much.”

[alwayshaveneverholdd]

REWRITING NARUTO ROMANCES SO THEY DON'T SUCK

We all know that the romance in Naruto is trash and Kishimoto himself admitted to not knowing how to write female characters and getting embarrassed by romantic scenes…so let’s fix that shit

Part 2: SasuSaku

Okay so I’m gonna be going more in depth and talking about Sakura’s characterization, as well as the family dynamic between Sasuke Sakura and Sarada.

I didn’t do that for naruhina because I honestly truly could not give less of a fuck about boruto and himawari. They’re both gifted ninja children with little to no family struggles. “Meeeeh my dads the hokage blehhhhhh poor meeeee” stfu nobody feels sorry for you

ANYWAY

LETS START BY SHITTING ON ALL OF IT (AS I DO)

- Sasusaku in a nutshell

- Sakura: you’re so hot my teen hormones are making me think I’m in love with you!!!

- Sasuke:….y’all hear sumn?

- *fifteen years and a forehead poke later* Sakura: lol where’s my husband

- Lmfao I’m just kidding I am actually the HUGEST sasusaku shipper and I just FUCKING WISH kishimoto hired someone who could do romance or knew about women or something so not only Sakura could flourish but also the rest of the female characters who were mostly depicted as harmful female stereotypes: weak, overly emotional, superficial, do everything for boy

- I think that him saying he wanted Sakura to be a fan favorite but then made her such an asshole and so annoying at the beginning is like….what

- AND I GET IT kids with both parents d o n o t understand that not having both parents growing up doesn’t necessarily mean you’re a basket case (says me, the child of an only parent who was constantly pitied for it but is doing a lot more with my life than any of my friends who had both parents Lmfao)

- But why did he make her so…. “LOL NARUTO IS SOOOO FUCKING STUPID WHAT A LOSER FOR BEING AN ORPHAN” what the fuck who would actually have that attitude toward someone like that

- Her parents, though we don’t see much of them, seem like decent people? I’d like to think they wouldn’t raise such a judgmental kid

- I’ll fix that in the second half dw

- Okay also w h a t t h e f u c k I n g f u c k

- I hate that Ino and Sakura’s friendship was ruined by a boy, and that their rivalry was mostly about Sasuke…

- Kishimoto-sensei come on dude I love you but w h y

- I’ll admit girls do have a competitive nature with each other a lot

- BUT GUESS WHAT

- Most girls are in competition because of things like?? Low-self esteem and big egos, which young kids of all gender and gender identities have lmfao

- In my experience it’s rare that a boy is what breaks up a friendship (unless one friend “stole” the others boyfriend in which case that guy didn’t want to be with you anyway sister get over it)

- Also can we just talk about how in Shippuden every time sakura is like “I GOT THIS!” “ILL GET EM!” She gets fuckin destroyed

- So much for Sakura getting so much stronger during the blank period ???? What the fuck

- Sakura IS powerful and I wish she would’ve been given as much power as naruto and Sasuke on some level so she could hold her own against them like what the hell

- I’m jumping around a lot but first of all: fuck Sakura’s fake confession to naruto that was so immature and unnecessary and she is way too smart for that wtf

- Also fuck Sakura becoming a sub and offering to join Sasuke when she went to kill him

- We’re fixing all this fuckin shit

- Also pls the anime did sasusaku so dirty

- They took out all of sasukes blushes from the manga

- In the manga Sasuke blushed many times around/at the mention of Sakura

- And his FOOT WAS SHAKING WHEN SHE CONFESSED THE FINAL TIME

- btw let’s just take out all of Sakura’s fucking confessions just stop sis you’re embarrassing yourself we’re gonna rewrite this shit for you in a way that respects you okay

- Sarada looks nothing like Sakura and I’m pressed

- I’m tilted

- SHE LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE KARIN BRO HAVE YOU SEEN HER? Similar hairstyle, same glasses, honestly same face (it’s a cartoon they all look the same FUCK YOU she looks like Karin and you know exactly what I mean)

- They couldn’t have given her Sakura’s hair color or style??? At the least???? Or just different fucking glasses Jesus

- I hated that entire “is Karin my real mom” dilemma cry me a river

- Pls they could’ve created so many other conflicts that would’ve been way better

- Suigetsu is a fucking moron and ofc he would believe Sasuke and Karin got it on bc he has the IQ of a pistachio

- There was just…they could’ve reintroduced those characters in such a better way

- Also I’d like to see Sakura interact with Jugo, Suigetsu, and Karin. Just Sakura interacting with and being friends with sasukes friends would help paint their relationship dynamic better

- And can we get into sasukes thoughts other than when we’re shown his itachi and massacre flashbacks for the 10847382th time

- Like during one of Sakura’s confessions maybe a sad look and a flash of team 7 in his mind bc he’s reminded of his bonds and how much he enjoyed his time just being a normal kid

- I’m gonna need more than an “I’m sorry for everything” and a forehead poke

- Sorry chief

- The least you can do is give us a fucking episode showing how their romance happened?

- That would be fucking hilarious

- Bc Sasuke clearly knows jack shit about romance, even now when they’re married with a kid

- “Sasuke…do you wanna date me?” “Why would I hit you with dates? Those have pits. Are you a masochist?” “What?” “What? I gotta go…help naruto with something…bye”

- Like lmfao

- Okay I think I’m good on the first half let’s move on to fixing shit

- FIRST AND FOREMOST

- Can we just….NOT ALL YOUNG GIRLS ARE DATING CRAZY AND ACT ALL PSYCHO

- Yes I’ve known people of all genders that are interested in dating very young, but not to the extent that is shown in Naruto with literally all the characters obsessed with Sasuke

- So we’re not gonna do that “fangirl pack follows Sasuke around” thing.

- I liked that Ino was the one who gave Sakura confidence and helped her believe in herself, so we’re keeping that

- But let’s not make Sakura become an Ino clone because pls they were so fucking SIMILAR in the first part

- And Sakura is not mean to Naruto just bc she likes Sasuke, let’s change that. Maybe Sakura was annoyed and felt like Naruto was deliberately trying to get in the way (which he was, and she did express these feelings) so how about she cONFRONT HIM

- just ducking ask him you pussy “why are you trying to get in the way of me building a friendship with sasuke”

- Communication! Healthy friendships! Y’all: You’re asking too much of 12 year olds

- Me: SHUT THE FUCK UP THIS IS MY PERFECT WORLD

- No more “IM GONNA GET THE FIRST KISS FROM SASUKE”

- Let’s have Sakura be less….like that.

- ANYWAY I think the subtle way that Sakura and Sasukes friendship developed was actually good, I don’t have many complaints there.

- Now when we get to him leaving the village….NO CONFESSIONS. Sakura will still ask him why he has to go, but instead of being stupid and saying “IM 12 AND IM IN LOVE WITH YOU BLEH YOUR PARENTS BEING MURDERED IS THE SAME FEELING I HAVE WHEN YOURE NOT HERE” don’t even go there dude

- Instead she will think to herself how her feelings for sasuke have grown from infatuation into truly caring for him. Maybe she even mentions that he’s different from what people think he is, try to remind him that she and Naruto and Kakashi are a team and like family.

- Ofc everything else would be the same but I think that if she had made points that way, him thanking her would hit harder

- NO asking Naruto to “bring sasuke back to me” he’s not yours dude wtf

- Instead Sakura would NOT CRY but still be upset and wish Naruto and the others farewell. She would still recognize her own shortcomings and train rly hard during the blank period.

- Now let’s skip ahead okay so can Sakura not get her ass beat so much in the second part like fucking really come on

- She will do damage to fuckin sasori and not rely 95% on granny chiho

- Also? Why the hell did she try to stop sasuke with her fist during their first reunion? Jesus

- So I think sasukes behavior should remain pretty much the same, it fits his tortured traumatized characterization.

- Now Sakura, I think she should have been way less dramatic about everything. No confessions to Naruto, having an actual good plan to kill sasuke other than with a poisoned kunai

- I’d like to think Sakura would be pretty powerful by now and could hold her own against sasuke. When he asked her to kill Karin to prove her loyalty, she should’ve known he was tricking her and just fucking went at him. Kakashi and Naruto would’ve intervened either way but now Sakura is using her abilities instead of almost getting killed by sasuke TWICE without even fighting back.

- I think Sakura shouldn’t have confronted Naruto at all before going to kill sasuke tbh

- Now onto to the war, I think by now Sakura did realize that Sasuke was fucked up, much too fucked up to return her feelings but I think she did love him at this point, if nothing just wanting to save him from himself, so I think that’s on par

- The real oh fuck comes during the war when they went at Kaguya

- SAKURA NEEDED TO DO MORE, AND SASUKE WOULDVE NOTICED HER MORE AND BEEN MORE IMPRESSED

- 100% keep the sasuke teleporting using sakuras jacket and then catching her before she passes out from low chakra that shit was nice and he just kept holding her too and that eye contact BITCH

- The way I’ve written this rewrite so far, I do think the last confession was appropriate. One for the whole show is good.

- Because this would be her first verbal confession it would be more dramatic in a good way and more impactful.

- Everything else would play out the same

- But when sasuke leaves to atone for his sins or whatever I’d like to see a private conversation between him and Sakura where he truly does apologize and maybe even spice it up, have him tell her to find someone that deserves her love

- It’ll leave her thinking and he still gives her the forehead poke and tells her to take care

- And they still get together and all that but I wanna see howwwwww

- ALSO SASUKE STOP BEING AN ABSENT FATHER CHALLENGE

- I think that whole thing of Sarada not recognizing her own father is pretty FUCKED UP and I know it creates conflict and all that and sasukes character whatever okay fine keep it whatever

- But Fuck that stupid mother Karin arc

- And show more sasusaku interactions

- Sasuke hangs out with Naruto more than his own wife man is it that hard to think Sasuke can be around more now

- I do really like how Sasuke and Sakura are both rly involved with Saradas training. Overall they’re a cute family. WHy tf does Kakashi give Sasuke parenting advice from Makeout Paradise tho like wtf MAJOR CREEPY also Kawaki and Sarada p cute together idk

- I’m tired I’m gonna take a nap peace

[soulwillower]

friendly neighborhood spiderman • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

requested: soooo my idea was an e2l spiderman richie x reader. they hate each other at school, but one day while patrolling he sees her with her friends outside and watched her and is like ‘shit maybe she’s not so bad’. then proceeds to be mean to her at school anyways. then a few days later he sees her crying her e yea a out and talks to her as spidey, consoles her, start liking each other. and then at school he’s a jerk and she’s like I can’t take ur shit. make up. friends. lovers. photographer reader.   +    ok so I was thinking maybe her parents are divorced and it’s smth abt how both parents tell her totally different stories abt the divorce. like the mom says we never loved each other, it was arranged marriage, but he abused me and cheated on me. and the dad says she was a psycho always stealing my stuff and bitching at me. we thought shE had schizophrenia. both her parents are ok to her so she gets fed up and leaves home crying. Goes to rooftop sees Spider-Man AND BOOM LOVE. self indulgencE here

warnings: enemies to lovers (my specialty), mentions of a rough divorce, a bit of violence, spiderman!au, slight blood, unedited, she/they pronouns for reader

[losers + reader are 18.]

6.4k words

♡

you're convinced it started when you missed the subway. 

that was the butterfly flapping it's wings; then the chaos of the rest of the day just happened to fall in place because some sadistic twist of fate said it so, and now you're rolling your eyes at your friend in the hallway, backpack loose on your right shoulder with a budding black eye that was throbbing with the pain of a hundred suns. 

you'd snuck up on your classmate in the dark room (first mistake) and then tried to scare him (second), resulting in a metal water bottle to the face. "well if you just ice it, i'm sure the swelling and the pain will go away..." your friend trails off as you sigh, nodding in agreement. "i'm so embarrassed, i'm just hoping it doesn't bruise." 

"-y/n, what's up with you? wh- oh." your other friend says as they join you, eyes landing on your swollen cheek. 

it was this moment that richie tozier, certified asshole, walks near with three of his friends. richie, the bane of your existence. also, the boy whose locker is four away from yours. sensing your fatal hesitance, richie grins, "y/n's still upset because someone dropped a house on their sister." he making everyone snicker. you glare at the ground. 

you don't want him to see your face; any kind of ammo would be enough for richie to take and go miles with, and you're not in the mood for one of your typical screaming matches, as much as the others at this school love to watch. 

"woah, y/l/n, who gave you the shiner?" he asks as he twists his fingers around his locker combination. 

"why? you trying to match?" you threaten, and richie just smiles. he's laughing into his open locker as you roll your eyes, your friends peeling away eventually as you start to search through your locker. 

"so," richie starts just as you thought the silence would stay until you could flee. you groan, leaning your head on the locker as he continues, "did flash finally figure out who's been saran-wrapping his car?" 

you narrow your eyes, "how'd you know that was me?" you ask, certain that nobody had seen you besides three of your friends. it's doubtful they'd tell richie. 

his face pales slightly and a rosy blush blossoms on his high cheekbones as he shakes his head, adam's apple bobbing as he gulps. "because, e-everyone knows." he stutters out weakly. you give him a weird look, shaking your head. "bullshit." you mutter as you brush past him, slamming your locker closed. “creep.” 

- 

richie hadn't meant to stalk them. y/n y/l/n's friend group just happened to be on the route he usually patrolled after classes, so he unintentionally ended up watching them pop in and out of the drugstore.

it was nearing a golden light around the city as richie sits on the fire escape of some building across the way - y/n's distinct figure sliding out of the store, arms wrapped inconspicuously around a bag and smile bright enough that richie can barely see the shiner still catching the light on y/n's left eye. 

he briefly wonders where it's really from, and if y/n was okay. he wonders if y/n was robbed, or if he could've been there to stop it. 

it's not until the three others in y/n's gang of idiots run out of the store that it clicks in richie's head - they definitely just stole those cookies, chips, the bottles of pop, the - richie tilts his head, squinting his eyes. yes, y/n definitely stole that handle of tito's. 

then y/n’s lifting the sheet in their hands - it looks clear, and then it’s being wrapped around a car in the parking lot. he’s alarmed, for a moment - y/n wouldn’t do that to just anybody, he doesn’t think. but then he laughs into his mask when he recognizes the car: flash thompson’s. 

he’s a nightmare, and he makes richie’s life hell just as much as flash makes y/n’s life hell and the rest of richie’s friends. so he leaves her be to saran wrap the car. 

feeling relieved that when he got his powers his vision repaired itself, richie can't help but chuckle, watching y/n's hair glint in the light and the way they tilt back in laughter, the gaggle of friends traipsing away from the store and down the block. richie's lips quirk in a small grin: shit, maybe y/n's not so bad. 

- 

but despite that, richie and y/n's rivalry did nothing but steadily increase for the next week.

maybe it was because you were furious that you and your bio partner, richie's best friend stan, had gotten a b- on your lab, or maybe it was just  because richie was just feeling a bit more testy than typical. 

you're sure it's because when you go to your debate club's meeting, you find none other than richie tozier sitting across from your chair. 

"why is he here?" you ask the teacher, and he nods to richie, "i requested he attend a meeting, try it out. richie's quite talented, you know. i figured we could bring in a new challenge for you." 

“just because someone can talk a lot doesn’t mean they have anything good to say.” you snap. 

you can't even look at the cocky smirk on richie's face, his feet kicked up as he lounges at the desk. "intimidated, toots?" he asks cooly, and you roll your eyes. "never." 

and then ten minutes later, you’re doing a brainbreaking exercise where you’re split into groups of two and debating over a topic given to you. but you and richie were far more distracted by each other. 

“you know, for someone who everyone says is the best intellectual match for me, you’re a straight up douche and i can’t wait to graduate and never see you again.”

“compatible intellect, doll, not personalities. maybe if you stop acting like such an infant and stamping your feet around, we can part ways even faster.”

you glare at him. he glares back. then nothing else happens. 

the stress of the day caught up to you nearly immediately as you got home. you're holding back tears as you ignore your parents, who are screaming at each other; instead changing into sweats and a sweatshirt, brewing yourself a mug of tea, and slinking up to the roof with a blanket, prepared to mope around in the drizzle of rain. at least on the roof, nobody will see you cry. 

but the universe just can't let you have anything as of lately, because as soon as you finally settle down on the roof sitting on the blanket, and nearly letting a tear escape, a figure stands up a mere twenty feet from you, and you jump a bit. apprehensively, your eyes squint, and you're shocked to discover a spiderman suit bright in the dreary lighting of the overcast afternoon. 

the suit-clad person seems to be surprised by you as well, as you stand up, you're wary, unsure of how to act. of course you've heard of spiderman - he's all anyone can talk about lately, but you never expected to see him this close. what do you say?

"are you real?" you croak out. 

"am i- yes, what kind of question is that?"  his voice is way younger than you expected, and you're almost thrown off. he's closed the distance between you now, standing between you and the edge of the building, about four feet away. 

you narrow your eyes, immediately wanting to test him. "well, i don't know, i've seen people around jackson heights just wearing costumes like spiderman-" you argue, shrugging. 

the bickering is unexpected from a literal superhero, but it's strangely familiar to you. frowning, you walk closer to the masked figure, watching as spiderman takes steps backwards. he's at the edge of the building, and so without any thought, you place both of your palms across his sturdy chest and shove as hard as you can. "wait, wait what are you-" and spiderman's voice fades as he stumbles back, falling off the edge of the building with a yelp. 

for a moment, your breath leaves your lungs, and your hands slap your mouth. what did you just do? you can't breathe, tears clouding your vision yet again. 

but then a sticky, stringy substance slaps to the side of the building and the figure comes flying up, having catapulted himself up and back on the roof with a web. you gasp in relief, but the figure is already talking. 

"-what the fuck is your deal?" are the first words from the masked boy as he walks away from the ledge. your eyes are still wide, heart thumping fast and your tears are still there, threatening to fall. "-what if i wasn't actually spiderman, i- you could've killed an innocent person, holy sh-" 

you're tuning him out, though, the realization that you could have just killed someone finally pushing you over the edge. you crumble onto the blanket and let out a short, cut off sob. 

"woah, woah, hey..." spider-man looks hesitant, but then comes towards you where you fall to the gravel. "-hey, what's h-what are you doing, why are you crying?" he says, voice going softer. you frown, wondering why his voice seems so deep and forced. batman did that to conceal his identity, you think before letting out a sob, shaking your head. "shouldn't you be out, like, fighting crime or whatever?" 

"i'm here to make sure people are okay. you're clearly not okay." he argues, and you're too tired to try and argue with this stranger. 

"my parents are getting divorced," you sniff, eyes squeezing shut as more thick tears leak down your cheek. you know you probably look destroyed right now in front of this hero, but you don't care. after silence from him, he sits down right next to you on your blanket, backs leaning against some electrical box.

"and.. i can't tell who's lying. they told me completely different things." you cut yourself off, swallowing thickly. "my mom says it was a l-loveless marriage, that he- my dad used to... hurt her. and cheat on her-" you hiccup, wiping your eyes, makeup leaking on your hands. 

"my dad says she's psychotic. that she steals his stuff, that she always yells at him, and i can't-" you sigh, looking up at the clouds, watching a flock of birds fly away in the misting of the wet weather. "i feel like they see me as a pawn to play off each other. and at my school, i'm just the antagonist. people only like me because they like to see the fights i get into with this other kid." 

"midtown is just like that, i'm sure none of them mean anything by it-" you look at the boy, squinting as you take in the red fabric stretching over sharp cheekbones.

 "-how d'you know i go to midtown?" you sniffle. does spiderman go there, too? or teach there? how old is he, because he certainly seems too young to be a teacher?

he leans back, exhaling in an admission of guilt that flares a feeling of familiarity in you somewhere, something that's on the tip of your tongue. "lucky guess?" he states, choking it out as if he was trying to form the right words. you decide to brush it off, the feeling of being able to vent to a complete stranger suddenly making you feel better. the light mist in the air even feels good, now. 

"i can't deal with it. i just don't know. why should this have to be something they vent to me about? it hurts, i don't know what to believe and i just don't know what to do. i'm lost, i just need to have someone here for me." you hug yourself slightly, "am i selfish?" you finally ask, voicing the thought that's been nagging you for months. it's silent for a moment. a car horn sounds in the distance, a dog barks, people call to each other in the street. below you, the street is dotted with tiny moving umbrellas, concealing people underneath their net of dry safety in mere splotches of yellow, black, pink from how high up you are. 

spider man's nudging you in the ribs softly, then, calling you back to your own body. "listen. i know selfish, okay? i'm the definition of it, but, uh..." 

"y/n." you sniffle. "-y/n. trust me, you're not selfish for wanting to be loved, to be cared for...it's, um..." he scratches the back of his head, and you briefly wonder what color his hair is. what texture, length, how he styles it. 

"you deserve good things to happen, and, uh, it's not selfish for you to be overwhelmed. you're going through stuff that people our age shouldn't go through. especially not alone."

