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zyafics-recs · 2 days ago

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reblogging comment review from @zyafics

it’s 6:47am and i went “why not” so here i am reading ⬇️

You were home.

PAUSE DID I MISS SOMETHING

god this paragraph eats ur descriptions 🤌🏼 (the amber liquid, the droplets on the floor? yeahhh i know u ate with that)

It was Rafe.

ohmygod im spiraling right now

what if she runs away (i would eat that up🤭)

Sleeping around—no, not just sleeping, practically baring your soul to one of the people that had destroyed your life? That had taunted and beaten your brother? Your friends? That killed a cop and got away with it? The thoughts circled in your mind, relentless and unforgiving. The cool night air was a temporary relief, but it couldn’t wash away the shame eating you alive. How did it come to this? How did you go from hating Rafe to being tangled up with him like this?

why am i so scared of the upcoming angst

Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain.

stockholm syndrome (it’s not… i think)

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

he’s so protective of her i’m so in love 💍

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

THE FUCKING BUTTERFLIES 🦋

His arms were around you in an instant, his warmth enveloping you. His hands rested gently on your back; fingers splayed wide. For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace for the last time, the tension in your shoulders easing ever so slightly. Barely looking at him, you pushed him away, your movements sharp. His hands fell away from you, confusion flickering across his features like a shadow passing over the sun. The hurt in his eyes cut through you like a punch, but you couldn’t bring yourself to dwell on it.

STOP STOP STOP

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you.

LET HIM IN PLS 🛐🛐

“It was a mistake.”

i’m actually holding my breath pls gigi let me breathe 😭😭😭

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in his voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

"Sorry?" he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, "Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?"

SHUT UP RAFE

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

no bc i would lose it in that room (absolutely go kill bill or disney princess cry idk yet)

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was shifting, uncertain, and unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, his voice raw with emotion, "I wanted you."

the way my stomach rolled oh my god u r incredible at creating emotions

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look

love the description of haunted had to take a sec to think what that is

He finally looked at you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a mix of pain and regret. “I... I couldn’t stay away,” he slurred, his words thick with the effects of too much alcohol. “I tried, but...”

RAFE MY ANNOYINGLY POOR BABY

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

actually stop hurting me pls and thank u

It took you hours to fall asleep. You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the events of the past weeks replaying in your mind. You thought of Rafe, of the hurt in his eyes, the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

THE ONLY THING KEEPING HIM TETHERED TO REALITY STFU UP

Rafe’s gaze flicked to you as if he was memorizing your features, from your eyes down to your lips. You could see the gears turning inside his brain and it made you sick to your stomach when he took a deep breath, his eyes hardening with resolve, “Run.”

STOP MY HEART IS RACING 🫨

Without thinking, you ran to Rafe, your heart pounding with fear and relief. His arms wrapped around you tightly, and gently pulled you back, his eyes searching yours to make sure you were okay, but before you could assure him you were fine, he kissed you. His lips pressed firmly against yours, and you felt his tongue gently parting your lips, exploring with a tenderness that made your knees weak. It felt so…real, it nearly brought you to your knees. As cheesy as it sounded, it felt like time stood still for you, the rest of the world ceasing to exist.

ITS LIKE A CRIMINAL LOVE STORY PLS 😭

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

STOP STOP STOP STOP

“I’m not leaving without him,” You made the mistake to glance back one last time, your heart breaking as you saw Rafe's eyes close, his body slumping against the ground, “No, no, no! Keep your eyes open, I swear to god—” Your hands trembled as you tried to staunch the flow of blood with your already stained clothing, "Stay with me," you pleaded, your voice cracking.

i’m actually gonna kill u gigi u have no idea

As you were led out of the police station and into a waiting car, your mind raced with thoughts of him, lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

for once in ur life i need u to be crazy and jump the car

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

FINAL THOUGHTS | omg. OHMYGOD??? okay one thing i absolutely love about this chapter is your emotional development and connection. the way that reader had to pull back because of her nightmare, because of what it means to be with rafe in the real world, the way she withdraws from him and it hurts him until they get to that argument. and that ARGUMENT; rafe being vulnerable while also pushing back, while also being sharp and anger? that PIERCED MY SOUL because u did it so well i actually held my breath and stopped breathing and just stared at how well u managed to capture emotional moments without exaggerating it. then then, him looking at her face trying to memorize her features before telling her to run? to kissing her because he couldn’t stand it anymore? screaming. AND THEN HE GOT FUCKING SHOT?? i saw spoilers that he got shot but i was so wrapped in the story i FORGOT 😭 it literally took me out 😭😭😭 I NEED HER TO JUMP OUT THE COP CAR OR SOMETHING PLS STAY WITH HIM 😭

THE OTHER SIDE OF PARADISE - rafe cameron (+18) - four

request: "a rafe enemies to lovers 🫣 the reader is jjs sister the whole drama before but then she gets left behind on the ship and rafe ends up comforting her and then yea that’s all I got you can do whatever else the rest 😛"

warnings: angst; gun violence; blood;

word count: 7.1k

You woke up confused staring at the oddly familiar ceiling, filled with posters ripped from the old magazines you’d gotten at a second-hand store. When you were sixteen is sounded like a great edgy idea.

You were home.

What the—? How?

Sitting up, the room felt stifling, the air thick with the stale smell of old wood and the faintest hint of your father’s cigarette smoke, a scent you had hoped never to encounter again. The heavy feeling in your chest wasn’t just the dread of being back; it was the oppressive memories flooding back, threatening to drown you.

The sound of a muffled argument seeped through the thin walls, pulling you back to the present.

Your heart pounded in your ears as you recognized the angry, slurred voice of your father.

He was shouting at someone, probably your brother, just like he used to. The familiar clinking of bottles and the crash of something being thrown sent a shiver down your spine.

No. This wasn't real. This couldn’t be real.

You swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the rough carpet under your feet, grounding yourself in the moment. You stood up shakily, each step toward the door feeling heavier than the last. The hallway stretched out before you, longer than it should have been, and the flickering light cast eerie shadows on the peeling wallpaper.

As you approached the living room, the noise grew louder, more distinct. Your father’s voice, filled with venom and rage, cut through you like a knife. You reached the doorway and peered in, your breath catching in your throat. There he was, towering over your JJ, his face twisted in anger. Your little brother was cowering, trying to make himself as small as possible, his eyes filled with fear. The scene was a haunting echo of so many nights you’d tried to forget.

“No,” you whispered, fear and anger bubbling up inside you. “This isn’t happening.”

But it was.

Your father, with his disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes, swung the bottle in his hand dangerously close to JJ’s head. Each wave of the bottle sent droplets of amber liquid flying, dotting the floor like gruesome confetti. JJ flinched with every movement, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight made your heart ache.

“Get out of my sight, you worthless—” your father roared, his voice a terrifying growl.

“No!” you screamed, stepping into the room before you even realized you were moving. “Stop it!”

Your father turned, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as they focused on you. For a moment, there was a flicker of confusion, as if he couldn’t quite believe you were standing there.

Then, recognition set in, and his scowl deepened.

“You,” he spat, the word laced with bitterness. “You think you can just walk back in here and tell me what to do?”

The room seemed to shrink around you, the walls closing in, suffocating. But you couldn’t back down, not now. Not ever again.

“Leave him alone,” you said, your voice trembling, “He’s a child!”

Your father took a menacing step toward you, the bottle still clutched in his hand. “You’ve got some nerve, coming back here and talking to me like that. Looking exactly like her!”

Every instinct screamed at you to run, but you stood your ground. “I’m not afraid of you Luke,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

His eyes flashed with anger, and he raised the bottle, ready to strike. You braced yourself, every muscle tensed, waiting for the blow.

“Dad, please!” JJ’s voice broke through the tension, small and desperate.

“Don’t hurt her.”

The plea hung in the air, a fragile thread that seemed to hold back the storm for just a moment. Your father’s hand wavered, his eyes darting between you and JJ.

Then, with a roar of frustration, he threw the bottle against the wall, where it shattered into a thousand pieces. The crash echoed through the house, a final, violent punctuation to the nightmare unfolding around you.

“You’re a coward, you know that? Hitting on your own children. You’re trash.” you spat out, the words flying from your mouth before you could stop them.

His face twisted, “What did you say to me?” He lunged at you, his hands going straight for your throat. Fear surged through you as his fingers tightened, cutting off your air supply. Your hands flew up to try and pry his grip loose, but he was too strong, too relentless, too driven.

Black spots began to dance at the edges of your vision. You struggled, gasping for breath, but his grip only tightened. The room started to spin, and just as you thought you might pass out, his face began to shift, blurring and changing. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, and when you opened your eyes again, it was no longer your father choking you.

It was Rafe.

Rafe's face, with a sickening grin, loomed over you. His eyes, filled with a cold, calculating malice, bore into yours. “You thought I’d be any different?” he sneered. “You signed your death sentence, pogue.”

The terror was overwhelming, a wave of cold dread washing over you.

Your heart pounded frantically against your ribs, but you couldn’t scream, couldn’t call for help. His grip was like iron, unyielding and merciless.

You fought against him with all your strength, but it felt like trying to move through quicksand. Every movement was sluggish, every attempt to break free met with resistance. The walls around you seemed to close in, the room becoming a claustrophobic prison.

As the edges of your vision began to fade, a new sound cut through the suffocating haze – JJ’s voice, calling your name. “Sis! Please, wake up! Wake up!”

With a final, desperate burst of energy, you tore yourself away from Rafe, his grip suddenly gone. You were falling, tumbling through darkness, and then–

You jolted awake, gasping for breath, your body drenched in sweat. The familiar ceiling of the motel room came into focus. The terror of the nightmare clung to you, and it made it hard to breathe.

Your hands went to your throat, feeling for bruises that weren’t there. It was just a dream, you told yourself, trying to calm your racing heart. Just a nightmare.

As your breath began to steady, you turned your head, feeling the sheets rustle against your skin.

The dim light of the room cast long shadows, and your heart sank when you saw Rafe lying next to you, his chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful slumber. He was naked, his body partially covered by the sheets, a stark reminder of what you’d done hours ago.

You felt a surge of nausea, your stomach churning with revulsion of yourself. The nightmare still clung to you, the vivid memories of his hands around your throat making it hard to reconcile the image of him sleeping so peacefully. You quietly slipped out of bed, trying not to wake him, and grabbed your clothes, dressing quickly.

Standing in the small bathroom, you splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the remnants of the dream. The coolness against your skin brought a brief sense of clarity, but it didn’t banish the lingering sense of dread. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your reflection pale and haunted.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. You had to get out of here, clear your head, and figure out what to do next. Slipping out of the bathroom, you grabbed your keys from the nightstand, sneaking one last look at Rafe. He was still asleep, completely unaware of the fear inside you.

The motel hallway was dark and quiet, with the faint hum of the vending machine being the only noise. You made your way to the exit, and the cool night air hit you like a splash of reality. It felt like you were stepping out of one world and into another, the contrast so stark and jarring.

You took a few more steps, but your vision blurred, and you felt lightheaded. You slumped against the wall, struggling to catch your breath.

The panic attack hit you full force, your chest tightening, and your mind racing. You couldn't let Rafe see you like this. You couldn't let anyone see you like this. You sank to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest, trying to focus on something, anything, to calm yourself down. You started counting your breaths, focusing on each inhale and exhale, trying to slow your racing heart. You thought of JJ, of how much he needed you to be strong. You couldn't fall apart now, not when there was so much at stake.

You kept counting, kept breathing, the cool air helping to clear your head. Slowly, the tightness in your chest began to ease. The world started to come back into focus, the shadows in the hallway retreating.

You wiped away the tears that had slipped down your cheeks and stood up, feeling a little more in control.

You thought of JJ, of your friends, the people who had been there for you through everything. They’d never understand.

Hell, you didn’t even understand it yourself. You stopped and leaned against a lamppost, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. You had to sort through this mess, had to figure out what was real and what was just the lingering effects of captivity and longing. Maybe you were holding on to the only person who managed to pull you out of Ward’s grasp, fooling yourself into finding some good in someone who had caused so much pain.

An hour later, you made your way back to the motel. Each step felt like a struggle, the guilt and self-doubt threatening to consume you entirely. You couldn't shake the feeling that you'd betrayed everything you stood for by letting Rafe into your life, even if it was just for a moment of weakness.

As you approached the entrance, you saw him standing at the front desk, looking worried and disheveled. He must have just woken up, throwing on some shorts in a hurry. His expression was tense as he spoke to the front desk guy, hands moving rapidly, gesturing around.

Your pulse pounded as you walked in, not sure of what to say, what to do, how to approach him. The memory of the nightmare still lingered, haunting you like a specter refusing to be exorcised.

Rafe's voice cut through the air, his tone urgent, "How the fuck did you not see her leave? Did someone take her?”

The front desk guy shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I apologize sir, but I haven't seen anyone come through here."

With a deep breath, you stepped forward, revealing yourself to him. "I'm here," you said quietly, voice rough from not speaking since you woke up.

Rafe's head snapped up, his blue eyes widening in relief as he caught sight of you. "Thank God," he breathed, his shoulders visibly relaxing, “Fucking hell, Maybank.”

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and Rafe, needing the space to breathe, to think, to figure out what comes next.

Your gaze flickered to the floor, unable to meet his eyes, unable to face the consequences of your actions, "Just needed some air," you muttered, your voice barely audible even to yourself, “Sorry for not leaving a note.”

Rafe's expression shifted from relief to concern as he watched you, his brows furrowing with worry.

"You okay?"

You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze, "I'm fine," you replied, your voice lacking conviction even to your own ears. "Just felt a little nauseous.”

His hand reached out tentatively as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated, letting it fall back to his side. “I just woke up and you were gone, and I...I panicked."

You hated the fact you could pinpoint the sincerity in his voice so easily. It nearly killed you.

“We should go back.”

"Will you... will you be okay?" he asked, his voice hesitant.

You nodded, trying to muster up a reassuring smile, but it felt hollow and insincere. "I'll be fine," you lied, the words tasted bitter on your tongue, “Just need some rest.”

“Okay. Okay, yeah, let’s go back.”

As you stepped inside the room, the early sunlight washed over Rafe's face, highlighting the worry etched into his features. He watched you carefully, as if afraid you would’ve disappeared again at any moment. He tried to reach out and grab your arm, but you moved too quickly, and he was left grasping air.

You offered him a weak smile, ignoring the look on his face, "I'm sorry for leaving like that," you said, your voice tinged with genuine regret. "I’m fine.”

You didn’t think he believed you. He was watching you so closely. He took in how disheveled you looked. The mess of your hair, and barely laced-up shoes so you could get out the door faster. Rafe’s eyes pierce into your own, searching them for something as he took a deep breath to calm himself.

It took several tense moments before he finally spoke, “Is this about last night?”

Your body froze, panic taking over every single one of your muscles. What were you supposed to tell him? Lie? Tell him the truth and make him hate himself even more? Keep your pain down to hold his?

“It was a mistake.”

You went straight to the chase.

He stalked closer to you, and you took a step back reflexively, “A mistake?” he echoed between labored breaths, “A mistake?”

“Yeah," you stammered, trying to articulate your thoughts, "It's not right. We, we're just lonely."

You despised yourself for even hinting at it, but the tumultuous month spent with him had been bewildering, to say the least. You questioned whether you were truly good for each other.

"I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

The pain in his voice pierced your skin, a reminder of the consequences of your actions. But you needed to put yourself first.

“I’m sorry.”

Rafe's face contorted, his features tightening into a mask of disbelief. And you couldn’t blame him for whatever he was about to unleash on you.

“So, what? You're just gonna walk away?" He tried to bark, but his voice quivered from grief, “Stop looking at me?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” He scoffed, lips twisting into a sneer, as he started to pace around the room, his movements restless and agitated. “That’s funny.”

Rafe could act cold and stoic all he wanted; you could hear the hurt in your voice and sense the sadness in the words. He sounded broken.

"You're angry,” Your mouth ran dry, your heart lurching into your throat. "I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” he seethed, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine, “Angry? You think you mean enough to me to make me angry?”

His words struck you like a physical blow, a slap to the face. You recoiled instinctively, the weight of his fury bearing down on you.

"I don't know what I mean to you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to maintain your composure. "I just know that I can't keep doing this."

Rafe's laughter was bitter and mocking, a harsh sound that echoed off the walls of the room.

"Can't keep doing this?" he repeated, his voice laced with derision. "And what, exactly, is 'this'? Fucking? You can’t even say it.”

“You’re being an asshole.”

"An asshole?" he spat, "Is that what you think of me?"

You held his gaze, refusing to back down despite the hurting coursing through your veins. "You're acting like one.”

“Maybank,” His voice was still harsh as he lowered his head to try and meet your eyes. He was close enough that you were able to smell him, "You don't know anything about me, remember? Maybe the fucking really did confuse you.”

“Stop it,” Your voice broke a little, fighting the waterworks that were threatening to run down your cheeks, “Stop making it sound like it meant nothing to you.”

His eyes shut tightly, “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s wrong! Rafe—don’t you see it? I can’t do this, not with you of all fucking people, okay?”

He looked down at the carpet, a look of shame falling over his features as he ran a hand over his face, “You knew who I was since the beginning.”

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, mingling with the anguish that threatened to overwhelm your senses. "Yeah, and every time I look at you now, I see everything that's wrong with me."

“And whose fault is that? Hmm? You said you didn’t want to stop. You wanted it, you wanted me.”

You staggered back, feeling as if the ground beneath your feet was shifting, uncertain, and unsteady.

"I wanted it," Rafe repeated, fingers digging into his chest, his voice raw with emotion, "I wanted you."

The admission hung in the air between you, everything left unsaid. You wanted to reach out to him, hug him as you had just hours ago, but you knew you couldn’t.

“We can’t.”

His eyes were slightly dewy, a somewhat defeated look to his gaze as he walked towards the door.

“Well, congrats Maybank. You won.”

The sound of the door slamming echoed through the room, the finality of it hitting you like a punch to the gut. You stood there, motionless, as the silence enveloped you. The weight of everything that had just transpired pressed down on your shoulders, threatening to crush you.

You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and the tears came in a torrent. Sobs wracked your body, each one more painful than the last, as the reality of your situation washed over you. You had pushed him away, and hurt him, but what other choice did you have?

The quiet was almost eerie.

You couldn't deny that you had felt something for Rafe, something more than just anger and resentment.

But it was twisted, born out of shared trauma and desperation, wasn’t it? Wiping your tear-streaked face with trembling hands, you tried to gather yourself. You still needed to get home. In five days. How the fuck were you going to live in the same room with Rafe for five days after what went down? You couldn’t, you needed the money to pay off the men taking you back home.

You sat on the motel room floor for what felt like hours, the silence pressing in on you.

The weight of your words, of the confrontation, was suffocating. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and you crawled into bed, your mind too restless to allow for more than fitful dozing.

It was around 4 a.m. when the door to the motel room creaked open, startling you awake. You sat up, your heart pounding, straining to see in the dark. The figure that stumbled through the door was unmistakable: Rafe. His movements were unsteady, his clothes disheveled, and the sharp scent of alcohol hit you even from across the room.

“Rafe?”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned heavily against the doorframe, his eyes unfocused. He looked lost.

