#and i would be very happy to make space for his automatic anger reactions as long as he recognized it and apologized for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chanluster · 4 years ago

Text

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

back to masterlist

“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.”

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids oneshot #bang chan imagines #bang chan oneshot #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan dark hours #bang chan hard hours #stray kids hard hours

2K notes · View notes

remmysbounty · 4 years ago

Note

ooo I'm very interested to see if you could combine secret relationship & there’s only one bed from the prompt list. Like maybe they're forced to share a bed but have to pretend this is like not exactly what they wanted to happen infront of others? I have no idea, you don't have to go with that if you have another idea or you could just go with one of the prompts I'm really not too fussy! :)

ooooo me likey this idea very much hehehe I hope you like this boo!!! also I might have gone just a touch overboard with this sooooooooo

also there’s some cursing in here but it’s not much, figured I’d let y’all know either way

hidden in plain sight // frankie morales x gn!reader

I’m going to kill them, you thought, I’m going to kill each of them especially-

Frankie came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist before bringing you closer to his chest. All you could continue to do was stare at the bed, stewing in your anger- and worry-, as Frankie started to kiss the back of your neck softly.

“Fish,” your whisper was soft but stern- a warning- both to him and you.

He whimpered slightly, much like a small dog who’d been hurt, but stepped away from you nonetheless. Neither one of you wanted to have that space between you but the second the two of you crossed that line from friends to something more you agreed to not breathe a word of these to the boys, at least for now.

The bed though, the bed that was clearly meant for two people- maybe even three, was a big glaring sign to you.

If the boys hadn’t already figured it out, they would definitely figure it out now, and you just didn’t want that.

Frankie unpacked next to you, only arms reach away, but you stood there frozen.

Knock knock

You jumped slightly and then turned to see Benny laughing at your fright. He got a middle finger in return, a response which Frankie could only chuckle at.

“You two going to be okay rooming together?” Benny looked from you to Frankie, checking to see that both of you were comfortable with the whole situation.

Of course you were, you already shared a bed with Frankie on a regular basis, but you couldn’t exactly say that to Benny.

“We’ll be fine Ben,” you smiled softly at him, “Don’t worry about me.”

Frankie finished putting his stuff in the dresser and turned to face Benny, “Same here man.”

“Good,” with another smile to the both of you he left only for his head to reappear a second later, “Food will be ready in a few.”

You knew he stayed close by, Santi most likely with him, as you finally got movement back in your own body. While you unpacked your things, which you then realized included some of Frankie’s stuff, Frankie relaxed on the bed, his eyes following your every move with a tenderness you knew he only reserved for you and his daughter.

“Stop it,” you practically whined as you felt the reel of Frankie’s stare. He reminded you of a puppy now, begging for a treat.

The smirk on his face told you he knew what he was doing, “Stop what?” His voice a rough whisper so as to not let the others catch on.

You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t stop the whine that escaped your lips, “Francisco.”

His eyes widened, and with an agility that only a former Special Forces operative would have, you found yourself crowded against the dresser, your hands automatically finding their place behind Frankie’s neck.

He stared at you. You stared right back.

He wanted to kiss you, he looked much like he did the first time you kissed... only this time he wasn’t hesitant because he was afraid of your reaction, no this time he was hesitant because he was afraid of their reaction.

He took a breath out, you took a breath in. But he couldn’t risk it, not now at least, and yet he continued to hold you.

“I wonder if we should tell them...” Your eyes no longer stared back at his as you posed the idea.

Frankie would have accepted. He wanted to tell the whole world about the two of you the second you kissed him back, but you wanted to keep it just between the two of you so Frankie would respect that.

He shook his head before resting his forehead against yours, “Just us,” there was a pause, “for now.”

You nodded, “Just us.”

Now if only you could get through the rest of this trip without revealing a single thing to the boys.

You walked back from dinner alone, and exhausted, but happy nonetheless that you’d succeeded through one meal.

5 more to go, you thought.

The boys hadn’t said a word when you’d left with a soft goodnight, your exhaustion was more than obvious, but the second you were out the door, they all turned to Frankie and started their teasing tirade over his feelings for you. But Frankie was ready for this, and not a single thing slipped through his lips.

——

You woke up the next day to the blaring of Frankie’s alarm, as well as something else, a whisper or several whispers. You were still too enveloped in sleep to even process what was being said, but you recognized the voices- there was Benny and Santi, and there was Will, and as you were about to snuggle deeper into Frankie’s chest you heard his voice.

“You’re gonna wake ‘Em up,” he grumbled as he tried to hide the way his fingers caressed your side softly, hopefully lulling you back to bed.

“I didn’t know you had it in you Fish,” Benny practically screamed, or at least it seemed like a scream to you.

You groaned, “What the hell are you idiots doing here so early?”

Frankie’s alarm continued to blare.

“It is way too early for this shit,” you tried to make yourself more comfortable as you finally realized that the boys were just watching you and Frankie in the bed.

All you wanted to do was get more sleep, and Frankie’s alarm still continued.

“Fish,” your words practically slurred as you felt yourself fall deeper into sleep’s embrace, “Alarm.”

There it was, the silence, and then once it was too deep for you to turn back you heard Will’s voice, “Fish, are you two sleeping together?”

——

None of them needed any words from Frankie. The second Will said those words, they knew his answer. If the way his eyes widened wasn’t an obvious response then it was the way his hold on you seemed to tighten, but either way they figured it out.

And that’s what you woke up to the second time. The boys peppering question after question Frankie’s way as he tried to force them out the door. He wanted to stay in bed, his body interlaced with yours, but instead he found himself pulled out the room by Santi, the door quickly closing behind him.

“We aren’t angry Fish,” Will’s voice was calm yet methodical, “we just want to know why you hadn’t told us.”

The voices had led you closer to the door and eventually you found your ear pressed against it, searching for more.

“We didn’t say anything because we wanted to just keep it between us-“ “But you two-“ “Pope we aren’t, well actually... it isn’t like that. I love ‘em and I’m hoping they feel the same way.”

Everything drifted away after that. Frankie loves you. Francisco Morales. He loves you.

You glared at the door as if it was the one thing stopping you from telling him then and there. But you knew Frankie, and you knew that if you were to tell him it had to be just the two of you. Then the voices slowly came to a stop and the door opened with Frankie slowly making his way.

His eyes landed on you and he opened his mouth to say something but you beat him to it, “I love you.”

He stared at you and stuttered slightly, “You heard-“ he pointed to the outside.

You nodded and slowly made your way over to him, your hands reaching for the first part they could grab before cupping his face, “I love you Francisco.”

You were determined to make him believe it, Frankie could see it on your face... but so was he. And suddenly he turned the both of you around, pressing you against the door before hoisting you up by your thighs, your feet and hands quickly linking together.

His lips pressed against yours. “I love you,” his lips met yours again, “I-“ one kiss, “love-“ another, “you.”

Your lips went to meet again when suddenly a bunch of banging was heard from the other side and then Santi’s voice was heard, “We’re happy for you two... really.... just try not to make too much noise alright, we aren’t prepared for that just yet.”

To say that you at least tried to be quiet was an understatement.

——

Tin Man: @captn-andor @thewayofthemandalorian @magpie-to-the-morning @magicrowiswritingstuff @booksmusicteaandanimals @dinthisisthe-wayson @littlemisspascal @din-damn-djarin @cleversturmhond @dincrypt @ohwaitimthewriter @poestardust @dindjarindiaries @dindja @dindjarinsghost @reluctant-mandalore @pascalpanic @princessxkenobi @smoldjarin @spideysimpossiblegirl

#remmys bounty #remmys writings #frankie morales x gn!reader #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales imagine #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier drabble #triple frontier #triple frontier imagine #triple frontier request #remmys requests

131 notes · View notes

robininthelabyrinth · 4 years ago

Text

Good Help - chapter 2 - ao3 link

Despite the circumstances of their first meeting, Meng Yao mostly appreciated A-Jue for his quick mind and fearlessness – and, yes, occasionally for his towering height that made grabbing books from high places infinitely easier – rather than his muscles, however impressive they were. In fact, after the first few weeks, he had very nearly forgotten that A-Jue was a guard of the inner hall.

The assassination attempt put an end to that oversight.

It wasn’t that Meng Yao hadn’t anticipated such an attempt, nor that he hadn’t taken precautions. He was careful to take his meals in the communal kitchen at unexpected hours and tested even the snacks he kept with him before consuming them, and naturally avoided any unsupervised hallways or attempts to lure him outside, but he had underestimated the enmity that greeted his appointment: he had not thought that they would launch a direct attack.

The perpetrators entered his office as petitioners, posing as clerks for an influential merchant, and launched the attack just as they were settling into the rhythm of negotiations. They were hoping to catch him distracted, which they did, but Meng Yao had always had good instincts; he realized what was happening the first moment they moved. He was out of his chair and reaching for the flexible sword he stored around his waist almost at once, already calculating how many injuries he could incur and still be able to fight back enough to preserve his life – he just needed to survive until the guards came in, unless they’d somehow gotten rid of those, in which case he needed to run –

The calculations proved unnecessary.

By the time Meng Yao’s hand reached the hilt of his blade, A-Jue was already in front of him, catching one assassin the chest with a vicious palm strike and knocking him into the path of another, turning fluidly to slam an elbow into a third.

He didn’t even draw the saber that hung low at his waist, just knocked aside the assassin’s swords and daggers with his bare hands and then beating them with his fists and feet.

Meng Yao stood there for a moment, blinking, and by the time even his quick-moving mind caught up with everything the assassins all were unconscious or paralyzed, the merchant was on his knees begging for mercy and swearing to his ignorance, and A-Jue was standing there, frowning slightly at one of the still-twitching assassins like he was considering going in for more.

“Why didn’t you draw your saber?” Meng Yao asked, both because he was curious and because it was a better reaction than saying I forgot you could do that or I thought I’d be facing them all on my own again, or, even worse, thanks.

“I thought you’d want them alive to question them,” A-Jue said, blinking at him – he had the same expression of good-natured puzzlement as he did any time Meng Yao corrected him, whether as to his calculation of accounting errors or underestimating the malice inherent in mankind, which remained a subject of recurrent disagreement. “Was I wrong?”

“Not at all,” Meng Yao said, and felt once again the thrill of power when A-Jue nodded and called for other guards to enter and remove the bodies, although he crouched by each one first to check them over for any suicide pills or arrays that might interfere with an interrogation. His professional detachment and efficient resolution of events was truly suitable for a guard of the inner hall, the finest of Wen Ruohan’s soldiers; there could be no complaints.

There was something truly delightful about having a powerful man at your beck and call, Meng Yao reflected, and wondered briefly if A-Jue had been sent his way deliberately as a plant to infiltrate his confidence. It seemed unlikely, given the random nature of their meeting, and certainly A-Jue didn’t fit any of Meng Yao’s known pre-existing preferences, other than in terms of bedpartners. And yet he grew suspicious, if only because A-Jue suited him so very well, just right in every way…

Meng Yao spent the next three days conducting a series of covert tests to see if any information was being leaked from his office through A-Jue, but there was nothing. Ultimately, he was forced to conclude that A-Jue might actually just be – like that.

Straightforward and blunt, fearless in both speech and action, decisive and capable and yet willing to take orders from Meng Yao, never judging him for his birth but respecting him for his abilities…

Good help, he reminded his suddenly over-active libido. Hard to find. Don’t ruin a good thing.

It was hard to remember, though. A-Jue was just the sort of man Meng Yao liked when he went for men: handsome and powerfully built, well-born or rich or both, stern and unyielding in demeanor, the sort of man for whom life generally went the way they wanted. The sort could easily get a girl, even one of good breeding and appropriate lineage, merely by snapping his fingers. The type of man that might tempt even a practiced whore.

Meng Yao liked to break those types of men.

It was a trait he shared with Wen Ruohan, and one of the ways he had managed to get the Emperor’s attention – that first job he had taken had been in the Fire Palace, the Emperor’s torture chambers, and he had worked out a considerable portion of his anger and anxiety through the torment of his enemies, defined liberally as anyone who insulted his mother. He’d matured since then, growing calmer, but he still liked to put proud men on their knees and make them service him, to rub their faces in the fact that he was the one with the power, to make them crawl and plead and cry for him. Though he supposed for someone like A-Jue – he wouldn’t need to break him, really.

It’d be enough to see him bend. Willingly, for him.

And yet, if Meng Yao did that, wouldn’t A-Jue start to flinch from him and turn away from him – seek to preserve his injured pride by fleeing Meng Yao’s presence, the way so many others before him had? It would make working together much more annoying, and A-Jue was perfect the way he was.

Almost irritatingly so. If only A-Jue were more inclined to make errors, Meng Yao would feel freer to take advantage of him.

“Have you ever thought less of me because of my parentage?” Meng Yao asked one evening, apropos of nothing, when A-Jue was already exhausted and more than a little wild-eyed from having to review every single one of the reports on wheat yields in their northern provinces as part of Meng Yao’s random audit of the files.

“I mean, Jin Guangshan’s a waste of space, but you’re nothing like him, so not after the beginning,” A-Jue said automatically, then scowled at Meng Yao when he started laughing. “What? Give me a break, I didn’t know you then! How was I to guess that you’d actually be competent? Or – not awful?”

“I was,” Meng Yao said with dignity, even if his lips insisted on twitching, “referring to my mother.”

“But you hate it when people talk about your mother,” A-Jue said blankly, then shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, is this some sort of mind game? If so, can it wait until tomorrow? I’m going to dream in wheat prices.”

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Meng Yao agreed, pretending to be solemn. He wasn’t sure if he was more amused at A-Jue’s ridiculous perspective on things or the fact that he seemed to think Meng Yao was not awful simply because he’d indulged him a few times when he was being especially insistent on doing things the soft-hearted way.

“You’re making fun of me again,” A-Jue grumbled. “I don’t know why, but you are. Fuck you.”

The next day, Meng Yao asked A-Jue if he’d ever been to a whorehouse.

“Yes, while on campaign,” A-Jue said, blinking rapidly as if he were trying to hide something, or more likely not think of something. Either he’d had a bad experience or he thought Meng Yao was going to cut off his balls for admitting it.

Which he wouldn’t, of course. There was nothing wrong with the better sort of customer, and Meng Yao felt certain that A-Jue would have been that sort, could imagine him sitting in the corner with a jar of wine and a blush until he was coaxed upstairs and then paying too much for the privilege, after...but it was cute that A-Jue worried about such things.

Meng Yao put a friendly hand on A-Jue’s shoulder – the man flinched, briefly, but quickly mastered himself, just as he did any time anyone touched him – and said in his best sugar-sweet sympathetic tone that he hadn’t had to use on anyone in ages, “Did she touch you in a bad place?”

“The honored viceroy can go fuck himself any time he damn well pleases,” A-Jue said, and he had no idea how much Meng Yao would like to ask him if he’d prefer to do the honors himself.

“Do you know any other curses, or is it just variations on the term ‘fuck’?” he asked instead, thinking good help, good help, good help. “I know at least three dozen involving farmyard animals, if you’d like to learn.”

A-Jue’s laugh was in no way like a braying donkey, no matter what Meng Yao pretended to insist.

“Have you considered the benefits of a regular routine of physical exercise?” A-Jue asked.

Meng Yao glared at him.

“I’m just saying,” A-Jue said. “It would make your life easier.”

“Shut up and help me get down from up here,” Meng Yao hissed – A-Jue had taken care of the vicious snarling creatures that had somehow gotten loose, an obvious follow-up assassination attempt now that the poisoning he thought he’d identified in a late-night dessert had been demonstrably unsuccessful, even if A-Jue had insisted that they were just “sweet little puppies” and Meng Yao was “overreacting”.

“I’d be happy to help train you, if you’d like.”

“I’m far too busy,” Meng Yao said with what little shreds of dignity he still possessed. “I do three times as much work as you do, I don’t have capacity to running off to go wave a stick in the air multiple times a day like some people.”

A-Jue grinned at him, utterly unmoved, and Meng Yao huffed, rolling his eyes at him.

“If I agree,” he said, with no intention whatsoever of agreeing, “will you finally show me your saber?”

If there was innuendo in there – well. He was only a man, after all.

“Perhaps one day,” A-Jue said. “It’s not a privileged I give to everyone.”

Meng Yao tried to parse whether that was flirting. He couldn’t quite tell.

“Well, your saber is very large,” he said, probing. “Maybe you should take it out more often.”

“When I take out my saber, someone dies,” A-Jue said, and – probably not flirting, then. “I wouldn’t want to accidentally skewer you.”

Possibly very strange flirting? Meng Yao wouldn’t put it past A-Jue.

“Yes, well,” he said, straightening his robes and settling back into professional mode. “You have fun with your exercise, but leave me out of it.”

A-Jue escorted him back to his office first, conscientious as always.

Once he was gone, Meng Yao rang a certain bell and summoned Sisi, whose freedom was probably the best investment he’d ever made – she’d merged into the palace staff without leaving so much as a trace behind, acting as though the other girls were her sisters and she’d been there forever, and she was more than willing to report on everything she learned.

Also, she’d retained enough of her looks that everyone thought that Meng Yao only summoned her for sex, making A-Jue’s occasional disappearances for training purposes the perfect time for Meng Yao to meet with her without suspicion – he’d given up most of his paranoia surrounding A-Jue, but that was no reason to share all of his tricks.

Besides, he wasn’t sure he actually wanted A-Jue and Sisi to meet.

“When you’re done fucking him, can you share?” Sisi asked after she put down the tray of snacks – buns and a pot of tea, all of which she sampled before his eyes in the name of sharing food. “Man like that deserves to be common property.”

“I’m not whoring him out,” Meng Yao said, a warning in his tone, and Sisi sighed dramatically.

“Tell me you’re at least having a good time with all those muscles,” she said. “Someone ought to be.”

Meng Yao rolled his eyes.

“Where’s the trouble coming from this time?” he asked, deciding to elide the issue entirely. “I keep hearing whispers and people look nervous, the way they do before some sort of trouble, but neither gentry nor merchant class seem to have produced anything out of the ordinary, and I can’t imagine it’s the farmers again after last time.”

“You’re looking out, you should be looking in,” she said.

“The Emperor’s court?”

That could be a serious problem. Any political turmoil that happened within the Nightless City would have ramifications well beyond it.

“His harem,” Sisi said, her face alight with the pleasure of gossip. “Word’s come back from the south – turns out that the Emperor took one of the Imperial Consorts with him for his trip.”

Even Meng Yao’s eyebrows raised.

“And with the Empress in seclusion, well…”

It wasn’t as though the Empress had a strong maternal family as a backing – no one even knew what her surname was – but she’d been there for years and years, practically part of the décor. Replacing her with one of the Consorts would be…a change.

The Nightless City hated change.

“Could you ask to see her?” Sisi asked. “Just as proof of life…”

“I could,” Meng Yao said, because technically he had authority over everyone, “but I won’t. Why would I invite trouble for myself? I’d have to explain to the Emperor why I interfered with his harem.”

“Good point,” Sisi said, although she looked disappointed.

“Which Consort?”

“The rumor says A-Sang,” she said. “The one that likes to carry scholarly fans.”

“A-Sang? Really?”

“I know! We all thought that the Emperor didn’t even like A-Sang – everyone agrees that A-Sang never got any imperial visits before this; the Emperor never spent a night in A-Sang’s rooms, never even shared a meal, nothing. But why else would he take A-Sang with him on a months-long journey?”

Why indeed. The Emperor remained as unfathomable as ever. Meng Yao wondered briefly if Wen Ruohan really had murdered the Empress in her seclusion, faking her presence with a note…still, it seemed implausible. Why would he bother?

“I heard a rumor once,” he said instead. “About A-Sang.”

Like all good spies and shit-stirrers, Sisi was immediately at full attention – she knew that Meng Yao was not inclined to gossip for the pleasure of it, the way she was, and therefore he would only volunteer information if he intended for her to spread it.

“A-Sang is the Empress’ family,” Meng Yao said, and Sisi’s eyes went wide. “Younger sibling.”

Younger brother, he thought, though he didn’t say anything – he didn’t actually know for sure. It was hard to tell. Wen Ruohan didn’t lock away his wives the way some men did; on the contrary, he enjoyed bringing them out for celebrations to show them off. But the Empress was invariably veiled, swathed in silks without a hint of skin showing, always seated in her chair as if she were kneeling in penance, never moving; Meng Yao, who only saw her from a distance during the celebrations, sometimes almost thought she might not have legs. In daily life, she sometimes attended the Emperor’s court, but always remained seated behind her veils and sometimes even a screen, little more than a silhouette from which, rarely, notes emerged but no voice ever did.

Naturally, if the Empress preferred to be veiled, that meant the other wives had to at least pretend to follow her lead. And that meant veils and concealing clothing, even if some of them interpreted the concept rather loosely, with sheer veils and even sheerer clothing, meant to entice – A-Sang fell somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, wearing a veil that revealed his eyes and clothing that allowed him flexibility of movement without too much restraint, and while he was slender and delicate, Meng Yao was moderately certain that he was indeed male.