"so you are my age?" you ask, sniffling. sensing him tense next to you, you brush it off. you kind of figured as much from his...immaturity. "and you - spiderman - think you're selfish? do you know how much of a paradox that statement is?" you jest, shaking your head. 

spiderman's head tilts back, and he laughs. it seems to surprise him almost as much as it surprises you, because he shakes his head, trying to stifle it quick. "you forget," he starts, his fingers tapping at the tight fabric on his thighs. "that i also have a life. i'm not just spiderman. so... yeah, maybe spiderman's not the most selfish person ever, but... i am. the real me." 

"you have to care a lot about people to want to do what you do." you say, feeling better after talking to someone and hearing his reassurance. "you're not always spiderman, but... y'now, spiderman is always you. i'd say that makes you a good person." you say simply. you sigh, heart still hurting.  you start with a deep breath, then a quiet, "you ever feel stuck? like..."

"like you're playing two people at once?" he finishes. you swallow, feeling oddly seen by this masked stranger. "yeah, spiderman." you say dejectedly. 

-

and that was the start of an odd, unlikely friendship between you and the masked stranger. he'd stop by your building almost every other day, even if for a few minutes, always to check in on you, to ask how your day was. it made your chest fill with butterflies and the air fill with your laughter. 

despite your new friendship, things at midtown sort of took a turn for the worse. 

it was just richie, really. your black eye was gone but richie seemed to be compensating for something every time he saw you - the person who used to be a challenging enemy turned into a malicious tormentor, who would comment on every single thing you do. it was driving you mad. 

you're just lucky richie doesn't know that you do all the school's photography somehow, or at least, doesn't remember, because he's gone the days that you take photos for the decathalon, the honor society, and the band. each time you asked, someone told you some lame excuse like, 'oh, tozier's at the orthodontist.' 

richie doesn't have braces, though. 

you can’t help but wonder why richie’s never there, why he’s always sneaking off, buying new backpacks... bruises on his eyes...

the last straw is when you and stan are just trying to finish this replacement lab to get a better grade, and richie's sitting at the end of the table with bill denbrough, the two of them playing paper football and laughing loudly like they're fourth graders. 

you resist the urge to beg stan to get his moronic friends away from you, knowing that it would just insult the boy and get you nowhere. 

so, with gritted teeth and a tight grip on your pen, you work in relative silence with stan while the two imbeciles chuckle at each other at the other end of the room, disturbing the quiet peace of the library. 

"so, y/l/n, you goin' to prom?" richie asks out of the blue, feigning innocence. you grip your pen tighter, knowing it's a trap. don't bite, y/n. don't bite. don't bite, don't bite, don't bite-  "it's a little soon to be thinking about prom." you say, trying to skirt around the issue. 

"it's okay, not everyone can get a date, you can still go with friends." he says, also trying to sound nonchalant. you snort, "like you could get a date either." 

bill laughs as he pulls out some homework, having finally decided to make good use of his time. "you can go together, then." bill mutters. stan huffs a laugh at that, too. "i have plans that night." you say immediately, eyes not leaving your paper as stan smirks at you in amusement. 

"no, yeah, y/n. let's go together." richie says, "i can meet the ol' pops and get to see your mom again. that reminds me, i can’t stop by to see her, so give her a big old kiss from me tonight, will ya?"  he asks with a wink. 

"is everything a joke to you?" you ask, trying to hide your irritation by acting bored. you ignore the feelings you get from his wink. 

"only funny things, doll." richie smiles, a crooked grin that, if you didn't know his personality, would make you swoon. it's suddenly no wonder to you why the people at this school always giggle and whisper and laugh with him; he's utterly gorgeous. 

"it's not your fault your mom likes me more than your dad." he jokes, chuckling to himself. "shut up, i'm trying to do homework." bill says, then promptly kicks him under the table, which you're grateful for because the pain that flashes across your face momentarily is concealed from richie's gaze as he winces and ducks down for a second. 

that shouldn't have hurt you because he's obviously just joking with you and doesn’t know, but since the tenseness in your house recently and the ugly divorce, things have just been extremely hard. you cannot stand his audacity; richie thinks he can say whatever he want and get excused because he's too damn pretty. you clench your fists. 

"y/n, i'll give you ten dollars to slap him." stan says, barely paying attention; a pen hangs from between his lips, brows furrowed as he works on your reassignment, eyes calculating. you think, for a moment, how nice it'd be to be real friends with stan. if not for richie. 

and for some reason, in that split moment, you don't think. you're pent up, angry at the world, at your teacher, at richie, at your parents, and because you can't be friends with stan because richie gets in the way of everything - and you whirl around, catching richie by surprise as you land a slap to his face that resonates throughout the whole library. a gasp sounds from somewhere behind you as the librarian startles out of her work. 

suddenly, four pairs of eyes are staring at you. 

you blink back, face feeling as warm as richie's red cheek looks. 

the librarian didn't hesitate to send you and richie to the principal's office, resulting in a suspension for you and richie alike, the two of you not meeting eyes in the waiting room outside the administrative offices. 

the subway trip and then consequential walk home was lonely, rainy, and dismal.

- - - 

besides your parents and your immediate friends, the only other person you told about the suspension was spiderman, when he came to see you on the roof that afternoon. you told him about richie, how you'd decked him for hitting a sore subject with you. 

"you know, he seems like a dick but... i bet he means well. i'm sure he does." is all spiderman had said, acting fidgety before leaving. despite that, it had still felt good to know you could trust him. 

the next monday at school is when you see richie again, face clean and clear of any evidence of your fist. 

you were walking home from school when you passed across the football field. he was with his friends on the turf, seemingly not getting on the subway yet. they're sprawled out, all seven of them, smoking cigarettes or playing a game of travel chess, one of them reading a book. there’s an empty can of coke, one of the glass bottles, filled with gross water and cigarette butts. stan sits with richie, beverly marsh laying with her head in his lap as she smokes, sunglasses red and blocking the sun. 

before you get too close, before they can notice, you snap a photo of them. they just look timeless. 

but then, as you put away your camera, richie sees you. you get ready for a fight; but what comes is just  sheffling feet and fingers fidgeting slightly. "y/n." he starts off with as he walks up to you, all by himself. 

you watch him, your own eyes flowing with guilt. "hey, richie." you say, trying to be better about controlling your attitude. "i wanted to say i'm sorry." he says, and you widen your eyes. he what?

"i sometimes don't know how to stop running my mouth, and i went too far. i usually do. and i'm sorry, i just want to start fresh." he says honestly. you swallow - something about his words, about the way he said selfish...

you shake your head, "no, i'm sorry too. i shouldn't have hit you." richie shrugs, "i deserved it, s’okay." 

it's quiet. 

"being friends is good." you say, shrugging. "as long as i can still tell you that i think you're acting like a three year old."  "as long as i still can act like one." he counters, grinning. and then he's shaking your hand and walking away. 

you feel better the rest of the day. 

- - - 

"you know, i'm a photographer." you whisper that same night in the dark.  "you are?" the boy in the suit next to you sounds genuinely shocked. you beam, "y-yeah, i actually got a few wicked shots of you from a few weeks ago."

"are you the one that's been selling my photos to all the papers?" he asks, and you laugh, head tilting toward the sky. "no, not me." he hums, a laugh escaping that doesn't sound like his usual voice he uses around you. you've accepted that spiderman's been hiding his identity and voice from you because you may recognize him. you've also decided that he's probably from midtown - but there are over seven thousand students at midtown, so chances are still slim. 

why is it that this boy, who you don't even know the name of, has captured your attention? why do you feel like kissing him all the time? 

“oh, here’s a shot i took.” you say, pulling out the photo you’d just finished developing in the dark room today. “couple days ago. i just finished developing it.” 

you show it to him, and you can’t tell his reaction at all. “it’s not really impressive, i just - they’re just some kids in my class, but... i don’t know, there’s something about them that i just really think should be made into art.” 

he’s quiet after that, but holds on to the photo hard enough that you’re worried it may wrinkle. 

“god, y/n-” he stops himself, voice cracking and nearing the closest you’ve ever heard it to being true to him. not the weird, batman garbage. 

“this is cool. you should- you should show them, i bet they’d like it.” 

you scoff, “no, they wouldn’t.” you take the photo back, fingers tracing richie’s face, the way his lips curl around a cigarette, the way his dark hair and eyebrows and eyelashes clash with his skin and clothes. you shake your head, “this is the boy i hit. when i got suspended. i don’t think he’d like this very much. probably call me a freak.” 

you meet his eyes - or, you suppose you do - and then his hand is hovering in front of your face, debating. you don’t dare move, and then he’s combing hair behind your ear, giving you chills that run down your spine.

you clear your throat, smiling softly as he moves his hand away.

spiderman doesn’t say much after that. 

it’s minutes until he speaks again. "shouldn't you be getting ready to leave?" he suddenly asks, and you sigh, beginning to pack up your things and gather your backpack. he follows you to the edge of the building and as you climb down the ladder to the fire escape, he webs himself and falls back, landing above you against the bricks when you stand up. 

you're nearly eye level now as he hangs upside down, listening to you rant. "-maybe i'll just walk to mary's place. it's not that far-" you cut yourself off as you're opening your window, eyes landing on the figure in your room, who looks just as confused as you. 

your eyes widen, "m-mom!" you say, alarmed as spiderman hangs next to you, just barely sealed from your mother's sight by the brick wall.

"is someone there with you, y/n?" she asks, tilting her head to get a look. you shake your head quickly, thankful that it's dark out and she can probably only see you, backlit by the lights from the alley below. she explains something about being unable to take you to your friend's house - and you nod along, willing for her to just leave. "that's okay, mom. i can take the subway." you say honestly. it's harder to drive around here, anyways. 

she finally leaves, and you let out a breath, unsure as to how she'd react to know you were with spiderman on the roof. you let out a small laugh, and so does he. 

"well, walking will be fine. she's just paranoid, and plus - i have you." you say, joking as you nudge his shoulder. but instead of laughing or going off the joke as he usually would, spiderman hums in agreement. 

"no matter what, you'll be safe. i promise." spiderman says from where he hangs upside down from the top edge of your fire escape, face almost level with yours. that makes your heart skip a beat, his words swirling around your stomach in a warm pool of comfort. 

you smile, "okay." you whisper. you believe it. 

then, before you slip into your window and he slips out into the night, you turn to him. you can only hope he's looking at you, the mask always leaving it to speculation.

 "can i try something? just once?" you ask, heart hammering in your chest as you step closer to him. he hesitates, and you wonder if he's biting his lips, or his cheek; if his eyes are wide or narrowed in thought. you wonder, for the thousandth time, what he looks like.

but eventually, it comes. "yes," he whispers.

gently, your fingertips find the edge of his mask down near his neck, and in the barely lit up corner of your fire escape you start to peel away his mask, revealing just his jaw, chin, and lips. goosebumps appear on his soft skin in the wake of your touch. 

you feel butterflies. 

his pale white skin reflects off the moonlight slightly, his jawline sharp as your fingers find their way across his skin, his mouth parting to take in a breath, lips full and red in the darkness. you wish you recognized these lips. 

in fact, a voice somewhere in you screams that you wish it was richie's lips. you abolish that thought before you have time to think about it.

you can tell he's nervous, but you don't know if it's because he doesn't trust you and thinks you're going to whip off his mask, or because he knows what you're about to do. you're pulled toward him by an invisible force, the kind that wishes and hopes and needs you to be closer to him, whoever he is. 

his jaw is structured and you feel it clench slightly under your hand as you cup his cheeks, barely raising on your tip toes as you near his upside-down face. you're not sure if he's breathing but, honestly, you know you aren't either. you just have to do this. so you close the gap. 

his lips are plush and less chapped than you'd expected, his presence warm and protecting and exuding bashfulness yet somehow also emanating confidence. he rises almost as the tide does at your grandma's old house in the east, tilting his head as your nose brushes against the skin on the side of his jaw. 

richie’s face flashes behind your closed eyes, and it makes you take in a sharp breath, realizing that yes, okay, maybe you do want to kiss richie. but you're not - you're kissing spiderman. you feel light, butterflies thrashing around. 

his hand, covered by his mesh suit's fabric, falls to the nape of your neck, upside down so his thumb rests right on the soft of your throat, where your heart thumps hard and quick against him. 

you swear you've never felt more like you're flying. you pull away after a few moments, your face burning even with the slight breeze. his hand stays on your neck for a split moment and then he lets it drop, returning to hold his web that keeps him suspended.

you watch with a small, shy smile as he bites his lip, containing what could only be the most beautiful smile you would ever see. you frown for a moment as you get that inkling again that you should know him. 

"please, what's your name?" you finally ask again. he had to trust you, right? you've had countless opportunities to pry, to rip his mask off, to find out yourself. but you want him to trust you with it, to want to tell you. 

his smile slowly fades, and yours does too. "can't you just tell me your name?" you whisper in desperate frustration. 

his mouth opens, then closes as if he decided against it. carefully, one hand pulls his mask back over his lips, concealing him once again as spiderman. the boy you finally knew for a mere minute is gone, probably forever. "i can't. i wish i could." 

"well, okay." you say, feeling heartbroken and frustrated. angry.  

"okay." it almost gets swallowed up by the breeze as you shut your window behind you. he's gone, swinging across streets and over buildings in the distance by the time you wipe your eyes of the tears. 

- - - -

you don't see spiderman the next week. 

it seems as though only knowing spiderman for a little longer than a month and suddenly not seeing him took more of a toll on you than you'd expected; you watch yourself go through the motions of each day with no complaint, barely any words, the world around you boring.

wake up, get ready, drink a breakfast shake, late for class, leave school, homework, wait on the rooftop for your friend who you know will never show. dinner. back on the rooftop. go to bed. 

you're about to leave school on friday when it hits you, the thing that has been missing from your regular school routine. and for some reason, not having been able to see him is just as painful as not seeing spiderman. 

richie. 

you don't know why you're feeling so emotional - or maybe it's just because as much as you hate each other, the fun rivalry you keep alive with him is what gets you through life at midtown. he keeps you on your toes. 

so you seek him out for what may be the first time in your life, just to find him out back on the turf in his usual spot with all his friends. 

"tozier." you call, halting all conversation with his group of losers as they cease their talking, staring up at you with seven pairs of owl eyes. you have no clue why you're nearly in tears. maybe, in an odd way, he's a replacement, a surrogate. for a friend that you'll never see again. and you're furious at both of them.

"where the fuck have you been?" you ask. 

you watch in slight surprise as the color drains from his face, eyes widening in shock. you didn't expect him to have this reaction, in fact - you came here to pick a fight, to get the opposite of... this. richie looks as if he's been caught in the biggest lie of his life, and it's unsettling. 

he seems to shake off whatever the fuck that emotion was he just had as he stutters, "what-what do you mean?" 

you scowl at him, " did you just give up? that easy, huh? i thought you were better than that." 

richie, for a split second, looks like he might get sick, or cry. it just makes you more confused and, for some reason, more angry. for no reason. "y/n, how did you find-" 

"it's been silent in the halls, tozier. i don't know if i should be thankful or weirded out that you decided to mature overnight. you being nice to me, not being a freak... it's weird, but it's... when i said i was done with your shit and you asked to be friends, i didn't mean that i wanted you to ignore me." 

he blinks his owlish eyes at you, "OH." he states loudly, pressing his fingers to his temples as he shakes his head, "christ, i thought- nevermind. you missed me that much, doll?" he tries to ease back into his teasing attitude but you can tell it's forced. and you don't know why. his friends suddenly all look relieved too, as if they know something big that you don't. 

"forget it. this was so stupid." you mutter, walking past them briskly, barely even catching stan's eye. you don't cry until you get on the subway. 

that night, you almost didn't go up onto the roof. 

why should you? spiderman wasn't your friend anymore, he clearly got scared away when you kissed, or when you asked him who he was. it hurts, you think as you look at the dark skyline of queens, it hurts that he won't trust you with something as simple as a name. 

but you're still up there, staring at the cloudless sky and thinking of the taste of those lips as a whoosh, thud and a groan jolt you from your tranquil misery. 

you don't believe your eyes at first, but when the figure stumbles toward you, arm reaching to its neck, you definitely recognize him. "h-hey?" you say nervously, squinting against the dying light to try and see why spiderman's bent like that, stumbling to you, until he falls nearly at your feet. 

you gasp as you get a closer look; it's hard to see with the red of his suit, but he's got a fair blood stain coming out of his neck area, a slash through the neck that leads towards the collarbone. it's not fatal, and probably won't need stitches, but it sure looks like he's in a lot of pain. 

"y-your neck is bleeding." you say, eyes wide in a panic, "are-are you, do i need to get you to a hospital?" you rush, heart thumping. the boy shakes his head, though that clearly causes him pain. "my wounds- they'll regenerate quick enough. do you-do you have bandages?" he asks, and you nod aggressively, running a hand through your hair. "yes, let's go to my room." you say, trying to stay as calm as he is. with a lot of effort and sharp cries of pain, you finally make it into your room through the window on the fire escape, gently helping spiderman to your bed. 

you allow yourself ten seconds in your bathroom to gather your breaths and thoughts before taking the first aid kit and rushing back to the bleeding boy, whose name is still a mystery. 

your hands are shaking as you undo the box, and his hands suddenly fall against yours and squeeze. you look to him then, willing for the tears of fear to dry up and go away. "it's okay." he says, and then you feel even more rotten because spiderman is hurt in your bed and you're still making him comfort you. 

"no-i know. you just surprised me, is all." you trail off, pulling your hands from his to pull out antiseptic ointment, cleaning wipes and swabs. "what- um, what happened?" 

"mugging, guy had a knife. i was trying to get the purse from his hands and he slashed me. it's really not-" he coughs a bit, a fresh squeeze of blood seeping into the fabric. "-not bad. honest." 

you shake your head, looking at him. "i have to take off your mask." you say solemnly. "or else it'll get bad. infected, or- heal into the mask." 

he nods lightly, "i know." is all he says. his voices is laced with nerves. 

your hands are still shaky when you reach to pull up the mask. he makes no attempt to move except to shift himself on your bedspread. you slowly peel the mask, eyes focused on the wound and not on the boy's face. but then, you can't help it. when the mask slips off, the boy's eyes are screwed tight. 

but your breath catches in your throat when you take in his face. 

it's richie. 

of course it is. you press your lips together, forcing yourself to focus on his wound and not all the thoughts swirling in your mind. you don’t talk to each other, one out of anger and one out of pain, and he grips your arm, hand warm on your skin.

you can barely focus as you go to work on his wound, but you’re glad that by the time you’re almost finished, your anger has ebbed away and you’re strangely calm. 

you don't meet eyes until you've got his cut cleaned out and you're satisfied it won't get infected. his eyes are nervous, anxious, scared. yours are surprisingly calm, and almost emotionless. 

"hi, doll." he says, eyes no longer screwed shut, neither out of pain nor anxiety over revealing his identity. 

"do your friends know?" is all you ask. he gives you a curt not as you shakily wrap the gauze around the nape of his neck, figuring a bandaid would come right off. his hand falls from your arm as you move it around his head. 

"i had all them, but i wanted to see you." 

his words send warm waves through your body and you bite your lip.

"why didn't you tell me? the other night?" you ask shortly, knowing that fighting won't get you anywhere. 

“look, i’m sorry that i didn’t tell you, i really am. but slipping the fact that i developed spider-like superhuman abilities into an ‘are we friends or do we hate each other’ conversation is pretty fuckin' difficult.” he defends. 

you nod, because, after consideration, you think you would have probably done the same. "okay. if your friends know, why didn't you..."  you don't know how to phrase it. 

"why didn't i go to one of them?" he sighs, sitting up as you finish clasping the gauze. he rubs his eyes and you realize you're not used to him without glasses - does he even need those anymore? his eyes are so blue, so warm. his eyelashes are long. 

"i missed you. or, i - i don't know, i just... i needed to show you. to tell you. i was afraid to put you in danger but you deserve to know.” he says, honestly.  

you hum, flicking a piece of rubble from his shoulder and then using that as an excuse to run your hands over the material there, feeling his muscles under your touch. "and you had to get stabbed to work up the courage?" you tease. 

he beams, despite himself. and it's beautiful. 

"how else could i get your attention, doll? i tried everything else." 

you shake your head, huffing a bit. "can't believe you let me kiss you." you bury your face in your hands, feeling hot and embarrassed. "i'm sorry you had to do that." you squeak out, mortified. 

it's quiet, and then, "i would do it again." 

you look at him, from where you sit - both so close, almost touching... his breath almost hits your face. "really?" he looks at you like you've grown three heads. "yes." he deadpans, "obviously. why else could i have been spending so much time with you?" 

you laugh, tilting your head back. "so you only want me for my lips?" you joke even though you're nervous. richie groans, hands tangling in his nest of windswept curls. it's charming and it makes your stomach flutter. 