The anger that had driven him was gone, replaced by a hollow, almost haunted look. You had done that to him. You got out of bed, approaching him cautiously.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice tinged with worry.

You sighed, the concern battling within you.

“Rafe, you’re drunk. You need to sit down.”

He let you guide him to the bed, his body heavy and uncooperative. Once he was seated, you grabbed a bottle of water from the small table and handed it to him.

“Drink this,” you instructed.

He took a sip, his hands shaking slightly. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the floor. “For everything.”

It was the first time he ever apologized to you. You didn’t know what to say. Part of you wanted to comfort him, to tell him it was okay, but another part of you was still reeling from the emotional whirlwind of the past few days.

“You need to sleep this off,” you said instead, trying to keep your voice steady.

He nodded but didn’t move. Instead, he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. “I don’t want to be like him,” he confessed, “I can't."

If you allowed him to keep sputtering out his drunken thoughts you would’ve ended up crying your eyes out again, so instead you squeezed his hand, “Let’s just sleep, okay?”

He nodded again, his eyes drifting shut as the exhaustion and alcohol finally took their toll. You helped him lie down, covering him with the sheets. As you laid back down, you watched Rafe’s breathing even out, his face softening in sleep.

The next few days passed in a blur of tension and silence. That night?

It never happened.

Rafe didn’t spare you a glance from the moment he woke up, choosing to care for his hangover by himself. You and he moved around each other like ghosts, the motel room becoming a prison. You barely slept, the nightmares coming back with a vengeance, leaving you exhausted and on edge.

Every time you closed your eyes, you saw your father, Rafe, or the haunting echoes of your past, blending into a relentless cycle of fear and regret. You knew he’d been having nightmares as well, but you pretended to be asleep every time he woke up, chest heaving.

He seemed so caught in his torment. You could see it in the way he clenched his jaw, the way his hands would flex into fists and then relax as if he was battling some inner demon. He avoided you, constantly, and when he did speak, his words were clipped and distant. Your shared meals were silent, the clinking of cutlery the only sound breaking the oppressive quiet.

Even the TV stayed off.

On the fifth night, you lay awake in the dark, listening to the rhythm of Rafe's breathing from the other bed. It was uneven, indicating he was also awake.

“You’re not gonna end up like him.”

Rafe's breathing hitched, and you could almost feel his eyes on you through the darkness.

"I mean it," you continued, turning slightly to face his silhouette. "You're not your father, Rafe."

He didn't respond immediately, but you sensed a shift in the atmosphere, a subtle change in his posture. Finally, he sighed, the sound heavy and laden with years of unspoken fears and insecurities.

"How can you be so sure?" he murmured, his voice raw.

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Because I've seen you. I've seen the parts of you that fight against becoming him. The parts that want to be better. And that matters."

He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not sure it’s enough.”

“It is.”

“It’s not, Maybank. I’ve done enough damage for a lifetime. It’s the reason why you’re sleeping on the other side of the bed instead of right next to me.”

You wanted to reach out, to reassure him that he wasn’t alone, but you knew it wasn’t that simple.

“I’m still here,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “And I’m not leaving.”

“You already did.”

Ouch.

Before you could utter a single word, he turned his back to you.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Sleep.”

“Rafe—”

“Goodnight.”

The next morning, you didn’t bother much with packing, only shoving the pieces of clothing you’d collected in a backpack. It felt torturous, to be so close to Rafe yet so far away. He didn’t speak a word as he packed his things, his movements stiff and mechanical. You wanted to break the silence, but every time you opened your mouth, the words seemed to stick in your throat. The taxi drive to the port was just as unbearable. You stared out the window, watching the landscape blur past, your mind racing with thoughts of what could have been, what should have been.

Once you arrived, you and Rafe stepped out, the silence between you as impenetrable as ever. The boat that would take you both back home loomed ahead. He took the lead, heading towards the ticket booth with his shoulders hunched, and you followed, your steps heavy with reluctance.

You were still scared shitless of those men. They were only helping you because at some point Rafe had helped them smuggle drugs into the States, and that did not leave you the least bit reassured over their intentions.

Finding a spot on the deck, you both settled into a tense silence, the hum of the boat’s engine and the cries of seagulls filling the void between you. The sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue over the water, but the beauty of the scene did little to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in your chest.

He leaned against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon, his face a mask void of any emotion.

You watched him for a moment, torn between wanting to reach out to him and the fear that doing so would only make things worse.

Finally, unable to bear the silence any longer, you cleared your throat. “Rafe,” you began hesitantly, “I—”

Before you could finish, he turned to you, his expression weary. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he said, his voice flat. “Not now.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay.”

“Just stay low, stay quiet. My dad got eyes everywhere.”

From the corner of your eye you spotted one of the men. Tall, burly, with a scar running down his cheek. He simply nodded towards the cargo boat and for a minute you’re taken back to your first day stuck with the Cameron’s, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.

Rafe walked in front of you again, entering the ship, rounding his way through the halls behind the sketchy guy, only stopping when he knocked on a door, after a moment, it swung open to reveal a bald shot man, eyes way too big for his face, which flicked over you and Rafe, a predatory smile curling his lips.

“Well, well, look who decided to show up,” he drawled, his voice laced with mockery. “You’re late.”

“Had some complications,” Rafe replied curtly, his posture tense.

The man’s smile widened. “Complications, huh? Well, come on in”

You followed Rafe inside, your heart racing. The interior of the room was pretty dark, the air thick with the smell of smoke and something you couldn’t quite identify. Nor did you want to.

“Rafe,” the older man said, his voice cold and commanding. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about our arrangement.”

“Never,” Rafe replied, his tone clipped. “I brought the money.”

He handed over a thick envelope, and the man behind the desk took it, flipping through the bills with a practiced eye. After a moment, he nodded, satisfied.

“Good,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, let’s discuss the other part of our deal.”

Rafe stiffened. “I told you, I’m out. I’m not running anything for you anymore.”

The man’s eyes narrowed, his smile turning dangerous. “I don’t think you understand. You don’t get to just walk away.”

You felt a chill run down your spine as the tension in the room escalated. The man behind the desk stood up, his gaze shifting to you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his tone menacing.

“No one,” Rafe said quickly. “She has nothing to do with this.”

The man chuckled, a low, sinister sound. “Oh, I think she has everything to do with this.”

He took a step towards you, and instinctively, you backed away, your heart pounding in your chest. Rafe moved to place himself between you and the older man, his jaw clenched.

“Leave her out of this.”

“You see, your daddy dearest called in last night. Told me about a loose piece he had to get rid off…a pretty one. Guess this is her?”

"That's none of your business," Rafe growled, his voice filled with a warning, body still shielding yours.

The older man laughed, the sound grating against your nerves. "Oh, but it is my business, Rafe. You see, your daddy and I, we go way back. And when he asks for a favor, I don't say no."

You felt a surge of terror at his words, your mind racing to find a way out of this situation. "Rafe, we need to go," you whispered urgently, tugging on his arm.

He didn't move, his eyes locked on the man before him. "We're leaving," Rafe said firmly, his voice unwavering. "Now."

The man smirked, his gaze shifting between you and Rafe. "You think you can just walk out of here? You're in deep, Cameron. And now, so is she."

Rafe's jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists. "We're not doing this.”

The older man took a step closer, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

"You have two choices, Rafe. You either do as I say, or she pays the price like Ward asked.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins. You couldn't let Rafe get pulled back into this world, but you also couldn't bear the thought of what might happen if you stayed.

"Rafe, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling.

Before you could process his words, Rafe launched himself at the older man, tackling him to the ground. The suddenness of the movement caught everyone off guard, but you knew you had to act quickly. Heart pounding, you turned and bolted out of the room, dropping your backpack in the process, your footsteps echoing down the dimly lit corridor.

Behind you, you could hear the sounds of struggle—grunts, crashes, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor. You didn’t dare look back, knowing that every second counted. Rafe had told you to run.

The ship's layout was confusing, with identical-looking hallways and doors leading to who-knew-where. You sprinted through the maze of metal and dim lights, your breath coming in ragged gasps. The distant sound of shouting and commotion indicated that the fight was far from over. You turned a corner and collided with one of the burly men from earlier. He grabbed your arm, his grip like a vise.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he snarled.

Panic surged through you, but you fought it down, remembering the self-defense moves Rafe had taught you back at Ward’s island. You stomped on his foot and jabbed your elbow into his ribs, wrenching your arm free as he grunted in pain. Without wasting a second, you continued running, your legs burning with effort.

You burst onto the deck, the cold, salty air hitting you like a slap. The early morning light was just beginning to brighten the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck. You looked around frantically, searching for any means of escape. Your eyes landed on a lifeboat secured to the side of the ship. Without hesitation, you made your way towards it, fumbling with the ropes that held it in place. Your fingers were shaking, but you managed to free the boat. As you were about to lower it into the water, a rough hand grabbed your shoulder and spun you around. It was the man with the scar, his face twisted in anger.

“Going somewhere?” he sneered.

You tried to fight him off, but he was too strong.

Just when you thought all hope was lost, a loud bang echoed across the deck. The man with the scar froze, his grip loosening. You took the opportunity to break free, scrambling away from him.

Rafe stood at the entrance to the deck, a gun in his hand and determination in his eyes. The man with the scar raised his hands slowly, backing away.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, his voice tight with concern.

“I think so.”

“Come here.”

Until reality broke you again.

Rafe's body tensed suddenly. You heard a muffled sound, like a distant pop, but it took a moment for your mind to register what had happened. His grip on you loosened, and he staggered, his breath hitching in pain.

No, no, no, no.

"Rafe?” You caught him as he fell to his knees, eyes darting around, searching for the source of the shot. Your eyes nearly popped out of your head as you watched a showdown between the so-called human traffickers and the fucking police. This had to be a fucking nightmare, no way, were you getting caught in a crossfire.

Rafe clutched his side, blood seeping through his fingers, staining his white shirt. His face was scarily pale, and he struggled to stay upright.

"You need to...get out of here," he managed to say, his voice strained, “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving you, you fuckin—Shit, Rafe. Fuck!” You looked around frantically, your heart pounding in your chest. The island, which had seemed like a safe haven moments ago, now felt like a trap. "Can you walk?" you asked, trying to keep the panic from your voice.

“Does it look like I can walk, pretty Maybank?”

A sob broke through you, “Don’t try to be fucking funny, you got shot!”

“Baby, you—“ he coughed, blood seeping through his teeth, "You gotta go home.”

"Stop talking!" you repeated, your voice trembling with desperation. You looked around again, trying to find a way out, a way to save him, anything. But the chaos around you was overwhelming. The police and the traffickers were engaged in a fierce shootout, bullets whizzing through the air, ricocheting off metal, and splintering wood.

Rafe's hand tightened weakly around yours.

"Listen to me," he said, his voice just a whisper. "You have to...Go gome."

Tears streamed down your face as you shook your head. "I can't leave you here."

You knew you had to move, had to find help, but leaving him there felt like tearing your heart out. As you turned to peek around one final time, you heard a shout from behind you. "Freeze!" a police officer yelled, his gun trained on you.

You stopped, your hands raised, your mind racing. "Please, help him," you begged, pointing to Rafe. "He's been shot."

The officer's eyes flicked to Rafe, then back to you. "We need to secure the area first," he said, his tone firm but not unkind.

"Please," you repeated, your voice breaking. "He's dying."

The officer hesitated, then spoke into his radio. "Officer down, need medical assistance immediately."

Another officer approached, his gun drawn, and you saw his gaze soften as he took in Rafe's condition. "We'll get him help," he assured you, "but we need to get you out of here safely."

His eyes fluttered open briefly, a weak smile touching his lips.

"You... have to... go," he whispered, his breath coming in shallow gasps, "Go."

Before you could respond, you felt strong hands grip your shoulders, pulling you back. "We need to get you to safety," one of the officers said firmly, trying to drag you away from Rafe.

"No! Let me go! I can't leave him!" you screamed, fighting against their hold.

"Ma'am, we need to get you out of the line of fire," the officer insisted, his grip tightening as he pulled you to your feet.

Through your tears, you saw more officers surrounding Rafe, their voices urgent as they called for medical assistance. You watched helplessly as they began to administer first aid, their movements efficient but hurried. As the officers dragged you away against your will, your eyes never left Rafe.

You struggled against their hold, but their grip was unyielding. "Please, don't let him die," you sobbed, your voice breaking with despair.

"We're doing everything we can," one of the officers reassured you, guiding you towards the edge of the deck where a police boat was waiting.

You stumbled, your legs weak with fear and exhaustion, but the officers held you steady. As you were helped onto the police boat, you turned back one last time, your heart breaking at the sight of Rafe lying on the deck, surrounded by officers and paramedics. You clutched the railing, your knuckles white, as the boat pulled away from the ship, the distance between you and Rafe growing with each passing second.

The journey back to shore was a blur of sirens, flashing lights, and the distant sound of helicopter blades cutting through the air. The police officers tried to reassure you, but their words were lost in the whirlwind of your thoughts.

When the boat finally docked, you were met by a flurry of activity. Paramedics rushed forward, checking you for injuries, while police officers asked you questions about what had happened. You answered them mechanically, your mind still focused on Rafe, praying that he would survive. Hours seemed to pass in a haze of questions, medical checks, and statements. You told them everything. Finally, you were allowed to sit down, your body heavy with exhaustion. A police officer approached you, his expression kind but serious.

"Rafe Cameron is being taken to the hospital," he said gently. "He's in critical condition, but the paramedics are doing everything they can."

You nodded numbly, the weight of his words pressing down on you. "Can I see him?"

“’No visitors will be allowed, kid. We checked your backgrounds. If he survives, he’ll be taken into custody, his father is Ward Cameron, the feds are going to need him.”

You nearly threw up at how easily he said, “if he survives”. There couldn’t be no fucking ifs, he wasn’t dying. Not like this. Not after everything.

Your knees buckled, and you had to sit down, the reality of the situation pressing down on you like a ton of bricks. The officer helped you to a bench, his face sympathetic but firm. “I understand this is hard, but we need to follow protocol. He’s a key witness and suspect in multiple ongoing investigations.”

You nodded, your mind barely processing his words. The world felt distant, and surreal. “Can I at least know which hospital?”

The officer hesitated for a moment, then relented. “St. Michael’s. But you won’t be allowed to call until we clear things with the authorities.”

“Call? I want to visit.”

He sighed, taking a seat next to you, “Kid. I’m really sorry, but you won’t be here. You’re a kidnapping victim and there’s a direct order to take you back home, you’ve been reported missing for over a month now.”

Your mind reeled, struggling to process the officer's words. Missing? For over a month? It felt like a lifetime and no time at all had passed since you'd been caught up in this nightmare.

"I can't leave him," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "Not like this."

The officer's expression softened. "I understand, but this is out of my hands. We need to get you back to your family. They'll be worried sick."

What family?

You wanted to shout in his face. JJ was still missing for all you knew and Luke hadn't stepped foot home in months. You felt a surge of helplessness.

“I can't just leave him."

The officer looked taken aback but remained resolute. "We're going to get you home safely. You'll be able to follow up on Rafe's condition, but right now, you need to come with us."

The officer stood up, motioning for you to follow. Reluctantly, you got to your feet, every step feeling like a betrayal to Rafe.

As you were led out of the police station and into a waiting car, your mind raced with thoughts of him , lying in a hospital bed, fighting for his life, by himself. You couldn't bear the thought of him waking up alone, without knowing that you were there for him.

If he ever woke up.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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bphantom01 · 8 months ago

Note

*runs up and give you a note that says "you're cool and I hope you have a great day ^-^"* *runs away*

Ehehehe, thanks! :P I've been pretty busy lately lol & uhm i didn't expect to get this ask, & getting it rlly made my day a bit better & well put a smile on my face ^w^

Random appreciation mini-comic (of which I didn't expect I was able to create—also, not ygo):

This was how I felt u, anon, come up to me :DD

(Oh, &, I apologize for the late reply ._.)

#srsly didnt expect myself to finish a whole ass mini-comic lol (its scanned btw)#& anon—u helped me realize i (kinda) have the ability to make comics now :pp #also ill try to post stuff of my own when i can more soon :')#idk why u sent this to me or who u r but still... thank you #this + having convos w/ irl & online friends (yall know who u r) have helped keep me going lots!!#not ygo #asks #anon ask #01 speaks #01 draws #random thing but i love staying at my school's library which should explain the setting :p

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taintedcigs · 10 months ago

Text

i slept with someone from corroded coffin and all i got was this stupid song written about me.

ROCKSTAR!FBOY!EDDIE X READER

summary: fooling around with a famous rockstar who's a notorious playboy sounds perfect on paper, until you catch feelings for him. that's why you decide to end things, to not get your feelings get hurt, and its all going perfectly, until eddie releases a song, written all about you.

warnings: smut, p in v, MINORS DNI!!!!, pet names, praising?, lovey dovey, kinda angst and arguments, drgs & alcohol mention, swearing? idk this is kinda cheesy n cute with a mix of fluff sprinkled honestly!

author's note: the indented parts are texts between steve and reader and thenn reader and eddie. they look confusing as fuck im sorry i just wanted to make them look unique but they look stupid. also yes. i patted myself in the back after i found this title (thank you fob). and yes the lyrics are inspired by i don't care im on a fob kick sue me! and ofc fboy!eddie isn't actually that much of a fboy bc if i can't write lovesick eddie ill die. this is super cheesy so i still struggled a lot but UGH. not proof-read ignore all mistakes

also credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts! (i changed them but still!) and @saradika for the dividers! pls like + rb + interact w me in anyway to support my writings!! ty!!

DINGUS sent you a spotify link. did you listen to this? yeah. its kinda romantic. no. the lyrics are insane. n all about u okay? are u at the party rn? yeah. u comin? soon he’s there too u already knew that, didn’t u? false accusations r rude, steve.

You click your phone off with a groan, but he was right. You couldn’t stay away from him, and maybe, just maybe, this was your way of running into him, accidentally.

Because ever since he released the song, the tabloids had gone crazy with it, half of the lyrics screamed you and all of the old headlines pointed at you, the mystery girl Eddie used to be seen with, and you really were growing tired of seeing your name next to “Munson’s new girl.”

Because you weren’t his new girl, you weren’t his anything. He was a cocky asshole who was good with a guitar and was even better at fucking. And that was something both of you could relate to, the only thing you had in common with him. Or, so you thought.

But of course, as with everything else, the things between you changed, you started staying over, he started staying over, and the two of you even went on fucking dates, disguising them under ‘we were just hungry, is all.’

You tried to keep up the cool girl act, like you could fuck someone and not catch feelings. Every inch of you itched not to care, to act like it was all fine, but it was all fucking bullshit, you cared, so fucking much that your chest ached. The more you got to know him, the more you fell for him, and the more you fell for him, the more you realized there was no fucking way this would work.

Cocky rockstar who spent more time doing drugs than sleeping, with girls all over him? The imaginary red flag bells rang in your ear, even now. He wasn’t looking for a relationship and you knew that. That’s why you ended it two months ago. Or at least, you started ignoring him two months ago.