Not that it mattered.

Wen Ruohan had never much cared about that.

“Amazing,” Sis breathed. “So all these years, the Emperor has been refraining from touching A-Sang out of respect for the Empress, and now the little sister wife has finally made her move…”

Meng Yao had said none of that, but it served him to muddle the waters a little, mostly to see who would try to clear it up. Not that it could be, as his information about their familial connection was accurate – gleaned from a careless comment by Wen Ruohan himself, no less – but it interested him to know who would try regardless.

“Go,” he said, and Sisi left, all but floating, and it wasn’t long before A-Jue returned, all shiny with sweat and exertion, looking incredibly fuckable.

“You worked near the harem, right?” Meng Yao asked him, mind still focused on the bubbling little scandal that he just knew would become an issue that could wreck his thus far successful regency. “Do you have any connections there?”

“Not really?” A-Jue said. “Most of the wives are scared of me.”

Typical.

“Is there something you’d like me to find out for you..?”

“No need,” Meng Yao said. He’d never met anyone less well suited to be a spy than A-Jue. “But it may be an avenue of future threats, so keep it in mind.”

“I’m not going to let anyone from the harem harm you,” A-Jue said, oddly fierce. “Not anyone. Don’t worry.”

#mdzs #meng yao #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #nieyao #my fic #my fics #good help

124 notes · View notes

frogtanii · 4 years ago

Note

It’s wind anon! Coming to react to the update from yesterday~

I fully admit to the fact that I could’ve actually sent an ask then, because I had free time—but I also admit that it would have just been something that would amount to an incoherent keysmash of pure delight.

So I pushed it until now~

Anyway. Time to try to depict what my reactions were because the rush that went through me is hard to put into words.

Firstly, Suga’s POV? Aaaaa I greatly adore. You wrote it all very very well. Spot on! (Imagination Library of Sugawara Koushi wwww. Very cute.) But he really underestimated the reactions and emotions that would come after he told them what happened. I mean, all have been hurt by Meiko in some way...and honestly, he should know that what she did went too far. Anger, sadness, frustration are all linked. But also Suga thinking YN’s anger is being endearing I cannot.

Nothing like YN stalking into Meiko’s room... and Iwaizumi being in there still helping her with stuff. Sigh. But yes, YN is an avenging angel. I would 10/10 love being friends with YN.

And then the escalation—I cannot, I’m just (keyboard smash noises). Yes, I still am feeling the rush just thinking about it. Yes, I have been very very happy because of the updates, but this one in particular has made me ecstatic! YN having a stoic face and a fiery glare,,, all I’m thinking is if someone were to dance with YN,,,YN dipping them,,, ah, dance headcanons. I need to put them somewhere. Maybe at the end if I remember.

Meiko’s scandalized gasp... and Iwaizumi pushing himself closer to YN. I would whack him with his flag. It’s one thing to step in between people to stop physical fighting...but do not intrude on our girl’s personal space. Also, Iwaizumi talking YN not to talk to Meiko like that... Meiko...did it first? Are you kidding me? And YN has been so complacent. I’m impressed at the fact he wasn’t focused on the reasoning as to why YN was angry at all. Part of de-escalation of a situation is getting rid of the issue... but it’s to be expected that Iwaizumi hasn’t focused at all on that. As a manager, he is okay at planning things and events and such...but he’s absolutely terrible on the people side of things.

YN is just ////. I blush. I swoon. I adore. YN Supremacy! Her pushing away Iwaizumi is top tier imagery, I cannot explain how fast my heart went doki-doki at that. And Atsumu as the number 1 fan!!

I cannot believe it took this long for Meiko to finally get a danger sense as to how far she has pushed YN. But I guess she definitely learned her lesson...unless she does something idiotic again.

YN whispering something in Meiko’s ear... probably a threat/promise of sorts... Meiko called YN evil in an update before... but if YN was evil, Meiko wouldn’t even be in the realm any longer. YN may be kind, but she’s not weak. Besides that, you have crossed enough lines that it doesn’t matter—people become stronger when angry and determined.

Meiko slapping YN. Actually, if it was me, I would’ve laughed instead of being nonchalant like YN. Do you know how... pitiful you are? How much of an idiot you are for starting a physical altercation? I would’ve laughed hysterically, so much so that tears would be dripping down my face. Meiko is 5’7, like half a foot taller than me. Imagine how’d this look if I didn’t bother fighting physically. Osamu, Daichi, Oikawa, they would go into there to see me with a hand shaped bruise across my face and Meiko looking unharmed. Meiko is so impulsive it’s a wonder how she hasn’t condemned her entire career to doom.

Besides that, everyone in the room saw what happened. Iwaizumi saw. How bold do you think Iwaizumi would be if he’d blatantly lie about who hit first? Especially because YN has 7 people on her side.

But I guess Meiko isn’t going to be in any position to make videos or social media posts... imagine the backlash. And she can’t say anything because she’s spread so many lies that once a few are debunked her credibility is automatically going to be questioned.

Oh well. I’m quite happy with how it went down. I suppose I’ll go back to the dance headcanons and ideas from earlier to end on something a bit less violent haha.

Anyway, dancing... I imagine YN in red. Sharp dance moves...bold lines and such. Like, good at everything—dancing with a fan for example, like flicking it open with a quick move of her wrist, or maybe like,,, flamenco/tango, swooping skirts and pair dancing, but what if YN learning how to do pole dancing because honestly the amount of core strength that would require—I am just,,, a mess of appreciation towards YN. Kenma would be...like...rhythmic gymnastics perhaps? It contemporary type dancing because he’s really flexible. Bokuto...something with like, full body control—like boy group stuff? Akaashi is waltz. I cannot hear anything else, Akaashi is definitely waltz. He has the posture for it. I think Sakusa in aerial silks and stuff would be really cool,,, his lines,,, I think Suga would be good in ballet. I don’t know about Atsumu and Kuroo though... I don’t know enough about dance to accurately place them in any group, so take these with a pinch of salt. I just think that they’re cool www.

Okay, I’m gonna end this here to eat lunch! Much thanks for the update—I’ll probably get to the reaction for the second update by tomorrow morning if I can help it!

Love you very very much fr0ggy! <3<3<3

eek hello wind nonnie! i hope ur lunch (& subsequent day) was nice!!!! i appreciate ur long message && the dancing hcs are so accurate????? omg i wish i could pole but i Do Not have the core strength ;-; i love you v v v much love n i cant wait for your next reaction!!

#j’s asks #anons babey #℗ poker face #wind anon

36 notes · View notes

ladyfogg · 4 years ago

Text

Submit

Fic Summary: Max is wound up. Between his company and investors hounding him left and right, he’s got no time for anything that isn’t work. Until you pay him a little visit to his office one day and remind him who’s really in charge.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: sub!Max Lord/dom!Female Reader

Warnings: Mild WW84 spoilers, sub/dom, oral, fingering, office sex, slight edging, praise kink, absolute filth. 18+.

A/N: Look, I have no reasoning for this fic other than pure fantasy. I loved the movie and so yeah, I had to write this because it wouldn’t get out of my head. So enjoy.

Max’s body was filled with tension. Things had been escalating but not the way he wanted and the stress of it was getting to him. He could sense it in every joint and muscle. His shoulders were drawn up so tight they practically touched his ears. Reminding himself to lower them, he flashed his dazzling smile as he entered Black Gold Cooperative with the confidence of a man who had everything he wanted.

“Hold my calls, Raquel. I am not to be disturbed!” he ordered to his lone receptionist who looked like she was about to tell him something he knew for a fact he didn’t want to hear. There was something big he needed to work on and he wanted a few precious moments to himself before the world hounded him further.

“Mr. Lord, your son—”

That stopped him in his tracks and he whipped his head around to look at her. “Alistair? What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”

“No. But it’s supposed to be your weekend with him and his mother called to say he won’t be coming.”

The storm of emotions in Max which were already swirling kicked up another notch. “Why not?”

Raquel gave a helpless shrug, her huge shoulder pads flopping from the movement. “I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

Anger mixed with relief as Max continued his trek up to his office. On one hand, who the hell did his ex-wife think she was keeping him from seeing his son? He had every right to see Alistair, especially on the weekends when he had custody. She and her damn boyfriend thought they’re so much better than him. They thought they could do anything they wanted.

On the other hand, not having Alistair meant his son couldn’t see how badly his father had fucked up. There was no money coming in. As many claims as he had, his business had yet to strike oil anywhere and it was becoming increasingly apparent that they wouldn’t anytime soon. With bills past due and investors banging on his door, he had to come up with a way to turn things around. Simon Stagg had begun hounding him with phone calls and Max could only dodge them for so long.

What he needed was time. Just a little more time. He was close though, so fucking close to making his and everyone else’s wishes come true.

The minute he walked into his office, he tugged on his tie and let his mask slip. Panic and anxiety were his constant state of mind nowadays. “Think, think, think,” he muttered to himself, leaning on the desk for support.

You watched him from the couch in his office, where you had been lounging for the better part of an hour. He hadn’t seen you when he walked in, which you knew meant he was far too preoccupied for his own well-being.

“Rough day?”

Max spun around at the sound of your voice, eyes filled with panic until he realized it was you. That tension in his body lessened, but only slightly. He said your name with a tightness to his voice, “I didn’t know you were here.”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly announce myself to your receptionist, now could I?” you asked, examining your freshly painted nails. “That was the deal, wasn’t it? That I be decreet whenever I’m around.”

“My home, not my place of work,” Max said, crossing the room to close the doors to his office. “I never said you could come here.”

“What else am I supposed to do? You don’t call. You don’t write. I’m beginning to think you’re avoiding me.”

You’re teasing him of course. But only a little. In truth, you missed Max. Not that you would ever tell him so. The fact of the matter was, the two of you had an arrangement and it had been several weeks since he had reached out to you. Naturally, this concerned you, and since your day was fairly empty, you figured it was the perfect opportunity to visit your favorite client.

“I’m busy, you know,” he said hotly, his firm business-man mask back in place. “Running this company takes everything that I have and I don’t have time to waste. You have no idea what kind of pressure I’m under.”

In one fluid movement, you stood and made your way over to him. “Of course I do. That’s why you hired me in the first place, sugar. Because all the pressure was just too much. You needed some help. You needed a release. Isn’t that right?”

You could see it in his eyes. He needed you now more than ever but there was something holding him back. With your body being so close, however, his resolve slipped and that dazzling car salesman personality he carefully projected to everyone broke down for a tiny moment.

“I can’t pay,” he admitted in a low voice before swallowing thickly as you stepped further into his space.

You reached up to stroke his cheek, long nails gently grazing his skin. A shudder ran through him and your own excitement jumped at the reaction. “Oh, baby. I don’t do this for the money,” you whispered, your breath ghosting across his lips.

Without warning, you grabbed his chin and yanked him forward, your mouth outright touching his. And yet, you didn’t let him kiss you even though he leaned in for it, his body automatically seeking the release it knew only you could provide.

“I do this because you need me to. Isn’t that right, Maxwell?”

You were the only person allowed to use his full name and you only did so under very specific circumstances. That tension you noticed in his body all but melted away as he leaned against you, earnest in his physical need even though mentally he struggled.

He swallowed thickly, eyes not daring to leave yours. “I...uh…” He cleared his throat. “Wha-what, um...what can I give you in exchange?”

“Let’s just say that you’ll owe me one,” you said, taking a step back to put some distance between the two of you.

His eyes tracked every movement, following your hands as you reached up to undo the buttons of the large trench coat you wore. Slowly, you worked each button until you were able to open the coat. You let it hang from your shoulders, giving him an exceptional view. When he saw you were completely naked underneath, he whimpered, his hands reaching for you until he remembered his place and caught himself. You allowed the coat to fall to the ground, leaving you standing there in nothing but a pair of knee-high boots.

“Now, Maxwell,” you said in a low, firm voice. One you had used on him many times in the past. “Tell me what you want, what you wish?”

His answer was quick. “You. I want you.”

“Be specific. Come on, Maxwell. You know this game. You know the rules.” You sat on his desk, crossing your legs as you waited patiently for him to give in. “What. Do. You. Want?”

“To let go,” he said automatically. “To make you happy. Make you feel good.”

“And?”

“To submit.”

“Good boy.” You beckoned him forward with a crook of your finger. “Come here.”

As soon as he was close enough, you yanked him towards you by his tie, wrapping your legs around his waist and holding him flush against your body. The kiss was biting and harsh, more claiming than anything else. He moaned and opened his mouth, letting your tongue push past those lovely lips of his. One hand slid into his hair and yanked on the blond locks, while the other worked to undo his tie the rest of the way.

Kissing Max awakened something in you that you never felt with other clients. You couldn’t explain it, nor did you really want to. You were sure it meant there were deeper feelings there than you cared to admit. He wasn’t the only one who needed this, you needed it too.

You abruptly pushed him and he stumbled backwards, already panting. “You’re going to be a good boy, right?” you asked, sitting up on the desk so your back arched and your breasts presented themselves to him.

You watched his eyes go to them briefly and he let out a quiet whimper. “Yes. Yes, I’m going to be a good boy,” he said.

“Good. Sit in your chair.”

He moved quickly, coming around the other side of the desk to sit in the chair behind you. Once he was seated, you swung your body around, letting your legs fall open on either side of him. His pupils were already blown wide with desire and his heavy breathing increased the second he saw all of you, glistening and ready for more.

“You’re going to use that wonderful mouth of yours,” you instructed, throwing your leg over his shoulder to draw him closer. The wheels of the chair squeaked as he rolled forward. “And you’re not going to stop until I come. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“You like that idea, don’t you? You like the thought of eating me out on your desk until I come on your mouth.”

You leaned back on your hands, casually moving your other leg up to drape over his other shoulder. The action brought him closer and yet he had been a good boy and hadn’t touched you yet. Even though you knew he was dying to. You could see it written all over his face.

“Yes, yes, I do. Please. Can I? Let me make you feel good.”

“Always such pretty words, Maxwell.” You reached out to grab his hair again, yanking his head back so he was forced to look you in the eye and nowhere else. “Put your money where your mouth is, handsome. We’re going to be here a while.”

Then you shoved him between your legs.

The results were instant. Heat shot through your body like an unchecked wildfire the second his tongue connected with your aching folds. You felt his moan this time, the vibrations causing you to suck in a deep breath. Max wrapped his arms around your thighs, burying himself as far in as he could. His tongue was everywhere, lapping at your folds with rapid determination to taste as much of you as he could.

You were soaked in seconds, not just from his spit but from the way he tasted you. It was like he was starved for the taste and couldn’t get enough. There was one tiny problem though.

It had been way too long since your last session. He was rusty, out of practice. Not in his technique. No. That was always flawless and on point. His eagerness to be the best translated into a wonderfully intense oral experience unmatched by anyone else you had ever been with. But he was doing what he wanted to do, not what he knew you wanted.

Your hand still in his hair, you pulled him back just enough so his mouth left your slickness. “Maxwell, that’s not how I like it.”

“Sorry. I’m so sorry. I just…” He glanced back down at you and groaned. “You taste so good.”

“I know I do. And you know what I want. Are you going to give it to me?”

He nodded eagerly.

You let him go and this time when his mouth touched you, he wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. Unable to stop yourself, you moaned, throwing your head back as he greedily devoured you. Once he drew that first sound out of you, he did everything he could to make it happen again. He really did have an exquisite mouth. You couldn’t help admire it every time you watched him on those commercials. He wasn’t the only public figure on your client list but he was the one that occupied your thoughts more often than not. Knowing what it could do to you got you going more times than you could count.

Your body grew hotter, skin growing dewy with sweat as the seconds slowly ticked by. He was still fully clothed and you couldn’t wait to change that, to watch him strip out of that damn suit so you could get your hands on his markable skin.

Yeah, you were going to leave marks this time. Marks where no one else could see them. Marks only the two of you would know about so he could remember exactly who was in charge.

It took you a second to realize he was saying something.

“What was that, baby?” you cooed, stroking his hair as you began to roll your hips against his mouth.

He moaned before answering, losing himself in your movements. “Can-Can I use my fingers?” he asked. “Please, I just want to make you feel good.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but you were panting too, wound up and ready for more. “And you asked so nicely. Go ahead.”

His fingers were thick and wonderful. Just one was enough to take your breath away as he pushed it into your heat, his mouth dropping back to your clit the second you gave him permission. Unable to hold yourself up anymore, you fell onto your back, stretching your arms above your head to grasp the edge of the desk.

Max groaned into your flesh, adding a second digit almost instantly. You were so worked up and loose for him that it slid in without issue. Your body greedily clung to him, keeping him in place as your orgasm began to build.

“So good, you’re doing so good,” you praised, letting your eyes drift close to enjoy the pleasure.

Your thighs clung to him, keeping him exactly where you wanted him. Not that he planned to move anytime soon. He was a good boy and you could tell by the way his movements sped up that he was finally back in the right place, the right mindset. His thoughts were only focused on you and getting you off. You thought about rewarding him when you came.

It took time to built but once it did, there was no stopping the onslaught of pleasure. One moment you were shaking and rocking against his face, the next your orgasm was ripped from you by his sly tongue and thick fingers. You moaned loudly, body locked into place as the waves of pleasure consumed you. So rarely did you lose yourself during your sessions. But this time, you couldn’t help it. It had been too damn long.

He kept going, tasting and stroking until you reached out to stroke his hair. “You did good,” you told him, lowering your legs so they hung limply off the desk. “So, so good. You can rest.”

Max drew back in his chair, panting. When you pried your eyes open, you were greeted by the most delicious disheveled sight of him you had ever seen. His normally put together hair was wild from your hands, his face was red, and his mouth and chin were covered in your slick. His eyes were still glued to you, not daring or even wanting to look away.

You couldn’t help but think back to the first time you do had been together, how nervous and unsure he had been, not about the sex but about letting you have all the control. To see him so willing to give it to you only made you want him more.

Yeah, he deserved a treat.

You pushed yourself up to sit before sliding off the desk and onto his lap. He looked at you with wide, surprised eyes. You could tell he wanted to question the change but didn’t dare.

“You did so well, baby,” you said, wrapping one arm around his neck. With your thumb, you spread your slick across his lips and he obediently opens his mouth to suck the digit dry. “As a treat, I’m going to give you a little something special. Would you like that?”

“Yes. Yes, please.” He nodded excitedly, tentatively reaching up to stroke your thigh.

You let him, savoring the roughness of his hand through such a gentle action. He was gentler than you thought he would be, not that you minded. It was actually very refreshing. You never had to remind him to be careful because he always was with you. Unless you told him otherwise.

With a smirk, you slid off his lap and onto your knees, spinning the chair in the process to give yourself more space. You could see the understanding flicker in his eyes. His chest moved quicker with excitement and he sat up expectedly. Hurriedly, he yanked off his suspenders. He then seemed to realize his haste and froze, eyes wide with uncertainty and anxiety that he may have overstepped.

You tut disapprovingly and take his hands, slamming them onto the armrests. “Don’t touch or move unless I say, understood?”

He nodded rapidly, body relaxing again once he knew he wasn’t in trouble. “Yes. Yes, I understand.”

Like the good boy that he was, his hands gripped the armrests of the chair, stopping himself from acting out again. Instead, he was forced to just sit there and watch as you hooked your fingers into his waistband. You nodded your head for him to lift his hips which he did immediately so you can slide his pants down his hips. His cock sprang free, swollen red with arousal and need.

He was rock hard when you slipped your hand around him. Even still, his cock twitched under your touch and you swiped the bead of precum off the end with your thumb.

“What do you wish, Maxwell?” you asked, stroking him with lazy, languid strokes. “I’m down on my knees in front of you, ready to give you something special. What do you wish?”

“I want your mouth,” he said immediately. “That fucking sinful mouth around my cock.”

“Sinful?” You stroked him harder, earning another string of swears for your efforts. “You think my mouth is sinful?”

He nodded, his hair falling into his face as his tongue darted out to wet his own lips. “Yes. God yes. Please.”

“Since you’ve been such a good boy…”

With aching slowness, you took him into your mouth. He gripped the armrests tighter and you could feel the muscles in his thighs tense as he stopped himself from thrusting up into the warmth. There was too much of him to take it all but damn if you didn’t want to. He was so needy and eager to please you, you wanted to devour him whole. Wanted to claim all of him for yourself.

The thickness and hardness against your tongue made your loins throb.

Soon, you told yourself as you began to suck him off. Soon.

What you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you stroked with your hand, falling into a steady but slow rhythm of bobbing your head up and down. Max was beside himself. He couldn’t help but shift and move in his seat, moaning each time the head of his cock bumped the back of your throat. You glanced up at him and were rewarded by the wonderful sight of him with his head thrown back, top teeth digging into his lower lip as his body shook with the effort it took to contain himself.