"y/n, don't make this so hard." he begs. unable to help yourself, you perk up, "that's what she said-" you start, but then richie kisses you for the second time. 

he's nearly crashing into you, lips finding yours desperately through his own smile of disbelief - that you'd said that, or that he's kissing you? you don't care as you kiss back, hands finding purchase on his chest or in his hair. 

then he's regaining his strength as your tongue finds his and he nudges you over, rolling so he lays above you. you pull him between your hips as he bites your lip gently and then moves on to kiss your neck, filling you with heat and butterflies. 

"i'm sorry i didn't tell you sooner." he whispers into the shell of your ear as he bites a soft mark on your upper throat, and you sigh. "god, it-it's fine-" 

but then it's too late, because your bedroom door flies open.

startled,  you and richie break apart, eyes wide and lips bruised; blood staining his spiderman suit as he lays on top of you, your legs fastened around his hips and your hands tinged with his blood and sweat, both of you breathing wildly. 

your mom stands in front of you, eyes wide and mouth agape in near horror - spiderman in bed with you. "hello, ma'am." richie breathes out and you resist the urge to smother yourself with a pillow. 

"just... keeping your daughter safe, y'know, friendly neighborhood spiderman."

 tag list: @gabiatthedisco  @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier​  @sft-core @clownsloveyou​  @moon-shine-baby​  @daughter-of-the-stars11   @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @chl0bee​  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss​ @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters @melinda-hargreeves @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy ​

[chailoserr]

𝗦𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗲 𝗕𝗦𝗗 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗬/𝗡 𝗮𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲 𝗾𝘂𝗼𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗯𝗹𝗲𝘀 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗺𝗲 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 𝗯𝗰 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗱𝘂𝗺𝗯𝗮𝘀𝘀 𝗲𝗻𝗲𝗿𝗴𝘆 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗱𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗻’𝘁 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗽

Dazai: You wanna know how to assert dominance amongst your coworkers?

Y/N: How so?

Dazai: You get up in front of the office, you unzip your pants—

Y/N: This is going downhill so fast

Chuuya: *to Akutagawa* Man, you are such a dishrag

Chuuya: *texting Dazai* I need you to pretend to reject me as I pretend to like you, so I can pretend cry and get more ice cream

Dazai: *texting back* Okay, Chuuya, I don’t like you, I like boobs. There, now screenshot that and get that ice cream

Y/N: I am going to study the blade, once I am FREE from these mortal chains!

Chuuya: I just got my blood drawn😎

Dazai: Oda had his blood drawn. All of it. Because he’s dead Chuuya, so stfu.

Akutagawa: Can you really put a price on Dazai?

Chuuya: I say like, two dollars

Dazai: *to the agency* After I die, I would like to be cremated so that my ashes can be mixed into several glasses of chocolate milk that you all will ingest, just so you all can have a little piece of me inside of you

Y/N: But what if the chocolate milk mix meddles with your unique flavor?

Kunikida: Dazai milk—WAIT, WE ARE NOT HAVING THIS CONVERSATION!

Fukuzawa: Do you think real life cats have crushes on the animated cats on TV?

Y/N: ...That’s not a bad question

Elise: *playing with dolls* Is that the whore you’ve been sleeping with?!

Dazai: *about a spider in the corner of his room* I prevent conception by kissing too hard and killing the spider

Atsushi: Why would you kiss a spider?

Y/N: I can promise you wealth and bitches!

Mori: There’s no fun in that

Y/N: Or, if you prefer, sans and shrimp

Mori: ...

Chuuya: *after Dazai left the port mafia* THE FRIENSHIP FIELD HAS BEEN POLLUTED!

Dazai: I’m sorry

Chuuya: P O L L U T E D! YOU POURED TOXIC SLUDGE ALL OVER IT! AND MADE SLUDGE ANGELS! AND THE SLUDGE ANGELS SOUND LIKE MORI!

Dazai: I’ve tossed hundreds of plastic bags into the field

Chuuya: DON’T TRY TO GET IN ON THIS BIT, ASS MAN!

Kenji: Good morning, Y/N, how’re you doing?

Y/N: Well, I’ve been eating cookie dough for breakfast the past month and I’m pretty sure functioning adults don’t do that, soooo probably bad

Ranpo: *eating cookie dough* What do you mean functioning adults don’t do that??

Atsushi: I may be vegan, but if Kenji has only ever seen warheads on halloween in OTHER kids’ bags, then he’s living a sad existence

Dazai: I’m honest support, I tell you when something is WRONG, like a house security system

Chuuya: I hate Dazai

Y/N: Be honest

Chuuya: I HONESTLY hate Dazai

Y/N: nO—

Ranpo: She has cherries on her bra, so she has dignity

Y/N: More like digniTITTY

Chuuya: When I was a kid, I would refuse to eat the small grapes and I’d be like “Ane san, it’s a baby! I can’t eat it, it’s a baby!” and then she’d go to the other room and eat it

Y/N: *defending Dazai in court* My client didn’t do it, there’s proof!

Judge: Where is it then??

Y/N: I SAID MY CLIENT DIDN’T DO IT, MY WORD IS YOUR PROOF, BITCH—

Dazai: Yogi bear is my celebrity crush

Akutagawa: Why is there a blanket on fire?

Tachihara: Eh, just have someone piss on it, it’ll be fine

Kouyou: I’m back you guys, what’s going on?

Chuuya: Well, I’m about to cut off Dazai’s nipples, so that’s where we’re at right now

Y/N: Wait, are ducks nocturnal??

Kunikida: You are mentally insufficient, I stg—do you see granny coming out at 12 in the morning to feed the ducks? No, she can barely see with her glasses during the day, imagine what it’s like at night

Dazai: I kind of really hurt myself

Y/N: How??

Dazai: I wanted to see how much a rubber band hurt

Y/N: ...Kinda kinky ngl

Y/N: So, how did you find out Santa wasn’t real?

Chuuya: When I was fifteen, Mori and I went to the store and I pointed to a belt and told him that’s what I wanted from Santa that Christmas. So he was like “Okay, Santa will buy it for you” then proceeded to grab it and pay for it in front of me

Ranpo: *looking at a massive plate of jello* Jello? More like HELLO!

Dazai: Hey Y/N! Try not to get a lady boner! *proceeds to flip toy car over, fails to do so successfully* o h n o

[uvindi]

CYM AS POPULAR ARTISTS

LOVE THIS ASK SO MUCH SNDBDKDNK

(writers included cuz writing is an art.)

Jean Micheal-basquiet — @hedgehog-goddess charismatic. creative. Mischief. Cryptic. Calculated madness. Thought evoking. Repurposing the mundane. Restless and chaotic.

Sylvia Plath — @everchanging-mentality "life moves too fckn fast god fuck slow down" haunting. fiercely intelligent. witty. c h a o s. the p o e t r y. thoughtful. i will survive. "i rise with my red hair // i eat men like air"

michealangelo — @whythefuckdoiexist he said fuck the church n fuck u bitches. do gay be crime. painted one of his haters, a minister, havin his dick sucked by the devil on the wall of the sixteen chapel. And told the pope he wouldn't change it sjshenkdisnj.

Jan Van Eyck — @spideyspeaches the first guy to do realism, n the most influential. his painting is the most stolen in history. the police of his time: cheese >>>> the most influential paintings of Al time hah.

Han Van Meegren — @sherlockisactuallyagaysname succeeded put of pettyness and spite. painstakingly works at details. tricked a pretentious art collector. tricked the nazis. "me? selling a priceless painting to nazi??? nah you must have me mistaken for Meergen the weak ass bitch, watch." proved prentious art collector wrong in court. became a legend.

Johannes Vermeer — @secret-eden .pays soooo much attention to the iddy biddy details. wonders the way the light goes. the way mirrors reflect. hates the authorities and the church. commoners >>>> kings. powerful illusion maker.

Georgia O'Keefe — @weird-u badass intelligent woman. Defied the usual. Observant. "no theyre not vaginas you horny fucks" Meticulous attention to detail. Fuck the male gaze. Attention to things to the things often overlooked.

Pablo Picasso — @holding-infinity-and-a-book fuck war and fascism ghost horses gonna get u. cubes fuck good. look at shit from a different angle. let's go to a different dimension. art is a fucking lie but it makes us realize the truth.

William Shakespeare — @mothermothernatural do I even need to explain? theyre the same person literally omg.

Wendy Cope — @mango-pickle brow raised, secretive smirking wit. wind ruffling your hair, drinking orange juice and unblinking unsquinting sun shining in your face kinda lust for life. staring at the little details so long you didn't notice the big picture kinda humor. and they both like cats. theyre actually the same person.

[edwardsvirginity]

And now... I introduce my best friend to Eclipse! 

--0000000--

[riley’s first appearance]

Friend: who's that

mike?

(the rest of the commentary for the movie is under the readmore!)

--0000000--

[bella reciting the opening monologue: some say the world will end in fire…]

Friend: wow…drama queen

--0000000--

[Edward and bella in the meadow]

Friend: is this real or is this more of her crazy headspace

--0000000--

Edward: marry me

Bella: I have an English final

Friend: wow……. Rude

--0000000--

[Charlie grounding bella]

Friend: charlie…. is the only sane character tbh lmfao

he knows an abusive relationship when he sees one

--0000000--

[Edward sabatoges bella’s truck]

Friend:  Y I K E S

A B U S I V E

this is not romantic lol

--0000000--

Renee: I just want to make sure ur making the right choices for you

Friend: she's NOT

--0000000--

[renee gives bella the quilt from all their trips]

Friend: awwww

except she's selling out her fam for bloodsuckers

--0000000--

[all the cullens wait for Victoria in the forest]

Friend: is it whatshername

the redheaded bitch

--0000000--

Friend: i'm just gonna say….alice and carlisle are the only valid vampires

Me: whyso?

Friend: idk anything about jasper and emmett, edward is weird, who else even is there

--0000000--

Me: [pauses movie because a spider has appeared by my head and I’m freaking out]

[it lands on my laptop and I scream and close it]

Ok… we can resume

Friend: what happened?

Me: [explains]

Him: ? ? ? why didn't you kill it?!

Me: killing it requires getting close enough to touch it, and that's Too Close

i don't kill spiders

anyway

Him: what?!? lmfao

you don't kill spiders

Me: killing them is too scary

Him: i'd rather kill it and know it's dead than wonder where it is

wow

me: i just scream until someone else comes to do it for me

him: that's a lot to take in

--0000000--

[jake confronting Edward about being on their territory]

Edward: I was trying to protect u by not telling u abt Victoria

Friend: mmmm yikes

bella just needs to move tf back to florida

this is….Too Much

--0000000--

[bella goes to lapush]

Friend: tbh i like his pack

--0000000--

Leah: if ur here to torture jake some more u can leave

Friend: oooooh

burn

--0000000--

[movie introduces imprinting]

Friend: tbh i think that whole concept is insane™ and i dont get it

bc it like absolves you of your own…actions

& removes the other person's choice

it's really fucking creepy

--0000000--

Friend: also it would be soooo weird to be able to read people's thoughts

Me: i know it would freak me out

i would hate being able to hear everything my packmates thought

Friend: i don't need anyone else to know how horny i am

--0000000--

[Jacob arguing with bella about the cullens]

Jacob: theyre not even alive

Friend: "they're not even alive" y i k e s

--0000000--

[riley creeping in bella’s house]

Friend: man i'd be sleepin with a shotgun lmfao

& like 12 dogs

--0000000--

[Edward yelling at bella abt bella disappearing with jake]

Me: he’s so overprotective

Friend: she needs it tho

Me: because she's such a danger magnet?

Friend: um….yeah

& she is a fucking damsel in distress

she has no power of her own :((

--0000000--

Friend: he's so…ugly

me: Edward?

Friend: yeah ……….

--0000000--

[Jake appears shirtless]

Edward: doesn’t he own a shirt

Friend: “doesn't he own a shirt"

LMFAO edward voicing my thoughts

--0000000--

[Edward kissing bella before passing her off to jake, who immediately hugs her]

Friend: the way they …. fight with each other by using her body :|

--0000000--

Friend: what do native americans think of this?

Me: [explains]

Friend: so what is the redeeming quality of these movies exactly lmfao

Me: they’re… fun?

Friend: i guess

like indiana jones

racist trash, but fun(?)

--0000000--

Me: I hate his sideburns in this movie

Friend: don't think they're that bad

his whole face tho is not great

especially pale af

--0000000--

[nonconsensual kiss scene]

Jake: ill fight until ur heart stops beating

Bella: u wont have to wait for long

Friend: YIKES

--0000000--

[Edward and Jake fighting post-punch]

Jake: she’s not sure what she wants

Friend: Y I K E S

--0000000--

[Carlisle bandaging bella]

Friend: carlisle is so hot

i wanna marry dr. carlisle

the way he medicines everyone up…

wow

 [..]

edward is useless

seduce Carlisle

 [..]

edward's been alive 100 years and hasn't become a doctor??? c'mon

--0000000--

[Rosalie killing her rapists]

Friend: LM FAO

love that

W O W

that's a more interesting story than bella's LMFAO

--0000000--

[Rosalie trying to convince bella to stay human]

Rose: there’s one thing you’ll want more than Edward… one thing you’ll kill for… blood

Friend: ohhh….

SHE REAL

--0000000--

Friend: & also bella's assumption that Edward is That Great

she's 18….. she hasn't even TRIED college boys

 [..]

has she even had sex with anyone, ever?

--0000000--

Friend: Evil Dakota Fanning is ….. scary af

--0000000--

Friend: i'll say what i want about stephanie meyer being a fucked up mormon…. but her music taste is p good

Me: she didn’t do the soundtracks

Friend: ummm…i remember stephanie meyer specifically thanking Muse in her books

in the "acknolwedgements" section

 or did you, the twilight princess, not read that part

--0000000--

[graduation party]

Friend: I feel like there should be a twilight spoof..

where a high school girl has to choose between dating a furry and a goth

bc that's what this feels like to me

--0000000--

Friend: he freaks me out

the beefy one

--0000000--

[training scene]

Friend: jasper's kinda sexy too

well, everyone looks good next to robert :|

--0000000--

[jasper’s backstory]

Friend: jasper was a confederate soldier?!?!??!

what?? lmfao

confederate vampires? thanks i hate it

--0000000--

Friend: didn't he have like a life and morals before becoming a vampire or

i mean i guess he's a confederate so maybe not but

--0000000--

[jasper’s backstory]

Friend: he just listens to her lmfao

his Evil Mexican Bruja

--0000000--

[about Victoria]

Friend: she should just make someone sexy a vampire and fuck them tho

she has the power here

--0000000--

[about Jacob]

Friend: is there a REASON he never wears a shirt?

--0000000--

[Jake trying to convince bella she has feelings for him]

Jake: you can love more than one person… like sam, Emily, and leah

Friend: thruple!

that's the only resolution here

jacob & edward need to fuck each other and get over it

there's too much tension between them

--0000000--

Alice: you and Edward will have the house to yourself tonight

Friend: oooooo

Alice: you’re welcome

Friend: LMFAO

alice is a bro

--0000000--

Bella [immediately after the scene with Alice]: hey dad, I was wondering

Friend: hey dad… i was wondering. do you have any condoms

--0000000--

Bella: dad I’m a virgin

Friend: not for long….

--0000000--

Friend: but like honestly it's all so deeply unclear to me

he has like no blood, right?

HOW does he get hard

Me: he’s always hard

Friend: i don't think that's how that works

--0000000--

[Edward and bella in edward’s room]

Bella: I wanna ask u something

Friend: "can we fuck"

--0000000--

Friend: i feel like "becoming a vampire" is just a metaphor for "losing virginity"

--0000000--

[Bella tried to jump Edward]

Edward: bella…no

Friend: ???????????

they already kiss and stuff?????????

Me: yeah

i think he's worried he'd like. fuck her to death

idk… her vulva is delicate i guess

 Friend: they could do some Other Stuff

Me: yeah i know

edward is just…. too old school to understand anything but piv

Friend: fuck her to death…with his flaccid vampire dick

 [..]

this is so………Weird

?????????? sex is not a sin

--0000000--

[Edward talking abt how he would have courted bella in 1918]

Friend: ???????????? i dont believe that at all

people fucked in the 1800s

edward is a fucking weirdo

[Edward starts his grand speech]

Friend: Ew

this is…. a Lot

tbh it's Not Sexy that he can't adapt to a more feminist era

[Edward proposes]

Friend: this is…… a Lot

he Keeps Asking

[bella accepts]

Friend: she's only saying yes because she's horny!!!!

--0000000--

Friend: also….tbh it's sad that these vampires have to deny their instincts and have no control over themselves

like ….maybe they should just be euthanized

 Me: :O

Friend: is it fair to deny them their nature???

we don't force tigers to be vegetarians

what is the difference

Me: because… they're sentient and intellectual and can decide for themselves not to eat humans

Friend: i'm not sure i buy that

Me: you think they're not smart enough to make their own decision not to eat humans?

Friend: it seems like they have to be rehabilitated to deny a very natural instinct that they have no control over

are the cullens themselves a metaphor for mormonism?

 Me: yeah but carlisle CHOSE a vegetarial lifestyle… no one forced it on him

Friend: i guess

but at what cost

lmao

--0000000--

[tent scene]

Jacob: I am hotter than u

Friend: LMFAO

--0000000--

Friend: why didn't they bring more blankets?????

how fucking cold is it

Dumbasses

--0000000--

[Edward and jake arguing over bella]

Friend: idk bella….

i'd rather fuck a hot wolf than a freezing rock hard PussyDestroying Vampire

those wolves are HUGE…. huge dicks im sure

--0000000--

[Edward talking about how he doesn’t want bella to be a vamp to jake]

 Friend: i feel like they're Bonding

over their inability to control this woman lmfao

--0000000--

[jake and Edward fighting over bella]

Friend: bella is not that interesting? ? ? ?

--0000000--

Edward: if you weren’t trying to steal bella I might actually like u

Friend: wow

THIS is where they should fuck

t h r u p l e

look deep into each other's eyes

--0000000--

Friend: she'd warm up if they were having sex

--0000000--

[post tent scene]

Friend: she's not even wearing a hat rn

bella…what the fuck

--0000000--

[Edward and bella talking about being engaged, jake overhears]

Bella: it’s the 21st century

Friend: yeah, it is the 21st century…. marry them both

--0000000--

[bella asks jake to kiss her]

Friend: what the FUCK is happening

--0000000--

[bella and jake making out]

Friend: she's not even wearing anything warm

--0000000--

[battle]

Friend: carlisle…. kung fu master

Me: renaissance man

Friend: only breaks the hippocratic oath when absolutely necessary

--0000000--

[confrontation with riley and Victoria, Edward trying to convince riley to turn on Victoria]

Edward: think about it riley.. .you’re from forks… you know the area

Friend: "you're from forks… who would want that"

--0000000--

[Carlisle healing jake]

Friend: god…..my sexy, classy dad

… so smart….. so kind

--0000000--

Bella: I’m not normal

Friend: bella….you are SO normal

the reason every middle school girl read these books and thought they were like bella is bc you are just THAT normal

--0000000--

Edward: I guess we should start planning the wedding

Bella: no… something more difficult first… more dangerous

Friend: is she still talking about her virginity

[chanluster]

business proposals | {m}

oneshot | ceo! au | 10.9k words

“It was about time you addressed the cat and mouse game you and your boss have been playing for a time.”

s u m m a r y > > clashing heads with your annoyingly attractive boss was your everyday activity, but when a new, beautiful client comes in for the day you find yourself getting jealous. mr. lee, catching on, uses it to his absolute advantage, causing you to end up in a situation you did not think would end well. fortunately for you, with the way your dark-minded ceo’s mind worked, despite the hiccups in the middle, it ended just perfectly.

w a r n i n g s > > ceo! minho, secretary! reader, you get so annoyed at him all the time, he annoys you all the time, constant teasing, a fuckload of swearing, soooo much (kinda shit) sexual tension, flirtation back and FORTH, titles of endearment, minho is such a fucking dom, reader is a fucking BRAT, making out, fingering, oral (m. and f. receiving) you try to give him blueballs, unprotected sex (stay safe homies!!), semi-public sex (i mean they do it in his office so like), multiple orgasms, y’all be arguing during it all too HELP, minho has a sir kink sjsjskke, minho is so AGGRESSIVE HOLY SHIT, SO MUCH degradation, use of gags? (i mean he uses his tie so) basically you are 100% minho’s bitch by the end period!!

a u t h o r ’ s  n o t e > > hello horny fia is back again with a minho oneshot because she can not control herself!!!1!1! thank you @hyuckworld​ for so much inspo and helping me out omfg the tie thing still on my mind !1!1! anyway this is inspired by minho’s soribada look cause he mf SERVED! and i hope y’all enjoy !

back to masterlist

YOUR SMILE WAS MORE LIKE A FLASH OF TEETH.

“For the last time,” you seethed, trying your very best to contain your bubbling temper, “You cannot see him if you don’t have an appointment.”