Yet, he had been calling and texting you, wanting to meet up, drunken slurs of nonsense, gibberish voicemails, and yet you never answered, because if you did, you knew you’d be back to pathetically swooning over him.

Until today, just because of that stupid song, like it meant anything. That douchebag probably wrote songs about every girl he fucked.

You weren’t special.

Another ding sound from your phone almost startled you, the contact name made you groan even louder. “don’t FUCKING answer.” That didn’t mean shit. It was just something stupid to make you feel better that you couldn’t stay away from him, because you knew, deep down that if you really didn’t want him to contact you, you would’ve deleted his number, and blocked him. You were too chicken shit to do that, and still desperately wanted to hear from him.

So you settled on that contact name. Like it made a difference, like it changed anything.

DONT FUCKING ANSWER did you listen to the song?

Don’t fucking answer. The contact name should be enough to convince yourself that.

Too late.

no. don’t lie to me, sweetheart. why would i lie?

You sink into the couch, a much quieter corner of the party, not even bothering to socialize. Your brows furrow, index finger flying to your lips anxiously, as you chew on it to patiently wait for an answer.

You sip on your drink with a nervous gaze on your screen, barely noticing the way the couch sink further when someone else took a seat next to you.

“Hi.” The gravelly voice pulls your attention away from the screen, making you set your drink aside as you look up, finding yourself face-to-face with him.

Shaggy bangs cascade onto his forehead, and with your exaggeration, it looks longer than the last time you saw him. Black jeans cladded with chains. A graphic tee messily thrown over his heavily tatted chest, that you could still imagine right about now—pathetic. He looked just about the same, the deep dimple adorning his soft cheeks had seemed to disappear, wearing a scowl instead, that tiny voice in your head told you that was your doing, that maybe he was just as miserable as you. Maybe your feelings weren’t fully one-sided.

Shit.

“Eddie?” Squeaky, and annoying, you were sure that’s how your tone sounded, yet he didn’t seem to comment on it.

“‘m glad you remember my name, sweetheart,” he scoffs sarcastically, leaning further into the plush couch, elbow propped at the side, eyeing you with frustration.

“W—what the hell are you doing here?” You stutter as if you weren’t expecting to run into him. Full of bullshit.

“Did ya really think you could ignore me forever, huh?” He tilts his head slightly, almost expectedly, earning an eye roll from you.

“I wasn’t ignoring yo—”

Eddie tuts quickly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that cuts through the ambient noise of the party, “I thought we said no more lies, huh?”

With a huff, “Why are you here, Eddie?” you mumble.

“Am I not allowed to party?” He banters, brows slightly raised, making you huff out an exasperated breath, your eyes bore into him, almost to signal him ‘Take this seriously.’

“I wanted to know what you thought.” He shrugs like it was normal to just come running after everything just to know what you thought of the song.

“The song?” He nods in confirmation.

“Didn’t like it,” you confess, avoiding his gaze, but your brows betray you, lifting ever so slightly.

He tsks, shutting you off quickly, “You see that little quirk your brow did? That only happens when you lie, you can’t help it. You do that when I ask you if you ate the last pizza slice, or when I ask if you watched the next episode of the show we were supposed to watch together, or when you—”

“Fine, fine! I liked it,” you groan, interrupting him and suddenly standing up from the comfort of the couch, being so face-to-face with him immediately making your nerves bubble.

“Just liked?” He tilts his head slightly, a smirk curving on his lips.

A deep sigh of breath, “what do you want, Munson?”

He stands up with you, making you back away from him with a heavy footstep, the entire party was too loud and crowded, yet, in this stupid corner, it was just the two of you. “For you to admit that you loooved the song, and how much you missed me,” he sing-songs, taking a step closer to you, musky smell invading your senses, making you take a deep breath.

Both of you stand near the wall, and it should be awkward, it should be enough to make you leave, but all it does is draw you closer to him.

“You’re annoying.”

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”

“I wasn’t avoiding—” He tuts, with his stupid index finger up, rejecting your lie.

“I—I don’t know what you expected.” You shrug, so nonchalantly that his gaze narrows, chest aching with the implications of your words.

“We both knew this wouldn’t last forever, didn’t we?” You chew the inside of your lip to stop those tears that had been begging to flow ever since you listened to the song, wiping off that smirk on Eddie’s lips.

“Would’ve been nice if I got a reminder, and not have been just fully ghosted, huh?” The brunette grumbles with a downturn of his lips, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Oh, don’t act all high and mighty, isn’t that what you do all the fucking time?” you snap, gaze narrowed, and arms crossed against your chest.

“Fuck girls and then leave them? Did it crush your ego this fucking much that I did before you could?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” He retaliates.

“It means I was smart enough to pull myself away from your bullshit,” you rasp, disdain written all over your face.The room seems to shrink as the distance between you decreases.

Another step closer to you, and you didn’t realize your back had hit the wall now. “My bullshit? God, that’s fucking rich, if I seem to recall correctly sweetheart, you were in this as much as I fucking was!”

“Oh, was I?” You bark out a chuckle, cruel, mocking, “I don’t remember being okay with you fucking half the city.” Realization of how bitter and jealous that sounds, dawns on you much later than the words leave your lips, and thankfully, Eddie’s too fucking immersed to realize the double meaning of your words.

“Are you fucking kidding? No strings attached! Non-exclusive! That’s what you fuckin’ signed up for!” His voice echoes, mirroring his frustration, and you open your mouth.

But he doesn’t let you speak further, cutting you off sharply. “Is this all because of that new guy you’re seein’?”

“What? What guy?”

“The one who was all over you earlier,” he bites out, jaw clenched, and you can almost taste his bitterness in the air.

“The same one you fucked at Jeff’s party.”

“Are you stalking me, Munson?”

“Did you just want an excuse to end things? Are the two of you serious or somethin’?” His voice wavered between anger and desperation, gaze pathetically searching for yours, to gauge your reaction.

You scoff. Did he really think you’d end things because of a stupid fling you had which in the first place occurred just so you could forget him? He was so goddamn clueless it drove you insane.

But what you didn’t realize was that you were just as clueless, if not more, because why would he write a song all about you, if this was just about sex? Because who would get so jealous of someone they didn’t care about?

Say my name and his in the same breath.

I dare you to say they taste the same.

The lyrics from his stupid song swirled your thoughts, yet you were still too stupid to see it, weren’t you?

Another step closer to you, a dangerous game the two of you liked to play. He smelled alluring, a fucked up mix of nicotine, his musky cologne, and that damn leather jacket. “Do you really think, he could compare to me, sweetheart?”

Say my name and his in the same breath.

“Tell me he’s fucking better, and he’s actually what you want, and I’ll fucking leave, I’ll bury all the other songs I wrote, tell me, and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”

I dare you to say they taste the same.

And just like that, all the defenses you put up, all the times you ignored him, they are cracked, disappearing into thin air. You hate it, you hate that he has this effect on you, you can feel your mind getting hazier, eyes blinking rapidly to process what the fuck is going on, and his face is mere inches away from yours. You knew their names didn’t taste the same. And you knew he could never ever compare to Eddie.

“Tell me,” he encourages, dares you to. You fail to notice how much emotion his gaze carries, how the corners of his lips twitch, just at the thought of you finally admitting you don’t want him. His stomach turns at the thought, this is his last chance, he knows that, and he can’t fucking lose you. He can’t.

And you don’t know any of that, but you knew, know that no one else could compare to him. And you hate yourself for thinking that, you hate yourself for falling for him, the world stops rotating on its axis when he’s in your peripheral vision, and it’s fucking disgusting. Pathetic. Stupid. Because you know the two of you have no chance. But here you are.

“H—he is b—” Of course, your brow quirks up almost immediately, betraying you quicker than you can even attempt to lie.

That dawning smirk appears on his lips again, it’s mocking, and just as much smug. You want to wipe it off of his stupidly pretty face. “Tell me,” he dares you, again. This time much cockier and confident, and you suddenly realize how small you feel under him.

“He isn’t,” your meek voice is barely audible.

And you don’t register the shaky breath he draws when the words leave your lips, giving him the confirmation he needs. You wanted him, he had no fucking clue why you ghosted him, yet you still wanted him. Just as much as he wanted you.

Both of his hands were placed on the wall now, towering over you, making your breath get caught up in your throat. “Speak up.”

“No, fuck! You know he’s not, you know he could never fucking compare to you, you fucking know tha—” He shuts you up with a rough kiss, lips pressed against yours messily, letting the petty comments die down your throat. Because this is all he wanted, needed to hear anyway.

“Up,” he grunts into the kiss, tapping your thighs, hoisting you up from your waist to help you wrap your legs around him, tight, he wants you at his mercy, locked to him.

You wrap your legs around him, barely, the melty sensation in your knees making you so shaky that he barks out a laugh into your lips, holding you close, firm, the butterflies in your stomach traveling all across your body.

He lifts you up as if you are weightless, arms wrapped around you strongly as he carries you to the nearest empty bedroom, impressively without hitting your back anywhere, so roughly that your core throbs at the feeling of his arms around you.

“Baby,” he mutters as he lowers you down on the bed swiftly, smooth, gaze darkened and pupils blown wide, all the pent up desire waiting to explode.

“Eddie,” you beg, shaky voice sounding purely angelic to his ears once he got rid of his shirt, shrugging it off with a huff, his fingertips grazing against your top, feeling your hardened nipples, causing gasps out of you, he’s quick to pull it over your head while you run your fingers up the grooves of his stomach, the tip of your fingertips almost burns everywhere you touch.

He groans at the sight of your bare breasts, “missed thi-you,” he corrects himself, because that’s all he wanted anyways, you.

He nips at your nipples, tongue good at giving attention to both of them, all wet and warm, making you squirm under his touch, you’re quick to get rid of everything else, leaving you in your panties, making him grunt.

The pad of his thumb rubs against your left nipple, leaving goosebumps in its wake, while his other hand travels down your chest, then your stomach, finally drawing circles when it stops between your thighs, ghosting over your panties before he tugs them down your legs, spreading them apart with a slight hum, pupils blown so wide that you can’t admire those chocolate hues anymore.

He visually drinks in that sight of you, laid down on the couch, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, and he hasn’t even touched you yet. You’re completely at his mercy and his chest aches with need. “So pretty like this f’me,” he coos into your chest, pushing his middle finger inside of you. Making you feel so good that you can’t stop the gasps coming out of your lips.

Pleasure shivers through everywhere he sucks and touches, his finger eases into you when he adds another one, a moan escaping you quickly. “Need to be in here, sweetheart, d’ya have any idea how much I missed this?”

You don’t. You don’t know about the sleepless nights, the drunken ones, the drug-induced ones in an attempt to recreate the high you gave him. It’s fucked up, it’s insanely toxic. Yet, he can’t get enough of you.

His gaze upon you is dangerous, maybe it’s because he had missed you so goddamn much, or maybe because he didn’t know where this would lead, but it felt fucking sentimental, different somehow, and he could feel you, everywhere on his skin.

Your hips start rocking up against him when the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit, making you arch your back, whines, mumbles leaving your lips. And all he can muster is, “so goddamn beautiful, look at you whining for me.”

You can feel his bulge rub against your thigh every now and then, it’s distracting, almost agonizing. You desperately need it inside of you, you had missed him, missed his touch, missed the feeling of him filling you to the brim, you missed seeing his face contort in pleasure when he was inside of you, you wanted him to never forget you again.

That’s why you feel so numb, can barely speak, and of course, Eddie notices, how unusually quiet you are, and he wants to make this unforgettable, just so you have another reason to come back to him. Just so you don’t leave him, just so you stay forever.

“Gone too quiet on me, honey, tell me what you need,” he coos down at you, thumb still caressing your pussy, and all you can fucking do is chew down on your bottom lips, eyeing his bulge that was begging to get out. And he barks out a goddamn chuckle, “P—please, Eddie.” Pathetically leaves your lips.

And normally he would make you beg, tease further, but he reaches to tug down his pants quickly, because fuck, he had missed you. And he can’t bear the thought of not being inside of you any longer.

Thinking is not your strongest suit right now either, your brain is mushy, all the nights and days spent thinking about him, about this explodes into your body. Your pussy aches when you finally see his cock again, a sound of need leaving your lips as you eye his length, so big that pleasure ripples through you, especially when you see his gushy tip, glistening with pre-cum.

You want every fucking inch inside of you, and Eddie’s more than ready to oblige, “What do you need, baby? Tell me.”

“Need you, Eddie,” you moan, all fucked out, his fingers slip in and out of you still, but it isn’t enough for him. He needs more, he craves your validation like he never has before.

“God, you’re soakin’ my fingers, princess,” he grunts, wedging himself between your thighs, weeping cock drips onto your inner thighs, making you moan breathlessly. “Tell me exactly what you fuckin’ want, honey.”

“Eddie.” His name sounds like silk, even when it’s so lewd, Eddie decides, and it makes him let out an impatient huff. “P—please. Need you to fuck me.” It’s so goddamn desperate that you can feel heat rise to your cheeks, but it’s everything to him.

“Want you to fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, that’s easy, sweetheart,” he grunts, lining his cock through your entrance, coating himself in your slick, enjoying your mewls before he doesn’t hesitate to push his cock inside of you, inch by inch, relishing the way you cry out for him.

Greedily, you rock your hips into him, making him let out a frustrated groan. “Have no fuckin’ idea how much I missed this greedy cunt, sweetheart, shit.” He thrusts in a few more inches, and breathless moans and babbles of his name fill the air.

“Suckin’ me right in, baby, fuck, you’re so pretty like this, mhmm.” His cock moves inside of you, and your hands are wrapped around his back, desperately clawing at it, the fullness making you want more, “you like that, baby, like bein’ full of me?” A heavy sound leaves his lips, pathetic and you pulse around him.

“S’so good Eddie, and s’big,” you barely manage to let out, and he watches you with that burning amber gaze, thrusting all the way in without hesitation. Those plushy lips that hang open, that filthy mouth, the prettiest fucking features—you, were going to be the death of him.

Maybe it’s because you had missed him, or maybe because you hadn’t experienced this in a long time, or fuck, maybe, just maybe that the song had created a new type of need between the two of you. Using sex as a sort of connection that the both of you desperately needed. But, shit, was it this different this time.

He felt different—his lips, touch, skin as it slapped against yours, it was different.

Full. You feel so fucking full that your back involuntarily arches against him, fingers clenching desperately, your screams and cries filling the room the more he plunges inside of you, deeper, hungry, and just as greedy as you.

“Yeah, better than that asshole?” It rolls off his lips so bitter and jealous that you can barely register it. Not being used to this possessive side of him, and it’s glorious, especially when he’s pounding his frustrations and insecurities into you.

“Mhmm, so much better.” You clawed at his back, every thrust of his hip making you feel higher and higher, mind filled with nothing but him.

“So pretty like this when you say my name, sweetheart… so goddamn beautiful, and all mine, yea?” He wants a confirmation, and wants to hear you say it, his head ducking between your breasts again to kiss, taste, suckle them. Make sure he never forgets it.

“Wanna hear you say it.” He hums, the vibrations reverberating through your chest straight into your core, cock plowed so deep inside of you that you can barely speak through your cries, hitting that sweet spot that every other asshole misses.

You’re too scared to give him what he wants. But you feel him, everywhere, and you still want more, of course, you’re his. That’s all you fucking wanted anyway. Plushy lips shake as you gaze up at him, his amber hues are so sticky-sweet that you still struggle to process it, words come out in a ramble “All yours, Eddie.”

His mouth crashes onto yours roughly, desire coursing through both of your bodies, almost interconnected. “Shit, fuckin’ hell sweetheart, ‘m not gonna last long.” His thrusts are getting sloppier, yet you feel the ravaging desire coursing through your veins.

“So perfect,” he murmurs, the kiss he lays on your lips just as relentless, not letting you breathe or think for a goddamn second, you’re so goddamn close.

And you wonder, how the fuck did you even go two months without this? Without him?

“Eddie!” You cry out once you feel the pad of his thumb rubbing against your clit, eyes squeezed shut as your orgasm washes over you. Pure bliss overtakes you while you claw at his back, his body tenses, and cock flexes as he cums inside of you, groans and curses left in your hair.

Minutes pass of you lying next to each other, breathless, processing everything that just transpired. And you should feel guilty, embarrassed, and should run to the hills for doing this with him again.

But you’re obsessed, addicted. He’s like an excitement that you’re sure you’ve never felt before, running through your veins, like a fucking drug.

Both of you get dressed in silence, the party booming outside is quick to bring the two of you back to reality, and out of the trance that he pulled you in.

He breaks your bewilderment with a slight “Fuck.” Standing on the opposite side of the bed before he fully turns to you. “This wasn’t—I was supposed to talk to you.” He mutters, fingertips anxiously running through his tousled hair.

Caught off guard and awfully curious, you mumble, “About what?”

“The song…”

“I told you I liked it.”

His brow furrows deeper, and he shakes his head in frustration. “No, that’s not it—uh, did you not listen to the lyrics?”

“I did.”

“And?”

Your face searches his for some clarity, you take a step closer to him, the distance between the two of you was still awfully much according to him. “What are you asking of me, Eddie? Did you really think one song would just solve everything?”

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“W—what am I supposed to get Eddie? You wanna have your cake and eat it too! And I just can’t fucking do that, not anymore.”

“That’s—that’s not it!” His voice wavers, with urgency, and desperation in his tone. He takes a step forward, attempting to bridge the emotional gap, feeling so fucking frustrated that he wants to rip his hair out.

“Then fucking explain it to me!” You plead.

“You want an explanation, fine! Fucking fine!” His frustration echoed through the room, pacing back and forth, making you take a deep breath.

Was he… actually gonna do this?

“You wanna know what the fuck I’ve been doing ever since you ghosted me?” He ran a hand through his hair, scared, gaze all mellow and vulnerable in a way you have never seen before. It makes your shoulders slump when you nod.

“I go to those stupid Hollywood parties, meet asshole rockstars—the most interesting shit, yet somehow someway the thought of you will pop up in my mind, uncalled for, might I add, and then I can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop thinking about you the whole fucking day.” Your eyes widen, trying to absorb his revelation, yet he won’t stop rambling and you feel your chest tighten with each word, fuck, he’s finally doing it.

“I—I never—shit! I never thought myself capable of feeling things like this, but fuck, you came along, with that goddamn smile, throwing a manicured middle finger right in my face, a—and just put up with my bullshit.” His voice softened, and he couldn’t help but trace the contours of your face, to desperately know if you were on the same boat, and you look at him with such glistened eyes that his heart leaps to his stomach.

“My world flipped upside down, and you have proven me, so goddamn wrong that I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore!” The tears almost welled in your eyes, because, fuck, there was no way this was real.

You reached out instinctively, the corner of your mouth twitching uncontrollably. “E—Eddie, please… please stop saying things you don’t fucking mean.”

“Things I don’t mean?” He gives you a breathy chuckle, ironic, and nowhere near funny. His eyes bore into yours, intense and searching. “Do you think I like feeling whatever the hell this is? I fucking don’t, you have me acting like someone I’m so unfamiliar with, to the point where it scares me. All I can think about is you, you, you, because you occupy every single space of my mind.” Your eyes soften, the room seemingly pulsing with his emotions, making you feel hot everywhere on your body.

He felt the same way.