Already you could feel him leaking into your mouth. When was the last time he came? Had he even taken care of himself over the last few weeks? You were starting to doubt that he had. That didn’t matter though. You were there now.

“You look so delicious like this, Maxwell,” you told him when you pulled your mouth off his cock. Still jerking him off, you dropped your mouth to his thigh, sucking and biting the flesh until there was a deep red mark left behind. “But, there’s a tiny rule I forgot to mention.”

You glanced up at him as his head fell forward to look down at you.

“You can’t come yet.”

After that, you lost yourself in the task of sucking him off, bringing him right to the edge before backing down. He was lost in the sensations, his knuckles so white on the armrests that you thought he might break them.

Despite your teasing, you weren’t cruel. There was a difference between pleasure and pain and you didn’t go down on him for long. After all, this was about you too and you wanted more than that. When you finally pulled off him, he was coated in your saliva and so hard that his face was pinched in pain.

“Please, please,” he babbled, finally losing himself and reaching for you. “I can’t hold back anymore. I need more. Please, I’ll be so good for you. You’ll see. I’ll make it worth your while. Let me touch you. Let me feel you.”

“Do you want to fuck me, Maxwell?” you purred, curling onto his lap again and allowing his arms to come around you. You slid your own around his neck. “Do you want to come?”

“Please, god, I need it.” When you got off his lap to stand, he whined and reached for you. “No, wait! Come back!”

“Don’t worry, Maxwell, I’m not going anywhere.” You hopped back onto his desk. “Strip and come here.”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. His tie and shirt were yanked off and tossed somewhere to be forgotten. As he moved to stand, he kicked out of his shoes and pants, stumbling a little in the process. Once he was finally naked, however, you reached for him and drew him into a kiss.

He was too far gone to stop himself from touching you. One hand cupped your cheek while the other fell to your lower back, holding you in place so you couldn’t escape him again. You were gone too. Not so far that you didn’t remember the game anymore, but damn close. You let your hands roam his back, nails leaving angry red trails as you scraped them down his hot flesh.

His mouth was relentless against yours. He finally came back to himself when he grabbed your thighs and went to wrap them around his waist. It was only then that he paused and drew back, forehead resting against yours as he gasped for breath.

“Can I—?”

“Do it.”

He pushed into you with one fluid thrust that took your breath away. Despite the rush, he held himself there for a second. He always did. His eyes drifted close and there was a soft growl that came from the back of his throat, as he savored the feeling of your walls clenching around his length. After that, he took you hard and fast against the desk, so damn deep inside you that you couldn’t think straight. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the desk rocking against the floor. Items spilled from the surface left and right but neither of you paid them any attention.

“So good, Maxwell. So good. Such a good boy!” you panted, letting go of him to grip the edge of the desk.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, burying his face in your neck. “So hot and tight.”

Your body was literal flame. Honestly, you wouldn’t have been surprised if you self-combusted right then and there. It would be so fucking worth it too. No one filled you the way that Max did. No one brought out that feral side of you as much as him. You two were made for each other. Separate you were whole but together you became something else entirely. And you knew he felt it as much as you did. It didn’t matter how stressed he was, how far down the rabbit hole of anxiety he was, when you were there, he would lose it all and let go, let someone else take the reins for a brief moment in time.

You bit and scratched at him, leaving mark after mark and not caring where anymore. Let them see. Let everyone see. Let them know that you were the one to reduce the great Maxwell Lord to a shuddering, babbling mess.

“Fuck, oh shit,” he groaned, still pumping into you at a stunningly harsh and rapid pace. “So good to me. Always know when I need you. You can have anything you want. Anything at all. Tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

“That’s it, baby, just let it go.” Your own voice cracked as your second orgasm built alarmingly fast. It was all too much. Too intense to hold back anymore. “Let it all go for me.”

“I’m not going to last much longer,” Max declared. “I’m sorry but I need to come. God, I need to come. Where…?”

You wrapped your arms around him again, biting at his neck. “Inside. Come inside.”

That was the last thing you remembered before he hit that wonderfully deep spot inside you and stars exploded before your eyes. You called his name when you came, locked tight around his body even as he kept pumping himself into you. Even then he stayed such a good boy, letting you come for a second time before he finally came himself.

He spilled everything inside of you, fucking his way through his own release even as you went limp in his arms. He kept moving, kept going even when he was spent. It was only when you stroked his hair and whispered, “Max?” that he slowed down and eventually stopped.

Holding each other tightly, you both tried to catch your breath while you came down from your ridiculous high. Eventually, you dropped your legs from his sweaty waist so he could slide out of you. Before you had a second to think, however, he had gathered you in his arms and carried you over to the couch. He laid you down first, staring at you with a small smile as you lay spread out underneath him.

“Feel better?” you asked, cocking your eyebrow.

His smile turned into a grin and he leaned down to kiss you. “Much.”

You laid that way for some time, his warm body and comfortable weight on top of you as you shared a series of slow kisses. It wasn’t until your breathing finally returned to normal that you broke away to stroke his cheek.

“Don’t wait so long again,” you told him, voice back to its normal register.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said. “Things are…” He stopped himself.

“I know.”

You kissed him again before he pulled away to lay his head on your chest. His hand came up, drawing lazy circles around your breast with no intention of going further, just touching you for the sake of touching you. He wasn't even close to being tense anymore. In fact, you didn't think you had ever seen him so relaxed.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked.

“I’m close to getting this all sorted out,” he said, voice tinged with a determination you had never heard before. “I found what I’m looking for. All I have to do is get it.”

“So what are you waiting for?”

He glanced up at you and you grinned, pulling him into another kiss. Dropping your voice into that tone, you leaned into his ear. “Take what you want, Maxwell.”

#maxwell lord #max lord #max lord/reader #movie: ww84 #Pedro Pascal

74 notes · View notes

twelvedy7 · 3 years ago

Text

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs).

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe. This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences.

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it.

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions.

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure.

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to.

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives.

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder.

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses.

“Yeah. See you.”

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon.

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard.

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together.

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes.

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed.

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time.

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___

“Takano-san!”

...

“Takano-san!”

Who was it?

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo.

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed.

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow.

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling.

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips.

“Takano-san can you hear me?!”

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions.

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was.

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.”

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows.

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him.

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.”

He felt absolutely miserable.

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life.

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…”

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder.

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch.

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.”

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull.

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”.

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him.

Now Ritsu would need him.

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.”

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted.

#sekaiichihatsukoi #Sekaiichi Hatsukoi #junjou romantica #Ritsu Onodera #Takano Masamune #yokozawa takafumi

9 notes · View notes

husbandograveyard · 4 years ago

Text

I love everything about you - Shanks x Reader

I couldn’t possibly pick another character for @mooshs-crack-headcanons 300 followers special / contest! church of Shanks always! This is some very fluffy self indulgent writing. The prompt I got was “Knuckle kisses” Hope you enjoy!

2nd person. Genderneutral reader. cw: insecurities and mental health struggles, slight hurt/comfort. Mostly comfort.

It was a beautiful day. The moment you woke up, you could feel the sun on your face already, and you could see how nice and calm the sea was through the porthole. You turned around, hoping to find your boyfriend for some morning snuggles, but unfortunately for you he had gotten up already. You sighed, stretching and slowly getting off of the bed.

You trudged over to the closet, and pulled out an outfit for the day, like many pirates; the same as the day before. As you were getting dressed, you felt a pit form in your stomach. You were just not feeling comfortable, not really feeling yourself. It was not an uncommon occurrence, so you knew just to power through and make it to the end of the day. The fact that it was such a beautiful day would help a little and you already mentally prepared yourself to do some chores that would allow you to be away from the rest of the crew for a bit.

To give you that extra push to get through the day you switched your usual shirt out for one of Shanks’, his soothing smell and the way the left sleeve crinkled from being tied up in a knot too often made you feel oddly comforted without having his presence actually there. Maybe it was for the better, there was a lot going on that he needed to focus on and you didn’t want him to worry about you on top of that.

You skipped breakfast, immediately heading to the machinery room on the lowest level of the ship. Maintenance and cleaning down there was everyone’s least favorite chore, and ensured no one would come down to disturb you as you tried to keep your head occupied with tasks,making sure you didn’t have time nor space to give to distracting and intrusive thoughts.

It worked for a while, you focussed so hard on the job that you were almost in a meditative state, just cleaning all the pipes and valves, checking the meters and taking note of things you should probably bring up to the shipwright when you are feeling up for human interaction again.

You nearly jumped when you felt a hand touch your shoulder, and you bumped your head when you got up and turned around, ready to scold whoever wanted to interrupt you, anger ebbing away the moment you noticed it was Shanks. You could almost feel yourself deflating, struggling to returning a smile as he laughed at your reaction.

“Are you all right? You’re so jumpy. Is that my shirt?” he frowned, noticing quickly that you were not smiling and worried he had done something wrong. His smile faltered. “No no... I am okay, just a little tired, I don’t think I slept deep enough this night” He raised a single eyebrow, not buying your story. “You looked pretty fast asleep though” You sighed, not ready for his probing and not up for a deep or exhausting conversation on how you were just not feeling like yourself today, how everything felt wrong and how you were just not in the best mindset. “Shanks...I-”, you sighed again, feeling a lump form in your throat, unsure of what to say that could get him to go away without worrying him unnecessarily. “Its just not my day. I’m feeling... worthless, so....”, you took another deep breath, “so I am just gonna try and make myself useful for a bit and wait until I can go back to sleep. Don’t mind me, okay? You have enough to worry about.”

He reached out his hand, cupping the side of your face as you stared at him waiting for him to speak up, or even better, just leave, because you had no way of further explaining how you were feeling. “Y/n, you are not worthless. Everyone has their bad days, that doesn’t automatically make you worthless.” His hand let go of your cheek, setting on your shoulder and slid down to grab your left hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, pulling you a little closer. “I know, I just.... I don’t want to bother you” He chuckled, as if what you said was funny almost, “you should know better than to think you could ever bother me.” You looked down, staring at your feet and the way he was still holding your hand, already making you feel better through such a small gesture. No matter how bad you were feeling, you still loved this man more than anything in the world.

He lifted you hand, slowly dragging the back of it against his face and the stubble on his chin tickled it, making you look up with the slighest hint of a small smile on your face. He then placed your hand against his lips, pressing soft kisses on your knuckles and the back of your hand, taking his time as chances were small anyone would interrupt this intimate moment.

He only let go of your hand to place it on your back to pull you completely into him. You rested your head on his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of comfort you had tried to keep close to you by putting on his shirt, and finally feeling yourself relax a bit. Shanks was the first to break the silence.

“You know I love you right?” You could do nothing but hum in response and step even closer, afraid your voice would break the moment you replied. “Even when you’re feeling bad. Even when you don’t think you’re worth it. I love you, I love everything about you. Even the silly part that thinks my shirt would be a fitting substitute for me while the real deal is only sitting a room away; perfectly ready for some distraction from your wonderful presence.”

His voice was calm and soothing, but you could literally hear him smiling as he expressed his love. It warmed your heart, and while the intrusive thoughts were still present, they were being drowned out by the overwhelming love and postivity coming from Shanks.

“I love you too” you murmured. “How bout you come upstairs with me then, sit in my lap and we enjoy some sake as I finish today’s log?” “Don’t you have way more to do than that?” Your argument was weak and your voice was soft. You didn’t want to be a bother, but his presence was just too alleviating and his offer too tempting. “I am the captain, I have no boss to explain to why I did or did not do certain things” he was full on chuckling right now and you decided against bringing up Benn who would not be too happy with Shanks’ decision of leaving his work as is in favor of some cuddles and sake, but at the moment, it was just what you needed too; so you didn’t say anything.

“Okay then, let’s go.” you held onto him a little longer before moving to his right side to grab his hand, bringing it up to return the earlier comforting gesture and pressing some kisses to it as you made your way upstairs. He offered you a loving smile in return, and you felt your heart swell. This was not going to be the last day of feeling worthless and your negative thoughts would come and go, but at least for now, the way more positive feeling was there to stay. And you would focus on that.

#moosh's 300 follower - how did this HAPPEN special?!#shanks x reader #Akagami no Shanks x reader #red haired shanks x reader #akagami no shanks #Red haired shanks #one piece #one piece imagine #one piece reader insert #personal writing #contest entry

200 notes · View notes

bold-writing · 4 years ago

Text

The One With Silver Scars || 1 || Prologue

Summary: Adelais Benoit knew that she wasn't normal. Her upbringing, her sanity, her reaction be being abducted by the monochrome man; it set her apart from what the world would consider normal. However, her abnormalities may finally play in her favour for once in her life. Blackmailed into her cousin's birthday party, she will soon realize her differences.

Words: 4000+

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, swearing, violence, kidnapping. Does Dennis count?

A/N: Also available on AO3, Wattpad and FF.Net under the same name.

~ 1 ~

Adelais sat at the end of her bed, hunched and fatigued, as she looked across the small space between her and the cheap mirror mounted on her wall. Her dark blonde hair was washed, brushed and braided back in a neat, meticulous French plait that her mother had been sure to inspect for loose strands or uneven lines. Once she had deemed it perfect, she had sent Adelais to her room to finish getting ready. She used cover-up to hide the dark shadows beneath her eyes from lack of sleep, thankfully matching with her ungodly pale skin tone. Adding just enough eyeliner and mascara for her mother to approve, she looked more put together and tidy than she had remembering being in months.

She never left the house; her parents had assigned her to online courses at the nearby university, stating that she had agoraphobia and therefore could not attend classes in person. There was no escape from her parents; the invisible chain around her throat was too tight to pull off, too strong to break.

“Your uncle will be here soon,” her mother’s voice came through the door suddenly. It surprised the young woman that she hadn’t just walked in like she normally would. “You better get out here and show me that you’re presentable.”

Presentable. Of course. Couldn’t have the child most people didn’t even know they had embarrassing them. Rising from her bed, Adelais glanced at her reflection in the mirror one more time. It was cold enough outside that she was able to get away with wearing a scarf and sweater over her other clothes; her black jeans stretched over long, thin legs and her modestly heeled ankle boots gave her even greater height than she already had. They were considered to be her ‘public’ clothes, the ones that were saved only for when her parents were letting her leave the house.

The green eyes of her reflection stared back at her, murky and dull. She had nothing on her to carry; no phone, no wallet, no keys. So, with only the clothes covering her, Adelais walked out of her room to meet her mother for inspection.

Her father was sitting in front of the fireplace while reading the newspaper, but he glanced up at her with calculating eyes as soon as she emerged from the dark hallway. Her mother, however, had been waiting expectantly with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. “That took you too long. When I tell you to come out, you come out.”

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again,” Adelais promised dully, lacking any true emotion in her voice. Once upon a time, it would have trembled in fear at the thought of a possible punishment. Now, she couldn’t feel any fear through her numbed soul.

Her mother glared critically at her before she walked forward and forced Adelais’s head down so she could double-check her braid. Then she snapped her jaw back up, her small, thin fingers holding surprising strength, and looked over the light layer of makeup on her daughter’s face. Her gaze lingered a moment longer on the cover-up beneath her eyes, but she said nothing about it and proceeded to go over her clothing. Her scarf was tightened around her neck and her charcoal grey sweater was straightened and pulled lower at her wrists and waist. Forcing Adelais to turn in a slow circle, eyes taking in every detail of her, she gave a critical, but approving nod just as a horn sounded from outside

“That’s your uncle and cousin. Now, you will be polite and speak when spoken to, but otherwise I want you to be silent. Am I understood?”

“Yes, mother,” Adelais responded automatically.

Turning on her heel and marching toward the front door, Adelais followed without a word—already knowing what she was expected to do. Her father watched her pass with a glare, eyes barely cusped over the newspaper. “So help me god, if you break those rules…” he warned cryptically, turning eyes gaze back to his reading as her mother pulled open the door to greet her younger brother.

“My, Adelais, you’ve gotten so big!” he cheered in surprise, stepping forward to give her a hug. Adelais did her best not to tense up at the action and lifted on hand to rest on his back, giving the illusion of returning the embrace. She offered a tight smile as he pulled back from her, looking over his niece’s appearance. Adelais could feel her mother burning holes in the side of her head.

“It’s good to see you, too, uncle. How have you been?”

“Just perfect! And Claire’s very excited about her party, so I think it’s best we get going. Is that alright, Sarah?” he turned to ask Adelais’s mother, who gave a fake smile so believable that it made Adelais’s skin crawl.

“Oh course! You have fun, sweetie, alright? I’ll see you this evening.”

Adelais nodded to her mother, feeling her stomach turn at the false kindness her mother showed as she followed her uncle out toward the car. Her cousin was sitting in the back seat, talking adamantly with a dark skinned girl that must have been a close friend of hers. They both turned to look when her father and older cousin approached the car, Adelais walking around onto the street to get into the passenger side.

“Claire, you remember Adelais?” Glancing into the back as she slid into her seat, Claire’s gaze met Adelais’s briefly, her once natural smile tightening slightly. “You two haven’t really seen one another since you were kids, but your Aunt Sarah wanted Adelais to get out for a bit while she was visiting from University.”

“Yea,” Claire answered tightly. “Hi, Adelais. How’s school been?”

“Busy,” Adelais answered quietly, turning forward again as she focused on buckling herself in. “Happy Birthday, Claire.”

Claire shared an awkward look with her friend before she offered another hesitant smile. “Thanks. Glad you could come to the party.”

Adelais turned her attention passed her uncle to look at her house. Most wouldn’t be able to tell, but Adelais could make out the form of her mother standing beyond the mostly-closed blinds of their living room window. She was watching her even now, making sure that so long as Adelais was in her sights, she did as she was told.

Swallowing against a suddenly dry throat, Adelais looked down toward the glove-compartment as her uncle pulled away from the curb slowly and merged into traffic. She kept her gaze on that exact spot as they made their way into town, heading for the restaurant that had been reserved for Claire. She listened as her younger cousin rattled on about who was coming, whispering to her friend about how she couldn’t believe they had invited the ‘emo girl’. Adelais wasn’t sure whether or not she her father could hear her, but if he did he wasn’t saying anything.

Bitch, she cursed in her head. She forced herself to swallow the anger that rose in her chest, burning her like bile as she fought against the urge to punch the glove-compartment. Closing her eyes a moment and taking a deep breath, Adelais forced herself to push aside the anger and vengeful thoughts. If she lost her cool when she was away from home, her mother would beat her into a hospital bed and never let her leave again.

“Looks like we’re not the first ones here,” her uncle stated suddenly as he pulled into a half-filled parking lot. Claire shrieked in excitement as she leaned toward the window, calling out the names of the friends she recognized from her class. Adelais flinched from the noise, the action so small that the other passengers of the car didn’t even realize she had moved.

Once the car was parked Claire and her friend piled out of the back like their asses were on fire, rushing over to a small group of other girls that were also shrieking at an ungodly volume. “Hey, Adelais, mind giving me a hand carrying in some gifts?” Knowing better than to refuse, Adelais nodded silently and let him load gift bags into her arms, picking up what she guessed to be a cake before he closed the trunk of the car.

Some strange looks were thrown her way from the girls that Claire was talking with, but Adelais paid it no mind as she walked with her uncle into the restaurant.

Adelais put the presents down where the rest were already clustered on the table, bright pink wrapping paper glaringly obvious in the large room. Claire and her classmates steadily filed in, the sound volume of the room skyrocketing because of it. “I know it’s a bit awkward since you don’t know anyone here,” her uncle started, keeping his voice low as he stood next to Adelais, “and you’re a bit older than these girls. Just stay close to me, the adults need to stick together.”

The kind smile that he offered her was a true one, not like her mother’s fake smiles. However, as honest as his kindness seemed to be, it made Adelais’s skin crawl with discomfort. She couldn’t even count on one hand the number of times she’s received kindness from anyone.

“Thank you, uncle.”

“Ah, just call me John,” he advised with a wave of his hand. “You’re not a little girl anymore, seems strange to hear you call me ‘uncle’.”

Adelais nodded her head slowly. “John,” she repeated, getting another smile before he excused himself to go and try and corral the clusters of teenagers. Adelais had been able to pick up that it was Claire’s art class that had been invited—all of whom were her friends, except for the one they had called the ‘emo girl’ on the way over.

Even as far back as she was from everyone, keeping her distance as she sat at one of the farther tables where John had placed his coat and keys, Adelais could pinpoint exactly who the odd-one-out was when she arrived. The other girls were dressed quite fashionably, most of them wearing a shirt that was probably more money than the other girl’s entire outfit. Adelais’s keen eyes examined the brunette when she arrived; simple pants and boots with several layers of shirts and sweaters on top—the last one being an oversized plaid sweater.

She did not seem enthused about being there, immediately stepping away from everyone else as she fidgeted with the hems of her sleeves. Claire was polite enough to greet her and thank her for coming, but after that the new girl blended quite effectively into the background. Adelais knew the feeling; wanting to disappear and pretend you weren’t there. Kind of like the childish ‘if I can’t see you, you can’t see me’ kind of thing.