The woman before you, a striking image of curls and curves, fitted red dress, white blazer, and Louboutins elevating her height, knifed you with finely-lined eyes. “But I don’t need an appointment! Mr. Lee said so himself I could arrive at his office when I wished to speak with him!”

You pursed your lips. Of course Mr. Fucking Lee said so.

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it, Miss Kim.” You turned to your computer, opening up the list of clients intended to meet your boss this afternoon. Sure enough, this woman’s name was not accompanied with the others. Once again, he had said some pretty words, but had not reminded you of them so you could write it down for official backing.

You could not help typing a little furiously. It was like he was trying to make your life harder.

“I demand to see him!” Miss Kim exclaimed, raising her voice so the other employees, who were scattered before you at their desks, working away, paused, witnessing the commotion. “I did not travel from another city to be rejected!”

“Ma’am,” you guttered, hands on the telephone, ready to call security, when the misty, glass-like door beside you swung upon.

A firm, sultry voice resonated in the room.

“What is the meaning of this noise?”

Out stepped the one man you were hoping would stay seated in his office.

You turned around in your seat, looking up at the suited figure of Lee Minho — CEO of the corporation you worked under, and the mastermind behind the technological revolution in your city.

He certainly looked the part: black suit unbuttoned with his tie hanging, white shirt contrasting the colours. His trousers hugged his thighs a little too tightly for your own good, designer branded shoes adorning his feet. His dark brown locks were cascading over his forehead, and his calculating eyes assessed the room, finding the reason for such noise behind his doors.

His gaze settled on the woman. “Ah, Miss Kim!” He declared, a known dazzling smile upon his lips. “It’s good you’ve arrived.”

“Of course I would come,” she said, darting her glare back to you. “This little assistant of yours was ready to throw me out of the building.”

A slight tilt of his head. “Oh, really?”

Then, his eyes descended on you, seated before him, and you noticed something already stirring behind them. “And why was this ‘little assistant of mine’ booting you out of here?”

You pointed to your computer. “She’s not on your list of appointments for today.”

“So?” A glance at the woman. “When a pretty lady asks to see me, you oblige her, understand?”

Seething, you lock your hands together. “Then what is the point of the list when you won’t follow it?”

You nearly gasped in anger when you caught slight mischief in his eyes. “Keeping you on your toes, ____.”

“As always,” you hissed, returning his malicious smirk with a scowl.

He only chuckled at your lack of amusement, turning to the woman once more. “Miss Kim,” he addressed her, opening the door, gesturing for her to enter. “Come inside.”

“Thank you, Mr. Lee,” she simpered out, widening her sharp grin at you before going inside his office.

The man stood, regarding you for a minute. You glanced at him, frown still there. “Yes?”

“I am not to be disturbed,” he said, gaze a little too intense for your liking. “Is that understood?”

You made sure to match his stare. “Yes, sir.”

And you could have sworn his lips twitched upward when he turned to his office, entering after the woman.

When the door slid shut, you let out a shuddering breath.

Why in hell were you holding your breath?

“God,” you muttered, furiously typing away on your computer, noticing another presence approaching you. “He’s going to be the death of me.”

“Do not tell me you’re talking about Mr. Lee here.”

You looked up, and rolled your eyes to find Kim Seungmin, one of the salesmen for the firm, standing before you, files in hand and a knowing smile on his lips. “I am, as a matter of fact,” you said. “And how much I want to kill him.”

The man gave you a look. “Now see, I don’t think ‘kill’ was the word I thought you’d use.”

“Oh yeah?” You crossed your arms. “Then what word do you think I’d use?”

“I don’t know, like…” his adorable smile was so unlike his words. “Kiss? Fuck even?”

You let out a harsh gasp, nearly whacking his arm with your scattered files. “Oh my God!”

“You can’t deny it, ____!” Seungmin pointed to the door. “You have a massive crush on him!”

“How can you even say that!” you demanded, pulling you near him so the others around you did not hear. “I hate that cocky bastard.”

Your friend clicked his tongue at your statement. “Then can you please explain to me why you both got enough sexual tension to suffocate the entire building?”

“We do not,” you refused instantly, picking up your mug of coffee. “You’re mistaking my bloodlust with just lust.”

“Can you at least stop pretending to me that you don’t want to suck his dick?”

Nearly choking on your coffee, you struggled it down, sending a sharp glare. “I don’t!” you raised your chin. “I bet it’s tiny anyway. Wouldn't have anything for me to suck on.”

Now that, of all the things you said that afternoon, was a complete, full blown, almost offensive, lie.

Not that you’ve caught a glimpse at the package which settled between Lee Minho’s legs. Well, you had, to your own shame, and were burning at the clothed sight, proving your little claim extremely incorrect. Your boss, devastatingly, had something substantial going for him.

Seungmin’s little laugh had you dropping down to reality. “You were thinking about his cock just now, weren’t you?”

Cheeks burning, you waved him off, groaning as you went back to your computer. Minho’s appointments looked oh so interesting. “Fuck off, Min.”

His laughter only deepened as he stepped away. “There’s no hope for you, girl. You keep daydreaming about that.”

If it weren’t for the people around you, you would have happily sent him away with a middle finger, but figured you should hang onto any scrap of professionalism left in you. The only thing you could do now was write up the new appointments for next week. Or perhaps play some Solitaire.

Anything to stop you thinking about him.

You twisted your lips into a scowl.

This was so unbelievable. Lee Minho was the greatest, most notorious asshole you knew of, yet here you were, like an absolute moron, pondering over him as if he was a lost love. All the time, when it was in meetings, or just bumping each other in the office breakroom, he managed to piss you off without effort, watching you enraged with a disgustingly ravishing smile on his revoltingly beautiful face. It was so, goddamn unfair, that he could rile you up so easily when all you could do was make him more amused.

To hell with him and his fine ass, you thought as you closed all tabs, opening up Solitaire.

Just as you thought you found a moment’s peace in this building, you heard the phone ring drastically loud, stopping you from completing a full set of one deck. Already irritated, you tried to suppress it as you picked up the handset, pressing it to your ear. “Minho and Company?”

The voice that greeted your ears made it incredibly hard to reign in your irritation. “Have you finished the list?”

“No,” was your clipped reply. You focused on the game, matching the cards to the deck of hearts.

“And when will this list finish?”

“I’m a busy woman, you know,” you drawled, aggressively clicking on your mouse. “You give me so much work it’s hard to keep up.”

“Oh, really?” Fuck him, you could hear the taunting in his voice. “So you don’t spend all day playing those stupid Windows games on your work computer?”

Your anger paused, eyes widening. The lack of response had the man cackling through the phone. “I bet you’re on that same card game you always play when you’re trying to avoid my tasks. What was the name again?”

“I can assure you, sir, I am not playing Solitaire.” You then sucked in an agitated breath at your mistake.

“Ah, that’s right.” You hated how you could hear the smirk playing on his lips. “Playing Solitaire and ignoring my work.”

Were you mistaken, or had his voice descended an octave? With the way you bit your lip, you knew you were caught anyway. “I’ll get the list done.”

“Mmm,” he got out, the low baritone still there. “And address me properly when you talk to me.”

Oh my God. “I’ll get the damned list done, sir.”

A small pause. “Good girl.”

And the line cut off.

Your hand nearly went limp holding the phone.

Good girl.

“Shut the fuck up,” you muttered, slamming the handset back in its place, feeling yourself heat up a frightening rate. “Cocky prick.”

All those curses towards him, and yet your cheeks still burned.

You did not cease your profanity — this time aiming more towards your own self.

Dear Lord. You really were in for it this time.

MINHO AND MISS KIM WERE STILL IN THAT ROOM BY THE TIME YOU HAD TO LEAVE THE OFFICE.

You decided to stay a little longer, finishing up the last of the tasks he’d assigned to you, and an hour later, when Seungmin passed your desk to exit the building, he darted his eyes to his boss’ door and wiggled his brows your way.

“Shut up,” you snapped at him, earning a cheeky smile.

“I wonder what they’re doing in there,” he thought out loud, propping a hand on your table.

You typed away, trying to dismiss the worst assumptions in your mind. “I don’t particularly care.”

Seungmin, damn him, could see right through you. “Then why are you still here? Pretending that I didn’t catch you with your ear to the door hours before?”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t lying. About three hours into the meeting, you became so restless you tried to listen in on what exactly was going on. It sounded so bizarre, when Minho had to sit in hours-long meetings every other day, but him alone in his office with that girl didn’t settle well with you.

“Oh, jealousy!” Seungmin chanted, pointing at your face. “Is that you I see before me?”

“Go away!” you waved him off, glowering at him. “I’m not jealous of some girl I saw today. Her and Minho can do whatever they want.”

“Whatever you say, ____,” he said, but the knowing smile lingered, aggravating you even more. “Good night.”

“Good night, Min,” you muttered, waiting for the man to turn out of the building before swinging in your chair.

The door welcomed you still.

You bit the inside of your cheek. Now see, you should not be letting your mind wander. Especially in situations which included your boss, another girl, and closed doors. Your gut twisted at the thought, and you were surprised at such a reaction.

What if Seungmin was right?

“No!” you whispered furiously to yourself, turning back to your computer. “Not jealous, just curious.”

Yes, that’s right. Just interested to know what the fuck they’re talking so long for.

“Oh God,” you breathed out, pressing your legs together. Maybe your friend was right. “Shit.”

Suddenly, you got up from your seat, picking up any scrap of paper and hurrying to the door. Pressing your ear to the misted glass, fingers clasping the metal handle. You could hear soft murmurs, a little laughter, but other than that, you failed to hear anything coherent.

This brought you even more agitation upon you. Doing something wrong, and it wasn’t even going as planned. This is what happened when you let yourself feel something.

Oh, no. Now you even admitted it to yourself that you had felt something for the asshole. If he ever heard of this, you would probably have to quit this job.

You pressed harder on the handle, never been more frustrated in your life than you were at that time. You were pathetic. Utterly disgraceful, but you could not help when you could not deny that Lee Minho-

You could not finish the thought.

Not when your hand slid on the handle too hard, swinging open the door. You let out a shrill screech as you stumbled inside the office, papers leaving your hands.

The conversation ceased, and you did not need to see them to know their eyes were on you.

Minho’s honey voice filled the room.

���What is this intrusion?”

You looked up, and felt your heart stop.

There he was, sitting leaned back at his plush executive chair, spinning a pen between his fingers. His brown locks were now raked back, a few strays cascading on the side of his forehead. His blazer was off, hung on his chair, and his shirt was tight on his hard chest.

Steadying yourself, but not your butterflies inside, you also saw Miss Kim hovering over him, showing him a few documents with her head a little close to his. She glanced up at you, and her face soured.

Minho snapped his fingers, shaking you out of your staring. “I asked you a question, ____.”

You wanted to snap at him, but reigned it in. “Sorry, but…”

But what? Not like you came in here with a plan.

Your eyes slid down to fallen files on the floor. “I needed to discuss...a proposal!”

Kneeling down, you picked up the scattered pieces of paper, on your feet in an instant. “Yes. A business proposal I needed to talk about.”

The man was not stupid; he saw right through your feeble excuse, with the impish gleam in his gaze. “Is that so?”

“What else would it be?” you pressed, masking your growing nerves with your irked frown.

His lips began to curve. You both stared each other down, refusing to back away. Miss Kim cleared her throat, even more angered by you now receiving his full attention.

“Shall I continue or…?” she carried off, completely deprived of his regard. Only when you glanced at her did his smile waver, raising the file.

He kept his eyes on you. “We can review this later,” he said to Miss Kim. He then addressed you. “And this time I’ll have an actual meeting planned. Happy,  ____?”

You couldn’t suppress a scoff, not gone unnoticed yet unaddressed, as the woman took the files from him. She sent him a dazzling smile. “I will see you later, Mr. Lee.”

He returned it with a nod, watching her stroll past you, and out of the office. You watched the door close itself, sensing the silence more now the two of you were alone.

The quiet stretched on for longer before a hard sigh had you facing your boss once again.

“Beautiful, isn’t she,” he began, observing you from his rather messy desk.

That little comment of his pissed you right off. “The prettiest, in my opinion,” you crowed, gripping onto the files harder.

You then caught the shit-eating grin upon his face, and marred your face in a frown, causing him to splutter into laughter.

“Stop laughing,” you spat, but that only made him more breathless. “Oh, I’m leaving!”

“No you’re not,” he rasped out, finally calming down.  He raised a hand across the chair before his desk. “You’re going to sit down and tell me of the proposals.”

A retort was on your tongue when you stopped, taking in his order. “Proposals?”

He cocked his head slightly, stray hairs tumbling with the action. “You said when you burst into my office that-”

He halted himself, everything falling into place.

When he focused on you this time, your stomach coiled at the way his smirk lit up his face. “Are you telling me you pretended to have appointments so you’d have that woman out of my room?”

The lack of response on his question had the man chortling. “My, my. Why so jealous, doll?” He gripped onto the arms of his chair, leaving the seat. “If you wanted me alone all you had to do was ask.”

Taking a step away from the desk, his fingers drummed on the table. “I wouldn’t have insisted on making an appointment either.”

A last surge of courage passed through you, especially from his words. “And what would you have done?” you got out.

The drumming paused, more from surprise at your question.

His piercing stare positively flared. “I don’t think you’d be able to handle it,” he guttered.

I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.

You didn’t know why that enraged you so much.

The cat and mouse game, once again being deflated by his words, leaving you disappointed. Why should you accept defeat this time?

You made sure he heard your thoughts.

“God, you really are a fucking prick!”

A pause. “Why would that be?” He took a step towards you, sharp brows furrowing.

“You…” staring at him, you screwed your face up in anger. “Toying with me all this time, yet doing nothing about it!”

That fine eyebrow was raised, but you carried on, refusing to let him speak. “Every single day, without fail, we see each other, bicker back and forth, and for what? Me all frustrated and you just enjoying it?”

You made sure you knifed your boss with a glare. “You just say words and leave. That’s all you can do.”

There was an eerie stillness after that — a slight shift in Minho’s demeanour, as his eyes narrowed, darkened at your claim. His hands, in his pockets before, slid out, and you saw they were fisted tightly.

“What did you say?”

“You heard me perfectly, sir,” you spat, that damned word he made sure you said every time . “You’re all bark and no bite.

“You’re a fucking coward.”

There it was.

The allegation against him. The words you’ve been wanting to say for so long, because you let yourself feel something for this man, and fuck, if he did not do anything about it you would quit this job here and now.

His next words were a mere whisper. They did not possess a hint of softness.

“Do you really think that?”

Another step.

Veins, slight before, we’re now more visible on his hands, trailing all the way up to the edge of the rolled up sleeves. When you caught his gaze, you nearly gasped at the pure, carnal fire that blazed within.

“Calling me a coward.”

Before you knew it, the man thundered towards you, and those veiny hands gripped your waist, pulling you to him in an iron grip. A small hiss escaped you at the sudden restraint.

“Don’t you dare call me a fucking coward again.”

His breath fanned your mouth, you mere inches from him. You made sure you kept your ground till the very end. Wherever that led you.

“Or what?” Your hands slid up to his shoulders. “Not like you would do anything. As per usual.”

And as the heavy silence reigned on the both of you, you had a little realisation.

Those words might have just been your undoing.

Because the second they left your tongue, Lee Minho growled fiercely before colliding his lips against yours.

His mouth snatched the very breath from you, an instant whine trying to escape yet refused by his lips, capturing yours and taking you with the strength of a wild beast. You nearly fell backwards from the pure momentum but were saved by his hands on you, branding their place on your skin.

The most surprising part was how you kissed him back with the same anger. The same rage which simmered the very first day you argued with him, and vowed to make his life a living hell, just like how he made yours unbearable during work. He captured your lower lip and began sucking on the flesh, and an obscenely loud moan escaped you at the contact.

The bastard was good. He was so, fucking good.

Just when you thought he’d go deeper, he pulled away, a thin bridge of saliva connecting the both of yours lips.

The trail broke when he took a step back, settling himself on his seat. That glistening mouth curved into a feline smirk, thumb stroking his lower lip.

“Still a coward, doll?”

You nearly collapsed without his hold. He took notice of your position, and scoffed at your weakness. “Looks like you took up the role instead.”

“How is that,” you rasped out, breath still uneven.  “When you’re the one who stopped to sit down?”

Taking a step before him, your knees brushed against his own. “Looks like grandpa needs a rest.”

The comment had Minho’s eyes set ablaze. “You fucking—”

His hands reached out, tugging you upon him as he stayed seated. Your legs kneeled on either side of him, straddling him as you wrapped your arms around his neck, willingly accepting his lips. They worked so hypnotically with yours that you did not realise them opening your mouth completely, with his tongue sliding inside. He explored everywhere, finding your own tongue and swirling it along with his, ruining any chance of you suppressing your groaning at his actions.

Perhaps Minho took notice of your stubbornness, because his hands landed on your thighs, fingers tracing the hem of your skirt. You let the groan free as he hitched the fabric higher, higher, higher, removing himself from your lips and descending down, pouncing on a particular patch of skin on your neck.

“Already so—” he sucked hard on your neck, revelling in your whines, “—already so loud when I’ve only just kissed you?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed out, digging his nails into his shirt. He cackled at your response, sinking his teeth and creating the first bruise of the evening.

“I’m gonna have to teach you some manners,” he whispered onto your skin, raising your skirt high enough that your intricate lacing of your lingerie, black as the night, began to show. Minho practically salivated at the image; you knew from the raging lining beneath his trousers.

“All talk,” you merely said, despite the uneven breathing. “All talk and no action.”

His thumbs pressed into your thighs, ceasing your words with a little whine. It had the man capturing your lips again, pulling you down with his hands on your legs, closing any distance between you two, needing to have you all over him. Your lips swelled, bruised by the rough handling of your boss’ mouth, ravaging you in ways you didn’t dare dream of. His fingers, trailing up your skin once again, curled under the waistband of your underwear.

Your heart hammered in your chest at his touch. He was being too slow, too damn slow while you dripped with the beginning of arousal, making you a shuddering mess.

Lee Minho was about to slide the lace down when a shrill call flooded the room.

Both of you stopped dead in your tracks. The man whirled to the origins of the sound, coming from his wide open laptop — a notification for joining a meeting call popped up on the screen, automatically picking up in about five seconds.

Your boss nearly had a heart attack.

With quick thinking, Minho pried you off him, practically dumping you upon the floor with a slight groan. His hands gathered you under the table, pressing a finger to your lips with a stern look before disappearing up on his desk.

You let out a deliberately loud scoff just before he accepted the call, fingers swiping down to pinch you for calling out. You could not see his face, only from the navel down, sat right before you, caging you with his legs.

“Ah, Mr. Lee!”

A gasp almost escaped you, but remembered his glare and actually stopped. One make out session and you already obeyed him like a servant.

Over your dead body.

Your boss’ low growl had you widening your eyes. “What do you want, Chan?”

The hazy answer revealed his employee’s concern. “Mr. Lee, are you okay?” You heard him say through the laptop speaker.

You saw Minho’s leg start bouncing rapidly, and although you could not see his expression, you knew that he was, most definitely, pissed off. “I’m perfect. Fantastic even. Now what do you want?”

You were ready to sit still, wait through the meeting as Chan’s uncertain voice spoke of some specific business deals that needed to be confirmed, few details that needed to be checked over. However, the way your arousal still dripped, ever so slowly, was a weight, reminding you of the activities occurring mere moments before. You didn’t even bother to pull your skirt down.

It was settled. You needed this problem of yours solved now, or never.

Fortunately for you, your solution was presented to you, right before your eyes, and right between Minho’s legs.

His cock still stood, erect against the lining of his trousers.

You gulped at the sight. The bastard was mean, flaunting it all before you, knowing you would have thrust it straight in your mouth if you hadn’t been interrupted.

A spark ignited within you. Why should it stop you now?

Oh God. Why were you suddenly becoming so bold? Was it you, being so turned on that you needed your needs met without wait? Whatever the reason, you found nothing to argue against it.

If Minho was playing games with you, then you would play along with him.

Hands stretching on the floor, you crawled towards him, settling yourself between the space his legs created. Kneeling slightly, your fingers extended towards the zipper on his trousers, prying it down.

The man stilled under your touch.

Head protruding from the edge of the table, you spied Minho’s eyes, ever so carefully darting down to you, his mouth parting slightly under the cover of his hand. He hummed at Chan’s words, but you knew his interest was rooted only to you and your daring fingers.

When you unzipped his trousers, ready to peel them down, his other hand, out of the sight of the laptop, caught your wrist. His grip dug into your skin, stopping you in your tracks.

You looked up at him, making sure you expose your desperation in your eyes. His own widened, only for a second before dragging them back on the screen. A smirk curved onto your lips, knowing he was so affected by your mere actions. How you dared to toy with your boss.