Eddie felt the same way.

“B—but fuck I’m scared, honey, I’m so goddamn scared,” He admits, the vulnerability in his voice cutting through the tension before he’s at your side, calloused hands grabbing you by the shoulder, so softly that you melt into him.

“Because what if—what if all of this comes crashing down one day?” His voice trembles, gaze avoiding yours, he was scared, so goddamn scared of losing you. Forever. He doesn’t want that, he couldn’t afford that.

“Just two months away from you fucking sucked. I didn’t—I don’t wanna feel these things, but you make it so hard not to.” His forehead rests against yours, making you suck in a deep breath, it’s all so fucking sentimental, and all you wanna do this kiss him, tell him you feel the exact same way. Tell him about your fears.

“And now I can’t fucking stop, fuck,” He confesses, admission punctuated by a frustrated sigh.

“I wrote you a song,” he gently caresses your cheek, and you’re so scared to look up at him, to meet his tender gaze, because you know you can’t hold yourself back.

“I came over to this party in a frenzy when I found out you’d be here,” he continued, his fingers tracing a delicate pattern along your jawline. “I—I just I haven’t even been able to touch another girl.” Your eyes snap open, you’re sure they’re almost heart-shaped now, with the adoration you look at him.

“And, do you actually fucking think I'd write songs for just anyone—” His question lingers in the air before you shut him up with a kiss, rough, sweet, and making Eddie feel dizzy all over, his head struggles to comprehend it all, breathless but he manages to react just in time.

The booming music becoming a mere background noise when he had you, mind swirling with all the possibilities and mouth begging to never stop tasting you. He wants to let you completely engulf him, feel you everywhere.

Everything he wanted and more.

He fucking hates himself for doing this, but he pulls away, mesmerized, eyes so wide that you can’t believe this is Eddie, he’s all flustered, salmon pink. And it makes a wider grin sit on your lips. “So… you—uh, what does this mean?”

You smile at him, lips widely stretching into a grin, as you shrug. “It means I feel the same, Eddie.” you admit, tone a tender reassurance. “That’s why I tried to shut you out… to try to move on, because I was scared—fuck, but I feel the same way.”

“So, does that mean we're dating now?”

“We can take things slow, figure everything out?” you mutter with a shy gaze, lips itching to twitch into a smile, again. “But I—uh—I like you, I really, really like you.”

“Gone soft on me already, sweetheart?” he mumbles with a stupid grin, making you elbow him softly, with an exaggerated playful huff.

He’s quick to flinch, rubbing his arm as if you even delivered a powerful blow. “Ow—what the hell is wrong with you?”

“You think I’m going soft? You’re the one who wrote his feelings as an exaggerated love song!”

He leans further slightly, his grin widening when you gave him those adorable eyes, finding you both equally amusing and endearing. “Oh… just you wait.”

You arched a brow, curiosity piqued, “What the hell does that mean?”

“The album is coming out soon, sweetheart. If you think this was an exaggeration, you should hear the whole fucking thing.”

That glint re-appears in your eyes just as quickly, gaze softening as you melt into his embrace.

“You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.” You tease, scrunching your nose at him, so adorably that he leans down and presses a gentle kiss onto your hair.

He's an idiot, a total complete fucking idiot, but he's all yours.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson

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l0v3tast3 · 1 year ago

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ur fics/hcs r sooooooo good!!! i binge read them all in like one day theyre sctually addictive im not kidding 😭😭

anywho, i saw the pervy older bf!price and i was wondering how he would be like with a shy reader…. like would he tease her or would he be gentle with her? idk!!!!!!!!! give us more content pls queen

nmhgmfmh i need pervy!price so bad just foaming at the mouth for him. thank u anon for this request n thank u for the uber sweet words ily !!! \(★ω★)/

mdni! f!reader, age gap, exhibitionism

pervy older boyfriend!john who's so gentle with you (at first). you're his sweet girl, an innocent angel sent to bless him with serenity- how could he poke fun at that? he eases you into everything, slow and methodical. he tells you everything he's going to do before he does it. he makes sure that you always feel good (not because he doubts his own abilities- he knows anxiety can block out the good things). but all that doesn't mean he doesn't like making you squirm.

when he first starts to ease you into it, john likes to pick you up and put you on his lap with your back to his chest and map out your body with his hands. no matter how many times he's repeated it, he'll do it again and again- john loves your body, every inch of it, every dip and curve and corner. he also loves how you're too shy to tell him how far gone your patience is by the time he gets close to dragging your skirt up your thighs. after awhile he starts to make you tell him what you want, demanding more filthy words from you before he goes any further as time goes on.

and that's how the rest of it goes- as john corrupts you, takes over your mind with himself and how good he always fucks you, he wants more. he wants more of your squirming, more of your bashfulness when you choke out the words he wants to hear from your pretty lips. orgasm after orgasm is your reward when you give him what he wants. john always sings his praises (half praise, half teasing) to you from between your thighs when you do; "keep still, sweetheart, not done with your pretty pussy yet," and "bein' such a good girl f'me, aren't you, love? you are my good girl, right? say it for me, c'mon."

as much as he gets off on your innocence and the erasure of it, he also loves when he's able to take it all up a notch. when he can finally get your leg over his shoulder in the backseat of his car. when he can feel you up at the bars and restaurants he takes you to. when he can sneak into dressing rooms with you and make you watch yourself try to stay quiet while his cock is buried to the hilt in you. and the best part is, he'll make you shy all over again when he teases you about it.

"you're the one lettin' me fuck you here, love- dunno why you're actin' so scared to get caught," he'll mutter in your ear. one hand's holding up your increasingly-limp body and the other snakes around to rub your clit. "y'want them to see me fuckin' you, is that it? such a dirty little girl. should i just open the door, give'em a show?" when your eyes widen and you shake your head "no", he chuckles and plants a rough kiss on your cheek. "y'can't lie t'me when i'm inside you, sweetheart."

(ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ likes, comments n reblogs are always appreciated!!

#— lilly writes! ♡#— ask!#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #john price #captain john price #john price x reader #john price x you #reader insert #female reader

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blvckentropy · 6 months ago

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WARNING LONG RANT!

Okay so I've been sitting on Drake so called "diss track" and I still declare it as the biggest CONTRADICTING ASS track ever. Like I get die hard Drake fans gone be like he won regardless but he hasn't because he made several deep holes in his argument. Granted you probably don't give a damn and that's fine. Overall, neither do I but some of you got so blinded and hyped by his one-liners and his flow that you ain't peep what he really said did you? Ngl, had me sitting here like a was crazy for a minute. Now correct me if I'm wrong cause I also had to fact check myself, but these are the lines that got me like now wait wait....

You said, "The ones that you're gettin' your stories from, they all clowns" just to say "We plotted for a week and then we fed you the information".... which one is it? Are you calling yourself a clown or the ppl you sent the info. to? I'm perplexed.

"What about the bones we dug up in that excavation? And why isn't Whitney denyin' all of the allegations? Why is she following Dave Free and not Mr. Morale? You haven't seen the kids in six months, the distance is wild Dave leaving heart emojis underneath pics of the child"

First and for most, what is your obsession with this woman? Also are we in high school? Why we worried about someone follow count and/or who following who? She a grown ass woman like she can't have male friends. Plus, if irl she with Kendrick every day, why does she need to? And if Kendrick aint worried about, why are you? You caught up in finding out if that's her real bd but where are your evidence? If Kendrick has to, you do too. Childish.

BUT THIS IS WHERE IT GOT DISRESPECTFUL!

"This Epstein angle was the shit I expected TikTok videos you collected and dissected Instead of being on some diss-direct shit You rather fucking grab your pen and misdirect shit My mom came over today and I was like, "Mother, I—, mother, I—, mother—" Ah, wait a second, that's that one record where you say you got molested"

"This about to get so depressin' This is trauma from your own confessions This when your father leave you home alone with no protection, so neglected That's why these pedophile raps and shit you so obsessed with, it's so excessive"

"Touch My Body" by Mariah Carey play, you probably start reflectin"

This whole verse was a misinterpretation of Kendrick's song "Mother I Sober" which I had to educate myself with. Long story short, the song is about his mom SA and how she thought he was by his cousin even when he told her "no" and it forms a bigger picture to his overall family trauma as a whole and so on. So not only did you Mr. " You gotta learn to fact check things and be less impatient" if that ain't the biggest pot calling the kettle black idk what is. You got it wrong (Kendrick pretty much explained it) then double down on borderline prob over the line atp disrespecting his mother and all and every victim of SA? We victim shaming now?

I never been with no one underage, but now I understand why this the angle that you really mess with Just for clarity, I feel disgusted, I'm too respected If I was fucking young girls, I promise I'd have been arrested I'm way too famous for this shit you just suggested

*Slow claps* Congratulations you played yourself. What in the fuckery? CURRENTLY....DIDDY DOODLE BOB HAS ALLEGATIONS RIGHT NOW AND HE'S MORE FAMOUS THAN U. And don't get me started on the list....umm...you literally just named one (If you still bumping R. Kelly, you could thank the Savior)

"Only fuckin' with Whitneys, not Millie Bobby Browns, I'd never look twice at no teenager" but you'll look once? Also, someone que up the video with him on stage w/ a 17-year-old. He and I quote "Why you look like that?" "You thick. look at all this" Then kiss her all over her face🤔 Sir a kiss on the cheek or forehead would suffice but I digress.

And correct me if I'm wrong, I believe the only reason Kendrick hasn't even the touch the "beating allegations" is because he covers all that in both Mr. Morale and Mother I sober? If I'm correct, then you basically didn't tell us nothing that hasn't been said on him. Plus you also not fact checking. Where's of your proof? I would think someone with the upper hand would have laid down evidence that you mastermind...oh wait...was Kendrick right along? Now you look like the goofy on defense. Like do Kendrick even have to say anything?

Bruh, but the funniest part on it all. You acting like YOU DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS. YOU DROP A DISS first wanting him to response and now you trying to make it seem like you didn't? My guy, if your actions alone here isn't a manipulation master class. Chileeeeee

#drake #kendrick lamar #long rant #my opinion #just chatting #tw warning #the heart part 6

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lesbianlenas · 1 month ago

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you said something about lycoris recoil and it got me intrigued. do you have yuri recs that aren’t mainly about teenagers? i’m looking for some but i have no idea where to find them. i’ve watched shows like chaser game w, she loves to cook and she loves to eat, and ayaka is in love with hiroko, but i’ve had no luck with animation so far :(

ok i wrote a whole response to this but then i went to google smth and it disappeared so thank u tumblr mobile omg 😭 i will try to remember what i said ok

so first of all idk if u meant by this that u have watched lycoris recoil but if u haven’t i think u should watch it anyway bc it is sooooo good u will have the best time EVER i promise u that…..i know they are teenagers but i also dont like watching things abt teenagers & it didn’t bother me in the animation format w this show specifically u can just ignore it & pretend they’re like 20 idk i promise it’s so good 😭😭😭 it is totally worth it if u haven’t watched it it changed my life

ok second of all unfortunately i don’t really have much for u….if u r not aware i spent my entire summer after my first yr of law school watching horror & lesbian animes so i was legit scouring for them i KNOWWW the term is yuri i just like saying lesbian anyway i dont think i really came across anything that was abt adults but i think that’s kind of an issue w anime overall bc i also noticed that when i was looking for horror animes that they were like all abt teenagers i think i only watched one that was abt adults but that was not lesbian. but idk i am not an anime enjoyer so i dont really know abt that but point being i searched far & wide for all the lesbian animes there are AND my friend who is an anime enjoyer also sent me a list of lesbian animes she found (and she was specifically looking for ones that were recommended by lesbians when she was looking). so the thing is that i did not watch all of them bc i can only watch dubs bc of my focus issues so i dont have every single one i found on hand to check but i will say i do know of one where they are not minors but may still be teenagers? idk if that is an issue for u. but in otherside picnic they r college students (not freshman) tho it isn’t explicitly romantic but it is intended to be lesbian on purpose. i watched the first ep but i had to rewatch lycoris recoil & then i started law school again so i didn’t continue it but i did enjoy the first ep it combined my interest of lesbian and horror so. i did check my watchlist & nothing else on there was not teenagers but i am going to find the list my friend gave me in my texts & see if anything there w/o a dub was not teenagers. ok i should have done that first & just given u a more condensed response but um i cant do that for reasons. one sec. (saving as a draft this time so as to not lose my extremely long response)

ok um. idk if u want explicit romance or not bc 😭 my friend told me abt an anime called nana which she said has lesbian subtext & they r 20 in that. english dub is on hulu idk why i didn’t add it to my watchlist but yeah.

again on the same explicit romance note but she also told me abt one called canaan where the characters r 20 & there is heavy lesbian subtext.

so yeah…..that’s it 😭 not a lot of lesbian animes period but even less abt full adults unfortunately……but u can always watch lycoris recoil if u haven’t & pretend & have the best time ever ever ever!!!!!

#sorry for the crazy long answer but i have adhd & spent half an hr typing this & researching for u 😭#there might be some out there i don’t know of or forgot bc i didn’t put them on my watchlist anywhere but 😩 this is all i can do for u 😔#but also rereading my friend’s text i saw she said she would also watch nana if i watched it……interesting i should have watched it then 😭#i made her watch lycoris recoil & she loved it btw!!!!! JUST SAYING!!!!!!!!!#best bet for u is prob to do what i did & google lesbian anime/yuri and then just google all the ones ppl list to see what fits what u want #but given that i did that & this was all i had for u there prob won’t be a lot of others im missing that would meet ur criteria 😩#anonymous #ask //

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blushydrangea · 7 months ago

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I completely understand that they could just be really close friends that are playing it up for the cameras, for a reaction, and obviously that would be 100% fine and honestly kinda hilarious... but from the sounds of it, a good handful of the cast are not convinced that they are 100% platonic, lmao. SURELY they have acted certain ways around one another to cause everyone to think they're together, and judging off of R0scoes? Yeah, I imagine they're like that x10 in private!!

Like... again, they deffo could just be friends... but why do they have what seems like a fair deal of the cast side eyeing them and bringing it up sometimes completely unprovoked?! I don't think we've ever seen something quite like this in the history of dr@g r@ce even with the more popular ship duos

(I found that insta live u were on about with M!rage saying thats why Nymph has tissues in her nose after Q said "Sister dick makes you sick," and the reactions from Q and Xu absolutely sent me!! Xu was in SHOCK 😭 looked like she couldn't believe that M!rage took it there 😭 That paired with Nymph's complete silence and the face she made... that bitch deffo heard m!rage, I refuse to believe otherwise)

Sorry for the essay — I'm ill in bed with nothing better to do (hope you are feeling better btw!)

i'm still feeling like shit but thanks for the concern, anon! 😭 and i hope you're feeling better too. is it sick season?

there are more things to be replied to in my inbox but i'm a sucker for essays, what can i say! and yes, i completely understand the points you've made. i would also like to add the fact that planymphia met during the filming of season 16, which according to my research was around late may / early june of 2023. this means they haven't even known each other for a full year, so we are likely watching their relationship as it changes and blossoms. i'm sure they spent time together before with the asia trip & the cast hanging out, but they are seeing and will see each other a lot more often as (semi?)finalists. this means things could go whichever way the universe and the girlies want.

YES, RIGHT 👀 that live was so suspicious! there was also an older live of only q & xunami where they mentioned plane and nymphia were spending a lot of time together, so idk, it's always been there. i have an anon who asked for a timeline of the other queens / judges mentioning planymphia so i will work on that for us to archive 😌.

#asks #anon #re: planymphia #is it lore? i guess it's not right

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therosevest · 10 months ago

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hm feel free to tell me ur thoughts if youd like friends but basically my friends did text abt doing dinner and i was like 'im sorry i cant tn feel free to go w/o me or lmk if you wanna do another day' and ofc i caught stupid messages back just like 'booooooooooo' 'i cant till next week at least' 'what time r u busy til eye roll' and ill be honest here i fucking lied not that i should have to even give some big explanation but i was like 'well i have class till 5 (theoretically i would) and then have a meeting that doesnt have an end time' basically pretended the one from yesterday. and then i even sent a followup like 'if you guys end up just hanging out at someones place or you grab drinks or anything ill try to stop by later on' and the one sends a message back like 'do you think if we planned on a day next week you could commit to that?' fucking condescending as hell and to that i literally said 'Hm well idk' and then they were just like 'No days next week?' 'just wondering i mean bc maybe the three of us can just go and then we can plan on something lower commitment some other time.' fuck you first of all. and then a 'i get it if it's too last minute!' from my one friend um so thanks to her i guess and i sent smth kinda snarky back like 'well it's not like we had an actual commitment for any day but by all means go and ill certainly try to carve time out in my schedule some other time yeah!' and ive had the notifs muted bc i just dont want to deal with it rn. why am i not allowed to not be available why am i automatically some flaky low commitment bitch who has to be constantly berated in the chat while yall also ignore pretty much everything i say. im not doing that. and this just confirms my suspicions that they already see me in a certain way why should i have to bother when i HAVE still tried to see them and at least offer alternatives when i cant make it to things. also the semester just started like

#unfortunately i got a couple notifs when i opened my laptop didnt read all of them but if they backtracked like.#what am i supposed to do. apologize. you guys are being dickheads #like. no one answered when i said i Might key word Might be available tmrw (today) and other than that it was kind of them #going back and forth abt a couple days during the week and then Theoretically thinking abt today #there was no plan. and to be honest yeah i just dont feel great so technically i am flaking i fucking guess #but honestly way to make someone who is borderline suicidal feel like an even more shitty person lmfao #not to be dramatic i would not. do that. and its not on them. but i can tell you i had to try real hard to get a grip last night #abby talks #so basically idk where to go from here i think im just gonna nap rn and then well we'll reassess

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fuckhouse2theelectricboogaloo · 2 months ago

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i joined the rpc when i was 12, and ive been online since i was 9. obviously i lied about my age and i was… basically 13 for four years LOL. no one ever caught me tho because even when i was 10 people thought i was 17 (not good. not a good thing at all. 10 year old me thought i was so cool for it tho.)

i personally wouldnt really ever consider lying about being older than i am now tbh. idk. i wouldn't do it </3 if someone doesnt want me in their space, i dont want to be there. its as simple as that. that's why i have so many 18+ blogs blocked on my rp acc. it just makes it easier (and also some people with minors dni in their rules really love following me. good to know that some people in the rpc cant mcfucking read. atp i just decided 2 put IM 15!!! in big fucking font on my rules page)

however....................................... i do think it is unfortunate that the rpc on tumblr seemingly started out with mostly like. teenagers. and then just kinda. grew up. obvi people grow up and stuff and i don't fault any adults not wanting to interact with minors, that is NOT what im saying. i actually think its a very good thing, especially because. clearly. a lot of adults don't remember what it was like to be a teenager on the internet (or being a teenager in general) or don't know what's appropriate to say and whats not appropriate to say to teenagers and shit (people have sent me some Crazy Stuff in the past let me tell u).

but its sad. still. all the people my age are either too scared to rp on here or they're too busy roleplaying with their shitty ai chatbots. i think i have maybe one mutual on my rp blog who's around my age. its so obnoxious when i see people go "MINORS SHOULDNT BE IN THE RPC AT ALL!!! MINORS!!!! I HATE MINORS!!!" like......... weren't you literally on here at like 14.... don't give me that dawg. shut up and mind ur business... goddamn... take ur meds, gramps.... also they arent even here anyways... so why r u bitching and moaning

so i get people who fake their age. i really do get it. and it sucks that people treat people who do it as less than literal scum. my regards 2 anyone whos gotten fr death threats over dumb shit like that (like. impossiblecrusadekitten. banger username LOL) its not a good thing to do, but i don't think it warrants a witch hunt. like fr ur doing too much at that point.

dear tumblr roleplayers, stop making teenagers fr suicidal... thank you....