It never actually worked.

The brunette’s dark eyes lifted to meet with Adelais’s suddenly, both women wearing no expression or emotion as they stared across the room at one another. Green eyes narrowed. She looked nothing like the younger girl, yet it was frightfully similar to how she had looked into the mirror only an hour before. The brunette looked away first, taking a seat near the window so Adelais could still see half of her face, lacking true expression.

It was a long couple of hours, remaining at the table with John as the rest of the girls laughed and yelled. They were served by the staff at the restaurant, catered to and cleaned up after. Adelais’s hands were gripping the end of her scarf in a white knuckled grip as time wore on, John chatting away across their table as he told her stories about family events that neither she nor her parents could attend.

Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.

A waiter walked passed them with a stack of dirty dishes, raising the pile higher so there was no chance of him bumping John as he spoke adamantly of their last summer barbeque. A steak knife, teetering on the edge, drew Adelais’s attention. What if it were to fall? It was too close to kill him, but it would certainly hurt him and that would call off the birthday party. He was her ride, so she wouldn’t have to go home.

However, even if it wasn’t her fault, her mother would be furious if she wasn’t back by that evening as she had agreed.

Looking away from the waiter as he continued toward the kitchen, Adelais took a shuddering breath and turned her focus to the brunette from earlier; Casey, as she had overheard from some of the other classmates, had not moved from her seat any more than Adelais had.

“Are you alright?”

Looking back to John, Adelais realized that she had been glaring in concentration at the younger girl without knowing. “Yes, sorry, just a bit of a headache. Not used to teenagers, I guess,” she lied quickly—well, not entirely, since the unnecessary yelling from the group was starting to make her temples throb uncomfortably.

“Ah, right. I guess your classes at the university are more controlled, hm?”

Adelais twitched in annoyance to have him trying to actually make her talk, but she knew that it would be both rude and suspicious not to answer. So, she commenced with telling him an intricate weaving of lies, some of which her mother had orchestrated while other bits were thrown in just to make it sound real. “And you know mom,” she finished, “she likes quiet.”

John laughed as he nodded in understanding—it made Adelais want to sneer. He had no idea. “Yea, she’s always been someone to stay inside and read a book.”

He was called away before he could try and continue the conversation, Claire demanding that he take a picture of them all before some people needed to be heading home. Adelais remained where she was, thankfully out of the frame of the shot, as she watched the teenagers cluster together and smile at the camera. Casey had been drawn in as well, most likely out of obligation alone, but she didn’t smile as the flash from the camera went off.

The last hour of the party gave Adelais an excuse not to talk to John; she was collecting Claire’s presents and helping the staff put food into take-away containers. The discomfort behind her temples was blooming into a full-blown headache from the noise, yet Adelais was also beginning to feel the ache in her chest as she thought about returning home. Which was worse? The room full of snotty, noisy teenagers or her parents?

Lifting a hand to her neck and massaging the tender skin beneath her scarf and shirt, she figured that a pounding migraine was better than going home.

“Adelais, why don’t we get one with you in the shot?” John suggested as Marcia and Claire stood together for another picture, taken with Claire’s cellphone.

She stood frozen for a moment, trying to think of a way to get out of it, but Claire went along to appease her father and ushered Adelais over to stand closer to the windows, in the sunlight. She grabbed Adelais’s forearm to pull her along, forcing the taller blonde to repress a noise of pain as she gripped directly over a healing bruise.

Standing on Claire’s right with Marcia on the left, she mimicked the same fake smile she had used for most of the day as the camera flashed again, leaving a splotch in her vision. She stepped aside and tried to blink it away as Marcia pulled Claire away to say goodbye to the last girls there. Casey was a few yards to Adelais’s right, her cellphone to her ear as she seemed to be waiting for it to stop ringing.

However, as Adelais looked to the screen of the cellphone, she could see that it was not on a call screen at all, but the home screen.

She was faking the call.

Turning away before Casey could notice, the blonde went over to pick up an armful of presents as John handed Marcia a stack of take-away containers. “Did you at least enjoy yourself?” John asked as he helped drape one of the present bags over her arm, once more pressing on the bruise.

“I did, John, I promise. It was nice to get out of the house for a while.”

“I’m sure you’re still excited to go home,” John urged on, turning to his daughter. “These teenagers can be exhausting.”

“Hey,” Claire protested at her father’s teasing dig. The light, playful banter between father and daughter made Adelais frown for a moment before she controlled her expression. They attention soon turned to Casey, however, who Adelais noticed had switched her phone to her other ear so they couldn’t see the screen. “That’s what happens when you do a mercy invite.”

“I believed you wanted to invite everyone,” John pointed out, looking to his daughter with a faint frown.

Claire gave her father a look, one that Adelais knew would only lead to a beating if she ever dared to do such a thing. “Dad, I can’t invite everyone in my art class except for one person, without social network inflicting more pain on that person than was intended. And I’m not a monster.” Claire’s response only made Adelais hate her more, yet she also had a strong suspicion that Casey was also selfish and had only come to the party to escape something.

Or someone.

“I’m proud of you. I think,” John answered.

I hate you all.

“She gets detention a lot, and she yells at teachers sometimes. And there was that rumour that went around that she just kept running away from home.” The more that Claire spoke, the more Adelais felt like she was dying on the inside. She knew those signs; when she had been younger than Casey is, she had been the one exhibiting them. Up until her parents had learned how to keep a handle on her and model her to be the perfect, fake daughter.

Fucking idiots.

“I seriously think she can Uber,” Marcia suggested, glancing from Claire to John.

“I really think that we can go home now-”

“I’m sorry,” John interrupted. “Did I mistakenly convey that this was a democracy? We are not going ‘til she gets picked up.” As he was speaking, Casey finally hung up from her ‘phone call’ and made her way over to meet the small group of people. Adelais was staring again, looking over the brunette with a look even more calculating and analyzing that the one when Casey had first arrived.

Dark eyes met hers briefly, that strange sensation of looking in a mirror returning.

“Uh…the car…broke down,” Casey lied hesitantly, sounding like she had struggled to come up with a valid excuse for her ride not coming. Her voice sounded rough and unused to Adelais. “I’m just gunna take the bus.”

John was already shaking his head. “You’re not taking a bus, I’m gunna drive you home. Claire has almost saved her half of the money she needs for a car, isn’t that right?” Spoiled brat. “This might be one of the few times left I can drive you guys around.” He sounded far too enthused to be willingly surrounded by the annoyance that was his daughter and her friends.

Adelais looked away from them and forced herself to take calming breaths.

Idiots. Idiots, idiots, idiots.

Casey finally agreed after Claire threw in a pathetic excuse about dad jokes. “It’ll be a bit of a tight squeeze,” John explained as they finally turned to leave. “You’ll have to get in the back with Claire and Marcia; I don’t think we’d be able to fit Adelais in the back, she’s too long.” He smiled at his own joke as he looked over to Adelais, who gave a pinched smile. “You got your height from your father. Sarah’s a short little thing.”

“Yea, I’ve been told,” she responded lowly, opening the door with her hip and holding it for the others to leave.

The cold air was a nice reprieve after having sat inside with Claire’s art class. John took the lead with Claire and Marcia just behind, Casey and Adelais bringing up the back of the pack. Casey discretely glanced at Adelais from the corner of her eye, taking in the blank expression on the older woman’s pale face. Some of the cover-up beneath her eyes had faded, showing the shadows of insomnia that marked her, and a strand of dark blonde hair had slipped from the braid at the top of her head to fall down and frame one of her dulled green eyes.

When said eyes flicked over to meet her gaze, Casey held them for a moment before looking away.

No words were exchanged, yet there was a silent understanding that passed between the two as they approached John’s car. Marcia handed over the food before she and Claire slipped into the back seat, chatting away while completely ignoring the others presence. Casey didn’t seem to mind, however, and rounded to the other side of the car while sliding into the free seat in the back.

Adelais put the bags down on the ground as John opened the trunk; it was empty after they had taken the cake and presents out earlier, leaving lots of room for Claire’s ridiculous amount of presents. “You can lay the presents down further to the back if you want,” John offered as he turned to take the food he had placed to the left of them.

Picking up the larger of the bags, Adelais leaned over the truck to slide it as far back into the truck as she could manage, leaving plenty of room for the rest. “Can I help you?” John asked suddenly, speaking to someone else as Adelais pulled away from the trunk while carefully ducking her head so as not to bang it on the metal.

The sudden hiss of what sounded like an aerosol can caused her to pause, inhaling delicately. Like sugar and chemical cleaner. Her eyebrows pinched in a frown for a moment; she could swear she knew that scent from somewhere.

“You little brat, when I tell you to sleep, you sleep!”

Adelais’s mouth went dry when she remembered where she’d encountered that smell before. Turning to look over her shoulder, the figure standing just behind her was definitely not her uncle. Shaved head, glasses, and a serious look contorting his features like a scowl, Adelais did nothing more than stare for a moment as her heart began to beat faster in her chest. Blue eyes, pale skin, a shaving nick near the left ear, ironed shirt—all grey.

Her eyes darted down to the small can he was holding, the one she had just heard. At his feet, John lay motionless with the food containers tipped beside him. It left a mess on the concrete. He’d made a mess.

Looking up again, the man’s blue eyes had hardened as they watched her. He was large—not quite twice her size due to her bizarre height, but she could see the muscle definition in his arms and neck. She didn’t have experience running, always locked inside an enclose space, so she knew he would be faster than her. She was also still sore, and therefore wouldn’t be effective with defending herself.

Releasing a long, tired breath, Adelais let her eyes fall closed in resignation.

The hiss of aerosol can sounded again, followed by the sugar and chemical smell as her face was sprayed. Her lungs reluctantly inhaled the fumes, immediately taking effect and leaving her dizzy. Gravity pulled her down, causing her body to tip backward toward the concrete. Strong hands caught her before she could make contact, hoisting her up as the weightless feeling of her body disappeared into the abyss of her mind.

#Split2016 #split movie #james mcavoy #dennis #dennis split #dennis split x ofc #james mcavoy split #kevin wendell crumb #original female character #the one with silver scars

41 notes · View notes

phantom-of-nrc · 4 years ago

Text

𝒜 𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝒶 𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽

An Exchange with @oikame I was surprised to see myself involved in a matchup trade. Nevertheless, the surprise I felt was meant in a positive way. Other than that.. I hope this matchup is enough to repay your well-written one..!

ℌ𝔬𝔴 ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔢?

🐩 It took me quite some time to decide on who’s the better match for you. Throughout the whole time, Divus has been lingering around my mind as I consider more options for you. There may be a lot of factors that may cause some rocky situations... Perhaps the dynamic between the two of you?

🐩 Divus Crewel is a man who knows what he wants, he knows how to communicate with people. Timid? Please, no one would dare to think of Divus Crewel as a timid man. How can he deal with unruly puppies in his class if he’s timid?

🐩 You don’t like to sugarcoat? So you’re the type to speak your mind? That’s something that Divus can’t help but commend. Dire Crowley has this tendency to be a bit... Overbearing. It’s stressful enough to try and keep the Headmaster of NRC from running away from duties he must address himself. Not afraid to speak your mind in the matter of Dire Crowley? Expect him to favor you more than before.

🐩 One may find you describing yourself as a sadomasochist in every way? Well, well.. Divus might find that intriguing. Your affinity for physical affection? He’s down for that. You bite? I think it’s safe to say that Divus will definitely be surprised by this discovery. He’s not complaining though, if anything.. You’d find his lips curling up in a smile that even he can’t hide.

🐩 All those moments where you'd be filled with joy, where you'd find excitement over the little things, Divus might find his eyes drifting towards your delighted presence. Your happiness is a distraction to him, one that he doesn't seem to mind at all.

🐩 Speaking of, with the intimidating and serious impression you give off to people and the stylish and classic appearance of Divus Crewel, paired with the proud posture he holds, people would see the two of you as a sort of power couple from afar. You might as well be... The flair that others get from the two of you is strong, especially since the two of you can be dramatic in your unique ways.

🐩 Learning of your interest in exploring topics that you'd find interesting, astrology to symbolisms to botany, Divus would commend your curiosity in such subjects. You've had an interest in medicine?? Now you've caught the attention of the Alchemy teacher. Moments, where the two of you would engage in deep talks, is surprisingly one of Divus' cool-down moments. Whenever he'd feel stressed, your talks never fail to stray his mind away from whatever was giving him stress.

🐩 Dress up? Do you also like to dress up? How delightful!! You like eye make-up too? A definite yes! Another must in your time with Divus is trying outfits and complete your looks with fitting make-ups (eye make-up for your case.) With Divus Crewel, you can wear elegant clothes. Bonus points for custom designs made just for you!

🐩 Night-time dates with the finishing touches of dancing together are a must! Did I mention that your date would include exploring various places in his classic automobiles?

🐩 The sense of purpose you get from helping others is one of the things he appreciates about you. If you ever offer your help to him in sorting the chemicals, he'd appreciate it very much. Expect a reward of a peck on the lips or cheeks, perhaps a pat on the head. (Come to think of it, he's got a list of traits he likes about you in his mind..)

🐩 As I mentioned, he has a list of things he likes about you. From your organization to your schedule, to your distaste of being late to your boldness.

🐩 Whenever one of you is mad, the other stays away. Space is something the two of you needed in your times of anger. After the rage subsided, comfort will arrive. Cuddles on a sofa, bundled in his fur coat.

🐩 Relationships have their ups and downs, their obstacles. Your teasing can be something that might catch Divus off-guard. Not for long, though. It's also in Divus' nature to be quite a tease. He's a different kind of tease though... A bit sensual, dare I say. Your reactions to Divus' teasing may determine if this will be another obstacle to your relationship or not.

𝔐𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤:

Being a teacher at Night Raven College can be draining. Especially if some bad pups need discipline. Coupled by students who fail their subjects and having no choice but to tutor them, stacked with the irresponsible headmaster who doesn't seem to take serious matters into his own hands, the schoolyear has proven to be quite troublesome.

A year different from the previous years, this one was filled with mishaps. From events that seem to go wrong to overblotting students. After months of excruciating responsibilities, he could finally be free from the stress of school, even if it was just only for a couple of days. Back to his homeland, the Rose Kingdom, he looked forward to driving his sleek automobiles, wear silk robes as he drinks his red wine, visit cafes that would bring out the nostalgia in him...

His polished shoes clacked against the concrete, his silver-blue eyes set on a certain building, each step had him nearer and nearer. Closer to his destination.

The smell of coffee immediately greeted Divus, his chest warm with the feeling of nostalgia. Eyes automatically landed on him, attracted to his unique fashion choices. Most recognized him immediately, but none dared to approach. His long leg crossed over the other, his presence was demanding to the point where brown-green eyes were lured to his form.

Several tables away, a woman stared at the black and white-haired man, face remaining the same, looking as though unimpressed at the man. Among all eyes staring at him, his eyes found themselves making contact with you. No words were exchanged as the two of you only looked at each other, several tables away.

Silver-blue eyes and brown-green eyes continued to look. Curiosity flaring up the longer you two looked at each other.

It seems that this break from school would be much more special, a beginning to a new chapter of your lives together.

#twst wonderland #twst matchup #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland matchups #twisted wonderland matchup #A Wish for a Wish #oikame

11 notes · View notes

anthropwashere · 5 years ago

Text

Phic Phight: set the self upon the shelf

Prompt from @five-rivers: Jack and Maddie acquire the pieces of Freakshow's staff.

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 3,841

In hindsight, Danny should have expected something like this to happen. He'd been on a good streak; a really good streak. No catastrophes, no explosions, no be-all, end-all ultimatums with terrible creatures trying to squeeze the life out of some poor schmuck trying to go about their day. Heck, aside from a few toothy Day-Glo bright beasties waking him up just shy of his alarm and the usual irritation of the Box Ghost haranguing the nearest postal office, things have been easy. There hasn't even been any test to stress out over. So with how his luck usually is, he's overdue for a bad day.

Today's that day, turns out. It's just not so obvious as bad days usually go for him anymore. It's insidious, creeping, sly.

Worst of all, his parents are the ones to blame, and they're not even trying to take Phantom apart molecule by molecule this time.

It's a Wednesday, as dull as any other Wednesday can be, when he unlocks the front door of FentonWorks, leaving it open for Sam and Tucker to come in after him. They're all in the middle of another round of friendly bickering, some he-said she-said I-read-this-article goofing with no stakes or real anger in any of their threats to shut the others up. They're just goofing. Danny locks the door once they're in, punches in the pass code on the panel his parents had installed a couple months back so the trigger-happy security system doesn't take umbrage with whatever-the-hell just strolled in through the front door. Tucker's managed to bamboozle the security somehow—Danny can almost follow along with the concept of coding if Tucker's in the mood to skip the jargon, but sit him in front of a command prompt with nary a word of English to be found and his whole brain just fritzes out in self-defense—and point is, the security recognizes Danny's not very human, but it does the software equivalent of a shrug and dumps the notifications into a hidden folder his parents would need to get real creative finding.

He means to lead them to the stairs to dump their backpacks off in his bedroom before raiding the kitchen. The Box Ghost had decided to ruin lunch today instead of Algebra, like a jerk, and Danny's starving as a consequence of his sandwich ending up on the floor and burning up a ton of energy chasing the idiot around the entire school six times. He's trying not to laugh as Sam keeps up her rant on how unreliable sad nerds on forums are for relaying what cocaine-addled movie producers in LA may or may not have agreed to, when Tucker says, "Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Where you going?"

Danny blinks. He's halfway down the stairs to his parents' lab. He didn't even notice. "Uh," he says, turning around. Sam and Tucker are still on the top step, raising identical eyebrows at him. "Sorry. Habit."

"BG can wait, dude. I didn't get to eat either."

"Ha. Right."

They go upstairs, Sam picking up her rant again on the second-floor landing. They drop their bags off in his room and tromp downstairs again. Danny flicks the light switch on as he passes through the doorway to the—

"Danny?"

He blinks. Halfway down to the lab again, and he'd been sure he was in the kitchen this time. He swallows, putting on a sheepish grin for his friends as he trots back up to them again. Tucker looks amused so he almost thinks he's gotten away without worrying them, but one look at Sam tells him to dump that hope in the trash and forget about it. Her painted mouth is downturned and distinctly worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says. The funny thing is, it's not even a lie. "Why?"

She hesitates, then shakes her head. So he's not worrying her enough that she needs to make a parade of it. That's good. That's great. All he wants to focus on right now is microwaving the entire box of taquitos his Dad snuck into the grocery cart the last time his parents went shopping, and then eating it as fast as half-humanly as possible.

Jazz comes home while they're all splayed out in the kitchen, poking her head in to say hi and ask if he needs any cover stories drummed up with lunch having been so chaotic. "Nah," he assures her, "I'll just dump the Box Ghost into the Portal after Mom and Dad go to bed. Thanks, though."

"Patrol tonight?"

"Always."

"Let me know when you head out?"

"Sure."

She smiles at him warmly, and not for the first time is Danny glad to have her in on his secret. She's overbearing and controlling and way, way too worried about rule-breaking, but still. It's nice. He trusts her, he loves her, and he gets no small amount of delight at having her in on all the ridiculous excuses he concocts for his parents. He has no idea how he managed so long without her helping him keep his secret.

"Don't let him do anything stupid," she tells Sam and Tucker. Tucker gives her a mock-salute without looking up from his phone.

"That's a tall order," Sam says with a roll of her eyes. Danny elbows her. She elbows him right back, and hers are sharp.

Jazz laughs so hard she snorts. It's a sure sign she's comfortable around Danny's friends, which is a lovely relief all on its own. For all that they don't talk much about not-ghost stuff, Danny knows she's struggled to make friends for a long time, knows she's lonely, knows she's just as happy to be included in all the Phantom business as he is to have her there beside him. She waves a touch sarcastically at them and goes off to her own room, presumably to be a good straight-A student and do all her homework for the rest of the month somehow.

Whatever. Danny's got a full-sized mountain of taquitos to plough through and nothing the least bit life-threatening on his radar for the foreseeable future. That's as sure to change in the next five minutes as it always is. He's used to having a tight knot of panic clenched around his heart and/or the funny little cold spot where his ghostly core leaks through to his human side. He's always on edge, always ready for something. It's half the reason he can't remember the last time he got a decent night's sleep, too stressed to do more than toss restlessly in his bed until the wee hours, and the proper ghosts all seemed to have unanimously decided that five a.m. is the best time ever to come charging through the Portal to cause a little pre-dawn havoc.

"Danny?"

He blinks, and he's halfway down the stairs to the lab again.

He licks his lips, swallowing nervousness. He... he doesn't even remember leaving the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder to find Sam and Tucker up on the top step again, equal amounts of concern furrowing their brow. Down in the lab he hears his parents' voices, just low enough that he can't make out individual words over the heady thrum of the Ghost Portal. "Uh," he says.