The pout-like expression paid off, when the grip on your wrist loosened. Hurriedly your hands went to the waistband of his trousers, pulling the fabric down, and you had to commend Minho’s ability to look so calm when you were practically drooling at the sight that welcomed you.

You did not even bother to pull the pants right down, stopping just under his knees as you admired his finely sculpted thighs. It was no secret that your boss worked out everyday after he was done with meetings, and every time you caught evidence of his toils you wished you didn’t inwardly moan at the sight. His taut muscle stretched all the way up to his underwear, slightly soiled at the tip of his dick, outlined against the fabric.

Minho glanced down for a second at his antics, and when he looked back at the laptop again there was a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“Chan, hurry and finish this up,” he jeered.

This was enough signal to start peeling his boxers down too.

Your eyes nearly popped out of your sockets when you saw his cock spring free, curving proudly with its tip inches from his abdomen. The top glistened with the pre-cum, trailing down the length.

Oh dear God.

Your index, on instinct, reached out, cutting the white trail as you journeyed up the shaft. Minho’s low, barely audible growl had you shivering.

“Mr. Lee, you don’t look so well,” you heard the hazy worry of your coworker. You couldn’t help the giggle, and Minho’s side glare had you grinning.

He was not the one in control at the moment.

“I said I’m fine, Chan,” he snapped, and when you swiped up the remaining pre-cum on the head his dick twitched, a choked breath escaping. “Perfectly fine!”

“Uh, okay, then, this won’t take much longer…”

You, on the other hand, were just getting started.

Fingers, first stroking up the shaft, now wrapped around his cock, and with your heart in your throat you began a slow rhythm of sliding your hand up and down. Glancing up, you caught the colour of his face draining, using every ounce of his strength not to groan out loud.

You savoured the harsh tick in his jaw, quickening your pace and watched the man lose his cool, nerves in his neck protruding. Oh God, he was on the edge of his patience. It only encouraged your risky behaviour, dick hardening even more beneath your touch.

Still, there was no vocal outcry, to your irritation. You wanted to embarrass him during his meeting. Make him shut that laptop and moan out what he’s feeling. With these goals in mind, you cupped the base, and snuck a little closer, your face mere inches from his cock.

Taking one last peek at his paled face, you brought out your tongue and slid it along the head.

A soft groan emitted from your boss.

Chan’s monologuing of events paused, but the look on Minho’s face had him hurriedly continuing, while you progressed on, lapping up the remaining pre-cum you couldn’t catch with your index. You were never fond of the taste, but you took it in anyway, just to see the bastard’s mouth part in a way which had you almost leaking too.

Done with the soft, kitty licks, you hung on to your courage as you opened your mouth a little wider, taking in the head with your lips. Your hands stay wrapped around his cock as you, slowly, so slowly, went down, taking in inch by inch.

Minho’s fist smacked against the desk.

“Mr. Lee—”

“Ask me again, and you’re fired,” your boss guttered, hips sliding forward to push his cock further into your mouth. You nearly gagged at the action, but take it all in, obliging him because then you created a pattern of bobbing your head. Up and down, going easy, relaxed at first, you were sure Lee Minho was going to bring down his office.

But he didn’t.

And all because of that fucking meeting.

Suddenly angered, you did not bother fastening your pace, ready to give him blue balls for not reacting to your touches. Your mouth was back on top, lips still wrapped around the head, when you looked up at your boss through your lashes.

He stared down at you. Widened his eyes at the sight of you still enveloping his cock with your mouth, your gaze revealing the irritation of his lack of response.

Oh, he’ll give you something to work with.

His hand immediately when to the back of your head, stopping you from leaving as the other hand grabbed at the laptop screen.

Chan knew exactly what he was about to do. “Mr. Lee, I still have one more thing—”

You did not hear anymore, hearing the sharp SNAP! of the laptop shutting.

The silence returned, but did not stay for long as, gradually, Minho looked down at you, properly this time, and offered you such a lust-filled stare you were glad you did not leave your place upon his cock.

“Did you really think, doll,” he whispered, running his fingers through your hair, “That I was going to let you leave me? Just like that?”

You did not answer back — obviously, because your mouth was a little occupied, but you raised your brows at him, hands tightening at his base. He let out a shuddered breath, chuckling.

“Still a brat, hmm? At least you’re not talking back.”

He tugged harder at your locks. “If this was the way to shut you up, I would have done it a long time ago.”

Although your cheeks burned, you made sure to shut him up when you started your flow once again, closing your eyes as you went up and down on him.

Only this time, you had a little assistance.

Minho’s groaning roamed the room, like sweet music to your ears as you gradually fastened, working his dick with your hands too. Instinctively, the man bucked his hips into you, needing to have all of his inches in your mouth, needing to release all that pent up frustration that you created for him.

He said as much.

“Look at you,” he rasped up at you, curling away flyaways from your face as you worked on him. “Taking all of my cock…ah, all of my cock in your pretty little mouth.”

His filth was encouragement, and as you were sucking harder you could tell he was getting near. Pride washed over you, as your one of your hands reached out to play with his balls, earning a harsh moan from his lips.

“Ah—keep going, doll,” he rasped, his hips straying from a solid rhythm, knowing he’s going to let go soon if you kept up at this rate. “Doing so well.”

Perhaps these pieces of praise had you looking up, making sure he was watching as you hollowed your cheeks, taking him all in fully, a slight curve to your lips.

The absolute sin in the image of you kneeling before him, with his full length in you, had him crying out. He could not control the release that shot into your throat, pouring down and making you gag at its suddenness. Still, you took it all in, accepted the cum instead of spitting it out.

When he was finished, slightly heaving, his eyes danced at you slowly swallowing it down, a challenge in the quirk of your brow. Sweat beaded down at your forehead, but knowing you had Minho moaning over your skill was something to take pride in.

Lapping up the remaining cum, you swiped it off with the back of your hand. “Nice meeting, sir?”

The man could only laugh at your comment, so normal despite the situation. ”Adequate,” he drawled, pulling his boxers and trousers up as he cleaned off his dick. “But there’s still much to discuss.”

He wheeled his chair back, arms wrapping around you to free you from under the desk. You were glad of his help, for your legs were near-buckling. He noticed this too, for a smirk began to play on his lips.

Leaving you for a just a moment, he turned to his desk. He threw all his work off the top, paper and stationary flying from the table and scattering onto the floor. His laptop was thrusted at the ends of the table, unable to be a distraction.

“Hey, your papers will be all messed up,” you started, but he surprised you with a heart-searing kiss, making you almost collapse. You let his tongue slide inside instantly, hands gripping harder onto your hips as he tasted his release on your tongue, and when he roughly tugged on your lower lip, you gasped lightly at the harsh treatment.

He backed you further, the back of your upper thighs hitting his desk, and when he left your lips, his dark gaze had you weakened.

“I don’t really give a fuck about the papers right now, doll.”

You would have leaked out your arousal there and then. “Minho—”

“Did I tell you to call me Minho?” He demanded, fingers digging into your hips. Dazed, you tilted your head, only wanting his tongue down your throat again.

Catching the expression, he shook his head. “I’ll let you off today because you’re being a good little bitch this time.”

Dear God, you hated how you loved being called that.

His tongue working on your neck had you whimpering. “It’s sir to you, understand?”

You already had a counterpoint to piss him off with, but the animalistic threat in his eyes had you gulping. “Yes sir.”

The title had him going hard all over again. He teethed another hickey onto your skin, finding solace in the crook of your neck.

“Don’t think I’ve forgotten you all wet for me before, doll,” he whispered, hands sliding down, gripping the hem of your skirt. He hurriedly hitched it upwards, bunching it at your hips.

His fingers skimmed over your thighs before feeling the soft silk of your black lingerie, a familiar sight. “Ah, see?” His sole index traced over the front, dipping the fabric in your slit, already staining with your arousal. “All wet, just for me.”

“Stop it,” you whined, hands on his shoulders. “Stop teasing.”

“Since when do you order me around, ____?” He crowed, palming your clothed cunt, completely ignoring your demands. A ragged breath escaped you at the friction, so pleasurably wonderful you feared what would happen to you when he plays with you without the thin layer.

His attitude, however, still pissed you right off.

“I’ll be dried up by the time you start,” you seethed at him, nails digging into his shoulders. Provoking him was your only option, to get him to stop beating around and rail you on his desk.

“I don’t think so, doll,” he purred, other hand playing with the bands of your panties. You were about to snap when he hooked a finger over the hem of the lace and slid the underwear right down, just above your knee, and your breathing hitched as you found his gaze rooted to your now exposed cunt, already glistening from your arousal.

Minho’s mouth was practically salivating.

Despite the nerves growing in your belly, you still snapped him out of his mind drooling. “Are you going to just keep staring? Because that isn’t going to make me cum.”

His eyes slid to you, and shit, you could tell how much he wanted to beat your ass for your useless commentary. “Don’t make me shut you up again.”

“Talk, talk, talk,” you provoked, grabbing hold of his black tie.

A primal growl emitted from his throat, and when his fingers began skimming over the surface, you let out a whimper. “Oh, so my little doll wants to cum all over my fingers, then?” he muttered, eyes gleaming with an indecipherable goal.

His dirty words, along with him playing over your folds, had your stomach all knotted up. It was this tight feeling which had you breathing out, “Yes sir.”

The title at the end which had him slipping the first finger inside of you.

The feeling of his index sliding inside had you moaning much too loud for an action so small. Minho thoroughly enjoyed your reaction, finger almost fully inside when he palmed your core as well, already had you halfway there to your own undoing.

When his finger was up to the knuckle, his other hand found refuge in your locks, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat. He began to slowly pull out, creating the same gradual rhythm you had when your mouth was on his cock before. When only the pad of his finger was inside, he thrust back in, making you whine at the rush.

If that was not enough, a second finger joined in on his labour, stretching your walls and you hissed at the snugness of his digits in your cunt, continuing that pattern which had you crying out from pure ecstasy. Damn the bastard, but he was so good at making you helpless.

A deep feeling settled in your gut, and you knew if he kept up at this, you were going to cum all over him. “I-I’m close,” you got out, wrapping your hand around the tie further, pulling him even closer.

Minho, satisfied with creating a painting of lovebites upon your neck, locked your gaze with his. You were surprised to find sinister mischief in his eyes. “My babydoll is going to cum, now?” he questioned, further puzzled to hear softness in his usual fire-like voice. You nodded desperately, praying that he finger-fucks you after this calm. All you desired now was sweet release.

Which was why you cried out in protest when he slipped his fingers out entirely.

Your lust-hazed eyes looked at him, all wide. “Wh-what?”

The arousal-stained fingers gripped your thigh, a small yelp escaping you. The man’s other hand gripped your chain, making sure you don’t break his carnal stare. “You don’t get to cum unless I say so.”

You nearly sobbed as you felt your orgasm start to fade. You knifed him with a glare, pulling him a hair’s breadth from you with the tie. “What the fuck is up with that, sir?”

His grip on your chin tightened. “Don’t argue back, doll.”

The two digits were pushed inside you once again, and still, damn your senses, your breathing hitched. “If I see release on my fingers, I’ll fuck the orgasm up, understand?”

Although the nerves were back, you wished looks could kill when you stared at him. So he’s going to keep toying with you, then?

Well. Two could play that game.

You convinced him with a timid smile, wrapping your hand around his tie all the way. “As you say, sir.”

Delighted at your response, he struck up that hypnotic flow of his fingers, slowly pumping inside of you. Of course, you relished the way he worked within you, knowing he was waiting for the final cry when he hit a specific spot, but you had to show him your place.

Instead of moaning down the office, like you wished you would, your stubbornness silenced you completely.

Even when Minho fastened his pace, making it incredibly hard for you to stay rigid, you gave him a taste of his own medicine, not a single whine escaping you, just the way he stayed angrily quiet in the meeting. His tie was your only source of venting out your frustration, pulling on it so harshly you wondered how the man’s neck hadn’t given in yet.

A strange sense of hysteria bubbled within you when your boss noticed your silence. Snarling, he dug deeper, and when he hit your g-spot, your eyes nearly burst out of your sockets.

“Being a fucking brat again?” he retorted, fingers playing with the spot until finally, a soft whine came free of your tongue. “Trying to mock me?”

You took in a ragged breath, hair a mess, courtesy of his hand. You glared and glared, but still, you refused to say anything. Refused to say a word, and when you saw his mouth twist into a scowl you savoured his anger.

He ripped his hand from your tie, loosening it from his neck. He straightened it out, every action fuelled with aggression. It made your whole body crawl with excitement.

You parted your mouth to piss him off even more when you suddenly felt a mouthful of silk, completely stopping you. Trying to whine, the tie knotted behind your head, and Minho pulled so hard it nearly stopped your blood circulation.

“Didn’t want to moan, huh?” he guttered, tying up a pretty knot beneath your locks. “Tried to be smart, did you?

The tie wedged inside your mouth stopped you from answering back, Minho taking great satisfaction in your broken mumbling. “Oh, so you wanna talk now?” he mocked, slowly descending, until his face was at level with your cunt. He looked up, and the sight had you shutting up immediately. “No, we’ll play your little game.”

His eyes resembled a demon’s. “One fucking word from you and you’ll be sorry,” he warned, hands, now on your thighs, squeezing the muscle. The anger was so cold you only nodded erratically, fingers gripping the edge of the table.

Spreading your legs a slight, he closed the distance, tongue opening the seams and licking the surface.

You could not help the stifled moan which worked its way out the gag.

Retracting at your reaction, he glanced up, fingers digging into your skin. “Shut your fucking mouth,” he growled, trailing down your inner thigh. That command alone had you in near tears.

He didn’t wait for your incoherable answer as he dived right back in, tongue now licking your clit in a way which had you seeing stars, along with the added assault of his two digits pumping your core. He immediately found your sweet spot and curled his fingers, knowing you would melt right on his face.

Because the gag worked wonders in ceasing your words, you had to vent out your release through gripping Minho’s hair, pushing further, begging him to just let you cum all over his face. The man was a mean prick, though, and wouldn’t ever give you that satisfaction.

His fingers increased their tempo, in and out, and your orgasm was right on the edge, threatening to wash over you if he didn’t stop. You whined as much as you could this time, praying he understood what you meant, and not just you provoking him further.

You tried to curse yourself at how pathetic you were in that state, but you were honestly so fucked out you didn’t particularly care. All you wanted now was for Minho to ruin you.

The man, taking notice of your cries, paused his licking, fingers still at their thrusting. His eyes still up at your ravaged state, and you nearly undid yourself at the pure pride that shone in his gaze. “Does my little brat wanna cum all over my face?” he cooed darkly, and you could not nod fast enough, earning a husky chuckle from him.

“Will you talk back?” God, an even faster shake of your head, eyes glistening. “You better fucking not.” he sighed, blowing on your cunt which had you wailing into the silk. “Well, since the gag’s still on…”

He offered you a small grin, enough to drive you insane.

“Go on then, you fucking slut. Cum on my face.”

His mouth was upon your cunt in seconds, just in time for you crying out into the tie-gag as you released your orgasm, creating a mess of him as you spilled yourself onto his tongue, his chin, everywhere, barely avoiding the office floor. Minho slowed his pumping inside, eventually ceasing as he took in your release, pulling away.

You caught the slight spillage scattered on his chin, and he slid his tongue down, looking up at you with feline amusement. “All that bitching, and you still cummed,” he mused, soothing your throbbing with his fingers. “Still gonna call me a coward?”

He stood, his clothed hard on rubbing against your folds, and you knew you that despite the orgasm, you needed more. His mere fingers, however heavenly, were not enough.

His one hand cupped your head while the other tugged on the gag, pulling it down from your mouth. You coughed lightly at the freedom, desire swirling in your features still. “I…” you started, but your throat still hurt. “I…”

“Use you words, doll,” he ordered, unravelling the knot on his tie behind you. “God knows you use them too well.”

“F-fuck...you,” you rasped out, causing him to raise a brow.

“Still got attitude?” He traced his thumb over your cheek. “Despite you whining like a little bitch to let you cum?”

His hands left your face, sliding to your thighs as he gripped onto them, having you sit on the desk. He then moved down further, tossing your lingerie before wrapping your legs around his waist.

Leaning in, his chuckle tickled your lips. “Guess I’m gonna have to fuck the brat out of you.”

That alone would have had you moaning if Minho didn’t shut you up with a rough kiss, fingers sloppily unbuttoning your shirt. He sucked on your tongue, failing to take the shirt off, and with a harsh groan ripped the parting, buttons popping to the floor. He peeled the attire off you, dumping it with your panties, and when he pulled away, he took in your intricately laced bra, and his malice was replaced with pure, unadulterated lust.

“God, I’m going to ruin you, doll.”

You answered with capturing his mouth, nibbling on his bottom lip, his clothed boner creating friction against your inner thighs. His hands ravaged all over your exposed skin, while your own returned the favour, unbuttoning his shirt and taking it off. You ran your fingers up his abdomen, the granite solidity having you rolling your hips against him. Smiling against your lips, you felt his hands descend, gripping at the underside of your thighs before he lifted you up.

You gasped lightly, wrapping your hands around his neck as Minho, while leaving a trail of kisses down your neck, collarbone, tongue sliding along, turned around, your back to the full view of the nightlife of the city, revealed through floor length windows of his office all around. Walking towards it, he backed you up against the glass, the cold sending shivers down your spine. That, and Minho leaving core-shaking kisses upon your skin, as he began to unhook your bra strap, tearing the lingerie off you.

“Minho!” you exclaimed, when he planted his lips upon your bare breast, sole finger playing with the other. Hearing his name had him grinding against you, making you whimper.

He went up, erratic breathing entering your ears. “It’s sir to you,” he snapped, before diving back in on your breast, licking over your nipple so thoroughly that you felt that overgrowing need to release once again. Again, with the teasing, the playing, when all you needed was his cock to fill you right up.

“Sir, p-please,” you begged, your legs locked tightly behind him.

“Please what, doll?” he hissed onto your skin, one hand tracing your throat.

One more thrust of his hips and your eyes pricked with tears. “P-please fuck me, sir,” the knots in your belly growing.

“Finally,” he breathed out, thumbing your neck, softly compared to the hard on you were practically sitting on. “You’re not being a little bitch.”

One hand still clasped around his neck, you brought the other down to his trousers. Looking up at him, he almost softened.

“Now you’re asking permission?” he cooed, straying from your breasts. “Being a good girl for me?”

You never had an idea on how much that affected you. “Don’t push it,” you countered, a tired smirk still playing on your lips.

“Go on, doll,” he said, hitching you higher on the glass, moistening with the sweat beading down your back. “But I like you better when you beg.”

“Let’s see if you-ah!” you were cut off when you pulled his trousers down, and his cock tried to burst from his stained underwear, rubbing against your cunt much too deliciously. “Fuck me hard enough.”

“Stop running your mouth and pull my boxers off,” he ordered, and this you willingly obliged, careful of your leg-lock as you peeled them down to his knees, he getting them clean off. When his cock sprung free, you were salivating at the sight, angry red and ready to have it inside of you.

When he caught your blatant staring, he snapped his fingers. “Careful, or you’ll start cumming without my permission.”

Your widened eyes darted to him, and your lack of response had him actually laughing. “Already forgotten your words?” he mocked, fingers gripping your chin. “My babydoll is getting dumb staring at my cock.”

“Please, sir,” you murmured, locking your hands behind his neck. “P-please fuck me.”

Minho let out a pleasured sigh at your pleading. “As you wish, ____.”

Pressing his forehead against yours, he clasped his cock, directing the tip to your entrance, already staining the surface with its pre-cum. His other hand gripped onto your hip, steadying you against the glass, now slightly misted.

“Ready?” he asked, surprised to hear a little softness as he caressed your hip with his thumb.

You nodded against his forehead, parting your mouth. “Yes, sir.”

A little scoff escaped him. “Good girl.”

That was all he needed before he began the final descent.

His cock slid inside, and your breathing turned irregular as your walls stretched slightly at the intrusion. He went further and further, moving ever so slowly to let you adjust. Lord knows you needed to, when his dick was so big.

“O-oh my God—” you stumbled out, feeling as if the man had filled you right up to your gut when he was finished. You kept deathly still, fearing you might shatter if you even moved the wrong way.

“It’s okay, doll,” he reassured you, hand leaving his cock and settling upon your other hip. “Whenever you’re set.”

“I’m good,” you said, more scared that you would cum right onto his dick if he tried to move inside you. “Stop worrying and...and fuck me already.”

His thumbs pressed harder on your sides, a pleasured sting ringing. “Now I won’t regret it if you can’t walk after this.”

A ragged scoff escaped you. “We’ll see about that-”

Well, you really couldn’t when Minho began to pull out.

Your mockery was cut off with a shrill cry, hold tightening on him as his cock slowly slid out. The gradual process was so pleasurable you had to hold onto him for dear life, or you knew you would collapse onto the office floor. The man made sure that never happened, grip on your sides never slipping, pressing you against the warming glass.