*sick ass outro music*

Posting as is

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mulberrysilk · 3 years ago

Note

Hello, Nette! I sent that Getou thirst last time 😅 and I love it so fking much so uhmm I hope you don't mind me sending another one? Idk but I'm really into corruption kink rn? I don't know how you feel about breeding or pregnancy tho. I hope this is okay?

Cousin!Toji corrupting Naobito's only daughter and kidnapping her? How dare her, a woman, inherit the Ten Shadows Technique when he's born without a cursed energy? If he can't be clan head perhaps their son can if he inherits that precious technique from his mom. 🥲 Thank you!

pureblood

Toji Fushiguro x f!reader ( ft. Naoya Zenin)

cw: sorta plot heavy, smut, incest, corruption, dubcon, noncon, Naoya-nii, Cousin Toji, manipulation, cunnilingus, loss of virginity, Naoya being a misogynist, implied breeding kink

a/n: Okay the ages of the characters isn’t like the canon ages? Toji is in his early 30s while Naoya is 27, , and Gojo is 28 . And omgg I got carried away. I’m sorry bout that aHaha I took this as a chance to make it very very dramatic like Game of Thrones lmao hope u like it anon 👀 first time writing for Toji!!! And Naoya 😳 REEEEE ( I don’t mind at all that you sent another thirst! Hehe don’t be shy haha)

!! D A R K C O N T E N T A H E A D !!

!! M I N O R S D O N O T I N T E R A C T !!

How? It wasn’t fair.

His hands were clenched in fists, nails digging into his palms as he stared. The sight before him made his chest tighten and his stomach churn. Beneath the fading cherry blossom trees in the open courtyard of the estate, the fragile person who was blessed and robbed him of the Ten Shadows Technique that instantly made you rise above other Zenin family members, was given what he couldn’t have.

How was it, a pretty, innocent thing like you, who can’t even hurt a fly and hold a sword be blessed with the Clans honoured technique? He wanted to laugh at how you viewed your cursed shadows like mere domestic pets when they could’ve been of much more great use to him. It made his blood boil. You had the one thing that kept him from being clan leader. Cursed energy.

“Little sister!” The youngest of Naobito’s sons hollered, hugging you from behind tightly as you stood by the sparring ground where your other two older brothers busied themselves. “You have to learn how to fight too.” He spoke, voice above the clashing of swords.

“Naoya!” You squeaked, surprised at your brother’s presence.

Brat. Toji muttered to himself, glaring at the young man. Another heir treasured by Naobito.

“Dear sister needs to learn how to protect herself when I’m not around,” he chuckled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, his closeness with you making Toji raise a brow. “I don’t know why father treats you like glass, keeping you so sheltered. Not that it really matters,” Naoya nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your perfume while you didn’t think much of his brotherly affection. “Your dear older brother will always protect you.”

“How will I ever learn if you spoil me like that,” you giggled, a warm smile on your face, oblivious to the undertone of your protective siblings words.

“Why are you dressed in your best kimono?” He asked, still resting on you with his arms around your fragile body watching his brothers spar.

“We are receiving some important guests,” you answered, glancing down at your belt to make sure it was still in its proper placement. “The Gojo clan is coming to visit at Father’s request. Why? I don’t know.”

Toji leaned against the wooden column of the hallway, the servants stealing glances at the ruggedly handsome man as they passed, noticing the way he looked out into the courtyard with a solemn expression on his face, unaware of the wicked thoughts running through his brain.

Naobito asked the Gojo clan here for one thing and the idea made him scoff. It was exactly something he’d expect the old man to pull. His daughter, blessed with the clans technique, to be the bargaining chip and glue to the union of the Zenin and Gojo clan. The two clans have always butted heads for hundreds of years, and if the Gojo clan accepts, it would be some historical event for the books.

Toji smirked when he saw the dark look on Naoya’s face when it dawned on him what the Gojo clan’s visitation meant. He wasn’t blind to the way your brother fawned over you and was highly over protective. He knew how much bloodline meant to Naoya…and if he intended to keep it pure, maybe his obsession with his pretty sister was also a dangerous immoral crush.

Cant blame him, Toji shrugged, drinking in the way the fine robes hung on your frame, hiding the curves of your body. Like Naoya, he was only ever after the fact you inherited the Ten Shadows technique, your pretty face and tempting body was just a plus.

The rose coloured tranquility that radiated from the scene disappeared the moment a servant informed them to gather in the main hall and announced the arrival of their guests. You and your brothers were quick to respond to the call. You walked ahead of them, rushing a little as punctuality meant a lot to your father and yet you paused when you noticed his presence.

“Toji…” you said his name sweetly, like a sigh of relief. “Why do you linger in the shadows?” You smiled softly at him.

“A habit, I’m afraid,” he responded, standing to full height, taking note of how easily he towered over you.

“Well this is our home, you shouldn’t worry about anything dangerous here,”

Oh, if only you knew that you were surrounded by wolves.

“Mhm,” Toji only hummed, following you three steps behind as he too made his way to the main hall to catch a glimpse of the man that would be your betrothed.

Your brothers were practically murdering the young white haired man sat across from you with their eyes. The man with the six eyes, not adorning the blindfold he usually wore, had arrived uninterested with his elder but the moment his eyes landed on your form, sat beside your father, hands folded neatly on your lap, he was intrigued.

While an elder from their clan spoke with Naobito, Gojo Satoru would smirk your way, winking at you to make your pure little heart flutter in your chest and heat rise in your cheeks. This did not go unnoticed by your older brother who scowled as he looked at him. Toji remained silent, spectating from the shadows, a position all too familiar to him.

“Is there anything you’d like to ask Satoru, young one?” The elderly man beside Gojo spoke, silver hair cascading down his back.

“Are you really as strong as everyone says?” You asked, lifting your gaze to meet his enchanting cerulean orbs that glowed like starlight.

Gojo laughed heartily at your question, head thrown back and a wide boyish smile adorned his handsome face. You felt your cheeks warm at his laughter finding it made your heart flutter but fear crept up your spine as his laughter might be taken wrong by your father and brothers, taking you for a fool.

But…Gojo, when he composed himself, grinned. It was full of undoubted confidence that struck you with awe but enraged your relatives. What he said next was the cherry on top of their annoyance.

“I’m the strongest.”

Naobito only smirked and took a swig of his drink, not that he liked the guy, the confidence was arrogance at its finest but having you linked with him would be of great use to him and the opposing clan. To make way to the strongest Jujutsu Heirs that would undoubtedly inherit either yours or Satoru’s gifts. And it it was both? Well, isn’t that every sorcerer’s dream?

Either way, if the Gojo clan rejects, they could easily give you to marry the heir of the Kamo clan.

“She’s of age, yes?” The elder asked your father and he simply nodded. “Young and beautiful…how perfect. The clan accepts.”

“Woah, let me take her out on a date first!” Gojo joked, for your entertainment. Your smile that fought back to laugh audibly only stroked his ego, amused at how pristine you were.

“Y/N, why don’t you show Satoru the gardens,” Naobito cued, clearly wanting the two of you to get along and to have the discussion of what name the heirs will take, Zen’in or Gojo. The old man gave a knowing look to where Toji stood, arms crossed inside his yukata sleeves. He nodded at his uncle and patiently waited a couple of minutes before slipping away to keep an eye on you and that frivolous man.

And unfortunately, you were easily swayed by the silver haired sorcerer, his good looks, sense of humour and his confidence, wooing you into a false sense of security. Poor thing, Toji sighed watching as you excused yourself at the end of the night to retreat to your room, a sweet smile on your face as you reminisced of the moments you had spent with Gojo Satoru. The heated discussion between Naobito and his sons were muffled background noise, his eyes were entirely focused on you and he offered to walk you back to your room, which you accepted with no hesitation.

The stroll was comfortable, all though mostly silent, but that was because you trusted your dear cousin. Unlike the rest of the clan, you were kind hearted, something your father found to be a defect but it was admired of you by the rest of household. You were a lamb born into a family of wolves. You should’ve been more careful, more tact, smart instead of being a doe eyed, naive little girl.

Which was something that worked in his favour.

“Did the Gojo clan mean it when they accepted? Father didn’t tell me if they did…I had no idea he was matching me with suitors from other clans,” you broke the silence, the sounds of grasshoppers in the garden in the open corridors provided a tranquil aura.

“Satoru isn’t a man whose easily tied down,” he grunted bluntly, knowing it’d pierce and maybe break your perception of the man. But he knew even a man like Satoru would be intrigued by you and what you brought to the table. “Only a fool will turn down a chance of marriage with a woman like you.”

“Toji-san,” you murmured, soft warm eyes gazing up at him with innocence and trust. “I think I’ll be more useful as a wife than a Jujutsu Sorcerer…like Naoya said, I’m not that good at combat.”

“Your purpose is to bear a powerful heir and if you marry someone like Gojo or the heir to the Kamo clan, the chances of the child bearing the respective families technique is higher. It’s a prospect that neither clans can lie about that intrigues them.”

His words were straightforward as always, not sugar coating any thoughts to you. Your brows had furrowed and and an almost disheartened expression was on your face.

“I’m not cattle that one sells to be bred, cousin,” you murmured. “Naoya-nii said that being an obedient wife and a mother to children is the greatest role a woman could ever receive…it doesn’t sound as crude as you put it.”

Toji smirked, holding back a scoff. “But the actions of making children is crude, little one.”

Heat warmed your cheeks and you kept your gaze forward. Your chest felt tight with uncertainty but you pushed it down, thinking it was nothing and when you stood at your door, a part of you felt hurried to excuse yourself from your cousin.

“Goodnight, Toji,” you curtly nodded, standing on your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek, something you’ve always done with your brothers, unaware of how it churned and twisted Toji’s jealousy of how blessed you were.

You kept your smile on your face as you stepped back, fingers in the indents of the sliding doors latch and opening it a little for you to quickly disappear into. You didn’t know why your heart was racing in your chest as he remained stood there, not having left yet, waiting for you to get in.

“Toji, what are you doing here?” The sound of your older brother’s voice was god sent in that very moment and you took it as a chance to slip inside, shutting the door behind you, finally able to exhale and take deep breath.

“Walked your sister back to her room,” he simply replied, smirk ever present on his face. “Just had a little talk with her.”

Naoya didn’t question it and just shrugged before following you into your room, Toji taking note of how the latch locked. What was so important your older brother had to lock the door? He lingered, knowing about the little crack in your wall that he found provided a view into the your room, a world that seemed so peaceful and in that darkness he could make out your brothers frame standing before you as you sat on the foot of the bed, gazing up at him and listening to what he was saying.

Toji was going to leave out of boredom weren’t it not for how Naoya caged you in his hold, your back firmly pressed against his body as he whispered in your ear, a heated argument between the two of you no doubt.

“Nii-chan,” you calmly whispered, struggling against his hold, finding the way his hot breath was against your neck inappropriate. “Let go of me.”

“They can’t take you away from me. I won’t let them,” he growled, holding you tighter. “You love your nii-chan more than anything in the world right?”

“Of course I love you,” you reassured him, his embrace loosening a little, his face still nuzzled into your neck.

“You’re my precious little sister blessed with the technique of our ancestors. You and I,” he laced his fingers with yours. “We belong together. It’s up to us to keep our bloodline pure. With us, it’ll be stronger than before.”

“But you’re my brother,” your brows furrowed, confused as he gently turned the both of you towards the mirror, your reflections proving to him how you were made for him.

“And you’ll do anything for me cause that’s how much you love me,” he concluded, smiling at you softly in the mirror, his hands on your shoulders pushing down the sleeves of your kimono to expose your slender shoulders and collarbones. He inhaled a deep breath, your sweet scent making him throb in his hakama.

“Nii-chan,” your lips trembled, his warm fingers skimming along your collarbone and then along your jaw. “Don’t do that…f-feels weird.” You squeaked when his hands groped your breasts through the fine fabric.

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” he cooed, licking a stripe along your neck before he kissed and sucked on the sensitive skin. “I would never ever hurt you.”

“Naoya-nii, l-let go,” your voice shook, the way his rough hands squeezed the flesh of your breasts and his index finger and his thumb pinching your nipples through the fabric making your lower belly taut with heat, a grin formed on his face when he felt them pebble with his touch.

“Let nii-chan have his fun, Y/N,” he pouted, rubbing his hardened cock against your rear, eliciting a gasp from you. “Okay?”

You couldn’t say no. He was your older brother and…he loved you. Naoya wasn’t liked by anyone both in and out of the family but you looked up to him, his strength and how far he went to protect you goes unnoticed or ignored. Something only you could see.

You slowly nodded, remembering the first time he taught you how to kiss, telling you that it was okay since it was him, your nii-chan, and that only he and you could love each other like this.Knowing that he harboured hatred so easily to anyone who opposes him and his beliefs, you felt happy to be a person he loved.

He lead you back to your bed, lying you on your back as he undos the belt round your waist that held your kimono together, his eyes drinking in every inch of your skin that he revealed when he peeled the fabric off of your body. Your thighs squeezed close, embarrassed to be this bare before his eyes, an odd throb growing in your intimate area. He opened your kimono like he was unwrapping a gift, opting to keep it loosely hanging off your body, the dishevelled state you were in like a intricate work of art.

Naoya scoffed when your arms crossed your chest, shielding your breasts from him.There was no need for that now but still, he kept his resolve and remained as gentle as he always have been for his darling sister. Even as he began to touch you in places that were forbidden for him, the way you looked at him, with such admiration and trust stroked his pride.

He wasn’t going to go all the way tonight, not yet. He had all the time in the world til you’re wedding. He had planned to put his brat inside of you at the right time so that no one would expect that it was him. For now, he settled with his head between your thighs, suckling and fucking his tongue into your sweet virgin cunt, living for the way you trembled and muffled your moans.

Toji hummed, his assumptions about Naoya proven right. His cock was straining against his hakama, the sight of your legs hanging off your brother’s shoulders and the way your body arched whenever he found your sweet spot, made the idea of splitting you with his thick cock even more appealing. Naoya had the same objective as he did, and he’ll be damned if the spoiled brat got to you first.

On a warm spring day, Toji invited you to accompany him to an errand, and wanting a change of scenery from the clan estate you easily accepted and followed, unaware of where exactly Toji was taking you and falling asleep on the car ride there.

It was almost too perfect. Too easy.

The errand became an overnight stay in an apartment. He told you it’d take awhile and you didn’t think much of it, liking the new change the loft provided but then one night turned to two, then three and that night when he returned, you had asked him.

“When are we going back home?” You were sitting on the bed, comforter across your legs and wearing a robe that he gave you since your clothes were in the laundry, unprepared for the prolonged stay.

“Home?” Toji raised a brow, locking the door behind him, the click of the bolt closing colliding with the latch making your heart race in your chest for the first time during this trip. “We’re not going home yet.”

“Oh? It’s just…I’m never really away from the house this long,” you glanced down at your fingers. “And I haven’t been out in awhile…not that the apartment isn’t nice.”

“Well it’s too late to go out now,” Toji chuckled, removing his shirt as he made his way to the bed that you two shared. Your face flustered at his sudden show of skin, his upper body rippled with defined muscles.

“Can we go out tomorrow then? For lunch at least?” You shyly asked, averting your gaze from his macular torso, the image of his muscles flexing as he moved reminding you of how attractive your cousin was.

“Sure.” He shrugged, climbing on to the bed to his spot beside you, his large frame taking up most of the space so he was close, close enough to radiate warmth to you, skin almost touching yours. “Come on, where’s my goodnight kiss.” He fashioned a lazy charming grin, your eyelids blinking as he rolled over on top of you. His forearms rested on either side of your head and his thighs caged your hips.

“Toji…”you murmured, turning your head away, a familiar heat gathering in your lower belly as an image of how Naoya had pinned you once too many times like this, flashed before your eyes. “W-what are you doing?” Your voice was so small and you wished you had sounded more assertive as the smirk on his face only grew, wicked and unpredictable.

“Asking my pretty cousin for a good night kiss, you always do it so sweetly,” he husked, the timbre of his voice making you shiver and shift beneath him with unease.

You always did that…but in this moment, you felt if you didn’t do it, something bad would happen, it tugged at your heart strings in a weird way and you even thought about what would happen if Naoya found out. As his sister, even with how sheltered and kept in the dark you were, you knew of just how cold blooded and cruel he could be.

Not knowing what else to do, you leaned forward to press your lips on his cheek only for him to angle his head differently so that it connected with his lips instead. You could feel the indent of his scar against your lips, hot and warm, your remained still in shock even when he began to move his lips against yours.

“S-stop,” you turned your head away, heat crawling up your cheeks and spreading in your chest. Your hands tried to push him away only for you to notice how warm his taut skin was. “You mustn’t—

“And why not?” He grinned, tongue swiping at your lower lip.

“Because…” you tried to gather your words, pushing against him even though you were far less stronger than he was. “It’s wrong.”

“Really?” He shifted one of his legs to rest between your thighs, inching them apart, your attempt to resist him adorable. “You know,” he grinned, his one hand undoing the belt of the robe, your hands quick to try and cover yourself up, clenching the cotton fabric. “Your nii-chan doesn’t have to know.”

And like a deer in headlights, you froze. He had you trapped. Your throat grew dry not able to explain or find the words to deny the undertone of his words. It was an accusation. He knew.

“Naoya-nii…” you sniffled, only now becoming aware of the tears that were flowing from your eyes. “H-he said, that…it was okay…what we were doing—We can’t.” You shook your head, Naoya’s infuriated expression flashing in your mind. “Please!” You squeaked, his fingers under the robe moving from your hip bone. “D-don’t.”

“Awe, are you going to cry?” He chuckled, feeling the heat radiating from your core. Your attempts to escape him was futile and even pathetic. The deep seated frustration within him began to arise again because of that. A weak person like you inheriting the technique made his blood boil. Such a waste on you. You don’t even use it to defend yourself.

His fingers found their place on your mound and wasted no time dipping them between your folds, and pressing the pad of his index finger on your clit. “N-no, not there!” You cried, legs attempting to shut close but they were useless and your body was betraying you. Toji’s eyes lost the warmth they held when he was with you, it was dull and looked at you in a way that made you want to run and hide.

“You say you don’t want it but sweetheart , you’re getting wet,” he cooed, dipping his fingers in your entrance to spread the slick that had formed all over your cunt. “Don’t you miss your dear nii-chan?”

Your eyes screwed shut and your lips pressed hard against each other to muffle the whines and whimpers that threatened to leave you as you felt his warm fingers toy with your cunt. “S-stop.”