"Something's wrong," Sam says. it's not a question.

"I'm okay," he says automatically. "Really. Not lying. Just... I dunno. Let's go upstairs."

They go upstairs. Danny plows through his taquitos as originally intended, relaying through rude mouthfuls that he really does feel fine, totally normal (for him, shut up Tucker). He doesn't think he's losing time or anything as worrying as that. He's just... going through the motions so much that he doesn't even notice when he misses his mark.

Sam and Tucker do not like the sound of that, but he convinces them to let it lie. His parents are probably just working on some new gadget. He'll take a look at the lab later tonight. It's not like it feels evil or anything. It doesn't even hurt, which considering the trend of ghost hunting gizmos they've drummed up the last few months is a welcome change of pace. It's fine, really. He's fine, really.

"If you're sure," Tucker says, doubtful.

"I am. Give it a rest, will ya?"

They do, and they reluctantly bunker down to make a decent dent in their homework so they won't have to worry about it in that anxious gray waiting after dinner with their families and before they can sneak out for patrol. Normal kids do their homework after dinner. Not them. They're halfway between valedictorian and delinquent in their habits, toeing the line between abandoning homework entirely and only keeping up with it as best they can to avoid any unnecessary eyes. Danny can't afford the extra attention.

The afternoon wanes, evening looming like an executioner's axe—Sam and Tucker are all too aware of how long they've gone without a proper catastrophe too—and sooner than they'd prefer it's time to part ways. Sam and Tucker gather up their things and hide away their patrol schedules and the like in the hollow space in Danny's ceiling as per usual. Then the three of them tromp down the stairs again to dump their plates in the sink and pay lip service to a goodnight until tomorrow in case Danny's parents are around. They're not at first glance, or at second glance for that matter, but better safe than sorry. Danny starts to follow them to the door, uneasy of the doorway down the lab yawning like a mouth, and this time he feels it—

(come here)

—but there's nothing for it. Knowing he's being bidden down the basement doesn't stop him from swiveling on his heel to start down the polished stairs. It's only Sam's quick reaction that stops him only two steps down, her hand a firm vice on his bent elbow.

"Yeah," he says, a little breathless with surprise. "Felt it that time."

"Only that time?" Tucker asks in a tone firmly detailing how little he likes the sound of that.

Danny looks over his shoulder to nod at them both. "It doesn't hurt," he reminds them. "It's okay. I can handle—whatever it is they're doing down there."

"Tell Jazz," Sam says, which is surprising enough that Tucker gawks at her too. It's not like she and Jazz get along, after all. Danny promises, too surprised to scoff or tease her for worrying over nothing. Maybe that should've been a warning sign too.

He waves them off at the door, locking it and punching in the code again with a habit so well-honed he doesn't even think about it, and before he knows it he's blinking harsh neon green light out of his eyes. Down in the basement, and he only remembers walking down the stairs after the fact.

"Danny-boy!" His dad shouts with his usual boisterous energy from over near one of the examination tables. His mom's off at one of the far counters, bent over a heavily modified microscope. Both of them have their hoods up, and Danny has to swallow a shiver when his dad looms too close. Something about the goggles always reminds him of how a praying mantis' eyes bulge; charmingly goofy right up until it snatches its prey up in its scythe-like forearms.

"H-hey, Dad."

"Whoa, is it that late already? Baby cakes, it's almost six!"

His mom straightens up with a murmured groan as her back pops audibly. Her red-lipped smile ratchets right up into something uncanny and wrong without her eyes visible to soften the bright flash of teeth. "Is it? Oh, hell, I completely forgot to take the hamburgers out to thaw. Danny—hi, sweetie—do you mind calling in take-out? Your choice."

"Uh. Sure, no problem." Funny. Never mind the taquitos he devoured an hour ago, he's always on the cusp of starving. Ghost powers or puberty, or both. He doesn't know and it doesn't really matter so long as nobody notices how much he puts away without gaining an ounce. He casts a wide glance around the lab, feigning bored curiosity, hoping to find some strange new device with his dad's face stickered all over it that will explain this weird urge demanding he be down here—

—and feels his heart and core both stutter at the sight of what's laid beneath his dad's broad hands.

"What," he chokes out. It's all he can manage. His usual anxiety—something's coming, something will come for him, any moment now, any moment, soon soon soon—transmogrifies into a full-blown panic attack so fast he feels the air in his lungs literally, genuinely freeze. He clenches his jaw against the coughing fit threatening to expose him as wrong, pointing at the long black staff laid on the table instead.

"Oh, this? You're never gonna believe it, Dann-o." His dad beams at him, proud of his work and glad his son's taking an interest in it. "We got a call yesterday on the 800 number. Some hiker found this thing absolutely covered in little ghosts down in Little Grand Canyon and figured this thing oughta have a proper once over from us instead of being left to lie where the river'd dumped it."

"It appears to generate a frequency too high for humans to perceive," his mom chimes in, walking over to join them at the table. She shoos a small sparrow-looking ghost away with naked disgust curling her mouth; it goes sailing on stiff wings off to settle on a sturdy crate off in one corner, red eyes leaving streaking after-images as it twists and ducks its little head, taking in all the strangeness of the lab. Danny pretends as hard as he can that he can't hear it asking, where am i? where am i?

"That's right," his dad confirms, plucking the staff up with a frivolous little twirl that has his mom swatting his shoulder with a laugh. "There must have been thirty birds and snakes and the like swarming all over this thing when we got there this morning. We had to melt the lot of them to get our hands on this thing, and we've got no idea yet what got them so interested in this thing."

"At first glance it's only a simple iron-wrought staff," his mom says, tugging it free from his dad's hands to display the detailed bat at its top and the glittering shards of crimson-colored glass running down its back. "But see this glass? There's a tremendous amount of energy emitting from it—harmless to humans, don't worry. But that bird's the seventh ghost we've seen since we brought this thing down here. Something about the frequency is compelling to ghosts. They have to come see what's going on. Although why they feel such a compunction or what this thing's original purpose was is beyond me...."

In the back of Danny's mind he hears an echo of an echo of Freakshow's voice urging him on. (take it. bring it back to me. come home. come home to me.)

"Yeah," he manages thinly. "Weird."

They ramble on for a while, too giddy to have him showing an interest in their work to recognize that his interest stems from something adjacent to terror. He musters a rictus grin, nodding like some wall-eyed bobblehead toy when they look to him for input. All the while the beady red eyes of the bat on the staff burn his skin like lit cigarettes, like brands, like red-hot manacles he might not be able to shake this time.

(come here,) the staff bids him, its voice so gentle it could his own mind assuring him that this is the best idea he's ever had. (take me. bring me home. bring me to him. it will all be so much better once we're his again.)

"Dinner," he chokes out eventually, backing away toward the stairs. "I should—order. Order. Dinner. Pizza?"

"Sounds good to me," his dad says cheerfully. "You know what I like."

"My wallet's in the kitchen," his mom adds.

(stay,) the staff says. (take me. bring me home.)

"Nngh," he says, nodding dutifully. He doesn't know who to. It takes far more effort to climb the stairs this time, his grip white-knuckled on the banister, his gaze reluctantly dragged away from the basement and up to the living room. Once there he blinks, feeling the tug of the staff fade to something slight again. He can ignore it up here, but now that he knows what it is he can't stop hearing-feeling it.

(come here,) it urges. (downstairs. i'm here. take me back. take me home. come home with me—)

He slaps his hands over his ears (for all the good it does), and stomps over to the kitchen where the landline is. Pizza. He. He's gotta order dinner. His parents will suspect him if he doesn't do this one perfectly normal thing.

He dials. He orders. He fumbles around his mom's wallet for her debit card. He manages a stammered apology to the person on the line, who laughs indulgently and tells him "No worries!" in a tone that says she knows how young he is just by his voice. Underestimating him. Simple human. Stupid human. He could show her how wrong she is. He should show her. Scare her. Make her scream. Hurt her—

He drops the phone, breathing heavily.

Shit.

"Hello?" The girl's tinny voice asks uncertainly, a hundred miles away at his feet.

He picks the phone up. "S-sorry. Anyway, the number's...."

He finishes the order. The girl on the phone tells him to expect the driver to arrive in about 45 minutes. He makes a few incomprehensible noises that might translate to something like a thank you if the girl happens to feel real generous. He's never calling this pizza place again.

Once the phone's back on the receiver he bolts up through the ceiling, straight up to the roof, past the Ops Center, up up up until he feels the final sticky thread of the staff let him go, until he's skirting the scraggly cloud cover and thinking clearly enough to realize he really ought to ditch visibility while he's up here trying to figure out what the fuck he's gonna do next.

Freakshow's in jail.

Freakshow doesn't have the staff.

Freakshow can't control him now. He can't. He can't.

It's the staff. Just the staff down there, and whatever about it that makes it so—intoxicating? Smothering? Comforting?

He's far enough away that it's easy to recoil from that. It's not a comfort. It's not. It's not easy, or gentle, or good. It's piano wire tugging on his joints, turning his mind to so much waterlogged cotton. There's no knowing what the staff would do to him without someone at the metaphorical wheel. Just because what he remembers from when Freakshow controlled him is a warm, soft cocoon doesn't make it right. He put humans—people—in the hospital. He stole thousands of dollars worth of jewelry from eight different stores in six days. He nearly killed Sam.

These are things he knows because he was told them secondhand. He read articles, watched news reports, listened to Sam shakily try to convince him that she was okay, really, just as he'd done to her a hundred times before.

But the truth of the matter is this: he has no concrete memories of that week spent under Freakshow's thumb. He remembers warmth, and rightness, and glee. He remembers feeling a good so giddy it might be better than any description of any drug he's ever heard of. He knows the comedown was hard, and disorienting, and cold, and that he couldn't shake the ring of Freakshow's laughter in his ears for weeks. He knows that the majority of him hated every minute of not being himself. He knows that nine-tenths of him still feels a touch unclean in a way he doesn't know how to voice to Sam and Tucker, to know that he did those things without any semblance of self, and that last little part of him reveled in just... letting go. Running wild. In doing things for the fun of it and not caring at all about consequences, because what did consequences matter to a ghost?

There's a very, very tiny part of himself that wishes for the freedom of that feeling. Yoked and manacled in the sticky, impossible-to-resist way of magic, but free from the burdens of Danny Fenton. No expectations, no future, no what-ifs, no curfews, no algebra. Just Phantom. Just free to do whatever he pleases.

Skittishly he looks down at FentonWorks a thousand feet below, unsure if he's put enough distance between himself and the staff, unsure if he can trust his own thoughts yet. He doesn't know. He doesn't think there's any way to know for sure.

What should he do?

What can he do?

Just being within easy reach of the staff puts prickles all down his spine, numbs his hands and feet and tongue. He broke it. That's how he got free of Freakshow. He dropped it to save Sam because she was more important, and it broke, and now he's free. He's free. He is.

Maybe the orb-thing wasn't the source.

Maybe....

He doesn't know.

He can't let his parents keep it. That much he does know. If they figure out how to utilize it, even at a fraction of what Freakshow was capable of, then there'd be no winning. Phantom could barely fight it with Sam begging for her life right in front of him, and that was with a stranger at the reins. If his mom or dad told him to come down to the lab and lay down on an examination table....

He can't.

What can he do?

His hip buzzes, so unexpected he drops twenty feet before catching himself with a yelp. His first instinct is that it's an attack, and he switches to Phantom and throws up a shield faster than thought, twisting around in the dark trying to find the source, trying to see who's coming for his throat next—

It's his phone. A text. That's all. No more, no less.

He changes back, not trusting his shaky hands with gloves on. It's from Jazz, asking where he's at. He calls her back, and she answers on the third ring.

"Hey, Danny," she says, relief audible in her voice. "Was there a ghost?"

"Uh-uh," he says. "Worse. Jazz, I—I need a favor."

"What was that? You broke up."

"Oh. Uh. Hang on." He drops hundreds and hundred of feet in free fall, watching the Ops Center racing up to meet him, all its floodlights swiveling round and round on automated patterns. He halts on a dime, far faster than any human could endure, and feels only an irritating tug on his bones as he swivels to find balance again. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah, that's better. What's up?"

He takes a deep breath. "I need a favor. A really, really big one."

#my writing #danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

238 notes · View notes

lukneetoonz · 5 years ago

Text

LITTLE GODDESS PART III

——————————————————————————-

Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Flirting, cussing, mentions of sexual frustration, overalls nothing bad.

Word Count: 3,446

A/N: Longer chapter, I'm hoping to make the rest of the chapters this long. Sorry if this one isn’t the best, I'm not feeling too well lately… but anyways I had fun writing this one. I’m excited for the party chapter!

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

——————————————————————————-

To say the end of the tour was awkward, would be an understatement. You didn’t know who that woman was, and you didn’t have any right to ask. But one thing was clear, she came to show that aizawa was her marked territory. Did things seem weird between them? Yes, but you’ve heard of the big threes many affairs and mistresses so it wouldn’t surprise you if she was one of them, maybe Aizawa’s favorite mistress. It was stupid that your heart even ached slightly at that thought when you’d just met the man.

“Ah, so how was the tour you two?” You didn’t realize you were back in front of Aizawa’s office until Hitoshi had spoken, looking up as you met his purple eyes that matched his lazy smirk. “So how do you like your new place of work beautiful? Is it everything you hoped it to be?” He mused, his hand reaching your hair and twirling a piece, making you blush and your mouth run dry as an angry king stood next to the both of you, glaring at his right hand man.

“Ahem. Hitoshi this is a place of business, not romance. Keep your hands to yourself will you?” The man's monotone voice was laced with jealousy, making Hitoshi’s grin wider, “I never hear you say that when Emi is in your office…” It was that woman’s name again… so they are a thing, looking away, you avoided the gazes of the men not realizing they both had challenging glares directed at each other. “Anyways, me and Y/N have some paperwork to fill out, but thank you for taking her on the tour aizawa.”

Before either you or Aizawa could argue, Hitoshi fizzed You away to his office and he dragged his feet to the couch and flopped down, a relaxing groan releasing from his mouth. “You can relax Y/N. I can tell we are gonna be great friends in the future…” Hitoshi’s voice was smug that matched his knowing smirk, eyes closing. “Now, I'm taking a nap, do as you please.”

*•*

This day was interesting so far, and it was only lunch. You had long left the purple haired man's office and figured it wouldn’t be bad to walk around, start to remember your way better. The only time you stopped was when you heard your stomach growl, your lips pursing as you sighed, “fuck… where was the café?” You started scrambling around, not knowing where to go, slightly freaking out.

“Yo! You lost pretty lady?!” A loud voice called out to you, making you whip around as you blushed and focused on the blonde haired man. “Uh, Yeah… I’m kinda new around here and I just want to find a place to eat.” The lanky Male came up to you and threw his arm over your shoulder, obviously not afraid of boundaries. “Well never fair, since your golden Olympian Male is here!” Suddenly it clicked and your eyes went wide, this must be the one they call Apollo…

Nodding you laughed it off, he sure does love himself doesn't he? “May I ask what you are doing here in the underworld? You are an Olympian that has nothing to do with the underworld.” The golden haired man laughed, a smile on his face. “Right you are gorgeous, but it so happens that me and the king himself are best friends! We are practically brothers!” Aizawa… and this man… practically brothers? You couldn’t believe it.

“Hizashi What did I tell you about coming here unannounced?” A familiar deep voice boomed through the space, making you blush and the man beside you smile brighter than before. Turning around faster than you can blink, he opened his arms for aizawa, “Aizawa! You know that if I call you’d say no, plus you love my company, admit it!” A giggle passed your lips as you looked at them, they completely contrasted one another and even thinking about their dynamic made you smile.

Aizawa’s eyes landed on you in shock and Hizashi turned to face you, “By the way Shouta, how come you didn’t tell me you hired someone as pretty as this one! I'd pay her to just take a drive-” Hizashi couldn't even finish the sentence when he shuddered by Aizawa’s cold and deadly stare. You didn’t even see it since you looked at the ground trying to hide your flustering face, moving a stray hair behind your ear, you smiled. “Well- thank you very much for your compliment…”

Your voice had Aizawa staring at you, mouth slightly agape as he clenched his jaw and looked away. Of course you’d have every god pining after you, why would he think he’d even have a small chance? The desperate stare did not go unnoticed by Hizashi and the wheels started turning in his head, a devious little smile on his face, “You know, I’m throwing a party tomorrow, you should come and get to know the rest of the gods.”

Nodding, a smile made its way onto your face. “Really? I’ve never been invited to anything like that before… thank you. I’m Y/N, I forgot to introduce myself.” A shy blush spread on your cheeks as aizawa could feel anger bubbling in him, he was never one for parties, but now he was… Hizashi smiled at you, ruffling your hair, “It’s gonna be fun. I’m sure everyone will love you, especially if Aizawa here seems to like your presence too.”

Head tilting with confused eyes, you didn’t understand. The king had just been showing you his grace since you were a new employee… right? Aizawa was practically glowing red before he dragged a laughing Hizashi off, “See y’a tomorrow Y/N!!” You waved him goodbye with a smile, still lost on where to eat…

*•*

As fast as the day came, it went. Going home, Izuku filled the air by asking you questions nonstop, but of course you answered everyone. The only thing on your mind however, was the party you were invited to. “Father, what’s your opinion on Hizashi?” Your voice was quiet but the question was loud as Izuku stopped in his tracks to eye you up and down with careful eyes, almost trying to check if you were harmed in any way shape or form.

“Did he hurt you? How do you know him? What happened, and you better tell me everything” His worried questions made you laugh as you stopped and smiled, “Nothing happened, I was just invited to his party tomorrow and I wanted to know your opinion on him.” You simply shrugged, making the green haired man sigh in relief before he took in your words and went wide eyed. “Party?!! Tomorrow!? Invited?!”

Honestly, Izuku was finding it hard to breathe as he clutched his chest. His reaction made you laugh as you hugged the man that swore to protect you with his life. “Father- calm down! We only met because I walked around by myself to get a feel of the place… it’s no big deal, I thought he was very nice.” The shrug of your shoulders matched your nonchalant tone, making Izuku feel many things. “Y/N, promise me that you’ll be safe, please.”

Nodding you looked at your father as you stepped into your house, “Does this mean I can go?” Izuku smiled with a sigh, “I can’t really stop you since you’re an adult… I just know that you are my stars and your mother is my moon. Without either of you I am nothing.” You smiled softly as you kissed your father's cheek, nodding and going to the kitchen, Uraraka already there making tea. “Hi momma, how was your day?” You greeted your mother with a kiss on the cheek and she smiled softly, looking at you with bright eyes.

“My little star! How was your first day? I hope Aizawa was kind…” Just the mention of his name made you blush as you looked away with a shy smile. “The king was very kind… but I’m sure it was just because I’m new.” As you ended your sentence you chuckled, making your mother smile. “Oh really? Well I’m glad to hear you had a nice time”

(E/C) eyes going wide, your cheeks heated up, “Mother! It wasn’t like that!! I swear… anyways I was invited to Hizashi’s party tomorrow” Your news made Uraraka smirk as she turned to you and handed you a glass of tea “Oh? I’m sure your father wasn’t happy about that…” The grin that made its way onto your face confirmed her answer, “He May not have been, but I still can go.” Nodding, Uraraka took a sip of her drink and looked at you with a sly smile, “Well I guess we should go shopping before then huh?”

*•*

The next day

As you walked into work, you couldn’t help but recheck your attire every minute. Why did you want to look so good? It wouldn’t matter in the long run… he wouldn’t see you in the same way. Groaning you rubbed your face as you walked through the menacing doors. You can do this, all you have to do is keep the souls in check… and not fall in love.

“You look troubled chickadee, something I can help you with?” An arm wrapped around you as you looked to your side to be met with familiar golden eyes, “I’m just- nervous for my first real day of work…” Keigo laughed as he smirked at you, “Awh, don’t be worried… if you want we can have lunch together” A devilish wink was sent your way making you blush, “Y-you don’t have too..” Keigo laughed, ruffling your hair as he tsked playfully.

“Psh, I want too. Plus I heard that you’re going to Hizashi’s party tonight… guess I’ll be seeing you there chickadee.” Keigo lowered his head to whisper in your hair and you squeaked and chuckled, looking at him with questioning eyes. “Are you flirting with me?” your voice came out shakey as you played with your fingers, Keigo laughed and poked your nose. “I can admit that I am since your father ain’t here…”

“Well quit it, Keigo. You wasting time makes me wonder why I pay you.” A deep voice interrupted your interaction and you snapped your eyes to meet glowing red ones, an automatic shiver going down your spine as you stared with parted lips. You have never been more turned on than seeing Aizawa look like this. Keigo rolled his eyes and took a step away from you, looking at Aizawa with an unamused look. “I just clocked in, get off my ass and get the stick out of yours.”