“I’ve only just started,” he drawled breathlessly, still relishing how loud you were being despite him merely beginning. “Has my babydoll never been fucked before?”

You had, but never had anyone made you so weakened by a simple pull out. In fact, your sexual life was average at best, but you telling him that he would, by far, be the biggest mistake. He’s already got an ego the size of his cock - you were not going to inflate it any larger.

“H-have been,” you gasped out. “B-better even.”

That false claim had him knitting his brows in anger. He thrusted his dick right back in, and another whine choked out of you.

“Liar,” he spat, filling you right to the brim. “Lying to me when my cock’s inside you.”

God, the rage that filled his veins was pure ecstasy in your mind. Good, you thought, making sure you chuckled at him. Provoke him till he breaks you.

“H-he was so much-argh!” you just couldn’t get a word out when he began to pull out once more, Minho now attacking your neck with his lips, bruised patches of your skin as he started up a painfully delightful rhythm of pushing and pulling his cock into you.

“Go on, you fucking brat,” he snarled onto your throat, licking up the column. “Try and tell me there was anyone better.”

You were on to tell him, gloat breathlessly that there were all these obviously real people who had fucked you into oblivion, but when his fingers began to prod at your clit those lies were replaced with thundering mewls, nails digging into his back.

Fastening his pace, you rolled your eyes back, head hitting the glass. Minho, watching you, slammed his hips forward, hitching you upward with the sheer force of his cock and snapping you out of your haze, making you look at him.

“I asked you something, doll,” he demanded with rich sarcasm, fingers never stopping on your clit, nearly taking you over the edge. When the head of his dick hit a certain spot, deep into your core, you couldn’t even control the slight drool which trailed down your spit-slick lips.

Minho’s dark laughter only had the knots tightening in your belly. “Awww, my babydoll’s so fucked out she can’t even speak?” his mouth curled into a smirk. “Only a useless set of holes for me to toy with, aren’t you?”

You thought you said something, hopefully something to shut him up, but when your orgasm was right at the tip of your cunt you knew it was as the bastard said - useless.

As you predicted, Minho quickened his fingers on your bud. “Worthless fucking bitch,” he mocked mercilessly, practically branding you against the glass. With the sheer anger he fucked you with, you were scared the windows would crack. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“C-close, sir,” you finally got out, managed to formulate the only words you needed at that moment. Your boss, at this, only increased his pace of his erratic thrusts, practically decimating your cunt with his cock. You had a feeling among the lust-filled haze of your mind that he, too, was getting close, with the way his flow turned sloppy.

“And…” he took in a sharp breath. “And what about it?”

Oh, you knew what his last game was. Permission from him, pleading to let you spill your arousal all over his cock.

In any normal circumstance, you would have laughed at their face. Made sure they never asked something so atrocious.

Lee Minho, however, was another case entirely. Not when he was your lifeline, the only one in the universe who could save you from this impending doom. Even though he was the bastard who brought it down on you in the first place.

So you did what possibly no human being could ever ask of you.

You pleaded.

Practically begged to let you feel sweet release.

“Can I…” another soft cry left your lips. “F-fuck, please...can I cum?”

Minho imprisoned you with his gaze. Locks sticking to his forehead, mouth parted in desire, and pupils dilated, you still found him so utterly beautiful, despite the wilderness beneath. Found him even more so when he finally decided to show you some mercy.

“Go on, babydoll. Cum for me.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Your vision nearly blacked out when you obliged, orgasm spilling out from the tight spaces between your walls and his cock, dribbling down your legs and dripping onto the office carpet. The sight of your spillage had Minho finishing off his own thrusts, releasing an earth-shattering cry as he barrelled his own release into you, ropes of cum spilling out of your cunt, joining your mess on the floor.

A slight peaceful stillness settled over the office, save for the both of you, breathing as if you had been underwater this whole time. Minho’s cock was still inside you, snug around your moistened walls. Slowly, he pulled it out, hanging limp from use, and your cunt felt hollow, emptier than it has ever felt before.

You unlocked your legs from his waist, immediately regretting the action when they gave out under you. Collapsing onto Minho, you were instantly met with his arms, holding you up.

“Careful,” he muttered, leading you to his chair, settling you down on the plush leather. He pulled his boxers up, along with his trousers, finding your own attire on the floor and placing it on your lap.

Smiling lazily, you started adorning your rather dirtied attire. “A good business proposal, no?” you mused, referring to your terrible excuse at the beginning of the evening.

Remembering, he chuckled, putting on his shirt. “I never bought that anyway, doll,” he merely said, buttoning to the top. “I knew you were jealous.”

Cheeks burning, you mumbled a little shut up, earning yourself a grin from the man. Finding your own shirt useless from Minho ripping it open, you said so to the man. “Look what you’ve done to my top”

He only spared it a glance before grabbing his tie, stained with your saliva. “Look what you’ve done to my tie.”

“That was your own fault,” you remarked, hoping your blazer would cover your front up. “You put the gag on me, prick.”

“Feeling brave already?” Minho purred, already putting you on a familiar edge. “Thought I’d fucked the brat out of you by now.”

Oh, he really did. He truly made you his little bitch not moments ago, and perhaps that would be rooted in you for the future.

But of course, you’re not going to tell him that.

You stood up from his chair, slipping into your heels. His eyes watched you as you walked to the door, opening it wide.

You looked back, catching something akin to wonder in his gaze.

“It’s going to take a little more than that, sir,” you declared, and left the room, closing the door behind you.

And as you prepared to leave the building, Lee Minho stayed rooted in his office, feeling his insides go wild all over.

It’s going to take a little more than that, sir.

Oh, God.

The man scoffed.

“Fucking brat.”

“I DEMAND TO BE LET IN!”

Once again, you rolled your eyes at Miss Kim, who was now adorned in magenta, long boots tapping against the marble floor.

“Mr. Lee is busy, Miss Kim,” you told her for the umpteenth time, refusing to believe that one seemingly intelligent woman, who had her own business, could be so thick-headed. “If you would just sit down—”

“You don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped, pointing an acrylic-painted finger at you. “I am a special client of Mr. Lee’s, and don’t need an appointment.”

You let out a sharp breath through your nose. It had not even been two days before she was back at the office, demanding Minho’s presence for the continuation of her meeting before you interrupted them.

A small smile caught onto your lips. Thank God you did.

“Hey!”

You perked up, brows instantly furrowing. “Miss Kim, just like the last time, I cannot help you. I can only give you entrance inside if you have an official appointment.”

Letting out a harsh laugh, she shook her head, wiggling the same finger at you. “Miss whatever your name is, I don’t like to have my time wasted, and you certainly are wasting my time. If I say I want to see Mr. Lee then you better damn well let me see Mr. Lee!”

Your mouth nearly opened to snap back at her when the glass door beside you swung open, and out stepped the CEO himself, who possessed the same irritation on his face as you did as he leaned his figure against the doorway.

“What is this constant racket?” he complained to no one in particular, and when his eyes fell upon his unofficial client he stopped. “Oh, good afternoon Miss Kim.”

“Mr. Lee, your little assistant is being difficult once again,” the woman declared, glaring at you. “She did this the last time I was here, and even when you let me in she’s doing the same thing again.”

“Oh, really now?” Minho got out. He turned to you, his dashing face exposing slight amusement at the claim. “Is that so, ____?”

You fought the urge to smirk at him. “She does not have an appointment,” you explained, spinning your pencil to avoid his searing gaze. “You told me only to let the people who’ve made appointments enter your office.”

Minho grinned for you. “That I did,” he confessed, eyes sliding to Miss Kim, whose smug smile faltered. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid the rules must be followed.”

The woman’s arrogance faded completely when the words left his mouth, finding herself defeated. “I see,” she said, still souring at the sight of you. “Well, I’ll phone up tomorrow morning.”

“You do that, Miss Kim,” he agreed, and watched as the woman turned on her heel, grumpily exiting the building.

The man found your eyes, and you saw them dance with mischief. You already felt your heartbeat pick up the pace when he walked over to you, planting his hands on your desk. “I need you inside the office, doll.”

Oh my God. “Whatever for, sir?” you asked innocently, trying to focus on your round of Solitaire, stark on the computer screen.

The table creaked underneath his fists at the title. “Let’s say it’s a…” he leaned in a little, careful of his employees beyond the hallway. His voice conveyed a slight husky tone. “A business proposal.”

Shivers crawled down your spine. Fuck him. Fuck him for bringing up your shitty excuse of two days ago. “I hate you,” you whispered harshly to him, despite the nerves.

His eyes never left you. “We’ll see about that when we start the meeting, doll.”

He stood straighter, opening his office door. “Now are you coming in?”

You studied the open door, the hidden opportunity that laid beyond. When you caught the growing lust in his gaze, you pressed your thighs together.

Standing up, you hurried to the doorway, earning chuckling from your boss. “Shut up, asshole,” you hissed, entering the fated office. Seeing the desk already had your cheeks burning.

“It’s sir to you, brat,” he only said, hands already on you as he closed the door.

[imaginedisish]

Atlas: Touch (Five Hargreeves x Reader) (The Umbrella Academy)

A/N: HEEEYYY GUYS!!! So this is based off of a request I got today, and something I personally wanted to write. (The whole Five comforting the reader thing) The title + kinda sad nature of it all is based on Atlas: Touch by Sleeping At Last. I feel like this may be kind of a mess, but it’s honestly because today was just such a bad day. SOOOO ANYWAY, THIS IS GONNA BE A TWO PARTER!!!! YAYAYAY!!!  Also, it’s a little shorter than what I normally write because of that...Soooo just be aware of that...now ENJOY!

Summary: Five comforts the reader after having a vision she really wished hadn’t seen...(Reader can see the future)

Warnings: References to murder, killing, blood, language, implied panic attack, a really terrible childhood, angst, cliffhanger (that will be resolved in part 2) FLUFF!

Word Count: 2,381

The wind is harsh and brisk, passing straight through your body as it eradicates any sense of warmth you once felt. A chill rolls down your spine, and a feeling of uneasiness fills your gut. The area around you was barren of life, save a large, vibrantly colored sycamore tree far off in the distance. Its presence made no sense, since there was no other sort of growth in the area. 

 It was almost dream like. You look up at the lightless night sky. Not a single star was shining. The moon was nowhere to be seen. It was dark, ominous, and strangely malevolent in sensation. 

“Where the hell am I?” You ask yourself. 

Then, you see a familiar shape lying under the tree. 

“Five?” You call out as you begin to make your way over to him. 

No answer. 

“Five?” Your voice echoes back to you. 

No answer again. You squint, trying to get a better look at Five. He wasn’t in his Academy uniform. He was wearing a Bowie shirt, with a flannel over it, and dark blue jeans. You walk a bit closer, and you start to see more. 

 In the center of his chest, you notice something dark, something staining through his shirt. In the center appears to be some sort of a hole. 

Then, it hits you. 

The dark stain was blood, and the hole must have been where a bullet entered Five’s chest. 

Five had been shot, and you weren’t there to stop it. You were too late. 

“NO!” You cry out. 

You break out into a sprint, rushing over to him as fast as you possibly could. “Five!” You scream as you come closer to the great big tree. Suddenly, crows burst into flight from the branches of the tree, their shrilling squawks shaking you up a bit. 

Finally, you approach Five. You kneel down by his side. Tears well up in your eyes. “F-Five?” You croak, swallowing harshly. You grab his shoulders. “F-Five, p-please. Stay with me, please!”

No answer. 

You extend your index and middle finger underneath the right end of Five’s jawline, searching for a pulse. “P-please, p-please s-stay with m-me,” You stutter. You refuse to move your fingers, even though you feel absolutely nothing. 

You shut your eyes tightly, and tears begin to stream down your cheeks at free will. You collapse in Five’s lap, sobbing heavily. You chant incoherently, “Wake up, wake up, wake up.” But he doesn’t. He can’t 

He’s gone. 

The crows that had left seconds ago return again, circling around the tree, cackling their cacophonous cries, telling the gods above that they had correctly predicted yet another death. 

Then, there’s nothing by darkness. “Five!” You scream as you open your eyes, pushing yourself up in your bed. Light fills the room, but you can’t fight the overwhelming darkness you feel deep down inside.

Rain patters loudly against the window next to you as a tear slides down your cheek. You take a deep breath, but it feels like the air that once filled your room was sucked out by some sort of vacuum. The walls feel as though they are closing in. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest. 

What the hell just happened? You ask yourself. 

Your visions had been growing worse lately, but that specific one had taken you by surprise. Your visions never showed how something would truly happen, but they would give you some sort of intimation as to what would come to pass. Five and the rest of the Hargreeves swore to help you learn to use and control your abilities the minute they met you. They promised that with their help, you could dive deeper, and figure out more about your premonitions. 

It was hard, of course, when you couldn’t stand to experience whatever it was you saw. All your life, you couldn’t stand your power. Most of your visions came on without warning, and depicted terrible, horrendous things. Worst of all, you were unable to control who’s future you saw. 

Yes, being able to see the future could be a blessing at times. But, more often than not, you felt as though it was a burden. You had grown up in foster care, which had only added to your stress as a child. Not only did you deal with a power you couldn’t control, but you had no one to depend on. Your outbursts due to your premonitions caused you to move around quite a bit. Every foster parent you had deemed you “impossible,” which ruined your chances at becoming adopted. Kids bullied you from group home to group home, and you struggled to stay stable. One fateful day, when you finally felt as though you had enough, you ran away. 

You planned to move to New York, and pursue music, the one thing that helped you throughout your life. 

You stopped for some coffee at Griddy’s on your way out of town, and that was when you met Five. The minute he sat down next to you, you had a premonition: Five would temporarily lose his powers, causing him to be captured and tortured by The Commission.

It was often obvious to those around you when you had your premonitions, since you essentially travel to a dream world in some distant stream of you consciousness. Five immediately knew that something was wrong. 

“I’m sorry, but are you alright?” He asked. You decided to take a chance on Five, and explain to him what it was you saw. There was something about him that told you he was just like you; he was a dysfuctional outcast, who simply wanted to be loved. 

By the end of your conversation with Five, about what you had foreseen, as well as your powers, Five decided it would be best for you to come back to the Academy with him. 

You had nowhere to go, no one to take you in. Somehow, running off with some seventeen year old boy who could move through time became your best bet. 

Over the course of the last few months, you and that very same seventeen year old boy had created an unbreakable bond. Your childhood made you feel unlovable, and Five made you feel the exact opposite. Five cared about you. He was usually sarcastic and nonchalant with people. But with you, he was kind, and sweet. He made you feel like things were going to be okay, or possibly even better than okay. 

Maybe things could be…good, just for once, You thought to yourself. 

Most importantly, Five was the first person to ever say those eight words to you:

“I hate most people, but I love you.” 

You hadn’t expected him to feel anything for you. Your whole life you felt worthless, and unwanted. But Five wanted you. He saw how incredibly special and important you were. 

“I love you too,” You said back. 

It was abundantly clear that you couldn’t lose Five. Not now. Not after everything you had told him, not after all of the late nights that you two had stayed up talking. You had built a relationship with him, and it was the first relationship that had ever truly mattered to you. 

Suddenly, a knock at the door brings you back to reality. You look in the mirror across the room, revealing your puffy, tear filled eyes and red, soaked cheeks. You swallow harshly, frantically reaching over to the tissue box on your nightstand. 

“(Y/N)?” Five calls, knocking again. “Are you okay?” You can’t speak. Everything hurts far too much. You look over to the door, and watch as the knob twists, and the door creaks open. 

Five’s crystal blue eyes meet yours. He studies your face, instantly recognizes how disheveled and destroyed you look. You break down again, simply at the sight of him. You sob heavily. “I-I d-don’t kn-know what t-to d-do F-…” You choke on your words. Five rushes over to you, wrapping his arms tightly around your shivering body. 

“What happened?” Five questions softly. “Did someone hurt you?” His tone immediately changes at the thought that someone did this to you. “I swear to God I’ll fucking kill whoever did this.” 

“N-no o-one h-hurt m-me,” You stutter. “I-I c-can’t t-take th-this a-anymore Five, I can’t d-do this sh-shit anymore,” You say in between sobs. “I can’t fucking do this.”

Five furrows his brows, and presses a soft kiss to the side of your head. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” He whispers. “Shuuuush, it’s okay, I’m right here.” Five’s voice is soft and low. He holds you tighter, rocking you lightly back and forth. “I’ve got you now.” 

You press your face into Five’s chest, sobbing heavily. You couldn’t breathe. “I-It’s n-not o-okay,” You struggled to say. Five pulls you in even tighter. “I-I saw something, F-Five. F-fuck, I-I c-can’t lose you.”

Five’s fingers gently come through your hair. “You aren’t going to lose me,” Five coos. But his words cut like a knife. Truth was, you knew you were going to. Everything felt so overwhelming. It felt like a family of elephants had sat on your chest, and your respiratory system could no longer function because of it. The walls of your room continue to close in on you and Five. 

You pull apart from Five for a second, trying to catch your breath. “E-everything is too much. I c-can’t h-hande my p-powers anymore,” You cry out. “I can’t j-just be happy, for once? Things can’t just stay good, for once in my life?” You’re screaming now. “Of course all of this was too good to be true. I don’t deserve any of this! I’m nothing, and no one. I’m worthless shit!” More tears stream down your cheeks. 

Pain and confusion spread across Five’s face. He inches closer to you, wrapping his arms around you yet again. You bury your face in his neck. “You are enough, (Y/N). You are more than enough. Everything anyone has ever lead you to believe about who you are, and what you’re worth, is absolute bullshit,” Five coos, his hands rubbing gently against your back. “I love you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Y-you d-don’t know that. I’m going to lose you, Five,” You sob. 

“Tell me what happened,” Five whispers. “Where did all of this come from?” He asks. 

You swallow harshly, preparing yourself to explain to Five what you had seen. “I-I h-had a premonition,” You pause, attempting to collect your thoughts. “Y-you, w-well y-you…” You trail off, pulling away from Five. You study his face, his piercing blue eyes, his chocolate brown hair. A single tear falls from your eye and rolls down your jawline “Y-you d-died. Y-you’re g-going t-to…” You can’t go on. Five pulls you in again. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Five says, his fingers combing through your hair again. “You aren’t going to lose me. It was just a vision. For all we know, it’ll remain a vision. It might not turn into anything more.” 

You sniffle. “I know what I saw. Five, s-someone i-is g-going to sh-shoot y-you.” 

Five stops playing with you hair, and he has no response. Silence looms over the room. Unfortunately, your visions were more ‘accurate’ if they showed a specific cause of death, and the bullet wound in Five’s chest was a clear and specific cause of death. 

“Wh-what a-are we going t-to do?” You ask, pulling away from Five. For once in his life, Five is at a loss for words. He always had some sort of response for everything. He always had some sort of answer. Sometimes, it came off as cocky, or smug, but regardless, he always knew what to do. He always had a plan. 

This time, however, was different. This could very well be the end of everything. 

Five swallows harshly, his ocean eyes searching yours as if it was the last time he would ever be able to see you. “I-I d-don’t know,” Five says, standing up. He begins to pace back and forth. “Do you know who k-killed me?” Five asks. 

“N-no, but you were under a sycamore tree. I don’t know what was so important about that, but that was…well, that was where I f-found y-you,” You explain. 

Five shakes his head. “Maybe it’s The Handler, or The Commission,” Five begins to pace faster, his steps becoming more rushed and frantic. “Are you sure it was a bullet wound? Maybe Vanya somehow escaped again? Maybe it was her?” 

You simply shake your head, unable to give Five a real answer. It’s impossible for you to form coherent thoughts or sentences at a time like this. Whoever killed Five could be anyone, or anything. Maybe Vanya did escape, and maybe she found a gun. Maybe The Handler caught Five messing with time again, or found something new to blame him for. Nevertheless, everything was happening so quickly. All hell was breaking loose. 

“Is there anything else you noticed about what you saw, anything that could help us?” Five questions. He stops pacing, and sits back down on the bed next to you. 

“Wh-when I f-found y-you, i-it was night,” You explain, sniffling a bit. You remember what he was wearing when you found him. “You had on a Bowie shirt, and a flannel, and jeans.” 

Five scratches the back of his neck anxiously. “That’s what I was going to wear today. I had the day planned for us. I was hoping you’d want to go see a showing of The Man Who Fell to Earth at that old theater downtown…” Five trials off. 

Tears continue to stream down your cheeks. “Th-then t-today i-is…” You don’t have the strength to finish your sentence. 

“Not if we don’t go out. Maybe we can cheat death,” Five’s eyes light up with hope. 

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try.”