“You’re still saying that huh?” He sighed but his smirk remained, two fingers prodding at your entrance. Your eyes shot open to look at him, pleading him not to continue. “I’ll touch you in the same way he’s touched you so quit your whining.” And then, his hot breath was against your ear as he whispered, “I’ll touch you in a way you’ll forget about your nii-chan.”

“Toji, please—mhmf!”

Two thick digits slipped into your tight hole, the stretch and sensation of being filled making your walls clench around him.

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He nipped at your ear, working his fingers in and out of your cunt that began to drool with slick. “Mhm, you’re so tight. It’s been awhile since I fucked a virgin.”

“T-Toji, don’t move your fingers—Ah! Like that!” You squealed, back arching off the bed when he brushed against that spongy spot inside of you that made your whole body flutter. “D-don’t,” you panted.

But your protests that were weak willed in tone were only met with the curl of his fingers moving faster, fucking in and out of your hole till wet squelching noises resounded off the bedroom walls.

“Don’t be so shy, Princess,” he chuckled deeply, lowering himself till he was a breath away from your pulsating pussy, entranced by the way your cunt wrapped around his thick fingers. “Since you’re going to be a wife someday, you might as well learn the basics right?”

You whimpered in response but cried out when you felt his hot tongue flick against your clit switching between sucking and licking the sensitive nub, your hips bucking into his face as the familiar sensation of an orgasm quickly crept up on you.

“Toji—Ah—if you,” you tried to say, walls clenching tighter round his fingers. “I’m g-gonna cum.”

“Is that so? I don’t mind princess,” he grinned, fucking his fingers into you faster, scissoring and curling to bring you closer to the edge. “Make a mess all over my face. Let me taste you.” His mouth latched onto your clit again, his digits unrelenting. What tipped you over the edge was the slight nip of your clit between his teeth before his tongue soothed the notion, flicking against the aching nub fast.

A wanton moan slipped past your lips as you came, juices spilling forth and dripping down your pussy, and Toji lapped your release with a hum of delight. He pulled away to get a good look at your writhing form now glistening with sweat and your heavy lidded eyes paired with your parted lips swollen from biting them to muffle your moans, the heavy panting and the way you were sprawled before him, was a treasured sight.

Before you could come to, he had stripped from his pants and was quick to fist his throbbing hard cock in his hand before pressing the fat head against your entrance. Such a tiny little cunt, he mused. He was going to ruin you for sure. He was going to carve the shape of his cock in your virgin cunt and ruin you for any other man.

The floating sensation from orgasm was ripped from you when you felt something prod at your entrance, a slight sting to what wasn’t even inside you yet heightening your senses to the max. Your eyes shot to Toji knelt between your thighs, broad muscular frame casting a shadow over you, unable to deny how attractive he was. Your breath hitched when your eyes caught the sight of his member, fat pink tip leaking with precum and prominent veins along the fat length. He was going to tear you apart.

Panic flooded your veins and you pressed against his stomach in attempt to stop him, his hands on the back of your thighs and pressing them to your chest in a position you found embarrassing and completely exposed your glistening cunt.

“Toji, no. Please. Too big. It won’t fit,” you sniffled, trying to wriggle away from him. “I can’t—we’re not married. Naoya nii said I can’t do this with just anyone!” Your voice raised in pitch as he didn’t listen, only rubbing his length between your folds to lubricate, sparks of lust forming in your lower belly.

“But I’m not just anyone aren’t I?” He pouted his lips in mock pity, securing your legs in their folded position giving you and him a perfect view of your cunt slowly being split by his cock. “I’m someone close to you. Looked after you, cared for you, protected you.”

“Then why are you doing this?” You asked, too soft hearted to harbour any hate to someone you’ve known almost all your life. His hand cupped your cheek, fooling you so easily that he was actually doing this for the sake of you. But he felt he didn’t have to keep his farce. Not when he began inching his cock inside your tight heat, watching the way your eyes widened at the sudden intrusion, wincing.

“I couldn’t be clan head because I didn’t have cursed energy,” he grunted, losing himself in the way your cunt gripped him. “And as if to mock me, the universe gave it to you along with the clan’s inherited technique. A meek, weak little girl who could barely lift a sword.”

Your nails dug into his forearms, so hard it might’ve drawn blood as his hot, fat member was stretching your walls past it’s limits. Tears formed in your eyes as the sensation of being filled confused you, your body reacted to it like you wanted it but his harsh words made you recoil in fear and unable to relax.

“Then, a sudden thought came to me when I saw you opening these pretty legs of yours to your nii-chan. Wanna know what it was?” He smirked, pausing his movements, cock sitting halfway inside of you.

You couldn’t respond. Your body ached with need and the feeling of him inside you started to feel too good. Like you could never ever get enough of it.

He always loved the sensitive ones.

Toji leaned forward to press his torso against your body, further pushing your thighs to your chest, the stretch of your hamstrings making you whimper. With a hand he gripped your chin, forcing you to look into his emerald eyes that glowed wickedly. Your arms wrapped around his neck, finding some sort of comfort with how close he was, close to forgetting that this was wrong. But all logic was impossible to think of when your cunny was being stuffed with his cock, hot and heavy inside of you.

“If I can’t be the head of the clan, maybe the little brat I put inside of you will.”

Those words and the way it rolled of his lips were the last things that you could make out before he buried himself inside of you completely, putting you in the trance of sinful carnal lust. A plane where all you could feel was him and nothing but him.

3K notes · View notes

embrassemoi · 3 years ago

Text

when ur sober ☽ R.L

MARAUDERS MODERN TEXTING AU:

Remus felt his heart pound in his chest and he wondered briefly if he was going to faint. Those words he’d been desperate to hear finally happened. But she was drunk. The ringing in his ears intensified and in a panic, he hung up the phone; shakily texting back: call me when ur sober.

NAVIGATION ☽ MASTERLIST ☽ AO3

PAIRINGS: Remus Lupin x F!Reader ft. Jily, Dorlene

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

CONTENT: Fluff, swearing, sexual jokes, blink and you’ll miss the angst, love confessions, brief mention of food, cringe lol

NOTES: I'm a firm believer that Remus would've loved 'the real slim shady.’ Also, lowkey badly written but I’m too lazy to go back and rewrite

USERNAME GUIDE:

Remus — my moony Sirius — padfoot Peter — peeps James — evan’s bitch Lily — petals Marlene — marling Dorcas — meadowes in meadows Y/N — me (for her POVs (for Remus it’s: sunshine)) Me — refers to the owner of the cell who’s texting

EDIT: there's something wrong with the formatting but Tumblr keeps glitching out so I can't fix it. I apologize

[Besties]

7:45 PM

petals: are we still going out tonight?

padfoot: ofc. don’t back out now

petals: i’m not

my moony: can’t. i got an upcoming exam

my moony: gotta study

padfoot: BUT REMUSSSSSSS!

evan’s bitch: gonna be late. need to finish something up at work but i’m driving everyone home. pretty sure pete can’t either

peeps: made plans with my s/o. another time?

padfoot: what happened to the MARAUDERS???

(padfoot removed peeps from Besties)

petals: ...

petals: damn. didn’t give him a chance

my moony: ruthless.

my moony: wait

my moony: sirius. don’t you fucking dare

(padfoot removed my moony from Besties)

(padfoot changed the group name from Besties to bad bitches ONLY)

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[my moony]

7:50 PM

my moony: he’s insufferable

my moony: can you add me back

me: lol

me: no

my moony: 0:

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[bad bitches ONLY]

7:51 PM

me: GET THEM SNUFFLES

marlings: LMFAOOO NO

marlings: IM FUCKING CRYINGG

evan’s bitch: WAIT

evan’s bitch: LET ME MAKE MY CASE

evan’s bitch: i’m the driver! u can’t kick me unless u want to walk home

me: valid point

meadowes in meadows: i agree

petals: still remove him

evan’s bitch: >:(

padfoot: kinda wanna add remus back

padfoot: he’s going to beat the shit out of me

petals: dramatic much

me: tough luck buddy

evan’s bitch: rip. getaway driver?

meadowes in meadows: wait where r we going??

marling: pub?

padfoot: pub

me: we should go to the one in diagon alley

padfoot: !!!

padfoot: good idea! It’s close

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[padfoot]

8:04 PM

padfoot: babes

padfoot: darling

padfoot: send me a pic of ur outfit for tonight

padfoot: wanna match

me: [sent image]

padfoot: OMFG UR GOING TO LOOK HOT

padfoot: AS FUCK

me: hot as fuck together*

padfoot: is ur bf coming?

me: he’s not my bf

padfoot: moony is literally in love with u. idk why ur not jumping each others' bones yet

me: u don’t know that

me: he’s just friendly

padfoot: …

me: shut the fuck up

me: ANYWAYYYY

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[bad bitches ONLY]

8:09 PM

petals: does 9 sound good?

marling: peffffecttttt

me: yup yup

evan’s bitch: i’m off work around 9 30. I’ll meet you guys there

meadowes in meadows: thanks mama james

meadowes in meadows: everyone say thank you to james

me: thxs bambi

petals: eh. thanks

evan’s bitch: whatever you want my beautiful flower

marling: thankkkk youuu

padfoot: 2/4 marauders bonding time!

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[petals]

8:13 PM

petals: did you want to spend the night at my place?

petals: james is offering and it’s been so long

me: sure. of course!!!

me: are my clothes still there?

petals: washed and folded

me: k. def then

Locking her home screen, she tossed her phone to the side, getting up to walk over to Remus in their shared apartment. She made her way soundlessly as he tirelessly worked away at his study notes.

“Hey.” She rubbed a supportive hand up and down his back. “Do you need anything?”

He sighed, finally putting down his pencil to look up at her.

Green eyes had never been so alluring.

“Fuckin’ tired,” he says, pulling off his glasses. “A hug would be nice though..?”

She smiles, gladly wrapping her arms around Remus, his head dropping into the crook of her neck. Her fingers dance with the honey auburn curls on the nape of his neck while his hands wrap around her waist; little ghosts of touch and brushes of fingers. Even his slightest touch flooded her veins with extremities, as she’d just been touched with livewire.

His presence cast a protective bubble over her, safe from the distress that life often brings. With him, she felt a strength and stability she didn’t know she was lacking. And being with him, she felt so loved, despite all her acknowledged imperfections. The happiness of being understood and cared for despite the voluminous flaws was comforting.

Loving Remus is calm. Joyful. Peaceful and sturdy.

Her heart clenched, wondering if he felt the same.

She was the one that pulled away. “I wish you could come tonight.”

“Mmhm. Me too.”

“If you want, I can stay to help out.”

But Remus was unrelenting as he shook his head. “Have fun, you deserve it.”

“And not my little Moony?” She jokes.

“Little Moony?” His lip quirks up, a small blush settling on his face. And every time he laughs, it is even more dazzling than the last. A victory is written in every bone at the sound.

And she saves it to auditory memory.

“If you don’t need anything else, I’m gonna get ready.”

He simply nodded his head, sinking into his chair to return to studying.

“I’m staying at Lily’s tonight!” She calls out, only to have Remus shout back in acknowledgment.

In record time, she managed to get in the shower, dry, slip on a beautiful dress and put on her makeup. She shoved her phone into her bag, heels in one hand while heading to the living room, surprised to find Remus not studying, but in the kitchen.

He was dancing a little, shuffling around as the soft playing of music encircled them.

“What are you making?” She questions. Remus’ head snaps up. And the way he looks at her, gaze scorching her skin, maybe she thinks, maybe he does feel something too.

He forcibly coughs, gaze lingering on her a beat before forcing himself to stare at the ground. “Sauce — y’know James’ spaghetti recipe. Ugh — you look okay.”

“Okay?” She mused, stalking up beside him, staring at the fresh oregano he put into the tomato sauce. “Just okay?”

He squirms a little in his spot. “You’re humble, aren’t you?”

She laughs and Remus relaxes.

“Be my taste tester?” Gesturing to the food in front.

Brow raised, she agrees as he brings the wooden spoon to her lips. Her eyes never leaving his.

“Mmhm.” The sauce is sublime, so much so that she has to close her eyes to take in the richness of flavour. When she opens them again, Remus is staring down at her lips, eyes flashing a brilliant gold in the midst of his green hues. “That’s good.”

He pulls the spoon away,

And then a moment later, his brows raise. “Oh, you got a bit on your mouth just —”

The pad of his thumb brushes softly against her lower lip, wiping away the excess tomato sauce before he rips back his hand. Surprise written on his face and no doubt, hers too.

There was always that air of flirtatiousness, both always pushing boundaries.

“Okay!” She exclaims, nearly jumping back while he pulls away, coughing. “I better head out.”

“Y-yeah. Right!” Remus adds too quickly, forcing his head down to start cutting up vegetables speedily. “Um — text me when you get there and when you leave.”

“Sure! Bye!”

She stumbles out, feeling her skin ablaze as she shoves on her shoes, practically sprinting out the door.

What the fuck was that?

The cool air did nothing to chill the burning of her skin as October wore on. The crunching of freshly fallen leaves were crushed under each step. Only the buzzing of her phone seemed to snap her out of her distant state.

[marling]

9:21 PM

marling: she’s so beautiful

marling: i’m gonna cryyyy

marling: holy christ almighty i’m so lucky

marling: dorcas looks so pretty

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

[padfoot]

9:32 PM

padfoot: this is it. I’m done

padfoot: i was flirting with this really hot guy and i accidentally spilt my drink on him

Padfoot: where r u???????

She slid open the notification.

me: running late

me: are you already drunk?

padfoot: ...mildy…

padfoot: i just got really nervous okay he’s hot

me: lmfao whore

padfoot: … ok u got me there

padfoot: at least i don’t want to suck my best friends dick

me: fuck all the way off you right dickhead

me: shit. nvm i’m a hypocrite

padfoot: ?????????? spill

me: omg i fucking hate myself

padfoot: TELL ME

me: remus just fUCKING TOUCHED MY LIPS

padfoot: WAHT?????

padfoot: WHATTTTTTT???!?!?!?!?!?!

padfoot: HE KISSED YOU??????

padfoot: bestie what the UFFCk

But then her phone lights up, receiving an incoming call from Sirius.

“What the fuck happened?!” Sirius practically roars from the other end of the receiver.

“I was trying his pasta sauce and —”

“Hah, are you sure it was pasta sauce?”

“Shut up! Anyway, some must have been left on my mouth and he wiped it off with his fingers!”

There was a high, muffled screaming from the other end of the phone and she chuckled, her heels clicking down on the pavement as she speedily walked to Diagon Alley.

“Oh my god! It’s happening! It's been years and it’s finally happening!”

But then there was a familiar ache that returned. “He probably didn’t realize what he was doing.”

There was a long pause on Sirius’ end, the only thing she could make out was the loud music and harsh whispering.

“You dumb bitch and I mean that with love”

That wasn’t Sirius.

“Excuse me?!”

Marlene sighs, and it’s evident she’s already drunk by the slight slur of her words. “How oblivious do you two mother fuckers have to be? I swear you guys could take a shower together, naked — you two could literally fuck and still say, but we’re just friends.’ Bullshit. Open your eyes!”

“Okay Marls. I’m going to hang up now —”

“Stop! You need to listen to me!

“— I’ll see you there.”

With the swipe of her thumb, the call ended and she felt like she could finally breathe.

It was all too confusing.

When she entered the pub, Sirius let out a low whistle, snapping his fingers a few times to gain her attention. She sent a quick text to Remus before shutting her phone off.

“There’s my fucking bestie!” He yells as she stalks up to the group.

James raises his hands. “What am I then?”

Sirius wraps an arm around her. “Moony doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

“How much did he drink?” She asks, a bit worried as she has to pull Sirius off from getting on the table.

“Not sure,” James sighs into his seat, keeping a close eye on Lily, Marlene and Dorcas.

Before she could respond, Sirius pulled her away to the dance floor and the familiar buzz settled its way into her heart. Her main goal: get fucking plastered and forget about… him.

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

The only sound that filled the room was the flip of pages every few seconds.

Remus combed a hand through his hair. He’d been going over his review notes for hours now. All the dates, numbers and facts weren’t sticking as he leaned back against his chair, kicking his feet up on the desk as he listened to the crickets and cars zipping by.

He couldn't stop thinking about her.

Reaching over, he turned off the small night light shining on his table. With a small sigh, he kicked off his feet, opening the table drawer, pulling out a lighter and a package of cigarettes. Making it to the balcony and shutting the glass door behind him.

Remus leaned over the railing of their balcony, stretching his shoulders while a cigarette was pinched between his indeed and pointer finger. With a flick of his lighter, he brought it to his lips. The smell of a pungent herb smell floated around as he pulled back, billows of smoke travelling through the light breeze.

He was a fucking idiot. Through and through.

Remus groaned out in embarrassment, hand wanding to pockets and pulled out his phone. The light illuminated his face in the dim glowing city lights.

He typed in his password, tapping on the messaging icon; sliding straight to her number. But he hesitated.

[sunshine]

12:57 PM

me: hello!

No, that looks too exciting. Deleting.

me: what's up?

No, that was stupid. He already knew ‘what was up.’ Deleting.

me: hey

That was good. Sent.

me: wanted to check in. u ok?

Sent.

Not even a few seconds later, the phone buzzed, an incoming call coming from his sunshine.

Correction, not his.

He picked up, placing the phone to his ear. The music must have been so loud because Remus could hear the blaring nightclub music, having to pull the phone away from his ear.

May I have your attention, please? Will the real Slim Shady please stand up?

“Remusss,” she slurred into the phone and he couldn’t help but feel his face heat and heart-clenching.

She was too cute.

“They’re playing your song!”

He gave a deep chuckle, unable to stop smiling as his weight shifted, already feeling the stress leave his body.

She was still his friend above all else. That triumphed over any kind of awkwardness.

“I can hear. Are you okay?”

“Mmhm!” Her voice was high and giggly and Remus was entranced by it. “I wish you were here to dance with me.”

And he wished he was too.

“Go have fun,” he said reluctantly. “Text me when you get to Lily’s place.”

“No! No, no, no! Don’t hang up!” She chirped bubbly. “I’ll just dance while calling you. Same thing, right?”

“Love, it’s okay. I don’t want to ruin your —“

“Don’t go! Please?”

Remus didn’t have the heart to say no, he never did when it came to her so he simply said, “Of course.”

He could hear her little happy squeal.

“Okay it’s coming up — I’m Slim Shady, yes, I’m the real Shady! All you other Slim Shadys are just imitating —“

Remus felt his eyes brimming with tears of mirth, a smile breaking into a wide grin at her drunken rapping and breaths coming out short and rushed. He subbed the cigarette, that euphoric feeling he got with her never could compare to nicotine.

She was a drug. Magical ecstasy.

“Well, I do, so fuck him and fuck you too! You think I give a damn about a Grammy?”

He didn’t even have to see her to know she was glowing. But really, Remus couldn’t think of a time where she was anything but beautiful.

Everything in his body yearned for her, reaching out for her constantly. His body ached, skin burned at her touch.

He wanted to hold her hands. Wanted her to play with his hair. Wanted to kiss her, hold her, call her his.

Love came to Remus slowly, but once he realized it, it hit him all at once.