The statement only made Aizawa angrier as he tsked, but before he did anything, his eyes glanced at you and he calmed down. Taking a deep breath in, he glared at the red winged god, “You have 3 seconds to leave before I rip your wings out of your back.” Keigo held his glare for as long as he could before turning to you and winking, flying off. You turned to aizawa and gulped, feeling horrible that you were wasting company time. “I’m sorry about that, I’ll get to work right away… I don’t want to waste anymore time”

Aizawa’s eyes softened looking at you, his hand reaching out to grab your arm and he sighed as he gulped, “Don’t apologize little goddess… Keigo was acting wrongly, he should be apologizing.” His words, his touch, gods his everything made you want to melt as butterflies soared in your stomach. Nodding you met his eyes and smiled softly, “I-I wanted to ask yesterday, but I didn’t get the chance… are you going to Hizashi’s party?” Biting your plump lip, (e/c) doe eyes met Aizawa and the god cursed under his breath as he forced himself to look away.

“Ahem- I- yes. I’ll be there.” Why did he say he was going? Simple; you asked and you were also going. Stupid Aizawa… stupid stupid Aizawa. As he raked your face to see any type of reaction, he couldn’t place just one emotion as you slightly blushed and smiled big, nodding as you had bright eyes that looked at him. “Good… I'm glad you’re going to be there” The shock that ran through the raven haired man's body was evident as he sucked in a breath, looking at you to say you were kidding, but you never did.

“W-well… I’ll see you tonight Aizawa.” The distance you were creating caught his attention and he once again reached for you with wide eyes, “Shouta… you can call me shouta.” Shouta… his name alone was gorgeous. You nodded and moved your hand into his, giving it a friendly squeeze, “okay… shouta.” Finally You left to go where you were needed, leaving a speechless king in your wake, this wasn’t Nemuri, or her son Denki. This was him, his heart, fucking with him.

*•*

As you walked to lunch, you couldn’t help but feel slightly sad that the god you were eating with had golden locks and not black. Of course you knew that your parents fell in love within two days and got married on the third, that’s a common thing with gods and goddesses. But the thought alone scared you, how could you fall for someone you didn’t even know? Maybe your friend Denki was pulling a prank on you… he always did say that you needed to get laid so he wouldn’t have to smell your sexual frustration no matter how far away he was…

A groan left your lips as you went and grabbed some food from a restaurant in the food court, sitting down at the table that had the winged god, and the purple haired one…. along with the ash blonde? What the hell? “Am I interrupting something?” You regretted even speaking because all attention was immediately turned to you, making you look away nervously. “I see you finally made it chickadee… I’m sorry about these two, who rudely invited themselves.” Golden eyes glared at the other two men when Keigo finished talking, making you even more confused.

“Listen gorgeous, I just figured you wouldn’t want to be alone with chicken boy here for an hour alone, so I decided to be your Prince Charming” Hitoshi decided to speak as he smirked at you, leaning casually on his palm, eyes raking your body. Katsuki let out a scoff as he rolled his eyes, “Dumbasses. Both of you.” Hitoshi’s smirk turned devilish as he turned to Katsuki, “Oh? Then enlighten us on why you’re here…” Katsuki clenched his jaw as he huffed and glared at Hitoshi, “I- just figured I’d get to know Y/N… it’s the smart thing to do since she could get in the way with my work.”

Tilting your head, you looked at all of them like they were crazy. That was until a cute little blonde came up, giggling with mischief as she latched her arm with yours and tilted her head at the boys. “They’re trying to court you… isn’t it adorable! Could you imagine all of them doing your dirty work as you just relaxed? I wish I would get courted like this…” The blonde sighed and sat down, resting her head on her palms with a pout and you smiled at her, while Katsuki pushed her off a seat in disgust.

“We didn’t sit here for you to come and sit with us, Toga. So find somewhere else. Or someone else to bother.” His words were harsh as she pouted and you slightly pouted too, already liking her. “Well… since I don’t want to be courted, I’d much rather sit with Toga… shall we?” You smiled at the goddess and she giggled with glee and yanked on your hand, dragging you away, leaving furious gods in your wake. Both you laughed as you went and sat down, Toga somehow got a milkshake and was sipping on it as she looked at you with a devious look.

“So, new blood… what’s it like to have gods falling at your feet? I’m sure if you stubbed your toe, they’d all come crawling with gifts and first aid kits.” Her words made you blush as you stared at your food, “I didn’t even realize until you just told me… why would they want me? I’m just an immature goddess.” Toga laughed and poked your nose, “Thats why, because you don’t know anything about them, yet. You’re trusting, and they can practically smell that. Trust me when I say none of these gods are up to no good.” Oh how she sounded like your father… but maybe it’s because your father was right, and so was she.

“Maybe… anyway, I don’t mean to sound rude but you’re a goddess aren’t you? What do you do around here?” You were curious to know what she did because you’ve only seen Gods here, no goddesses. “You might know by the name Styx, which the mortals really did give me a delicious name didn’t they?” Your eyes went wide in realisation as you blushed, “oh my gods! I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you! I’m so sorry” Toga giggled as she smiled at you, leaning on her palms.

“Eh don’t worry about it new blood… you can owe me back by telling me why you aren’t interested in being courted.” Her bluntness made you blush as you played with your food, “Well… I just- I’d want to be pursued by the right man.. not just any guy, you know? If I find the right guy, I’d welcome it” Toga didn’t talk for a couple seconds as she took in the sight of you, before her face lit up in a teasing grin. “You already found someone didn’t you- AND he works here, doesn’t he?!” She gasped, bringing her hands to her face as you hid your own.

“Please, drop it… I don’t want- I don’t know what I want!” Toga laughed as she leaned onto the table, continuing to read you. Like how your eyes would blink and try to avoid looking at a place for too long, and how your body seemed extremely relaxed in the moment, despite the conversation. She knew, of course she knew. Toga could figure these things out easily, and the flint in her eyes gave it away she knew as she grabbed your cheeks and pulled you closer. “You like them powerful, don't you? That’s okay, if I was you I would too.”

You choked on your food as you looked her in her eyes sighing, “Please it’s really nothing, just don’t say anything… okay?” Toga giggled before nodding, “Okay, but you’re no fun new blood! Just be glad I like you.” Nodding, You pouted and looked at the time, “I’m going to a party tonight that he’ll be at… do you want to come with me?” Toga practically lit up like a Christmas tree as she nodded and stood up, “Yes! Oh this will be so much fun! I’ll be your wing woman and we will get you any guy you want!” Once again you blushed as you looked away, feeling your heartbeat in your chest.

“I don’t want just any guy…” you sighed out, leaning your head on the table. Toga stared at you and she already knew what she was going to do tonight before she faked a pout on her own face and pat your head, “Don’t worry Y/N…. If it’s meant to be then the fates will make sure it happens. Anyway, what’s the harm in a little fun? You are young…” Shrugging, you looked away and thought for a second. “Maybe you’re right… maybe I should let loose tonight. Then finally I won’t have to feel like this cause it’s weird.” Toga hid her grin and nodded, “Oh, trust me new blood, you’ll have a blast tonight.”

——————————————————————————-

Taglist; @present-mel @maya-ngpirit @a-match-into-themoon @nhievyenne @negansnumberonewifie @darkqueenhyde @minfani @creolepier @lhcartoonist @fairy-inthegarden @taylor----wonderland @the-british-koala @leeeah-loooser @vinaios

#mha fanfiction #mha imagines #aizawa imagine #aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #mha aizawa #shouta aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa x reader #aizawa fanfiction #shoto aizawa #hawks imagine #mha hawks #mha shinsou #shinsou imagine #shinsou hitoshi #littlegoddessfic

80 notes · View notes

darkmindsotome · 4 years ago

Text

Wrapped For Dinner

Fandom: Love 365 Irresistible Mistakes

Pairing: Shunichiro Tachibana x MC

Word count: 3,796

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #13: Sex under the sun dress

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Wrapped For Dinner

My latest big project at Addison & Rhodes had me working as lead creative. It was long hours and a lot of hard work but in the end, we were able to pull off a pretty fantastic ad campaign that was currently trending and going viral.

To say I was relieved at the response was putting it modestly. Toma had already teased me about the stupid grin on my face creeping him out at work and Natsume had commented on it as well when he dropped off the updated sales figures. I managed to laugh them both off, nothing was going to put a dampener on my good mood. Well, almost nothing…

The phone rang at my desk the caller ID clearly displaying it was from the creative director’s office. I picked up the receiver as I pressed the button to answer. I had palpitations in my chest knowing my boyfriend was calling me during work hours. I wonder if I’ll ever get used to this?

“Creative department, MC speaking.”

“Always so professional.” I could hear Shinichiro’s deep voice as he chuckled. It managed to send tingles rippling through me. “Good work on that last project I just saw the updates. The projections look set to knock the client’s preferred targets out of the park.”

“Thank you, Sir. It means a lot hearing you say that.” My mood and happiness seemed to increase ten-fold being praised by him.

“… Listen about later, I’m going to have to take a rain check. One of the larger clients for the company had a scheduling issue and I was asked by the higher-ups to cover for someone who is still off-site.” Shunichiro’s words were like a bucket of ice water bringing me firmly back to Earth.

“Oh, that’s fine.” I didn’t know what else to say in response, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me and I rolled my chair a little closer to my desk hoping the computer monitor would hide me from the rest of the department.

“I knew you’d say that. I’ll make arrangements for something soon and make it up to you.” He sounded genuinely sorry but what worried me more than the cancelled date was how tired he sounded.

“You don’t have to worry, work is work. I’ve bailed on you a few times recently too.” I tried to mask my disappointment with a little enthusiasm. I really didn’t want to add to his problems by making him worry about me.

“Well alright if that’s how you really feel. You seriously did a great job this time I’m going to have to work harder to stay ahead.” It was reassuring to hear him accept my response and hear the motivation return to him. I could feel the smile returning to my face just listening to him.

“I’m still nowhere near –”

“I’m going to have to go another call is coming in.” Shunichiro cut me off after an electronic beeping on the line.

“Alright.” I nodded. He was busy and while I had really wanted to see him it couldn’t be helped.

“Mc? I can’t wait to see you.”

The line went dead as I held the receiver to my ear for a few seconds letting his parting words linger.

“Oh, Shun… you really don’t play fair.”

With no new projects that required my immediate attention, I was actually able to leave the office on time for the first time in ages. It was the weekend and the original plan had been to go to Shunichiro’s last night and spend the weekend together.

I looked over at the weekend bag I dragged back from a locker at the train station last night. Takuro had given me a quizzical look when I came back with it, but he was now curled up on top of the bag fast asleep.

Reaching for my phone I shot a quick message to Shunichiro wishing him good luck at work then hopped into the shower. With my hair dry but a towel still wrapped around me, I rifled through my wardrobe looking for clothes. I picked up the summer dress Yuiko had helped me find on our last shopping trip together.

The delicate gradient of pastel shades made the dress look like a dawn sky and the petals spread out around the baseline hem looked like I had kicked up waves of Sakura flowers. It made me feel happy and a change in mood was certainly what I wanted right now.

I hadn’t been very sure about it, after all, it was a wrap-around dress that caused a deep plunge to my neckline. My reaction had made Yuiko laugh as she kept encouraging me to try it on insisting that if it was to go on a date that it was perfect. In the end, I bought it, I wanted to see his reaction but that was not happening today.

Tying the fabric around my waist I checked myself in the mirror and slipped on a pair of kitten heels. Today may not be the day I get to see him but it was still a day off. Plus, I had been working so hard at the office recently I had no groceries in the apartment to make breakfast. Grabbing my purse, I exited my place in search of sustenance.

My parents had always warned me about food shopping on an empty stomach. I really didn’t want to end up carrying a ton of things back with me just because I was thinking with my belly and not my brain. After cutting through the park I came out onto the main road and spotted a familiar sign for McDonald's and went in.

Quickly grabbing a McMuffin and a coffee to go I was just on my way out again when I walked smack into someone. A familiar scent of a particular brand of cigarette, cologne and citrus shampoo filled my senses.

“Whoops! Careful, are you alright?” My eyes followed the arms supporting me. Navy blue suit with grey pinstriped vest and a custom shirt. Finally reaching his face and those deep brown eyes. My mind went blank as I stood there, face to face with Shunichiro. “Wait… MC?”

Clearly, I was not the only one surprised to see my partner. Shunichiro’s eyes looked me over from head to toe as if to check it was really me. I was suddenly very aware of his arms around me and felt a little self-conscious with how he was looking at me. I haven’t done anything different with my usual makeup, maybe its the dress. Does he not like it?

“Morning, late night?” I took half a step back putting a little space between us and the awkward situation.

“Yeah, fast food always tastes better after a late night. If you’re free right now we could eat together.” He shrugged, composed as always. This kind of situation really doesn’t rattle him, I guess that’s something that comes from age and experience.

“Really?”

“Well, it’s up to you. What do you want?” He was clearly holding back laughter I probably sounded or looked childish right now. His playful tone was not lost on me if anything it triggered more of my childish side.

“You have to ask?” I gave him a small glare that made him smile wider.

“Ok, I’ll be right back.”

I found a booth and sat down feeling completely unsure as to what I was now supposed to do. I wasn’t supposed to see him today at all and the fact I now was had thrown me. The look on his face when he recognised me also bugged me a little. While I was lost in thought a second bag was placed next to mine and the cushioned seating at my side pressed lower as Shunichiro sat down.

“I was going to phone you later.” He began talking as he cracked open his bag and began pulling out two McMuffins and a pastry.

“You were?” I looked at his face in profile, he was always handsome but something about this slightly tired look had me thinking back to our time spent together in bed. I reached out for my own bag of food to distract myself from my own lude imagination.

“Mhm,” He filled his mouth with a bite of his breakfast and then sucked hard of the straw for his iced fruit juice. I could have laughed at myself for how I suddenly felt very jealous of a straw, watching his moist lips wrap around it. “After pulling an all-nighter, preparing copies and things for the meeting. The client phoned saying they would have to reschedule again.”

He sighed and leaned back against the booth seating. He was frustrated and tired, you didn’t have to be his girlfriend to see something so plain.

“After you put in all that work!? That’s just too much…” I raised my voice a little allowing the annoyance I felt to at least show even if he wouldn’t.

“It’s a big account and the board members all want to keep it, but when I left the office earlier they were all apologising to me for the extra work.” He gave a wry smile and sucked a bit more on his drink. This was one of the many things I actually loved about this man. His dedication to his craft made him glow in a way that always had me dazzled, it motivated me to keep pushing forward.

“Must be nice to be in demand like that.” I smiled feeling some of my anger subside. He was so talented and respected by everyone in the company. Remembering that a warmth spread through my chest as a wave of affection hit me for the man at my side.

“You are as well you know? I am always getting requests for you to handle accounts personally.” There is a look on his face that even in profile seems to reflect everything I was just feeling about him back at me.

“You’re joking!” I nearly choked on my coffee as my embarrassment caught in my throat. Great work there MC remember to breathe air, not coffee.

“I’m really not.” Shunichiro chuckled at my little outburst making me feel even more childish sitting next to such a well put together man. He had already devoured his pastry and moved on to the rest of his food without me even noticing. “It actually makes me feel very...” He turned his head to look at me the expression painted on his face was not one I saw when working. It was softer but there was an intensity swimming in his eyes that automatically had my core tightening under that gaze. He smiled and then gave my food a nudge closer to me. “Your food is getting cold.”

“Oh!” The spell holding me seemed to break at his prompting. I really wanted to know what he didn’t finish saying, but the timing was now all wrong.

I don’t know if he knew what I was thinking or how he was affecting me. Knowing him he probably had already laid the groundwork for the perfect game plan. He always found a way to get me dancing in the palm of his hand.

“So what do you want to do now?” His question had me confused. It also came right after I had stuffed a big mouthful of McMuffin into my mouth.

“I thought you’d just pulled an all-nighter. Shouldn’t you be heading home to rest?” My words were muffled as I tried to swallow my food and talk at the same time. I probably looked like a hamster, my lack of manners and decorum didn’t faze him at all he simply listened to my garbled gibberish with a soft smile on his face. Ok, that look should be illegal.

“I was but seeing you made me feel much more energised. I’m not so old that one late night is going to stop me from seeing the woman I love. It’s up to you though, I know what I’d prefer.” He was so calm and easy-going. It reminded me that this mature sexy guy was like the smooth jazz music at our favourite bar.

He always did this. No matter what he always said something that was intrinsically tempting in a way you couldn’t possibly refuse then asks what you want to do. It still catches me off guard at times but I honestly wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Then will you come shopping with me?” I hadn’t planned on seeing him today so the fact I was right now made me unbelievably happy. It didn’t, however, change the reason behind my leaving my apartment.

“Shopping?” My rather boring request had him look at me in slight wonder. I don’t know if he thought I had offered up something mundane because I was concerned for his exhaustion or what.

“Sorry is that weird?” I cast my eyes down looking at the last bite of my breakfast in my hands shyly.

“No, not at all. What are we shopping for?”

“I…” I fidgeted in my seat. At work, I was organised and usually even at home I was as well. However, being as busy as I had recently meant I had let so many things slide in my personal life that I was getting embarrassed thinking about it all. “I haven’t been home much so I didn’t have any groceries.”

“Well, we can’t have that. If we’re buying food can I make some requests?” Shunichiro didn’t laugh at me or look like he was harshly judging me. I finally look up at him, his face looking a little boyish. I loved that look of innocence on him too.

“Of course!”

After finishing our food, we headed over to one of the larger stores because it had a slightly bigger variety of items.

“So, what do you want to request?” I ask as I pick up a shopping basket from the stack.

“Well lately I’ve been really craving your cooking I would say anything you make is fine but…” Shunichiro trails off looking at the displays. It made me smile thinking this is the first time in a while either of us had been food shopping.

“You want me to make chicken nuggets don’t you?” I end up giggling which earns me a raised eyebrow from him.

“You know me so well.”

“Naturally I am your girlfriend after all.” The words came naturally but with an instant hit of embarrassment. To hide my fluster, I looked away from him as I marched towards the shelves. “I’ll just go find the seasonings you go get the chicken.”

“Anything else?” He was hot on my heels making me little thankful for being able to stay ahead of him.

“Whatever you see you might want to eat.” I stopped in front of the seasoning looking over the array of choices and as I raised my hand to pick one up, I found myself covered from behind. “Shun?”

“In that case do I really have to go over there? I can’t think of anything but how great you would taste right now.” Shunichiro’s low voice and hot breath brushed against my ear as he pressed himself against my back. His hand was on top of my outstretched one, nimble fingers tracing my own while he used his thumb to rub the sensitive skin on the inside of my wrist.

“Shun… we’re in the middle of a store.” I closed my eyes wanting so badly for time to stop or for our location to just magically change. He placed his other hand on my hip sliding towards the wrapped fabric of my waist. His fingers delved into the gap they found and traced over the naked flesh beneath.

“Mmm, pity.” He hummed before removing himself and gracefully swiped the basket from my hand as if nothing had happened at all. “I’ll go get the chicken then.”

“You’re a damn tease, Shunichiro.” I muttered as I finished finding the seasonings and made a move for some frozen items next. With any luck, the freezers might help me cool down.

It was almost a mad dash to get home. I wanted to say it was because of the risk of food spoiling but to be honest that was the last thing on either of our minds.

Our little flirtations had persisted around the entire store, and when I say our flirtations, I mean Shunichiro’s. By the time we were at the checkout, I was trembling so much from his persistent teases that I couldn’t locate my card in my purse easily.

Not wishing to waste valuable time, Shunichiro produced his card and paid for the whole lot. He even picked up all the bags and began walking before I could protest. As we left, I caught one person saying “…such a gentleman.” Oh if only you knew.

Once inside he walked right into my small kitchen and opened the door to the fridge, not caring one bit about unpacking. I watched in shock as the entire bags, including their contents, were unceremoniously wedged inside.

“You know that isn’t good for the food right?”

“And you know right now I couldn’t care less.” His voice was lower than I expected. It was ruff and gravelly instantly reigniting all the tingling hot spots he had kindled during our impromptu shopping date.

He closed the gap between us in the blink of an eye. The strength with which he took me in his arms knocked the air from my lungs and my ability to think right out of my body. He dipped low plying my lips open with his tongue and pushing it deep into my mouth as if he were trying to steal my ability to speak as well.

Experienced hands roamed over the top of my dress pulling on the fabric in all the right places to provide some friction of fabric on flesh, raising the temperature between us.

“Mhm!.... Ah… Shun.” I was panting as he pulled back finally allowing me a few seconds to gain some air.

“I’ve never been so bothered by work. It’s so frustrating our schedules just never match up at the minute.” Even as he spoke he was removing his own clothes. Tossing his jacket and vest behind himself in a flurry of action that had me rubbing my legs together seeing him so desperate.

“I know I felt the same.” I brought my hand up to the buttons on his shirt, slowly tracing them before popping them one by one between my fingers like I was snapping them. My eyes never left his as he unbuckled his leather belt and trousers. “Every time I felt a break in the workload You vanished under a pile of assignments.”