To Be Continued…

tags: @drawingsupernova

[jeonggukingdom]

the way bangtan would cuddle;

d i s c l a i m e r || this is just my opinion based on the general idea of their character I have formed throughout the years. Of course you could have a totally different opinion than mine (since we’re all different people, we also perceive things differently) and of course, I have no way of knowing if I even came close to the reality so take it as it is: an opinion of a fellow ARMY. Thank you :) 

a u t h o r ’s  n o t e || @btssmutflufflove, this is for you, my love ♥

|| Check the headcanons tag to find “the way bangtan would kiss” ;) - I’ll add the link in a week, thank Tumblr that still needs to fix links -.- ||

N A M J O O N

He’s a very sweet and thoughtful person so I really think he’d love to cuddle - among other things, of course - but he’d definitely get easily flustered, even by his own actions. I think he’d love to whisper sweet things to his significant other but get immediately giggly at his own cuteness or the sweet reactions of his lover.

He’d blush a lot, to be honest. He would love to hold them in his arms - definitely a big spoon - and kiss and chill with his partner for an entire day, talking about the most random things. He’s not the type to indulge in silence for too long, I believe, so he’d really go out of his way to find anecdotes to make them smile or even laugh for him - probably his favorite sound from them!

S E O K J I N

Seokjin will definitely be the big spoon in the relationship. I mean, his wide shoulders and broad chest are perfect for it, nobody would be able to resist them. Also, despite his very silly side, he actually strikes me as one of the manliest in the group and he’d definitely love to make his significant other feel secure in his embrace.

When it comes down to real life, I think Seokjin is actually pretty shy so it would be hard for him to speak many sweet words but he’d definitely make up for it with his actions. He’d love to caress his significant other’s face, their neck, their back while listening to them talk about their day. I don’t think he’d talk a lot, to be honest, because cuddling time means cool-down time as well and he wouldn’t feel the need to make his partner laugh with silly jokes. Unless they’d been having a crappy day and he’d feel the need to lift their mood up.

Y O O N G I

We all know Yoongi has a thing for holding hands/touching hands and, let’s be honest, we all have a thing for HIS hands so maybe I’m a little biased here but I think he’d definitely love to play with his partner’s hands. He’d love to stay in silence, holding each other, playing with each other’s fingers and slowly kissing in the dim light of the room. He would listen to his partner attentively if they feel like talking or venting about their day and his replies would always be soft, thoughtful and slow in that very slurred and relaxing tone he has - ASMR live, basically, lol Oh, A LOT OF BACK RUBBING and noses touching each other’s all the damn time so he can stare right into his partner’s eyes.

H O S E O K

Hoseok LOVES to be doted on, hands down. I’ll never forget that video where he was literally begging Jungkook to pet his hair so he could fall asleep and you all can bet your asses he’d do the same with his significant other. He’d let them stay on top of him or even be the big spoon just as long as they keep caressing him, kissing him and in showing him love. I think he’d like these moments to be mostly silent and very sweet. He definitely loves playing with other people’s hair and he’d be soooo into that. And also little kisses in uncommon places: between the brows, the tip of the nose, the chin, on the lobe, literally everywhere on his partner’s face.

J I M I N

Oh man, does Jimin love to cuddle. On this particular subject, in my mind, he’s second only to Taehyung. He’s definitely into skinship and wouldn’t mind it even in public, let’s be real here. He’s all for hugs and little kisses and caresses and sweet words spoken in soft voices. He doesn’t even need to try to be cute, he’s cuteness embodied. He does get shy easily but it still wouldn’t stop him from saying the sweetest and most romantic things ever just to see his significant other smile and get emotional. I think he’d love to be held just as much as he’d love to hold his partner in his arms. He’s definitely the type that would like to fall asleep while being so close to his partner. Eskimo kisses would always make him giggle in happiness and turn his cheeks a little pink and I think he’d really love those just as much as actual kisses on the mouth.

T A E H Y U N G

Taehyung is the MASTER of cuddles. He’d hold onto his partner until they both fall asleep holding each other. He’d love to kiss every inch of their faces and play with their hair. He’d probably hum little tunes for them to fall asleep as well. I think he’d be more into cute cuddles than actual make-out sessions because he really strikes me as someone with a pure heart - at least when he is in cuddling mode. He’d want to cuddle like every single instant of the day, would hardly make his significant other do anything else because he’d be a whiny bitch to get what he wants. He’d act cute all the damn time to get his prize and nobody would be able to resist his puppy eyes, honestly.

He’s not good with words but he’d still make an effort to speak out loud exactly what is on his mind. He’s not scared to act cute for his partner, not even in front of others and literally, any excuse would be perfect for him to initiate an endless cuddling session.

J E O N G G U K

He’d love to tease his partner, make silly faces and even pretend that cuddling is some type of core just to see his partner laugh or get a little worked up.

Cuddling with Jeongguk would definitely never be boring. He’d have those days where he’s really soft and sweet - and a little embarrassed because he’s a shy bean and we all know it. And he’d have those days where he’s feeling really playful so there won’t be as much cuddling time but more teasing and joking time. He’d tickle his partner a lot, make fun of their bed hair and stuff like that because he relishes in all the reactions he can get out of people.

I don’t think he’d be super into PDA because he really is shy, especially when it comes down to this stuff but I think he’d have those moments where he simply wants to hold his partner and will do it regardless of other people’s eyes on them both.

I also think he’d be more into holding his partner rather than being held. I think he really wants his partner to see him as a manly guy, someone that can protect them well and make them feel safe and he’d definitely go out of his way to accomplish just that.

Oh, did I mention that he’d definitely be into his partner kissing all of his freckles, even though it makes him flustered and giggly every single time? He’d probably say he hates it simply because, as I said, he’d go more for the “manly” type but we all know he’d actually love every second of it.

[colorful--raindrops]

I used to answer these for funsies all the time

A- are you single?

Sadly

B- birthday?

November 19

C- crush?

Low key this kid at my school

D- did u get ur first kiss?

Lmao no :/ even tho I’m 19

E- easiest person to talk to?

I have a couple but top of my list is prob my friend fatou

F- favorite song?

Ugh so many... lately it’s prob Burning by Sam Smith

G- good at?

Procrastinating

H- hair color?

Dirty blonde

I- in love?

Nah

J- jealous of?

Ugh skinny girls

K- known as?

Idek

L- longest relationship?

I been single for the last 19 years soooo

M- middle name?

Virginia

N- number?

My fav number is 99117

O- one wish?

I wish I could talk to some people from my past again

P- person last texted?

My work group chat

Q- question always asked?

“How are you?”

R- reason to smile?

Life is good, man! Things get hard, but they always get better

S- song last listened to

Why Am I the One? - Fun.

T- time you woke up?

12 PM

U- 3 biggest wishes?

I wish I had a nice body, I wish I could see my grandpa, dad and aunt again, and I wish I could talk to some people from my past again (not so general, I have specifics but)

V- violent moment?

I ducking hate violence so much

W- worst fear?

I’m really scared of being alone (not in a superficial sense but in the sense that like one day everyone will leave me)

X- ex you still liked after it was ended?

Yikes

Y- your last hug?

My cousin Allie

Z- zodiac sign?

Scorpio 🙃 but don’t hate me for it bc I hate my zodiac sign since everyone automatically hates me for it

[unsteadygalaxy]

Thoughts on Sierra Burgess is a Loser

Kinda a liveblog?

TL;DR This is the actual worst and I cringed so hard through the whole thing. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen in my life

-The opening music reminds me of Stranger Things RIP BARB

-Why is the first scene a shower scene like seriously

-IS THAT THE PSYCHIC WOMAN FROM THE FIRST SEASON OF SUPERNATURAL

-ALSO SHE’S SO SASSY I LOVE HER

-I hate high school mean girls so much

-Confident walk after a burn stopped by a bump=me 100%

-High school counselors are exactly that helpful can confirm

-W H Y is Noah Centineo in this too he already destroyed me from To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before

-Ohhhh so THIS is how the catfishing starts

-Damn this Veronica chick is a bitch

-She plays flute yaaaassss go girl

-Girl stop catfishing him, you know that’s wrong

-I am in LOVE with the fact that she doesn’t have a typical female lead body. If they make some sort of dig about that I’ll be SO mad

-This is killing me, he’s fantasizing about a girl that’s not her ugh

-THE BLACK GUY IS BRITISH I LOVE IT

-This catfishing deal is killing me

-DO NOT FIND A PICTURE OF VERONICA AND SEND IT YOU IDIOT

-Stoooooop catfishing hiiiiimmmmm

-Oh yay his little brother speaks ASL/is Deaf!! I actually think that’s really cool :)

-”I didn’t mean to push it” well damn you failed at that Dan

-STOOOOP WITH THE CATFISHIIIIIIIINNNNGGGGGGGG

-Don’t be an idiot for the sake of romance uuugggghhhhh

-Okay Sierra, good on you, you’re trying to be friends with the mean bitch okay

-Oh dang, she’s a bitch because her mom is a huge bitch

-Why is Veronica helping her omg 

-Boy why do you have an android it’s 2018 get an iphone

-WHY ARE YOU TALKING ON THE PHONE HE’S HEARD YOUR VOICE UGH

-ahhh the FaceTime question

-Girl why are you trying for the track team? Running is awful

-I hate how awful this whole movie makes heavy girls look :(

-This whole FaceTiming this is gonna be a disaster 

-They’re becoming friends?? Good on them!

-He’s gonna ask her out on an actual date omg

-Y I K E S I CALLED IT

-”Don’t die before then” omg kill me that’s actually me

-Yes you are in very deep shit you idiot

-Y I K E S SHE TRIED ASL YOU IDIOT YOU’RE AN IDIOT

-This is a whole big bag of yikes I hate this

-Bitch never ever fake ASL it only makes you look stupid AF

-This is one whole idiotic mess I hate this

-This is the cringiest thing ever ughhhh

-sierra you’re an idiot

-He definitely would have seen her crawl under the damn car what are you blind

-This whole thing is the worst and i hate it

-he’s gonna open his eyes and see her

-aklsdjfal;ksjdf;kjdsf STOP BEING STUPID

-This whole party thing is gonna turn out so bad I just know it

-Jamey is gonna show up and see Sierra and it’s gonna be so bad omg

-Aaaaaand she’s gonna get super drunk

-Dude is Veronica falling in love with her?? Interesting twist

-Bwahahaa she just passed out drunk omg

-Veronica is gonna ditch her ugh

-veronica you BITCH

-She’s gonna drunk confess to Jamey omg

-yyyyep mmhmm

-Big yikes. BIIIIG YIKES.

-SHE’S ACTUALLY GONNA TELL HIM NOW pls girl come on

-This is a whole big mess and I’m like... cringing so hard

-this has gone on for t w o we e k s

-aslkdjfla;kdflkajskdlfaj

-WHY DID YOU WAIT THIS LONG ARE YOU AN IDIOT

-This whole football game situation is gonna be a damn disaster

-Sierra you’re an IDIOT

-DID YOU POST THAT PICTURE ON VERONICA’S ACCOUNT HOLY HELL WOMAN YOU’RE AN IDIOT

-You’re gonna burn aaaaallll your bridges in one go huh

-Damn Sierra you’re such a huge idiot

-This is the worst thing ever and I hate it

-YOU’RE AN IDIOT SIERRA BURGESS

-SLAM HER VERONICA ROAST HER SO HARD SHE’S SUCH AN IDIOT

-The biggest idiot i’ve ever seen in my entire life holy hell

-Come on Shannon Purser, you can do better than this shit movie

-Play that honky tonk piano girl :-)))))

-I hope that this is actually Shannon Purser singing bc that would be good

-Okay good

-Whyyyyyyy did you go to her house Jamey

-This is just so unrealistic I’m sorry

-Boys like this don’t exist in high school. They just don’t.

-That was a giant cringe fest but okay I guess

-”Dan successfully argued his way into an all-girls college.” Y I K E S

Soooo this was awful. There were definitely some parts that were compelling, but as a whole it was just cringey. I can’t believe that catfishing of all things was the whole subject of this thing. That’s just the most horrible thing ever.

[all-ringils-blazing]

Tags

I WAS TAGGED IN 2 TAG GAMES SO IM GONNA ANSWER IN 1 POST FOR ECONOMY GUYS, WE LIVE THROUGH DIFFICULT TIMES. WHY AM I SCREAMING?

1- 20 questions

Answer 20 and tag 20 people you want to know better

Tagged by @lovefrombeelzebub666

Thank you once again, mate !!! ❤

Name: Louiza

Nicknames: Loutsos (the main one), Lou, Loulou, Boss

Gender: Female

Orientation: Straight I guess

Nationality: Greek

Faith/Religion: I was baptized as a Christian Orthodox but, as long as my mom and her family is Christian Catholic, I can say I live both as an Orthodox and  Catholic. And about faith, yes I really believe in God.

Hobbies: Listening to music, eating, sleeping, walking, playing the guitar, cooking (even if I am not the best chef but at least you are not gonna die of food poisoning I guess xD)

Pets: A dog aka my baby, my boy, my sunshine, my world, my whole life, my heart and soul, my moon and stars, my Leo 💕💕💕

Favorite Color(s): Red, Black, Purple

Favorite Holiday: Chriiiiiiiiiistmas

Books: The Silmarillion and the Witcher books I’m reading lately with Sword of Destiny being my top until now cause it’s where we met my Ciri 😭💕

Movies: The Lord of The Rings, The Hobbit, Harry Potter, Indiana Jones etc.

Tv shows: I haven’t watched anything for years but I’m living for the last season of Game of Thrones.

Music: Oh man the bands/artists I adore are too many but I always loved Queen and Judas Priest a little more.

Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate: Coffee, always coffee !!!!! ☕💕 

Favorite meme:

I want to live long enough to: Have a job I love and earn a big amount of money, live on my own in the house of my dreams, raise my dog child, travel the world alone or with close friends, be a decent guitarist.

Weird Obsessions: I don’t even know if it is supposed to be called “weird” but I die for tahini, you know, that sesame cream thing. I eat it every day for breakfast as a spread on bread. I just mention it ‘cause most of the people I know hate it so much can you tell me W H Y ?! x’D

Random Fact: I never sleep without a cover. Even with 40 degrees, I always must keep my body covered with a sheet.

Goals for 2018: Pass my classes and .... be happy?

2- Get to know me tag

Tagged by @vampearlgrey and @silenthorrorfilm

Thanks thanks thanks thanks bros !!!  💕

Rules: Answer 30 questions then tag 20 blogs you’d like to know better

Nickname: ↑

Gender: Female

Zodiac: Scorpio

Height: Around 1.72-1.73 ????

Age: 22

Time: 12:39

Favorite Bands/Solo Artists: Shit not again !!! ↑

Song stuck in my head: Storytime by Nightwish and the atmospheric theme from The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion - Minstrel's Lament

Last movie I saw: The Shining

Last thing I googled: Something about a youtube channel I’m following

Other blogs: None

Do I get asks: Yeah every never

Why I chose my username: It’s a combination of Judas Priest and my fav Silmarillion character. Basically his sword.

Following: People I share the same interests with.

Average amount of sleep: Now it’s around 8. When I have classes, it’s 5-6.

Lucky number: I don’t think I have one.

What am I wearing: Oversized blue t-shirt (my brother’s), black shorts.

Dream job: Maybe something around the renewable sources of energy which is the closest to the major I’m stuDYING, or electronics who knows. But I would really love something with music, like having my own rock/blues/jazz bar (hahahaha......yeah, dream job right?) or a radio station or playing in a band but not a famous band touring around the world like Metallica or something, I mean a small local band that plays in bars, or maybe a sound engineer which is close to my major too, I mean something with music but not soooo into music, you get me right? x’D I don’t know, dream job.

Dream trip: I R E L A N D 😭😭😭😭😭 !!!!!!!! If you’re reading this and live in Ireland, call me ;D 💕

Favorite food: Pasta with tomato sauce 💕

Play an instrument: Still need a lot of practice but let’s say I play the guitar.

Favorite song: Don’t you know it’s illegal to ask people about 1 favourite song? Be careful next time .... (But The Show Must Go On by Queen Means a lot to me)

Play(ed) any sport: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEVER !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I only loved to play football at school sometimes.

Hair color: My natural is light brown but I have it dyed black since my 15 years.

Eye color: Light brown

Describe yourself as an aesthetic: Rainy night, a blues bar, low lights, abandoned beer glasses on the tables, a live band plays slow, emotional songs, whispers and laughters from the still reserved tables (wow deep)

Random fact: I don’t think I have something else to share right now. ↑

My Tags: @rosenazair @maerda @holographicsneakers @emperor-draygon @mercuryhymn @the-music-dork @angelusxardere @goodbyetogravity @arnoediad @murasakihime @ace-bi-says-hi @space-coyote-judal @mochibat @harmonicstupidity @kittyinhighheels @integrathegreat @astraxh @noinobonoto @killinguwithumbrellas @maumauxmau @elvenwitchychild @vitrielle @juhaku-inspired @luciells

and @lovefrombeelzebub666 @vampearlgrey @silenthorrorfilm to do the one you haven’t done if you want guyz ;D

[thedormdietitian]

How I Went to Grad School Without ANY Student Loans

Hi everyone!

Happy Thursday! I’m back, for this random yet important post. There was a YouTube video put out by a popular user who was basically crying about how she was in so much debt, all from student loans. I am extremely grateful to say that I do not have any student loan debt, and I wanted to share some things with everyone about how and why now that I’ve graduated from grad school, debt-free. And remember, I’m a dietitian, not a financial expert ;) And I’m also not some holier-than-thou-look-I-don’t-have-loans betch, I’m just trying to help you.

For undergrad and/or grad school:

-If you have the opportunity to live at home, DO IT. I am beyond thankful that my parents are the best people on this planet and allowed me to live at home for both undergrad (with the exception of my freshman year, since I went to a different school 2+ hours away from home that year, and hence the name of this blog) and grad school. Is it what all the cool kids do? Nope. But thankfully I had that opportunity and it saved soooo much money. Plus I actually liked it (helloooo homecooked meals, my puppies, and non-community bathrooms). Dorms and apartments around where my school was were ridiculously expensive, so that alone saved at least $30k when considering all the years. But obviously if you go to school out of state, that’s not an option. So listen to my other ideas ;)

-There needs to be at least a few sacrifices. For example, I never studied abroad, which probably makes me exceptionally lame in millennial culture but again, it saved me a ton of money. Although I was butthurt about it initially (like whyyyy am I the only person my age on all of Instagram who hasn’t been to Rome?!), I’m glad that I saved that time to graduate early, and besides, I’m sure Europe is more fun when studying isn’t involved. I’m not denying you cultural experiences and all that, but maybe save it for a time where you can actually pay for it (because yes, a euro is actual money).  Or if you must dip your toe in a different culture, nix the Netflix account or stop eating out so much.

-Try to work. I know school is really freakin’ stressful and all that, but if you can snag a part time job or a nannying gig, do it. Yeah, most of my Friday nights were spent with people under the age of 10, but whatever. Or try to get a job at school, I was a teaching assistant and learned a ton while making money (and I was already there, so yay for no commute!).

-Look for scholarships e v e r y w h e r e. It’s practically free money! The essays might be annoying but that was how I paid for all of grad school. Sometimes your school might have their own scholarships, so go for those too!

-State school is (usually) the way to go. I’ve gotten a lot of crap for going to a “state school” and I totally had my heart set on a private school out of state, but for the most part, I’m glad I stayed in-state (if I went there, I’d likely be the person on YouTube crying about my loans). Not perfect by any means, but looking back financially, it was a smart choice. And the field I’m in isn’t super into where you went to school, which helps. However, if your field is wanting to only hire Ivy League grads, you do whatcha need to do. Or if you get a ton of scholarships for your dream school, GO, for goodness sake.

-Pick a major that will make you a decent living and minor in what you love. Please don’t be that poor sap who majors in underwater gender art studies and then complains when they can’t find a job. That’s just how the world works, so make sure you can find a job that will cover your bases and assets. Be creative on the weekends.

-If you’re still in high school, sign up for all the dual enrollment and take all the AP classes you can. I got to graduate a whole year early from undergrad because of this, and it saved an entire year of tuition/gas/stress-induced online shopping purchases.

If you have to do loans, that’s totally understandable and I know some people have to (and I might be going back to school in the future, and will most definitely be doing loans for what it’s for. But that’s another day, another blog post). But please:

-STAHP using your loan money for alcohol/a trip to Cabo/a bigger apartment/that really cute headboard. I have a friend who is $250k in debt for just undergrad because she took out extra loans for a bunch of extremely unnecessary stuff. Don’t do that! Your 40 year old self is going to hate you!

-Do your research. Talk to banks, read articles, make sure you know exactly what you are getting into. Don’t sign your life away like you’re The Little Mermaid.

So that’s my advice! Anyone else have tips for reducing or avoiding student loans?

xoxo,

The Dorm Dietitian

^who, as of yesterday, is officially a dietitian!!!

[hellimagines]

The Crazy Kind--Patrick Hockstetter

Masterlist

Summary: The journey of you and Patrick Hockstetter inspired by Him & I by Halsey and G-Eazy.