Love for Remus is good and bad. Love is kissing each other softly in the mornings, love is asking if they need anything from the store. Love is also fighting but apologizing with sweet nothing and kisses. Crying but having a shoulder to cry on. Love is fighting for the other person, no matter how hard it gets. It's those stupid fucking butterflies that erupted in the base of your stomach that travel up and made you want to explode into pure light.

Love is checking your phone to see if they texted you, and then doing the stupid happy dance when you see a notification from them.

Sharing an umbrella with them in the rain — but them getting the most coverage and your arm drenched in water.

Love was small and big. And to him, she is the very definition of what makes love, love.

“Aw! It’s over!” She whined. “I’m getting another drink.”

“Hold on!” He quipped. “Why don’t you take a second? Breathe some fresh air in?”

She babbled about him being a party crasher, but he could hear the smirk in her voice.

Several voices flittered in and out before she shouted out to James and Sirius that she would be outside. Then it became significantly quieter, only the clicking of her heels and the soft buzzing from cars and her voice could be heard.

“After your exams, we have to celebrate.”

He shifted again. "Sure thing."

“Get you a couple of party hats.”

“Remember the last time we did that?” Remus continued to speak for a while, retelling the sudden memory until realizing that she had been peculiarly silent throughout his story.

“Am I that boring?” He teased, although it’s layered in worry and tension. There was another long pause. “Sorry, I should shut up —”

But swiftly interrupted with a soft whispered but still firm phrase enough that he barely registered it.

“I love you, Remus.”

Even then, the logical part of Remus‘ brain hadn’t quite caught up to speed yet and her confession was muddled with confusion and pure shook for minutes. It was quiet, long and he could hear her soft breathing.

He felt his heart pound in his chest and he wondered briefly if he was going to faint. Those words he’d been desperate to hear finally happened. His heart exploded, body buzzing with a warmth he’d never known before and —

And she was very obviously drunk.

The ringing in his ears intensified and in a panic, he hung up the phone; shakily texting back.

[sunshine]

1:12 AM

me: call me when ur sober

me: and then you can tell me how you really feel

He opened the door as a trembling blossom in his heart sent a sharp, warm stab of yearning through him.

The phone rang and he could see her user ID. But he didn’t pick up. If anything that made Remus panic more.

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

When he gets a call from James around two in the morning, Remus was still wide awake, mulling over her words.

“James?”

“Open your door. Your girlfriend wouldn’t stop talking about wanting to spend the night with you instead.”

“She’s not my —”

“Shut it. Come out and help me.”

Remus hops out of bed, slipping on his shoes and grabbing the keys before dashing out the door.

James is laughing at whatever she said before she turns to him, lighting up brightly.

“Moony!”

He jogs, taking an arm and wrapping it around her waist to pull her flush against his chest. She grabs onto him like a koala bear as he prickles like a cat.

“You’re very attractive,” she whispers into his ear, lips brushing against his skin that Remus almost jerks up in shock. “Good for you.”

James doesn’t help as he begins to laugh, clutching his stomach.

“H-how much did she drink?” His usual deep voice jumps octaves high. A thrilling sensation shoots through him.

James shook his head, wiping the tears from his face. “A fucking lot. I’ve never seen her throw that many back. Make sure she drinks a lot of water.”

James leaves, getting into his car along with a loud Marlene and Sirius, chanting almost ritualistically to a Taylor Swift song while Lily looked like she was on the verge of tears, gripping James’ arm while shoving a phone in front of his face; a picture of a dozen cats reflected off his glasses.

“Alright,” Remus says, mostly to himself. “Let's get you inside.”

He immediately swung open the door, ushering her to lay down on the couch.

A thin ray of moonlight silvered between them as he bent down, kneeling at the couch. He rubbed a hand over her arm, observing. Her makeup was smudged, hair a mess, clothes rumpled, but even then as he held her, fingers grazing the smooth skin of her arm, he was floored by how pretty she was.

“Alright, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “We got to get you cleaned up okay?”

“No,” is all that she manages to get out.

Remus sighs, walking into the bathroom and flicks on the lights, searches through the mirror door for makeup wipes before returning to her side.

He gently wipes it away, dragging the wipe softly against her kin while he watches the fatigue settle deep into her bones.

Remus ran around the apartment, grabbing a couple of blankets and pillows as she but she admittedly refuses to sleep in her bed.

Luckily, she does accept the multiple glasses of water and ultimately, she agrees to brush her teeth.

“Time for you to go to sleep, okay?”

But as he turned to leave, exhaustion written in every scar of his face, he felt a tug on the hem of his shirt.

“Please stay with me.”

Her voice was soft, wavering and he was conflicted.

“Please?”

He couldn’t say no.

He shuffled beside her, and she laid her head on his chest, legs wrapped around him.

“Goodnight, my Moony.” And she pressed a soft kiss to the scar on his nose, falling asleep within seconds.

Remus felt a terrible jolt of his heart. The steady rise and cal of her chest were calming, and he closed his eyes, basking in their warmth while a whisper of a smile was engraved in his face.

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, bidding goodnight as he slipped into a comforting sleep.

Was this what heaven felt like?

━━━━━━༻☽༺━━━━━━

The next morning, when Remus woke up, the first thing he noticed was the body pressed against him. Soft morning rays cascading over them gently and he knew almost instantly that she was awake.

And she knows the moment he wakes too.

“Remus?”

He wonders if she remembered last night.

“Yes?” He breathes out shakily.

Is this where their friendship ends?

“I’m sober now.” she shifts her head to peer up at him through batted eyelashes.

She definitely remembers.

She looks more angelic than usual. A ball of warmth and pure glow.

“Ask me again,” she shifted her body to look at him. “Ask me that question from last night.”

A deep inhale. A moment passes.

“Tell me how you really feel.”

“I love you.”

Then another moment passes as he takes a moment to process her words for the second time. Then, he laughs; radiant with relief. Whispers of electricity through his skin.

His hand curled to the shape of her face, thumb brushing her cheek, all the distress and rejection leaving his body instantly.

She’s waiting for a verbal answer.

And he gives it.

“I’m yours. Always have been.”

She beamed and Remus felt his heart expand and thump wildly. She purchased a hand on his chest, bunching the fabric in her hand.

Voices breathy and their faces are barely centimetres away.

And finally, their lips meet.

Her lips were soft and warm, impossibly pillowy against his own. The soft tickling of their breaths was soothing and her lips were slightly parted, allowing his tongue to slip inside. She fit perfectly against him, and he could feel the rapid thuds of their combined heartbeats.

A tingling feeling spread across his body, heart igniting in glowing sparks. Her touch was intoxicating, the scent of her perfume was dizzying, she was so warm and it consumed him.

They only pulled back for a gasp of air, and his eyes fluttered open.

She was already looking at him, eyes alight.

And it washed over him, now realizing that he saw his entire future there, wrapped in his arms with a smile so sweet, so radiant.

Whatever it was, fate or destiny or just by sheer luck, Remus was thankful that his path led to her.

985 notes · View notes

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

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hurting-fictional-people · 3 years ago

Note

hi!! idk if u take requests, but if u do, i was thinking maybe something where a villain and a hero are in love and in a romantic relationship (which is already stablished),, and then the hero has to fight someone they wont be able to defeat, like a supervillain or something, who is merciless and will probably kill hero if they go tru with it. anyway,, the villain knows abt hero's plan to take down supervillain bc they told them bc they r lovers n share everything <3 and villain tries to convince them not to, but hero doesn't listen and still wants to go tru with it, so villain knocks them out, kidnaps them and keeps hero in their house so that they wont b able to go try and defeat villain and die. bc they love them <33 but their morals r grey at best

Hii! Anon, this is exactly the kind of scenario I love, so thank you for the request! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

If it wasn’t for the dread pooling in the pit of Villain’s stomach, they’d think that Hero looks beautiful. They always do when that fierce light shines in their eyes.

“Darling, what do I have to do to dissuade you from this insanity?” Villain is almost surprised by how steady their voice sounds. It holds nothing of the wild things stirring inside of them, making their heart race and their hands shake.

“You can’t,” Hero says, tilting their head to the side and offering them a soft smile. “I know you are worried and I love you for it, but I have to go. Supervillain needs to be stopped, Villain, and I can’t waste this opportunity. It’s the first time I have the location of their current hideout, and who knows when I’ll get a chance as good as this one to put an end to all the chaos they’ve been spreading. This city needs me, love.”

“Hero, Supervillain has years of experience on you. They know what they’re doing, and for all we know, they could be the one who sent you the anonymous tip about the hideout location. If you go there, you’ll die.”

Hero frowns, crossing their arms over their chest as they look away. “Is that truly what you think of my abilities?” they ask quietly. When Hero raises their eyes again, their expression is one of pure determination. “I know what I’m doing. I won’t die. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Villain swallows down the need to scream in frustration and takes a step in their direction. And then another one, until they stand right in front of Hero. Villain leans their forehead against their lover’s, and Hero takes a deep breath at the closeness before wrapping their arms around Villain’s shoulders.

“Trust me on this, my love. I’ll be back before you can even miss me.”

“I trust you,” Villain says, holding Hero’s waist with one hand and letting their eyes flutter closed. Villain rubs their back in soft circles, and Hero doesn’t notice Villain’s other hand sneaking into their pocket. “But please trust me on this, Hero. This isn’t a fight you can win.”

“Villain, I already said everything I had to say. I’m doing this whether you want me to or not. I’m sorry, but this isn’t an argument you can win.”

“I could say the same,” Villain whispers.

They open their eyes and find Hero’s confused gaze locked on theirs. There is gentleness there too, staring at Villain’s soul like only Hero ever has. When the needle pricks their neck, it turns into shock.

“You… What did you just…?”

Hero pushes them away, parted lips and wide eyes as they stumble backward, holding their neck. Villain doesn’t stop them. All they do is let the syringe fall from their hand and watch as Hero gasps and shakes their head in incredulity.

“No,” Hero whimpers, and that simple word sinks into Villain’s chest and shatters their heart with the horror it carries. “Villain, what did you do?”

They open their mouth, but before any words can leave their lips, Hero sways on their feet, and Villain sprints forward without thought. When their lover’s knees buckle, Villain is there to catch them.

“How could you?” they sob in Villain’s arms, clutching their shirt. “I… how could… I’ll never… V-Vil–, how c…”

Hero’s grip loosens as their voice dies down, and their hands fall limply on their lap. Their head lolls against Villain’s chest for a moment before their body sags and they are completely lax in Villain’s embrace.

“You matter far more than this city,” they whisper to Hero’s unconscious form.

When Hero wakes up, the first thing they notice is that they aren't at their house. And then the scent. Even without opening their eyes, they know the bed they are lying on isn’t theirs, but the smell is. Wherever they are, it still smells like home.

Smells like Villain’s perfume.

Hero blinks against the sleep still gluing their eyelids together, again and again until they open to reveal Villain’s bedroom.

“You are awake.”

They turn their head to the side and find Villain sitting by the bed. Hero nods, frowning when it makes their head throb, and then deeper at how parched their throat feels.

“Want some water?” Villain offers, and Hero nods again.

Gentle hands help them sit up for Villain to slide behind them, letting Hero lean against their chest and guiding a glass to their lips.

Hero closes their eyes and drinks.

“How are you feeling?” Villain asks, resting their chin on top of Hero’s head. It is pure instinct that leads Hero to sit back against them and hold Villain’s arms around their body.

That’s where they belong, Hero thinks distantly. In Villain’s arms.

When they open their mouth to answer, though, the words get caught in their throat. Hero blinks at Villain’s bedroom again, shaking their head when muddled memories flash before their eyes.

Hero pulls away from Villain’s hug, and turns around to face them.

“You drugged me.”

“I did,” Villain says calmly. “It’s why you are alive to talk to me right now.”

If it wasn’t for their aching head and pounding heart, Hero would think this is a nightmare.

“How long was I out?”

“A few hours. Time enough for Supervillain to change locations – it’s all over the news.”

Hero parts their lips, but there aren’t enough words to voice what they are feeling. The cold, heavy darkness enveloping their heart and squeezing.

“I had to do it, Hero,” Villain says, showing their palms in what might’ve looked like remorse if Hero didn’t know what to look for. The pride hidden in the way their brows curve, the slight tug at the corner of their lips. “If I didn’t, you’d be dead now. I can take your anger, but I can’t take a world without you in it.”

“My anger?” Hero snickers, swinging their legs off the bed and getting up. The floor seems to move when they do, and when a wave of dizziness crashes over them, Hero takes an unsteady step forward. They frown and close their eyes as they sway, and just before they can fall, warm, familiar hands wrap around them, holding them upright.

Hero’s eyes snap back open as they shove Villain away and stumble backward. “Don’t touch me,” Hero hisses.

They make it two steps back before their legs give out. Villain moves toward them, but Hero bares their teeth as their knees hit the floor.

“I said DON’T TOUCH ME,” they shout. “You think I’m angry? Is that what you think, Villain? You’ve drugged and kidnapped me. You completely disregarded what I wanted to do with my life. This isn’t a fight you can solve with a charming smile and pretty words. You, you, you drugged me–”

“I did it because I love you, Hero!” Villain yells, taking another step in their direction.

Hero gets up on wobbly legs and staggers to the nearest wall, leaning against it as Villain follows their movements with a lost expression that makes them want to scream.

“If that’s what you think, then you have no idea what love is,” Hero says, and they can’t hold back the sob that slips out along with the words. Nor the tears that roll down their cheeks unbidden. “Love isn’t choosing for the other person. Love isn’t ignoring what I wanted and kidnapping me. Love is respect and trust and understanding. This? This is… this is a tragedy.”

“No,” Villain breathes, crossing the room and only stopping when there's no more room between them and Hero, soft hands cupping tear-streaked cheeks and tilting Hero's head up until they look into each other's eyes. “Hero, I… you know how much I love you. Darling, I’d burn down the whole world for you. Please, tell me how to make this right.”

Hero closes their eyes, feeling that tender touch they want so desperately to lean into. To let Villain kiss the pain away.

“You aren’t even sorry, are you?” Hero whispers, eyes fluttering back open to find Villain blinking and opening their mouth.

“I am. I hurt you, of course I’m sorry.”

“Would you do it again?” Hero swallows, placing their hands on top of Villain’s fingers, holding them against their face. “If we could go back in time, would you do it again?”

They don’t need to hear the answer to know it. It’s written in Villain’s creased forehead and cautious eyes.

“Then you aren’t sorry,” Hero’s voice breaks as they grip Villain’s hands and push them away with as much force as they can manage.

“Okay,” Villain nods, holding still when Hero steps away from them and reaches for the door. “Okay. Cool off, we can talk about this later. We can fix this. As long as we have each other, we can fix anything.”

“Well, that’s the problem then,” Hero holds onto the door handle as they turn around and meet Villain’s wide eyes. “You don’t have me anymore. I can’t forgive you, Villain. Not for this.”

“Hero–”

They don’t stay long enough to hear anything else. Hero runs, and doesn’t stop until they are as far away as they can from the person they thought they’d spend their whole life with.

When they curl up and sob, Hero can’t help but wish Villain’s touch, soothing the pain and keeping them safe. But the pain is too big, this time. Too deep. Caused by the very hands they want around them.

So Hero hugs themself, and cries for the love they thought would last forever.

#whump #whump writing #heroes and villains #hero/villain #betrayal whump #noncon drugging #drug whump #needle cw #emotional whump #i guess?

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folkloreguk · 4 years ago

Text

Mirror, Mirror (m)

A/N: I will never ever determine which body type the reader has, but I want every single one of you to know that it’s okay to feel empowered by the way your nude body looks, you’re absolutely beautiful and no size is a limit to how sexy you can be!!! You go queens!

words: ~5.4 (I’m sorry idk how to write short things anymore asdfgh)

genre: smut, optional bias (male) x reader (female), kinda fwb??, sexting

[H/N means “his name”]

There’s no feeling quite like the one of trying on your new clothes that just arrived in the mail and loving how they looked. Especially when said clothes were lingerie and you felt like you could conquer the world, even when you were just standing in front of your mirror at 7 pm after you had just stuffed your stomach with lasagna. And what better way to enjoy your happiness than to share it with your best friend?

In fact, you had two best friends. One, a girl who you could trust with your life, and two, a boy who knew all your deepest secrets. One of the central differences between the two was that you would never think about asking the former about his opinion on your new lingerie. You almost laughed at the mere thought while you went through your contacts list and selected your friend’s name and clicked ‘send’. “It’s new. How do I look?” you typed and sent quickly, before throwing your phone onto you bed. You were feeling sexy, but for the rest of the evening there was only one way you wanted to feel: Comfortable. So, you changed into your pajamas instead.

You wondered what she would say about your photo. Sending almost-nudes to your friend might have seemed odd, but for the two of you, it was a completely normal occurrence. You loved making sure you both felt beautiful and confident by complimenting each other. Happily, you walked back to your room after you had picked up some snacks in the kitchen. You grabbed your phone as you plopped down on your bed. While you stuffed a handful of crisps into your mouth, you unlocked your phone to check your messages. You had expected a text from your best girl friend, but instead you had received one from H/N, your best boy friend. Pure horror consumed you when you clicked on the chat and saw your almost-nude there. Sent at 7:01 pm. Seen at 7:05 pm. And worst of all, he had replied before you could have clarified the mistake.

H/N: Idk where this came from but…you’re hot

You: SORRY THIS WASN’T MEANT FOR YOU

H/N: Okay that kinda offends me…you have a bf and didn’t tell me???

You: NO OMG THIS IS SO EMBARRASSING HELP…it was for GF/N just for fun!!!

H/N: Ohhh…in that case…

You watched the dots signaling that he was still writing while you were still wondering how you would ever look at him without getting embarrassed from now on. It wasn’t like the two of you never talked about sex. In fact, he knew a lot about what you liked and didn’t like in the bedroom. Not because he had witnessed it. But thanks to multiple sleep overs with late-night conversations, when your lips became a little loose, you had discussed more sexual topics than you had ever dreamt of. Your cheeks were still feeling hot when you received another text.

H/N: How do I look?

Without missing a beat, he had attached a photo of him. Shirtless. His hair was disheveled, as if he had just removed his shirt, which he probably had. His sweatpants hung low on his hips as he stood in front of a mirror. He had tilted his head a little, showing off his jawline while he gazed at the camera with hooded eyes. You felt more embarrassed with every second you kept staring at his body.

H/N: OMG sorry this wasn’t for you!!!!!

Now you could only laugh at his stupid message.

You: Stop making fun of me!!

H/N: I’m trying to make you feel better!! Do I not get a compliment?

You: Thanks and you look great…can we please NEVER bring this up in the future?