“Seeing you every day at work. So close…” He shuddered at my touch the fire in his eyes lit scorching hot paths through my body.

He gave an almost silent groan as he lunged at me. My back hit the kitchen table as he pinned me down on either side with his strong arms. Hovering over me I could feel the pulsating heat from his body and the weight of his raw animal magnetism that always had me coming back for more.

My legs were forced wide as he brought his leg and hip between them. Alternating rhythms resounded in my body as my heart hammered hard enough to burst and his fingers danced up my inner thigh under my dress before slipping past the fabric barrier covering me.

“Mmm, A-ah—” The pressure filling me was exquisite. I watched his arm and shoulder pump in action with his fingers buried deep inside me as he worked away at my sanity.

“I was so glad to see you today I thought the torture was over but then you had to go and do this to me.”

“Do what? I didn’t do anything?” I was seriously confused. I was focusing on him but I felt like there was something I was missing. He didn’t answer me with words instead he brought his face to my chest burying it between my breasts and pulled on the fabric of my dress with his teeth.

“Are you being coy on purpose? Where did you learn to charm a man like that?” He pulled his fingers free with a smirk watching as I writhed missing his touch while he licked them clean. The next feeling my increasingly befuddled mind registered was the complete fulfilment as we became one.

“Oh, God!” My back arched against the unforgiving table and he placed one hand on my chest pushing me back down while he moved his hips against me.

“Ngh… dammit, you are just so perfect.”

“Shu…ni…chiro…” The pop and grind that was a familiar dance to us had me seeing stars.

“I know baby, I know.” He picked up the pace our bodies becoming slick with sweat as we relentlessly hammered home our mutual desires for each other.

“You awake?”

I slowly opened my eyes finding that I was not exactly where I thought I was. Shunichiro had been sitting on my sofa having a drink. Noticing how I was now conscious he returned to my side in my small little bed.

“Mmm, yeah. Did you carry me to bed?” Clutching the covers over my chest I wriggled closer to him. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders placing my head on his chest in the process.

“Well I did consider leaving you on the kitchen table but I thought you might get cold.” He laughed as he teased me. I was too happily exhausted to care and gave him a pathetically weak slap on his arm. My eyes started to adjust more to being fully awake, finding my alarm clock next to the bed.

“Jeez is that the time I should start making the food.” I freed myself from his hold and had placed one foot outside of the covers only to be pulled back in. “Ah!”

“You could or we could enjoy ourselves a little more. There’s no rush, after all, we have the rest of the weekend together.” He was whispering in my ear and trailing fingers over my now naked form. The tip of his tongue drew a line down my neck to my nape where he suckled on it. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re a sneaky scoundrel.” I smiled knowing this was him. He was sneaky, tricky, devilish, conniving and god help me if I didn’t find every aspect of the man appealing.

“Correction.” He chuckled and I found myself flipped under him. “I’m your sneaky scoundrel, and you’re mine.”

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge

39 notes · View notes

tibbinswrites · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! If the slots haven’t been filled yet could you do prompt #635, Destiel, something in cannonverse (so preferably not au or endverse) and angst with happy ending? Thank you! I love love love your writing, you are one of my favorite Destiel writers! You capture the characters so perfectly! I hope you have a nice day!

*grovelling, so much grovelling* I am so, so sorry that this took so long Anon, especially as you picked a prompt that I was hoping someone would pick for ages! When it came to actually WRITING for it though I drew a huge blank. I wrote 4000 words then scrapped them all, then I cycled through about three other possible ideas but none of them did this prompt justice, and THEN I got an email about my big project deadline that I had completely forgotten about so I had to sort that, and then I was in that horrible mood where I was hating everything I wrote so I had to take a break and THEN I came back with fresh eyes and this happened. Thank you so much for bearing with me. I hope it’s worth the wait! You are far too kind! I’m so happy you like how I write. I still have one prompt slot left. I have now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #20, #26, #33, #77, #78, #170 (part 1), (part 2), (part 3), #327, #502 and #635 Anyway, ON WITH THE FIC! 635. “I can’t be mad because I let you slip away…”

Things had been kind of weird since Jack got his soul back. There were more tears than Dean was comfortable dealing with and more apologies than he knew how to forgive. There was only so much he could push aside for the kid’s benefit after all, and only so many times he could hear his mother’s name emerge from the mouth of her killer.

He hadn’t yelled yet though. He’d been trying so damn hard to keep his temper in check ever since Purgatory had him sobbing on his knees. The realisation of what his anger had almost cost him—more than once on reflection—had been burned into his very lungs. It had been a pretty big wake up call to say the least. So he hadn’t yelled at the kid. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. That was his new mantra and he replayed it every time he saw Jack start to tear up, every time he tried to (not so subtly) get Dean alone, as though it was the presence of Sam and Cas that was bothering him and not the fact that he couldn’t forget the weight of his mother’s body in his arms, or the all too familiar stench of her pyre as she burned for the second time. Dean had so far managed to dodge him, but he knew it wouldn’t be long before one of the others intervened on Jack’s behalf.

It had been a couple weeks now and Sam was starting to give him pointed looks whenever he made his feeble excuses about needing to make a grocery run or how he’d love to stay and talk but there was a special sci-fi movie marathon at the local movie theatre that he’d been wanting to go to, or how the washing machine had been acting up and he’d really need to concentrate while fixing it. Those looks were slowly inching from understanding towards judgemental, but he just wasn’t ready yet. He couldn’t look Jack in the eye and tell him honestly that he forgave him for killing Mary, because he didn’t. He might not exactly blame the kid anymore, but that didn’t mean Mary was forgotten.

It didn’t matter that Jack needed to hear the words from Dean’s mouth, this was something he couldn’t compromise himself on.

He hated that everyone else seemed to have a timeline for how long he was allowed to grieve, now that he had the time to grieve. It was different for Sam. It felt petty and resentful to think it but it was. Sam hadn’t missed Mary the first time, not really. You can’t miss what you never had after all and while Sam had definitely felt the absence of Mary growing up, in the spaces that Dean had been unable to fill, and he had peppered Dean with questions about her more than once, they had been more curious than sad. He hadn’t lost her the same way Dean had, nor did he remember the fire like Dean did, nor did he truly understand how different John had been before Mary died.

He wasn’t sure why that made a difference but it did. And sure, Mary had never been the idol he’d imagined her to be as a kid, but now he was struggling so hard not to put her back on that pedestal. He’d sorted through so much of his childish crap. Having Mary alive and well and fiercely stubborn had helped him to do that. Her unwillingness to compromise her independence and love of hunting in order to fulfil Dean’s fantasies of having someone tuck him in at night and tell him that it was all gonna be okay had helped Dean grow up in the way that he should have grown up the first time; not forced into it at four years old, confused and scared, the only thought in his head watch out for Sammy, but in the healthy way that Sam already somehow managed, true maturity instead of faking it because he had to.

Not just a mom, were the words he remembered most clearly.

But now he’d lost her again, and with her any chance of showing her how far he’d come. A foolish, selfish notion perhaps, but one that he’d been nursing in his chest for a very long time: the desire to prove his father wrong, to prove to himself that he wasn’t broken beyond repair, to prove to Mary that it had been her, not John, who had been the one to lay the foundation for the person he wanted to be. The person he could choose to be.

Without her he was struggling to remember why he should bother. Doing things for his own gain felt stupid and narcissistic, another lesson that John had imprinted in him. If somebody else didn’t need it from him then what was the point? Not that Mary had needed to see Dean figure out how to become a person but when she was alive at least he could lie to himself.

He’d retreated since Jack got his soul back. From everyone. Sam had been giving him space, Jack he actively avoided, and whatever progress he’d made with Cas had backslid into tiptoeing on eggshells around the guy, not wanting to hear how much he hated Dean for not showing his son the courtesy of accepting an apology, and definitely not wanting to risk a fight that led to him taking off again. He didn’t know how to fix any of it. How could he make himself forgive Jack? How could he make himself come to terms with everything he’d lost that his mother had represented to him? How could he stop missing Mary herself? The empty hole inside, imperfectly shaped, moulded around the two different Mary’s that he’d known just seemed to grow more ragged at the edges.

He was out in the woods, of course, at the spot Mary’s body had reappeared. This was where he came now when the air felt too stifling inside. It was like a grave, he supposed, a place to come and think about what a person meant to you. He’d never really had that before. He’d only been to Mary’s grave in Lawrence twice, on the day she was put in it and the day, twelve years later, that he’d had to go back. They’d moved around too much when he was young and though Bobby had offered to take him more than once when John had dumped them at his place, Dean had always refused, knowing his dad wouldn’t like it and not really seeing the point anyway.

He understood the point now. Even without a marker he still felt her here. Which he knew was dumb, because she was in Heaven with a husband who’d never really existed and two children who she’d never got to see grow up and hopefully, hopefully the two adult sons who’d grown up without her, the ones she could be proud of.

He sniffed. He always cried when he came here, he’d stopped trying to fight it. He didn’t talk to Mary, of course. She couldn’t hear him and he didn’t have anything worth saying anyway. He just came here to try and untangle the mess of thoughts in his head, maybe so he could figure out what to do next, how to fix everything without undoing whatever progress he’d made for himself.

“Dean?”

He froze, the age-old tactic of ‘if I don’t respond it’ll go away’. It didn’t of course. And to make matters worse, it wasn’t an it, it was Cas.

“What are you doing out here?”

Dean shrugged, casual. “Just needed some air.” He didn’t turn, but he heard the sound of recognition Cas made when he realised the significance of this particular spot.

“Avoiding Jack?”

Dean turned to automatically deny it but Cas’ face was calm and without judgement. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I know he’s coming on strong,” he continued. “I’ve tried to get him to dial it back a little but he really wants to talk to you.”

“I can’t do it, Cas.” Dean said, looking back to the place his mother’s body had materialised, his voice little more than a scrape. “I can’t look him in the eye and tell him that that I’m over it. I’m not. I might not ever be.”

There was a click in Cas’ throat as he swallowed. Then, “Your forgiveness is only part of it,” he said slowly. “Albeit a major part, but he understands, Dean. He understands that what he did can’t be written off, he just wants to hear it from you. If you explain it to him, tell him that you just need time and you’ll go to him when you’re ready, he won’t keep apologising. He’s just trying to get a reaction, I think, though sometimes even I want to snap at him.”

Dean chewed that over for a moment. Cas made it sound so simple. Maybe it wasn’t so black and white as either lying to the kid or yelling that he’ll never forgive him—the only two options that Dean had been able to come up with so far—of course, it meant talking, which Dean was notoriously bad at, but the way Cas broke it down, it didn’t sound so hard. Jack was a smart kid for a three-year-old after all, and he could definitely understand ‘I don’t hate you but I need time’, which was basically what his feelings boiled down to. He didn’t have to explain everything. Hell, he’d never even tell Sam everything but Jack deserved at least the basics, what with the way he’d been freezing the kid out lately.

“What’s the other part?” he asked suddenly, remembering the first thing Cas had said, he twisted his neck around to see Cas frowning at him, his head tilted adorably to one side (yeah, he thought it, so what?).

“Isn’t it obvious? He misses you.”

Dean just blinked stupidly. “Huh?”

Cas huffed and walked forward to stand at his side. Somehow he knew not to walk in front of him and obscure his view of the clearing, but instead stayed a solid presence next to him. Cas was good like that, Dean thought, he just knew things so they didn’t have to be said; he understood in the quiet kind of way that meant more to him than he could ever express, but he was pretty sure Cas knew that too. Still, sometimes he toyed with the idea of saying it aloud.

“He misses spending time with you,” Cas clarified. “You took him fishing once, let him drive your car, taught him how to fire a gun and got him hooked on those horror films you like. He loves you, Dean, and he hates that he hurt you.”

Dean looked down then, and he dug the toe of his boot into the soft dirt. “Oh.”

A comforting weight landed on his shoulder and he didn’t need to look up at the sudden touch. Somehow, Cas had become a safe person even to his subconscious. He didn’t know when that had happened, honestly he tried not to look too closely at it, but he’d arrived at a place now where he could admit to himself, however briefly, that he really, really liked that it had.

“You’re his father too, Dean. Just as much as and me and Sam. You know that, right?

Dean shrugged the shoulder Cas wasn’t touching, not wanting him to remove his hand. “I was thinking of myself more like the fun uncle,” he said, trying to keep his tone light through the ball in his throat.

“No you weren’t.” Cas said, soft but firm, not letting Dean joke his way out of this. Which, actually, he was okay with. Cas always knew how far he could push, how far Dean needed to be pushed. Even when Sam couldn’t get the balance right, Cas always could. Still, he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t try.

“Prove it,” he said, flashing a grin at the angel, who merely rolled his eyes and let his hand drop. Suddenly, he was the one toeing at the grass, a hint of pink on his cheeks.

“I’ve missed you too,” he said. “For what it’s worth.”

“I’m right here.” Dean said, and then it was too late to take it back, because this wasn’t how the conversation was supposed to go. He was supposed to make another joke, a playful jab, not admiring the way the freckles of sunlight through the trees highlighted the chestnut in Cas’ hair, nor heeding the gentle warmth in his belly that only happened around Cas, nor stepping forward to place his own hand on Cas’ shoulder because he needed the contact, he needed to be grounded in these last few moments before he fucked everything up, again, and that pleasant warm feeling was beginning to twist into panic.

But then Cas met his eyes and he breathed again, even though the look in them was melancholy.

“You haven’t been,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding me as well. Or, not avoiding but you’ve been different. I wonder if perhaps you’re unable to forgive me either, but too kind to say so.”

Dean almost snorted. He was a lot of things, some of them even good, but kind wasn’t even in the top fifty. Cas gave him a look that said he knew what he was thinking and not to respond to it, so instead he pushed through his instinct and went with pure honesty.

“I can’t forgive you because I never blamed you, Cas, not really. I was just lashing out because… I dunno, because I expect more from you than I should, I guess. And it’s not fair, I know that, I just… I’m used to you fixing things, and I don’t know what to do when you can’t. And you left because I was being a dick and I can’t blame you for that. I can’t be mad because I let you slip away.”

Cas’ expression shifted then, and it was only that moment that Dean realised they were standing so close. One of Dean’s hands gripped at the arm of that damned coat and Cas was so close that he could probably—fuck—he could probably see the small tracks his tears had made. Dean was so close that he could make out the hope in Cas’ eyes, and for the first time, he wasn’t scared shitless at the sight of it. Or at least, he wasn’t so terrified that he could let Cas slip away again.

“I’m right here,” Cas echoed.

“We could be something.” Dean said, his voice a very unattractive croak, well aware that talking about this shit was so far from his wheelhouse it had a different zip code. His breath hit a few errant hairs on Cas’ forehead and they flinched in rhythm to the slight bump at the crest of each inhale where their chests nudged together. “If, you know, if you wan—”

Cas was already kissing him.

#prompt #prompts #angst with a happy ending #season 15 spoilers #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #language #supernatural #spn fanfic #fanfiction #writing #TibbinsWrites

38 notes · View notes

lucifer-kane · 5 years ago

Text

Finally my side of this whole KFAM debacle

I’ve never had to write something like this before, so here we go. I know that there have been other people who have said things on this topic, people who I’m very grateful towards in all of this, who have come forward in this… strange time. I feel like I finally can say something after freaking out for a few days and talking with others as well online who are on this side of it all. But I feel like I finally need to say something as…. Probably the person who really started it all, I guess? As the one who made the post saying “Me casting death of the author onto kfam” Because I was finally fed up with just everything I had learned over the last year + of talking about criticisms in the show and of the creators/writers. I spent months talking to others on at least two different servers about all of this, from learning it myself, to being here in this position of what’s currently going on.

A lot started a few months ago in the Official Server, when a graphic artist posted an edit of a character of the show in BDSM gear, which, automatically, is NSFW. Some had issues and said that it got taken down, then a few hours later uploaded it once more with a spoiler cover over it. Friday morning, it happened again, this time with a group shot, but he was still there. Now. I don’t think I would have issues with this if it was posted on a server with specific channels for 18+ members of it only. But it wasn’t, and this server is a SFW only, but apparently “canon compliant” NSFW is a-okay. Which, I think is utterly ridiculous, because minors are still in there, and that should not be allowed. If you’re going to allow that stuff, at least have designated channels where only 18+ members can opt in to see that sort of thing. You can’t have both.

Two people called this out, one directly sending an @ to the mods in said server, and it was a little bit before a response happened, then two other messages were taken down, the message with the @ left in it. Kyle had also retweeted the art on twitter, and while I don’t think that was such a bad thing, his response to at least adding a warning that it was NSFW, was pretty unprofessional. The person who asked Kyle to say as such, was bullied by both Kyle and Trent on twitter as well.

Now, onto my DotA post once more. After posting that I had a few hours of chillness, up until in the middle of a call with friends, I looked over to my discord list of servers I was in, and the Official was no longer there. I panicked, left the call, and cried for a long time about it, because despite my criticism, I loved being there! I told my friends on this server, where the criticism was most of the time, and there was a few hour period of questioning what the hell was going on. It was late at night, and everyone was confused. No one would give reasoning to what was going on. Until I was vagued to have been a problem for a long time.

Now, it may have been my bluntness when it comes to text, bc you know, autism! But I don't think I've ever done anything that would warrant people to be uncomfortable, other than criticize the show (and the server at times) on my personal tumblr (twitter on occasion). Which I can see as being upset about that, but I was way too damn scared to PM a mod to talk about what was going on, because at this point, it was very obvious they hated me. I didn’t like that they never came to talk, like a civilized person, about all this. I don't want to make people uncomfortable, that's the last goddamn thing I wanna do in this world.

Now, we’re here. A few days after everything went down, to what I feel like was a simple miscommunication, I would never wish death on someone at all, that’s disgusting behavior and I don’t like that Kyle even vagued that I did such a thing. I have never interacted with him at all, even when he would come and talk on the server. I actively tried to avoid interactions with the creators because I’m not a fan of creators being this close to their fanbase, where people have actively said it makes them uncomfortable.

I love this podcast a lot, for the first year I praised it like others did as well, but then, I read some things about Kyle, and then some of the things in the show. We all know those things, the Hellen Keller episode, how Lily is written, Jacob in his whole character, and the racism in Walt. But I started being critical on main, voicing my thoughts and concerns. Because criticism is an okay thing, it helps artists grow in the things they do. And I understand not liking criticism, I don’t like it sometimes, but sometimes it’s needed, to move your art forward. Kyle’s reaction to criticism is that of a man who doesn’t have thick skin and doesn’t wanna be proven wrong in the things he does.

As of now, because of all this, I’ve been blocked from the KFAM twitter, Kyle himself, and I think the tumblr as well (Or at least they’ve unfollowed me, I don’t care enough to check on there). And I’ve seen my friends get bullied by the creator of this show, and even members of the community. While at a lesser scale than Kyle, it’s still gross to see the fanbase act like this, especially acting like my friends and I are actively bullying them, when we just wanted one piece of art to be taken down from a space that, in all reality, has a lot of minors in it.

And finally, I just wanna talk about the server in general. I joined maybe six months after getting into the show, we were pretty far into the first hiatus at this point and I wanted more content, so, I finally beat my discord anxiety down and joined. And I had so much fun! I talked to people who I still think about, posted art, fics, did headcanons all the time. I talked in there quite a bit up until I got kicked. But the overall vibe of the discord after being there longer than a month, was not the greatest. And it took me longer than average to notice, shortly before posting public criticisms. This was when I started getting ignored more often than not, and not that everyone did that, I still had people talk to me, which was nice. But as time went on, this happened more and more, to more and more people.

People who saw my criticisms, and came to me, mostly anonymously, to say they felt the exact same way. And that’s… not a good thing. The whole “Only happy things, no negativity about the show!” attitude that is in there, is bad. You can’t criticize something you love, and if you do, you’re dogpiled onto until you shut up. This has happened to many people, not just me. There’s times where queer members of this community, will talk about themseles as some lgbt+/queer fans do. Saying things along the line of “___ is gay culture!” or “I think [x] is trans!!” and they’ll either get ignored (in the latter case) or just someone won't get the first one is a joke and get upset. Which, I can see if you’re new to a place where people say that, but don’t outright shut someone down like that, ask what it means. That goes for anything.

I enjoyed my time there, and I was super upset when I found myself kicked, distraught even. Then they started kicking more people without even a word which isn’t how you run a server, no one should get an instant ban without being talked to, and I think I would be less upset if I had been talked to, to at least tell my side. But no, I got this, and here we are. With multiple testimonies that aren’t my own, telling how horrible that server is towards some people who they don’t like, who speak out, who say “Hey maybe we should do [x].” And that’s… Not the safe environment they say they have, because I, among many others. Was also super uncomfortable when it came to some things in there.