Warnings: Patrick is a warning, cursing, bullying, hints of killing

Pairing: Patrick Hockstetter x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,715

A/N: This wasn’t requested, but when I asked for it, a lot of people did as well, so I thought I’d go ahead and do it. Plus, I’ve been soooo burnt out with Billy, and craving the Bowers Gang. This is my first time writing about Patrick, and it’s really long, and very loosely follows the song. Like I don’t even know where this went. I can probably do a part two with this?

Ever since you could remember, it had always been you and Patrick Hockstetter against the world. Against his family, the Bowers Gang, the killer clown of ‘86. No matter what happened, you and him would always come out on top.

You first became friends when you started kindergarten. Patrick wasn’t talking to any of the kids, while you were talking to too many of the kids. You wanted a friend, you’d always wanted a friend. Growing up, your first 4 years of life, nobody was interested in you. You were too smart for them, too interested in how life worked, while they were too interested in imaginary things. So when you walked up to the raven-haired boy sitting in the far back of the reading-rug, you were ready to give up on ever having a friend.

You sat yourself beside him, not saying a single thing. You didn’t even know his name, and he didn’t know yours. The teacher began reading, Where the Wild Things Are, while you held your knees to your chest with a pout. Your (h/c) hair was in a loose ponytail (it had been in a tight one, but one of the boys hadn’t liked the fact that you tried correcting his spelling, so he tugged at it earlier), and you were desperately trying to keep yourself from crying. You’d already read Where the Wild Things Are before, so it was hard to keep yourself focused on the story and not the day’s horrible events.

Suddenly however, a small hand came up to your ponytail, and tugged on it, again. But it wasn’t as harsh as the boy earlier in the day, it was gentle, and more directed to the band holding your hair together than the hair itself. You whipped your head around, your now-free hair flying around you. The raven haired boy beside you had your purple hair-tie around his wrist, and was staring directly at you, as if he had done nothing wrong.

“I like purple. It’s my favorite color,” he explained, as though it were to justify his actions. His legs were spread out in front of him, taking up two colored squares instead of the one they were allowed to take up. And now that you were looking, he was sitting on the purple section- as were you.

“Yeah, well it’s mine too. And it’s my hair-tie! So you best give it back,” you scolded, holding out your hand, expecting him to give it back. The boy shook his head, a mischievous grin forming.

“No thanks. You weren’t even wearing it properly. I think I’m going to keep it,” he grinned, snapping the band on his wrist. You had had it. Tears began to form in your eyes, your lip starting to quiver. But you weren’t going to cry, you weren’t. You needed to stay calm and collected, keep your composure.

“That’s because Tommy was being a jerk! He messed up my hair because he can’t handle being stupid,” you said to him, trying to keep your voice down so your teacher wouldn’t over-hear your conversation. You didn’t want to get in trouble. The little boy’s eyebrows rose, his grin dropping.

“How is he stupid?” he questioned, spreading out his legs so they formed a ‘V’.

“He spelled ‘lightbulb’ wrong. He spelled it ‘l i t e’ instead of ‘l i g h t’,” you informed him, glaring at the back of Tommy’s head, who sat closer to the front.

“What an idiot,” the little boy scoffed, matching your glare. He moved his gaze back over to you, finally noticing the unshed tears, splotchy cheeks, and quivering lip. “Lemme fix your hair,” he offered, patting the spot in between his legs.

“You’re a boy, you don’t know how to do my hair,” you frowned, narrowing your eyes at him. “My mommy barely knows how to do it.”

“Then your mommy’s an idiot too. Now come here before I keep this forever and ever,” he said again, hitting the rug more forcefully. You quickly looked up, making sure your teacher wasn’t paying attention before crawling between his legs.

“I’m (Y/N),” you said, as you sat down, your legs out in front of you as well. They weren’t as long as his, and he was an inch or so taller than you. His pale hands gathered your hair together, pulling the messy strands out of your face and to the back.

“I’m Patrick. Patrick Hockstetter,” he told you, carefully pulling your hair into its original ponytail.

A year or so later, Patrick told you about his baby brother, Avery. Avery was annoying; he was always crying, or throwing his food across the table, or bothering you and Patrick. You didn’t like him- but then again, you didn’t like babies at all.

But Patrick felt differently about Avery, a way a 5 year old shouldn’t.

“I’m telling you, (Y/N/N), he’s going to ruin things,” Patrick grumbled, sitting across from you in his room. You were both coloring (or at least you were coloring, Patrick was just trying to mess up your drawing), while Avery slept in his room and Patrick’s parents made dinner downstairs.

“Well duh, he always ruins things,” you said to him, pausing your coloring to look up at him confused. “Remember my homework paper about the spaceships? He tore that to pieces.”

“Not like that!” Patrick yelled, sitting up and shoving the crayons off of your paper. “He’s going to ruin me. My life, how I run things. He’s going to replace me, push me out of this world. He’s trying to take over,” he explained, balling his hands into fists.

“That was rude,” you huffed, sitting up yourself and closing your coloring book. “Nobody can replace you, Patrick. You’re too stubborn. Too different. I won’t let him replace you,” you declared, crossing your arms over your chest in defiance. “Besides, he’s just a baby. He can’t even push you yet.”

“So I have to get rid of him before he can,” Patrick suddenly said, standing up. You blinked a few times, confused.

“Wha-”

“Don’t you see? He’s only a baby, you’re right. So he hasn’t had time to become a real mortal yet, which means I have time. But if I wait, I’ll be replaced. I won’t be real anymore. You won’t be real anymore. He’ll take me away, get rid of me. You’ll never see me again, (Y/N),” Patrick said quickly, grabbing your shoulders and trying to pull you up. You stood, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Don’t say that, ‘Trick. Don’t say those things,” you demanded, punching him in the shoulder. “We’re gonna be friends forever. I told you that. Your stupid baby brother isn’t going to take you away from me.”

“Then we have to take him away,” Patrick said, holding onto your shoulders. He looked down at you, his grey eyes filled with determination.

“I… I… I don’t know, Patrick… what if we get caught?” you hesitated, rubbing your hands together nervously.

“Then we go down together. Besides, we’re just little kids, they won’t get mad at us,” he said, a smirk slowly lifting to his face. “You don’t wanna be without me, right? This is the only way.”

“Okay.”

A week later, at Avery’s funeral, you and Patrick stood hand-in-hand. Everybody was dressed in all black, suits and tie, including you and Patrick. You had on a small black dress, with fake flowers pinned in your hair. Patrick had his black tux on, but he had been messing with it so much, that it was wrinkled and unravelled.

“See?” he whispered in your ear at the end, as everyone began to place roses on the casket. “Now nobody can take me away from you.”

Henry Bowers approached Patrick in 8th grade about joining his little gang. He liked how ruthless the taller boy was, how sadistic he was and how he didn’t care what anyone else thought of him. But Henry didn’t mention you.

After school, Patrick found himself sprawled across your bed, watching you carefully. You were looking at your homework, he didn’t know what subject, furiously writing things down in your notebook. Your (h/c) hair was resting over your shoulder, your hand half-way carded through it, fingers tugging at the strands. He’d always loved your hair: the way it felt between his fingers when you’d let him braid it or pull it into a ponytail, the way you’d mindlessly run your hands through it when you were frustrated, or the way it would stick to your lips when they were coated in lip gloss.

“You’re out of it, ‘Trick. I can sense it, what’s going on?” you finally spoke up, dropping the pencil from your hand and tilting your head to look at him. You always knew when something was wrong, and he hated it. Absolutely hated it.

“Nothing, twerp. Go back to your work,” he huffed, glaring at you now. He didn’t want to tell you that a group of boys wanted him to be their new gang bang buddy. He didn’t want to see the look on your face and deal with the emotions.

“Cute,” you snarled, moving yourself to lay beside him, despite what he said. “This about Bowers and his fuck squad?” you questioned, propping yourself on your elbow.

“How the fuck did you find out about that?” he asked in astonishment, sitting up and looking back at you.

“Word spreads quick, you know that. Especially if the Bowers Gang is interested in someone joining their gang,” you explained, keeping your expression neutral. Patrick stayed silent, continuing to stare you down. “I can join the group too. Just ‘cause I’m a girl doesn’t mean I’m weak,” you snapped, glaring at him.

Patrick rolled his eyes, stifling a laugh. “I’m well aware of that, soldier. You’re fucking crazy is what you are.”

“You’re one to talk! Half of your crap is in my pencil bag because of your little habit,” you ridiculed, sitting up.

“I never said I wasn’t. I’m out of my fucking head, doll face,” he laughed, poking your scrunched up nose.

“Patrick, they can’t break us up. I’d go crazy without you,” you whined, looking at him sadly.

“Didn’t realize we were a thing,” he snickered, watching as your face heated up.

“I didn’t mean it like that! ‘Together ‘til the end of time’, remember? We made that promise in kindergarten. Don’t go breaking that shit now, Hockstetter. Or you’ll fucking regret,” you warned, your voice filled venom. Something sparked within Patrick, an electricity shooting from his heart down to his crotch at the tone in your voice.

“Yeah?” he smirked, his voice dark as he slowly dragged his eyes over you. “What if I wanted you to mean it like that, huh?” he hummed, licking his lips. You were taken back, but your (e/c) eyes narrowed, as you matched his smirk.

“I’d say ‘finally’,” you grinned, and in an instant, Patrick’s lanky body was covering yours, pressing you into the mattress. His lips were on yours, and the kiss was messy. You hadn’t kissed anyone before, but Patrick had had plenty of ‘middle school flings’, so he was more experienced than you.

“Stubborn bitch,” Patrick breathed, after pulling away. There was no harshness beneath his words, only a devilish grin. “Guess Bowers is gettin’ the both of us.”

It was the summer of 1986 and kids were missing left and right. Rumors went around that it was you and the gang, but it was just childish bullshit. You and Patrick were 15, and had been a couple for about 2 years. There wasn’t a single person in Derry who didn’t know about the two of you, or the Bowers Gang. The Gang had gotten progressively worse since middle school, and you noticed almost immediately the way Henry and Patrick brought out the worst in each other. A sociopath and a psychopath together were never destined for greatness.  

You were all on the Kissing Bridge, the boys tormenting the new kid, Ben Hansom, while you leaned against Belch’s Trans Am. You rarely participated in the torments, you were usually put on look-out for adults, teachers, or the cops (in particular, Henry’s dad), while the boys did their thing. But lately, Henry’s been taking it too far. Vic had come to talk to you about it, since he knew you wouldn’t make fun of him for his concern, or betray him and inform Henry. You agreed with him, but the two of you didn’t say anything to the others, or to Henry; you just let him continue down his path.

Henry was carving an ‘H’ into Ben’s stomach, as you watched with disinterest. The kid would have a scar, and most likely an infection, but you didn’t care. Hanging out with the gang, and growing up with Patrick, muted your sympathy and concern for others. Suddenly though, Henry began to yell.

“Shut up! I’m gonna carve my whole name into this cottage cheese!” he screamed, holding his knife up between Ben and Belch. Patrick turned around momentarily to give you a toothy grin, but as he did, Ben had lifted his foot and kicked Henry in the groin, propelling himself backwards and off of the bridge.

“Fuck,” you moaned to yourself, running forwards while Henry began to scream and yell, about how he was going to kill the kid. The boys jumped over the ledge, you following quickly. You all tumbled down the hill, you and Vic managing to keep your balance since you were the last two and the lightest.

Henry sent Patrick and Belch to go find Ben, while you and Vic stayed behind, helping Henry search for his knife. You weren’t able to say anything to Patrick, he was already gone by the time you reached the forest floor, but you weren’t worried about it. He’d come back, pissin’ and moanin’ about doing Henry’s dirty work.

But Patrick didn’t come back. You waited, and waited. You forced the others to wait too, getting into a full-on screaming match with Henry about it. Finally though, it had reached 9 o’clock, and you knew you couldn’t wait any longer. So you shoved yourself in the back seat, jaw clenched and nails digging into your forearm.

When you told Patrick’s mom that he hadn’t come back from using the bathroom in the woods, she didn’t seem phased. There was almost a hint of relief in her eyes, and that's when you knew you were on your own. You printed the missing person posters, using a candid photo you had taken of him at the beginning of the year, and put them up all over town. Vic and Belch helped out, driving you around, and threatening shop owners into putting the flyers up. You were slowly feeling something in yourself leaving. You couldn’t tell what it was, but it was getting harder and harder to hold on. Every little thing was pissing you off, and you couldn’t even control your temper around Vic anymore. But your breaking point was Henry. It was always Henry.

“Would you quit moping around, (Y/L/N)?” Henry had snapped finally, about a week after Patrick had disappeared. You had refused to go inside his house and get more beers for the gang, telling him that he had his own legs, he could get them himself.

“Don’t tell me what to do, Bowers,” you snapped, jumping off the hood of the Trans Am and stalking towards him.

“Oh shove it. He probably saw some other bitch with her skirt up, and decided she’d be a good fuck for the week. He’ll be back before you know it,” Henry huffed, his hands clenching around the silver gun in his hand. Ever since he had lost the knife, he had taken up his father’s stolen gun. “In the meantime,” he said slowly, walking closer to you, “you can bang me all you want. I’ll help you forgot about the freak,” he cooed, his fingers curling around the ends of your hair.

Before you could process what was happening, you had reached your hand out and grabbed ahold of his fingers, pushing them back until a ‘snap’ filled the air, followed by his screams. “Patrick wouldn’t do that,” you seethed, holding onto his fingers as his knees buckled. “He’s the only one who gets me, and I’m the only who gets him. No way in hell would I let your dick come near me,” you snarled, and finally let go of his fingers, letting him drop to the grass. Belch and Vic watched in horror, unmoving. You turned on your heel and stormed down the dirt driveway, officially on your own.

As you had been on your way home, you had passed the old house on Neibolt street. But this time, there were bikes outside of it, and a group of kids on the porch. The Losers.

“Hey! What the hell are you idiots doing?” you called out, walking up to the gate. All of their heads turned to you, eyes wide with fear. Whether it was fear of you, or the house, you couldn’t tell. None of them answered you, instead they all shared glances amongst one another. “I know one of you has a speech impediment, but I didn’t realize you all did,” you huffed, pushing the gate forward and walking inside.

“Where’s your gang?” Stan Uris called out, his hand gripping the banister. You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms.

“Left ‘em. I thought it was a ride or die thing, but I guess that only applies to me and ‘Trick. Nobody cares that he’s gone, and I couldn’t take it anymore,” you said truthfully, shrugging your shoulders. Beverly Marsh’s eyes widened slowly, her mouth slightly opened.

“Patrick Hockstetter?” she asked slowly. “Your boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Tall, black hair, smiles too much. You all know him,” you confirmed, nodding your head. You could see a hint of sadness, almost sympathy, behind her eyes, but you couldn’t tell why.

“W-w-we know w-where he i-i-is,” Bill Denbrough said suddenly, and the entire Losers Club snapped their attention towards him in betrayal. In a second you were in front of the group, holding Bill by the front of his shirt.

“Where the fuck is he, Denbrough? How long have you known where he is? Is he okay? Did you do something to him?” you fired off, pressing his back against the edge of the bannister.

“Woah! Hold on, let him go! He didn’t do anything,” Mike Hanlon said desperately, reaching up to tug at your sleeve. You looked between the two before slowly lowering Bill back down. “He’s in there… sort of. It’s complicated, and confusing, and you probably won’t believe us,” Mike said, wringing his hands.

“Try me,” you snapped.

“We will if you calm down, Bonnie,” Richie Tozier shot back, and you glared at him and his reference of ‘Bonnie and Clyde’.

The Club then went on to explain to you about this killer clown, Pennywise, and how It had been responsible for taking all the kids. Some of the kids were still alive, while others had already been killed- or eaten in this case. They weren’t sure if Patrick was alive or not, but they knew where he was.

“It isn’t capable of killing Patrick,” you said before they could finish. They looked at you sadly, as if you were in-denial. “No, listen. Patrick has solipsism. He doesn’t believe in anything, or anyone, other than himself. He isn’t scared of anything, therefore the clown can’t manifest itself into something. He thinks leeches are disgusting, and that zombies are weird, but nothing has ever scared him, and he thinks that he’s the only real thing in the world. Patrick is still alive,” you explained to them.

“I didn’t think he could get any creeper,” Eddie Kaspbrack spoke up, shaking his head. “Does that mean you’ll help us?”

“Yeah, hurry up, let’s go.”

That night, after you had saved Patrick and the Losers and gotten rid of It for the time being, was different than all the others. Patrick was in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed with his elbows digging into his knees. He was shirtless and you could see cuts and bruises everywhere now that you had cleaned him off. Your parents were asleep by the time you had gotten back, and you knew better than to bring him to his own house. He was better off with you for the night. You sat behind him, your legs draped beside him with your arms wrapped around his torso and your lips pressed to his shoulder.

“It wasn’t real,” he said softly, for the upteenth time that night. He had been whispering it occasionally, as if it was a reminder to himself. His palms were pressed against his eyelids, as he silently chanted the phrase to himself.

“It wasn’t real,” you agreed, for the first time. You hadn’t responded before, simply allowing him to cope. You didn’t know what to say- It was real, and he had been taken, and those kids had died. But then again, to Patrick, nothing was real. Patrick stopped his chanting, slowly dropping his hands. He turned his head, looking at you for the first time since you left the sewers. “It wasn’t real, ‘Trick.”

“It wasn’t real,” he said again, more confidently, and nodding his head. He pushed your body back, forcing you to lay down on the bed. He laid on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck. “I’m real,” he told you, kissing your neck gently.

“You’re real. You’re alive. You’re safe,” you nodded, rubbing your hand up and down his bare back, the other running through his damp hair.

“(Y/N)...” he spoke, lifting his head so he could look down at you. You looked back up at him, reaching up to tuck a strand of raven hair out of his face. “You’re real too,” he admitted. Your eyes widened, your hand freezing against his cheek.

“Yeah?” you laughed breathlessly, smiling. Patrick nodded, but he didn’t return the smile. “That’s good to know, babe. You and I will be real together. The crazy kind, okay?”

“Okay.”

[waftyjourney]

When September ends..

September almost over, and it’s good to be a healthy mental status these days wohoo!🕺🏻

Ok. So I will review this month. Honestly I wanna do this monthly, but I often forgotten xo.

Soo, I just do my research 1 week in this month, And I am still off waiting for the primers come. My deep chaotic mind comes to this month, when I realize that My supervisor underestimated me and didn’t guide me properly. When I realize, I am the only one who trully finding the alternative: and I decided to redo my research. Primer designing. Again. Whoah, it’s really hard- considering v e r y m u c h parameters in order to avoid another problem ahead.

So, I escaped (again) for some days. Meet juki. Really, I just need a space to think over my life. I am really in chaos. Every single negative things come to my mind. Ages, parents, status, my past, etc. I didn’t want to meet any people, I avoided my friends, neglected all the chats, phones, and turned it into airplane mode. I really need a space at that time. My belief on people was broke, I didn’t believe on anyone, even my parents.

Fortunately, being for somedays at Juki, was clearing my mind. Once again, she teached me: calm down. We just need to accept. And don’t think hard.—As the result, I back to reality- with clearer mind.

It felt gauche at first when I was back to the reality. Everyone looked commiserating me, they wanna ask but they didn’t. I hate that. Everyone looks like put a symphaty on me. I hate their gaze. And you know what? It’s like everyone know that I escaped out of city because of my research problem. Well, can’t I just hiding without anybody know?— I am understand perhaps they care for me. But at that time i really really really need a space to be alone. Without any distraction. Without any question.

In the end, I told my another supervisor abiut my problem. And she understand me :’) — she asked about one important quest to myself: ‘Do you still want to continue this?’ — and I realize that I still want to continue, I still really curious. Sincerely. So she told me to keep going, and it’s fine. My mental health back. Even healthier. Even now I feel that I’ve graduate and nothing to do more xoxoxo.

Then, I am also learned to let go people. I accept that people comes and goes. That time has been changed. That there’s no one who really stay. They have their life. Their prob. I learned that I just to be kind to everyone, without see back what their attitude, good or bad to me— without hoping the return. And always share love everywhere. It never damage us. Because love is never wasted. Being kind is just to let your heart to be bigger. To be happy.

Another big lesson on this month: joined LGD at GGF’s campus recruitment. It began with my curiousity with LEAP program, applied, and joined the physicotest. And I PASSED! I passed the physicotest, and I got call for the LGD. It’s really cool.

The LGD started where I must read the business case within 5 min. And it’s soooo business-thingy xoxo. Althought I didn’t pass the LGD, but I am happy. I learned a lot☺️. I learned that I lack the knowledge on that field (Even I am not really understand about the case, cebause it used business-language).That I must to moree read books. Especially at finance & business. I learned and heard rather than shout out my opinion whehe.

So, thankyou God. It’s a good month. Althought it fulls of chaos, it gives me alot points. It fully grows me here in my heart 🧘🏻‍♀️