H/N: Sure if that’s what you want…but if you ever need someone to rate your underwear again you know where to find me

~~~

And he really kept his promise. The next time you hung out, he was joking about everything but your little accident. You were thankful. But not mentioning the memory didn’t automatically delete it from your brain. And that’s where your newest problem begun.

You had never really looked at him in a sexual way before – sure, you thought he was handsome – but after than one damned picture he had sent you, you seemed to see him in a completely different light. There were no romantic feelings involved. But something felt profusely wrong about the way you thought about sex when he reached for a glass on the highest kitchen shelf and a small part of his abs was revealed. Or the way you instinctively licked your lips when you watched him stretch his neck in front of you. Or how your head spun when he lifted his shirt to wipe away his sweat when you worked out together.

One day was particularly bad. He had asked you to go to the public pool together, and being his best friend, of course you had said yes. As expected, he made you laugh until you were crying, scream when he playfully wrestled you in the water and giggle when he chased you on the water slide. And yet, you couldn’t help but notice his body. You almost felt bad, but then again, it wasn’t like you adored his character any less. You simply had some added adoration for another part of him. What were you supposed to do when he looked this good acting out a comic character while you played charades in the water? You might have been laughing on the outside, but you could barely tear your eyes off his neck and chest. Lately, you realized, the amount of thoughts you spent on wanting to kiss him had become problematic to you.

When you returned home at night, you couldn’t deny feeling sexually frustrated. Not wanting to give in to the inappropriate thoughts about your best friend, you turned on a tv show to distract yourself. But before you knew it, you were spending more time looking at your phone than at the tv screen. At first you browsed social media, but somehow you mustn’t have payed enough attention to your unconscious mind. You had miraculously landed on his Instagram, and when that didn’t entertain you anymore, you found yourself going back to your text messages with him. When you started at the shirtless picture he had sent you, you regretted not deleting it and forgetting about it right away. You wondered if he could ever feel the same way about you. You didn’t need any romantic feelings from him, in fact, you had no interest in a relationship at the moment. But you had never wanted someone this bad before and it was driving you crazy. So, before you could have stopped yourself, you were typing a message to him.

You: what r u doing??

H/N: do you miss me already?

H/N: ok do you really wanna know?

You: shut up you usually message me first!! and yes I do

H/N: I was about to jack off but you interrupted me

You almost choked on nothing when you read his message. Pretending you didn’t care, you replied quickly.

You: oh no am I killing the mood?

H/N: I didn’t say that

You: ????

H/N: don’t take this the wrong way but if you ever thought about sending me nudes again now would be the time

You: are u crazy?? are you actually asking me for nudes rn

H/N: it was worth a try ok let’s go back to being best friends who would never hook up

If you were freaking out about his previous messages, this one made you lose your mind completely. What was he saying? As confused as you were, you were also equally as sexually frustrated as he seemed to be. So, without a second thought, you chose the latest underwear picture you had taken and sent it to H/N.

You: that’s the most you’ll get…I won’t send complete nudes

You stared at the three dots indicating that he was writing a message. It felt like five minutes had passed when he finally replied.

H/N: fuck you’re so hot

And then he sent another shirtless picture. His bulge was prominent against his pants and the sight of it didn’t exactly help you with the pent-up frustration inside of you. But maybe it didn’t need to, because apparently, he felt the same way about you. You wanted to tell him about it. But there was no way you would be sexting your best friend at 11 pm, horny and frustrated. You knew you’d regret it and you’d only end up being embarrassed the next day. With no idea what to send him instead, you opted for simply waiting to see if he would say something. But he didn’t. Whilst waiting, you looked at his picture again. His jawline, his shoulders, his abs…and his boner straining against his sweatpants. For a moment you wondered if he was thinking about you too. Was he imagining it was you who was touching him when his hand wrapped around his cock? The more you let your thoughts run free, the worse your frustration became. And before you knew it, your hand was between your legs.

~~~

The next day you went about your duties, trying hard to pretend the previous day had been nothing but a fever dream. Luckily, you weren’t going to see him for another few days, so you could already practice an explanation of why sending nudes to each other had been a crazy idea. You worried about whether you could ever be the same around him after what had happened. But no matter how hard you tried to come up with a good reason why you should never even mention it again, you couldn’t. You were best friends who found each other hot. So what? Things could be worse. By nighttime, you had changed your mind. You were in the process of getting ready for sleeping, when your phone vibrated on your nightstand. His name lit up the screen.

H/N: you up?

You: not for long…whats up

H/N: I’m sorry for what I said yesterday about us not hooking up and so on…I was tipsy and you know my loose lips when I’m drunk

You: there’s nothing you need to apologize for

H/N: I was being weird and creepy…you’re my best friend

You: and you’re mine…that doesn’t stop me from finding you attractive

H/N: so I didn’t creep you out asking you for nudes?

You: I sent them to you, didn’t I… so what do u think

H/N: btw…thanks for that

You: likewise

…

H/N: so you’d do it again?

You: you’re not drunk now are you?

H/N: no just horny

You: dude I was about to go to sleep

If this had been a random guy you were occasionally talking to, you would have declined the request right away. You were tired and didn’t exactly feel too confident in your physical state. Nonetheless, you walked over to your mirror, pulled your shirt up until your bare breasts were almost exposed, and snapped a picture. Maybe it was the fact that you knew he’d return the favor and send you something back, or the immense trust you had in him. Posing in different ways, you took a few more pictures before you jumped back onto your bed. Impulsively, you chose the pictures you liked best and sent them to your best friend.

You: the things I do for you

H/N: fuck you look so good

You: have you always thought like that about me?

H/N: have I always found you hot?

You: yeah

H/N: I mean I never not found you hot

You: thanks I guess??

H/N: maybe we should have done this way earlier

You: agreed

Your eyes widened when he sent you a picture. He was still in his underwear, but his hand was wrapped around his visibly hard member outlined by the dark fabric. You had wanted to sleep, but somehow after looking at the photo for a little too long, you were wide awake. Leaning against the headboard of the bed, you let your head imagine whatever came to your mind. Never before had you noticed how much you liked his hands. Or maybe it was a temporary thing, now that you were already thinking inappropriate thoughts. You imagined it was his fingers softly touching the inside of your thigh, squeezing your breasts and playing with your nipples. The first time you moaned his name quietly, your cheeks heated up. But the more you thought of him, and the more you allowed yourself to wish it was him between your thighs, the more natural his name sounded between your whimpers.

And the two of you didn’t stop there. You might haven’t had time to hang out with him for another week or so, but you were texting each other more than ever before. Almost every night, you sent pictures to each other. With every passing day and every time you came thinking about his body on top of yours, you became more comfortable. Your messages to each other turned dirtier with every day and every picture was a little riskier than the previous one. By the way you cried out his name every night, your neighbors must have thought you had gotten a new boyfriend. One that was exceptionally good in bed, by the sounds of it.

Now it was exactly one week and a day after you had first sent him a picture of you. You had just stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around your body as you entered your bedroom.

One could’ve thought you were going to be less horny, the more time you spent texting him about your inappropriate thoughts. It should have gotten less exciting at some point, shouldn’t it? To you, it was the complete opposite. He was all your thought about at night. So when you noticed your phone on your bed, you couldn’t stop your urge. You grabbed it, unlocked it and went straight to your messages with him.

You: please tell me you’re alone

H/N: yeah I am…do u need something?

Even though his text might have sounded innocent to anyone else, considering what you had done for each other all week long, you instantly got excited.

You: I have a present for you but since you’re not here I’ll unwrap it for you

H/N: I love presents

You had taken multiple photos. Starting from your with a towel covered body, you had slowly revealed more skin to him, until you had dropped the fabric completely. In the last picture you were covering your nipples with one hand across your chest, making sure your slightly parted lips were in the frame as well. After you had pressed ‘send’, you got comfortable on your bedsheets, not so patiently waiting for his reply. You hadn’t been able to get him off your mind while you had been showering. Now you didn’t even need to touch yourself to know how dripping wet you already were.

H/N: this is what you do to me

You were surprised when you saw his message. He had attached a video. Up to that day, it had only been photos you had sent to each other. So, when you clicked the ‘play’ button, you almost felt nervous. But the nervousness changed into something wholly different within the first two seconds of the video. His hand was down his pants, clearly stroking himself. He wasn’t speaking, but even the simple sound of his breathing behind the camera made your head spin.

H/N: do you want more?

You: I wish you were actually here

A blink of an eye after you had sent the message, instant regret hit you. Had you crossed a line? There had never been serious talk of the two of you actually hooking up, although you surely had thought about it more than you wanted to admit.

H/N: me too

You sighed in relief. So he wasn’t thinking you were going too far.

H/N: but its late and we’ve got work tomorrow

You barely had time to even think about a reply. The sole fact that he was seriously considering coming over or letting you drive to his place right now only justified the saying “People want what they can’t get”.

You: you’re right…this will have to do

…

H/N: let me know if you need more

But you already had your hand between your legs, his name on the brink of falling off your lips.

The next day, you were surprisingly focused on your work. Of course, you thought of him. He was your best friend, after all. Who would you have been if you didn’t wonder what he was up to or if you didn’t wish he was having a nice day? But that was about it. No dirty thoughts, no random sexual frustration at 2 in the afternoon. That was, until your phone vibrated in your pockets and you opened his message.

H/N: wanna hang out at my place tonight?

It was finally Friday. After over a week of not seeing him, you didn’t just want to meet him because you wanted him sexually. You missed his silly jokes and the way he made you feel careless after a stressful day. So, needless to say, you agreed.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen. Were you just going to hang out, the way friends do? Were you even going to mention your texts to each other? Your nerves were going mad when you drove to his place in the evening. It was a weird feeling to have about your best friend, you had to admit. But then again, you had every right to after the past week.

When he opened the door for you, you didn’t feel half as awkward as you thought you would. His hug felt the way it always did, and his room still was like a second home to you.

“Do you wanna order take out?” he asked.

“What’s in your fridge?” you returned the question.

“If I’d have to guess I’d say two eggs, half a bottle of soda and some yogurt,” he said. You laughed, already pulling up an app to order some food.

“Take out it is,” you grinned, falling onto your stomach on his bed. He followed your example. His shoulder was touching yours while you tried hard to focus on scrolling through the different offers of meals. But your look was drawn to his hands too close to yours and from one moment to the other, your mind was flooded with sinful pictures. You thought of him here, in this very bed, jerking off to the thought of you. Taking pictures of himself so you could do the same. Too many times you had imagined your face buried in his pillows, letting him hear the way you had been crying his name all week long, being able to make him cum with your own body and feeling his lips on your skin. Was he thinking the same things right now? Was he also struggling to focus on the simplest tasks?

“You’ve been looking at that chicken for a while now. Are you gonna order it or not?” he asked, making fun of you. How were you going to sit here, waiting and then calmly eating your dinner as if nothing was different? When you didn’t reply, he grabbed your hands along with your phone, making you look at him. You couldn’t instantly read his expression. All you knew is that in six years of friendship, he had never once looked at you this way. Inevitably, your eyes went to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Aren’t we going to mention this whole nudes-sending situation at all?” he suddenly asked, grinning cheekily. “What? You’re thinking about it too, aren’t you?”

You swallowed thickly. “Thinking about what, exactly?”

“How badly I wanted you last night,” he said. His face was close to yours. If you only bent forward slightly, you could kiss him.

“As in…now you don’t want me anymore?” you asked. He chuckled.

“Do you really think I didn’t want to push you against the closest wall and make out with you the second you stepped into my house today?” he asked.

“Then why didn’t you?” you asked, smirking and inching your lips closer to his. “Because I would have loved that.”

Instead of answering you, he finally leaned in to connect your lips. Within the first seconds you were moaning, and his tongue was on yours. You abandoned your phone on his sheets, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him. He groaned into your mouth when you pushed your hips against his, your crotch rubbing over his bulge. Judging by the way you both reacted, neither of you had plans to take this slow.

His hands wandered over your sides and to your ass, squeezing it a little. You only moaned again, your fingers getting busy with his button up shirt. Teasingly, he bit your lip while he pushed your shirt higher, goosebumps rising on the skin he touched. His breathing became heavier when you let your hands roam his chest, pushing the fabric of his open shirt to the side eagerly. When you rolled your hips over his bulge again, you felt his erection more prominently than before, making you smile to yourself. For a moment you pulled away and pulled your shirt over your head.

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long,” he confessed, watching as you discarded your bra onto the floor.

“Me too,” you agreed. He had sat up as well, and you helped him remove his shirt eagerly. “I’ve been wondering what your hands feel like.”

At your words, he pulled you back on top of him, playing with your breasts softly. You reacted, leaning over him, so he could take one of your nipples into his mouth. You whimpered at the way his tongue pressed against your sensitive skin. He gave the same attention to the other side, his breath leaving behind a cold sensation where he had kissed you.

Then, you bent to his level again, lips meeting in a needy kiss. You let his tongue lead yours for a while. Meanwhile, your hands sneaked to the waistband of his sweatpants. He hissed into your mouth as you grabbed his length through his pants, palming him through the fabric.

“Are you still into biting?” you asked, referring to a late-night talk you had had in the past. He smirked, nodding. Softly, at first, you nibbled on his neck, occasionally licking and kissing him. You got the exact reaction you had expected when you bit him, not to harshly, but probably leaving a purple mark nonetheless. He moaned and threw his head back, only exposing more of his neck to you. As time went on, you made your way down his chest and his stomach, settling between his legs. As much as you enjoyed hearing his moans and attempts to make you hurry, you were just as impatient, if not worse.

In one go, you pulled down his pants and underwear. He lifted his hips so you could fully take the clothing off his legs. Your mouth watered at the sight of him below you.

“If you had told me two weeks ago, I would be sucking your dick today, I would have called you a clown,” you chuckled.

“Look how the tables have turned,” he said, laughing with you. But his expression hardened the moment your hand wrapped around his length. You stroked him a few times, before lowering your head. Your tongue licked a stripe up the side of his shaft, until you opened your lips just enough to take his tip into your mouth. He cursed under his breath when you batted your eyelashes at him.

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that,” he said.

“Why? Don’t you like it?” you asked, your hand continuously touching him.

“I like it maybe a little too much,” he said, only making you grin. His expression read pleasure, his brows furrowed and his lips hung slightly agape.

“There’s no such thing as liking something too much,” you said. Purposely, you watched his face when you wrapped your mouth around his cock, tongue pressing flat against the tip. Steadily, you bobbed your head, your hand covering the rest of his length. His thighs were flexing under your hands and his stomach was rising and falling in an uneven rhythm. He propped himself up on his forearms, watching you intently.

“This feels so much better when you do it,” he said, followed by a groan when his cock touched the back of your throat for a moment. Your hand was covered in your saliva by now, eyes tearing up a little bit, but you blinked the tears away quickly. Every time you pulled away a little, you made sure to swirl your tongue around the tip. Right away, you had noticed the way he hissed at that specific action. Again, he cursed under his breath and you made eye contact once more. His lips looked pink from where he had been biting them and his cheeks were slightly flushed a rosy color.

“Oh my god-,“ he moaned. “I’m so fucking close.”

You bobbed your head faster now. After another few seconds you pulled away, replacing your mouth with your hand. The muscles on his stomach were tense and he had his hands balled to tight fists next to his body. You enjoyed his moans for a while longer, before you could feel him twitch in your hands. When he reached his high, he let his body fall back, his arms no longer able to hold himself up to watch you. The evidence of his pleasure spilled onto his abs and you slowly let your hand come to a rest. One of his hands was swung over his forehead as he breathed heavily. When you looked up at him again, he still seemed exhausted but was grinning from ear to ear.

“Give me a second and I’ll return the favor,” he said, sitting up. At his words you realized once more how much you wanted him. Quickly, he cleaned himself up. As you rolled over to lay on your back next to his sitting figure, you yawned briskly, getting comfy in his sheets.

“You’re bored? If you want we can also just watch a movie, or if you feel like-,“ he said with raised eyebrows.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” You sarcastically laughed, rolling your eyes at him. “I’m open for whatever. Right after you’ve made me cum on this mattress.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, turning so he hovered over you. “I think we can arrange that.”

He went straight to kissing your stomach and hips, while he unzipped your pants for you. His kisses tickled you a little, but the sensation was quickly forgotten by how close his hand was to where you wanted him most. In order to let him take off your pants, you lifted your hips a little. When he had thrown your pants aside, he couldn’t hide the cocky grin on his face at the sight of your underwear.

“This looks familiar…where have I seen these before?” he asked innocently, placing his hand on the material. You flinched a little when his fingers hovered over your center. It was a fleeting touch, but the lack of attention had made you needier than you would have thought.

“Imagine I hadn’t accidentally sent you that first picture,” you said.

“I don’t even want to imagine that,” he said, his dramatic tone making you laugh a little. Abruptly, your laugh turned into a whimper when he pressed one of his fingers against your covered clit.

“I get that you’re in no rush anymore, but I’m not gonna lie, I am,” you said, wriggling against his hand. He chuckled again but seemed to obey your request. His hand slid into the hem of your underwear, fingers instantly coated in your juices. In response, you only hummed contently when he curled his digits against your clit. Within seconds you relaxed into his touch. You put one of your arms under your head and closed your eyes for a while. Now and then, he teased your core by almost pushing his fingers inside of you, but then not doing so. As frustrating as it was, you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. With skill, he rolled your clit between his digits. His free hand pulled on your underwear slightly, but not quite enough for it to come off. You whined at his teasing, looking into his eyes with a pleading gaze. He watched your expression for a while, probably enjoying the fact that he finally had the real you underneath him, instead of having to stare at some photos on his cellphone. So he finally obliged, making you feel empty when he pulled his hand out of your soaked panties, but simultaneously thankful.

“You have no idea how many times I imagined doing this within the last week,” he said. Then, he lowered his head and took your clit into his mouth. You had only opened your mouth to reply, but the words seemed to be deleted from your brain before they had time to come out, replaced by empty curse words. He didn’t waste any time in taking it slow, but you couldn’t have minded less. When he inserted to of his digits into you, your toes curled in pleasure and relief. With the way you whimpered desperately whenever he curled them against your walls, he had found your sweet spot in almost no time.

For more than a week you had been imagining, demanding for his touch, so deeply that now you could barely think straight when you finally got what you wanted. His tongue could do so much better than your own fingers could ever satisfy you. It was the unpredictability that made this so much more enticing than when you touched yourself. Would he slow down for a while, giving your breathing time to calm down, only to suck on your swollen clit feverishly out of nowhere? Would he curl his fingers inside of you almost painfully slowly, or would he almost pull them out completely, only to slide them right back into your core, until your vision felt so blurry you had to close your eyes? The more you thought about how good he made you feel, the quicker you felt your orgasm approach. One of his hands softly stroked over your belly, a strong contrast to the way your insides seemed to tie themselves into a tight knot that took up all your attention.

“Oh my god- please don’t stop,” you only moaned. Of course he didn’t. He only hummed against your center, only adding to how incredible you felt. As much as you loved watching him between your legs, there was no force that could have kept your eyes from shutting anymore. Your back arched off the sheets and your hands tightened in pleasure when the familiar feeling washed over your mind. You whimpered and struggled hard to keep your legs from closing around his head. For a few seconds you were blinded by the bliss, until your sensitivity began to set in. You softly pushed his head with your fingers in his hair, and he slowed down and drew back.

It took you a while to come down and until your breathing had regained its normality. Your eyelids fluttered open, while he plopped down next to you. He swung one of his arms around your waist, an action he had done multiple times in the past – only now neither of you was wearing clothes.

“That was amazing,” you said. “And here I thought I’d forever regret sending you that photo.”

He chuckled. “Agreed. So, what do you say? Are we able to focus on what to order for takeout now?”

You nodded and laughed, hoping this instance wouldn’t be the last time this happened between you two.

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