As a queer member of this community, I, and others like me, felt ignored. Ignored in the criticism of their queer characters who were written by non-queer men, and then, as stated above. Upset at literally everything else that wasn’t good in their show. But now, we’re being painted as the villains in a way, being bullied by the creator, and others acting like nothing is going wrong. But that’s all I have to say, if prompted, I will talk more on any subject here.

I’m not angry, I never once was. At this point I find more saddened amusement in all of this, rather than anger. But. That is all, thank you for your time on this subject.

#I may have missed some things but this is so much of it #king falls am #kfam #kfam critical

57 notes · View notes

dreamiesdotcom · 5 years ago

Text

[11:27] Dating Lee Donghyuck is playing with fire, and everyone knows it. He's everything everyone wants — good grades, Soccer Team captain and handsome face. It's not hard to see why they like him so much, with his eyes a beautiful shade of brown, skin gracefully tanned and attractive proportions, he's quite a sight. Not to mention the positive vibes he radiates, his existence so bright you could only compare it to the Sun's and it still seems like an understatement — and with this, it's a given fact that the boy, or Haechan as he likes to go by, can get what and who he wants easily.

What makes being in love with him like playing with fire, though, isn't his popularity — it's his lack of interest in anyone who trips over their feet for him; you could fall for him for as long as you want but he would never reciprocate. Lee Donghyuck can get what he wants easily, but Lee Donghyuck doesn't like easy. What he likes, or more specifically, who he likes, to everyone's clear knowledge, is you.

Unfortunately, you happened to be the 'most dense, cold hearted, oblivious person to walk on this planet' according to his very own words, and Jaemin has to shake his head no, with a whispered "She just isn't interested, let her be, let her have her peace". Another unfortunate thing, though, is that listening is not a skill Donghyuck was given, and following advices is not something he's known for.

Just to add to the list of the boy's misfortune, you're absolutely willing to do everything to not have to cross paths with him because despite the rather flowery descriptions provided, you're not exactly fond of the boy — you hate him. You hate his guts, the cocky grin that never seems to disappear from his lips whenever he's looking at you, and the teasing from your schoolmates whenever they catch him flirting with you. You hate him, Lee Donghyuck, with every fibre of your being, passionately. Or so you want to believe.

But that isn't enough, apparently, because even if you're bursting with the will to avoid Lee Donghyuck, it proves you hard escape this situation when he's standing at the door of your classroom like he owns the school, "Hey, Y/N-ah, the professor said you can't leave without giving me a hug first. What's up?"

The room echoes with cheers, and it only makes the boy's grin wider. Some of your classmates nudge at you and others whine in jealousy — you cross your arms. The last thing you're about to give Haechan is satisfaction from getting a reaction out of you.

"What's down?" you roll your eyes at him. He's popular, isn't he? Why don't he just ask for a hug for someone else? Pretty sure half the University would trip over their feet rushing to him — why would he even ask you for a hug? "Literally, shut up."

"Why are you so mean to me?" he feigns hurt in his voice and you feel annoyed because the lingering stares only means more teasing you about this later. Somewhere behind Hyuck, you see Jaemin's apologetic eyes and the other boys' cheeky faces, "You were hanging out with my friends just as fine a while ago! I don't like feeling excluded, include me!"

"It's because they don't annoy me and they're pretty cool," you mentain a blank face despite being really pissed, "Unlike you."

He opens his mouth to make a comeback, but before he gets on your nerves, you roll your eyes and does the thing you do best — you run away from your problems, in this case, the problem being Lee Donghyuck.

The rest of the day wasn't anything interesting. Everything went pretty normal — you go home, eat dinner, finish up your homeworks earlier than expected, and you think of things. Okay. Maybe the last part was a bit out of the ordinary, but these days you find it easier to think about things more than just letting the thought slip off your mind.

Things change, people leave, families aren't perfect — you try to convince yourself, and it works. These thoughts are mostly suppressed in the back of your mind, preoccupied with whatever nonsense you have to accomplish, and you wanted to keep it that way.

It makes you heart hurt and you're not afraid to admit that you think it will never stop hurting. Time will heal it, you believe. Realistically, maybe not completely, but you're sure it will heal you to the point where the wound only hurts on the bad days, and you're gonna make sure to have less of those. You succeed, as you expected, keeping the thoughts to the very far back side of your mind until you eventually forget you have them.

But just because you do a good job keeping them away, it doesn't mean they're not there.

On times like this, silent and lonely, a huge house to yourself; when the house you're supposed to call home is empty besides you, your parents absent again, you're reminded of all the certain happy memories and the melancholy they bring; the people you'd rather not yearn for, and the feelings you'd rather keep burried, bottled up until they eventually get left behind, cold, forgotten. Just like they all did to you — just like he will once he gets what he wants, and that's the exact reason you wouldn't give him that.

You shake your head as soon as the words ring inside your head, closing your eyes and luring yourself to sleep to prevent yourself from dwelling on it. You wonder what tomorrow had to offer with a solemn expression, hoping to sleep soundly for tonight — you didn't.

Today was just as bad as the others, you narrate to yourself with a spent sigh, wondering how pitiful you look pinned against one of the book shelves with your nightmares towering over you, "Fancy seeing you here, sugar."

"Yeah. Can we not do that?", you try to push him to no avail, your eyes automatically searching for Jaemin so he could help you but the absence of his friends leaves you helpless. You try to look away, trying to distract yourself from the close proximity of your bodies and the lack of space in between your lips, "Is there any way I could unsubscribe from your life? If there's none, for the meantime, move."

"Say, mom wants to invite you for dinner tonight to say thanks because you know, you helped me with subject I'm struggling with," he says with a low voice, body unmoving, "Come over?"

The smile you lend him makes you look stronger than you feel, and the push you served him lacked in strength, "If your mom didn't tell me back then that you're indeed her son, I would have thought you're adopted because of your parents' kindness. I'm busy. Don't worry, I'll make sure to come over when you're not there."

"Oh? She's playing hard to get?" Hyuck says, still dangerously close and all of a sudden, you feel a sudden urge to wipe the grin he's sporting in his lips with your own, "I — like — that," he punctuates each word with a mocking tilt of his head and your fists shake.

Donghyuck's known for his bad boy reputation, and it's getting on your nerves now. The display on power he shows everyone, the teasing smirks tugging up his lips and the way he flirts — they don't matter, because you just see him as bad. Bad for your health, bad for your mind, bad for your heart. He's not the type who does crazy shit, offends laws and overall throws their lives away, no. He's the type that screams danger, walks on burning wires with a wicked grin on his face — one look at his eyes and you're gone, a taste of his lips and you'll want more. You don't like it.

Whether it was out of anger or just to stop yourself from doing something stupid, you didn't have the time to figure out because not even two whole seconds after the words left his mouth, you're doing the thing again — running away. Although it was not as simple as you made it seem. No, your life is never that simple and Donghyuck just never gives up — you learned that the hard way. For the rest of the afternoon, Donghyuck doesn't stop appearing in your line of view, popping up with the same words as the last.

You would say it angers you that he just won't back off, but that would be lying to yourself and you already lied to yourself a handful of times. To be true, you lived for it — you love the chase, and you notice. You notice the way his eyes linger on you every now and then, the heart fluttering smile he sends you when nobody is looking and the way it drives him crazy when you smile at everyone that is not him, playing the oblivious card to all his antics.

It's like a sick little game for you, and what's crazy is that you don't really want to win. A stronger emotion overpowers your coldness towards him — a feeling you're not yet ready to admit — making you want to give in, but also wanting him to earn it. You don't want the victory — you want to wrestle and lose. You want to feel his love and be overcome by it, you want to be in his arms but not willingly. You want a chase, you want him to play the game that you planned to lose, you want him to drive you wild until you have no choice but let him in. You want to see what he has under his sleeve. You don't want to defeat him — you want to challenge him. Never did you feel guilt.

There is a first to everything, as people say, and if the way something bubbled up your chest during dismissal when you saw Haechan's devastated face after Jaemin came up to you, all sweet smiles and gentle eyes, was something to hold onto, then it's most probably right. "I'm throwing a party later. Wanna come? I mean you always do… but since you know, were kinda friends now, I'd like you to come with us as our friend."

"Later?" you tilt your head to the side and smile, and you weren't even doing this to rile Donghyuck up but you lock eyes with him before grinning widely to Jaemin and the others behind him, "Sure, I don't have anything planned later, anyway."

"Thank God you agreed! I thought you wouldn't," Jaemin's smile was bright but it did not distract you from the sad glint in Haechan's eyes, "I'll make sure to have extra cherries for you, since you seem to love them."

"Oh babe, they're my favorite," you scrunch your nose up, and you watch Jaemin laugh before waving them bye with the words 'I'll see you guys later' and walking away. Once you're out from their sight, you lean to the nearest wall and clutch your constantly hurting chest — guilt is something you hate, and with the pain it brings you, it sure seems to hate you just as much, if not more.

The guilt is long forgotten later that night when Renjun shows up in front of your house by 8pm, making a comment about how nice your house is. You shrug at him, not really fond of the place but you still offer him a kind smile and tell him that he's free to come by whenever he wants, so as the other boys. The ride to Jaemin's house was surprisingly not long, the two of you live pretty close to each other. The whole time you were inside the car was fun, Renjun playfully complimenting you through insults and you two share a banter with the radio tuned down. By the time you arrive at the party, it's already in full swing and you see the rest, Jaemin and Jeno waiting for you and Renjun outside.

"Hey," Jaemin says before slinging an arm to your shoulders, "You look pretty, but I hope you're comfortable because those shoes like a pain in the ass."

"It is," you hum, "and it will be a pain in your ass if I kick you with it later because your party disappointed me."

Jeno just grunts beside you, Renjun following closely behind, and he clicks his tongue, "You get so bratty once you're comfortable with people, don't you?"

You only shrug, offering him a smile as they lead you to the drinks. As promised, Jaemin's left you a bowl of cherries for you to snack on, Renjun not leaving your side even when you insist he go alongside Jeno and Jaemin who are currently enjoying themselves. You already know how to spend your night — just like this, and Renjun assures you that it's totally fine to want to go to a party just because and not socialize, because that's exactly what he does too. You smile at his thoughtfulness, the gentle aura around the boys you never expected but is not unwelcomed, and you wonder if Hyuck is like this too.

Hyuck? Did you just call him Hyuck? You're not even that close!

You planned everything so clearly, you go to the party looking peachy, sit down with the bowl of cherries Jaemin gave you and maybe have a few shots — you had two, and that's enough, but boy, parties can drive you wild. That's the only excuse you have on why right now, you're in the middle of a circle with Lee Jeno, stuck in a game of Too Hot, pressed up against each other with hands behind your backs, "Wait, we have to do it here?"

"Well, how else are we supposed to know you're not touching each other if we're not watching you?" a girl from the circle says, and you remember her from your Math class. You shake your head, "No, I'm not kissing Jeno in front of you, perverts," your comment makes Jeno giggle, agreeing with you but you just roll your eyes when they all just shrug at you — you have to do it, just because you're Y/N and you're too stubborn to back down.

You sigh, offering Jeno a smile which he mirrors and makes a snarky remark about how you're probably gonna give up after five seconds. You roll your eyes playfully, "I'm not drunk enough for this," you say, wanting to grab a shot but before you can do so, Jeno is pulling you close to a kiss, and the last thing you remember was the cheers around you before you drown into it, mind focused on keeping your hands to yourself.

He tasted like the dessert Jaemin served, but there was no trace if alcohol in him nor Jaemin, you realized. You want to laugh at how ridiculous it was, them not even drinking when they were the ones who wanted to throw this party. Through the whole thing, you realized something. Jeno is soft spoken, all about eye smiles and cats but for the whole time you hanged out with them, you realized that Jeno is someone who possesses strong duality, and that's exactly what kissing him felt. He started soft and playfully, ever so often giggling with each other but it only takes a scream of 'you're supposed to make-out, not all that mushy shit' for him to dive in deeper and the moment you to dared to push your tongue out, you knew you were in for a ride, the smirk tugging on his lips proving that he's amused by your daring action.

Jeno is competitive, almost as competitive as you, you're willing to give him that, but letting someone overpower you without much struggle is not something you're known for, and you figure that you should find a way to make him lose after seven minutes passed and neither of you was near losing. You let a moan slip past your lips, Jeno's hands flying to your waist to pull you closer as if on instinct and the two of you burst out laughing alongside the crowd. Somewhere along the blurs, they joke around about how cute Jeno is and the boy just laughs.

You go back to where Renjun is, finally done with the game of Too Hot and he shakes his head at you, showing you that he filmed the whole thing. It's probably not the best idea, but even if you only became friends a couple of months ago, you have been schoolmates with Renjun for so long and you know the boy is harmless. You just laugh at his antics, "Don't use that weirdly, Huang."

"Oh, believe me, I won't. I just want to show Jeno how pathetic that was," he laughs alongside you, shoulders shaking, "You're really wild. I never understood how people approach you when you're so quiet, but maybe they all already saw this side of you and now, I know."

"Yeah, at one point, they all did. And our school is not even that big, everyone knows everyone and I'm friends with them. Well, except…", you shrug instead of saying his name. Renjun nods in understanding, "And I'm not wild. I just do really bad things… and I do them very well."

Renjun almost choking on his laughter was the highlight of the night, and that says a lot because the people who played the game saw you and Jeno almost make out in the middle of the whole party. A half smile forms on your lips as you look around, bodies pressed against each other around you, Jaemin and Jeno stacking cups to build a tower on the side, everything surrounding you felt so close yet so far, soaked in red lights but all you could see is yellow.

And it dawns to you.

This is what cool people do. This is what you don't want to do. And so, with a smile and a kiss on the cheek, you left the boys behind at the party despite their offers of driving you home — you have no intentions to go home; you have no home to go to. What you have is a house, people who gave you life and deprived you of everything else that money can't buy.

You're out of it, walking carelessly without a clear destination. You had enough fun for tonight and it's time to be sad now. You walk, and walk, and walk with nothing and everything inside your head at once, unbothered by the horrors of the dark and humanity. You're out of it, maybe that's why you're in this situation. Your brain is foggy and messy and you're inside your nightmare's car, eyes occasionally meeting every now and then.

He didn't bring you to a romantic place up the hill, he doesn't drive you to a nice park, but he drives you up to a high place, to an abandoned building, led you to the rooftop and offered you the sight of the city of stars and the glistening city lights under your feet — the whole drive was silent, unlike the one you spent with Renjun, but it felt so nice to be silent for a while. It also feels nice that someone found you worthy enough to bring you to a place so dear to them.

Donghyuck seems warm outside the school — his thighs still clad in tight jeans, but instead of the leather, another shitty stereotype he goes along with, he's wearing a much more comfortable hoodie. Outside of the school, you needed to play no roles; Donghyuck is the soft person he is, and you're still his exact opposite.

"Why were you outside?", he breaks the silence, eyes locked to the view in front of you. Your shoulders shake, "I was from the party, and decided it's the perfect time to not be happy," you smirk, "You're probably mad that I went to Jaemin's party and lied to you, but I'm just not the family dinner kind of person. It's fine, you probably hate me right now."

"I don't. I was just curious," he shrugs and it takes you everything to stop yourself from cooing at the way his lips is forming a pout — he's your enemy, you remind yourself, but damn, the things he makes you wanna do, "Although I'm quite surprised. You don't leave parties unless they're over, so why now?"

"Things change." you simply say as if you weren't just thinking about the cruel ways you could leave him wanting more after a kiss, about the way you could treat him good, as if it's the most normal thing in the world, "I already got my fun, I got what I want. I figure I take my leave."

His expression remained lost, ever so subtly scrunching his brows and you laugh at the words that spurt out his mouth, "You, you're interesting."

"I know. That's why you like me, right? Don't try to look shocked now. Yes, I, Y/N, know that you, Donghyuck, is flirting with me more often than not," you roll your eyes at his pout.

"Can I ask a dumb question?", he mutters silently, eyes still not meeting yours and you had to hold a laugh, "Better than anyone I know, if you're wondering."

"You're always mean to me even if you're friends with my friends, and this is the longest conversation we had," he shakes his head, finally looking at you, "Why do you hate me so much?"

A bittersweet smile makes it's appearance on your face, nothing compared to his crestfallen one. You're out of it, you remind yourself again, and maybe that's why you're currently spitting out shit you'd most probably regret later, but you allow yourself to fall apart, the wall you built around to protect you disappearing slowly as a sad smile overcomes the bittersweet one, "I don't hate you. I just know what you want and I like the chase."

His face screamed confusion, and you know it would have been the best if you just let him be instead of providing him with answers — there are things that are better left unsaid, and you're sure that you're pretty sober and conscious, just stupid, "Why do you want the chase so much, then?"

Your lips dripped of sweets and honey as you spoke, a wistful look in your eyes as you stared down to the city lights under the building, "I want to feel wanted." A silence envelopes the two of you and you take it as a request to continue, "People have a tendency of leaving me when they get what they want. My parents stopped being parents when I could already live and take care of myself since they are confident they already have a child to take over the bussiness, and my best friend left when she already knew all my secrets. People stop looking for you when you're no longer interesting, when you no longer serve purpose to them, when they already got what they want. The chase is better than the end game."

Donghyuck makes a sound similar to being punched in the throat, and at that moment, he felt something fall — maybe his heart broke for you, maybe it fell deeper for you, maybe both. Eitherway, that night, the two of you was closer than ever, crying together, and at that moment, you were sure that everything is now changed with Lee Donghyuck.

Your life is a huge spiral of wrong decisions and thoughts, you prove when Monday comes in the form of Lee Haechan harshly pulling you out to a more secluded place, only some students around the corner, and his angry expression tells you that nothing really changed.

"Why the fuck were you kissing Lee Jeno?", you frown at his words, and you remember Renjun's text earlier that day about Donghyuck stealing his phone and most likely seeing the video. You knew it won't end well when he showed it to you, but nobody really is to blame here because why the fuck would Renjun think that a certain Lee would steal his phone? "Y/N, answer me!"

"Jesus, Lee Donghyuck! You can't just lose your temper like this when the slightest of inconvenience happens! You're not entitled of me!", you strip his hands of your wrist, "I kiss whoever I want. My body, my choice — and if you don't respect that, I'll make sure nobody finds yours, Lee."

He finally breathes, arms crossing and clearly annoyed, but his pout almost makes you want to apologize, "I really hate you."

"It was just a game, for the love of fuck," the profanities keep going out of your mouth out of annoyance, and you just want to end this now — possibly with your lips against his, "And in case you're wondering, I hate you too. Why are you even mad?!"

"Hey, what's happening?", Jaemin comes running, panting and moves in the middle of you and Donghyuck. Renjun and Jeno was behind him, the two moving to Hyuck, and the boy just whines, "Jeno! Why were you kissing her?"

"I just told you!"

"I'm not talking to you, Y/N!", he grits his teeth, "Jeno!"

"Why are you so bothered by it anyway?!", you yell loudly at him, annoyed because you're aware that people are starting to stare. Haechan snaps his head towards your direction, annoyed that you won't even let the others speak, "Because I like you, Y/N, and you just kissed Jeno!"

"Oh my God, Hyuck! Can't you just be Elsa and let it go? It's just a kiss — it's not like Jeno and I married behind your back? I literally have to watch you suck faces with people who confesses to you every day of the week, and you're losing your shit over me and Jeno kissing?", you roll your eyes. Now, people are actually staring, "So annoying. Why am I even in love with you?" you make a show of childishly stepping at his foot before walking away, leaving them and the people watching gaping, a hint of smile on your lips.

You walk towards the lone tree on the field, Donghyuck following shortly after, catching his breathe. Once he looks decent enough, he speaks, "W-was that a confession?"

"Eyes up here, loser." you say to him, and once he complies, you step on your toes to catch his lips in a chaste kiss, "You owe me a date, and thanks."

"What?" he says, dazed, and you take pity on the boy. For the first time in years, a soft expression creeps up your face, and you shrug as you speak, "Thank you. Just thank you."

Donghyuck's smile mirrors yours, and it feels like game over to you; there are two ways this would end, you break each other or together, the two of you goes for forevermore. Eitherway, loving Lee Donghyuck is art — there's no right way to do it, you just have to do what feels right. As your hands intertwine, you realize that by the end of the chase, you never really lost. You had Donghyuck, and that's enough to consider it as a win.

Loud cheers from behind Donghyuck erupts, the three boys laughing crazily and basically wheezing. Friends. Finally, they're your friends too, and as they tackle the two of you into a group hug, you felt something you never felt before.

It feels warm, it feels like you belong, it feels like purple. It feels like something you never felt — home. You're home. A place where you don't need to play shitty roles, a place where you can cry and smile and laugh freely, a place where you don't need to be interesting to be worthy. People usually are the happiest at home, and it never made sense to you until now. Maybe you thought wrong before, maybe the end game is better than the chase, and this is the reward for holding on that long. You could live like this. You want to live like this. Forever.

Forever and more.

268 notes · View notes