#modesty bullshit

[like-sands-of-time]

It's pretty insane that saying that arwen could have been done so much better is met with such disdain. And the way I'm seen as an Arthur stan or Gwen hater by saying that. I'm literally saying the both of them deserved better..?

Gwen (and Arthur let's be completely real here) was a victim of a show that was chronically inconsistent in their characterizations of people. She suffered (as Arthur did) from a story line that I'm sorry is just really bad. And you can still love Gwen and Arthur from legend. But I can still say this interpretation falls short in showing the growth of their relationship in a way that feels real and not just .. necessary.

[ienjoywritingfilth]

the wedding night

hi: i wrote this in an afternoon on the bus and barely edited this. it only exists because seeing that photo of General Acacius made me feel hornee things®. I don't know shit about roman gladiator times, this is just a debauched excuse to be railed by the man.

trope: forced marriage

pedro character: Marcus Acacius x female reader (you)

warnings: innocence kink, age gap (not specified, but he an old peepaw just how we like him) , names like whore because i am one, forced marriage, Au as fuck because i have no idea what happens in the movie, virgin bullshit, eating out, pp in vv, dubconish, i think that's everything.

RATED 18+

"Take to the bed," the muscular man tells you in a raspy voice as you enter the bedroom, wishing you had your fur. "I leave early for battle at dawn." 

He makes no move to leave and so you glance from the waiting bed back over to the imposing figure standing by the fire. His tousled, greying curls are touched by the flickering reflection of the flames behind him. 

This is all new to you and almost surreal. You've been taken from your modest home and brought here to a lavish home in Rome. You glance over at your new husband timidly. 

"Are you to remain here all night?"

"We are wed," he replies with a wry grin. "Of course we shall spend the night together." 

You've been shipped here under your father's greedy love for coin. And now you stand here in the bed chambers of the man who became your husband only hours ago. 

General Marcus Acacius; a man double your age with the kind of quiet strength that made you anxious when you first laid eyes on him today, only moments before he slipped the ring onto your finger and you were announced as his. 

He drank only a bit of wine at the wedding, a stark contrast to the family of yours that acted like the animals in Marcus' stables with every glass poured. Of course they would celebrate; they'd made a small fortune on your marriage, having sold you off like cattle.

And you now stand across the room from him, your husband, General Acacius, Marcus. A man who served under the infamous Maximus. He cuts a fearsome figure both on and off the battlefield with his broad, muscled frame and serious countenance.  

You wear the traditional wedding night garment, a thin dress that is practically see-through. You pull your arms over your chest, hiding your nipples that poke through the thin fabric.

When you'd come to the room you'd been surprised to see Marcus there waiting for you, stoking the fire. You'd been told by the servants that your new husband would be preparing for battle all night. It had brought you some comfort.

But Marcus is here in nothing but his tunic cinched at the waist. His armour is in a pile by the door, his sword there as well. Without it he's still terrifying. 

Marcus notes the arms you hold over your chest for modesty and he feels arousal begin to drip lazily into his veins. 

"Undress," he says plainly, his dark eyes trailing over your body. 

You make no move to follow his orders. If anything you seem angry with him. His fingers twitch next to his thigh as he waits for your compliance. It doesn't come. 

The dark grey tunic he wears hangs just above his knees so when he walks over to you you're able to see his muscled legs rippling with power. You quiver as he finally stands in front of you. One thick forearm goes to rest against the wall above your head, his neck craning so he can look you in the face.  

"I said undress."

"You will not order me about as if I were your slave," you seethe, your head craning away from him. "I am your wife."  

"I am twice widowed," Marcus murmurs as his wide finger traces the curve of your delicate collarbone. "I have come to realize I have little need for a wife."

"Then why bring me here away from my family and my homeland? Why marry me at all if you have no need of me?"

"I have no need for a wife," Marcus repeats roughly, his exhalation landing over your face like a wine-soaked cloud. "But a man always has need for a ready cunt."

You rear back and your hand flies through the air so quickly he's clearly not expecting it. The slap you deliver to his bronzed cheek is so hard that he flinches back at the sensation, but his head remains facing you. 

"I am no whore," you hiss. You've never been spoken to like this. "Nor a hole for you to fill at your leisure." 

You're horrified when you see him lengthen under his tunic, thick and fearsome looking to your inexperienced eye. He smiles at you when you gaze back up at his face, a feral, ugly grin that has you backing against the stone wall as he advances, his pelvis nudging yours. 

"You will be fucked well," Marcus whispers. "So well you will happily call yourself my whore." 

You push at his broad chest, free of his usual armour and yet hard to the touch like iron. He doesn't budge, he just presses his pelvis into yours, pinning you to the wall. You feel him there between your legs, warm and waiting and large. 

His hand comes to grip your jaw, forcing your unwilling mouth to his. He kisses you fiercely, like he owns you. It disgusts you. He pries your lips open with his own and as he licks into your mouth his tongue tastes of sweet wine. 

You wince, trying to wrench from his grip. He only smiles, hands coming to meet at the collar of your nightdress.  You shriek as he begins tearing the delicate fabric down the middle and exposing your breasts to the chilled air. 

"I desire to see what is now mine," he murmurs, a hand coming to palm your breast. 

You bat his hand away, slipping sideways from him into the centre of the room near the bed. He doesn't look upset; he looks amused, as if he were playing a game. 

You hold the torn fabric of your dress at your chest, covering yourself as you back away from his advancing figure.  

"I am not your anything," you grimace. "Leave at once." 

Though your voice is strong you back away, a shuffled step for each strong stride of his until you feel the bed hit the back of your calves. 

"This is our wedding night," Marcus says silkily. "And we must consummate."

Before you can deny him he jabs his strong fingers on either side of your clavicle, causing you to fall backwards onto the bed. You gasp when he follows after you, lifting the hem of your dress. 

His head is thrust under, making you kick out your legs in fear. What is he doing under there? Fear has you convinced he may bite you. 

You go to pull away further when you feel him starting to part your thighs. You squeal anxiously, twisting. 

"Get off!"

"Calm yourself, wife," he orders gruffly from beneath your nightgown. He's stronger than you, his hands wide and it's only seconds before he's got your legs hinged over his shoulders. 

You continue to cry out, desperate for escape. You're terrified of this brute of a man. 

His mouth finds your cunt swollen and wet and when he lays his wide tongue flat and licks a stripe up the seam you suddenly go quiet. You can feel him smile against the lips of your pussy. 

"So soft," he murmurs, kissing your sex reverentially before his tongue darts out to sample you again. It's been so long since he had a cunt this soft and sweet against his tongue. 

Your hips jump and Marcus can't help but smirk. Under your nightgown all he can see and smell is your sex, open widely thanks to his hands, glistening with his saliva and your own arousal. He feasts on you, groaning as he gets swept away by the sensations your whimpers create in him. 

 You're on your back, looking up at the beautifully painted ceiling. A celestial pattern that mimics the night outside your window. Your chest heaves, nipples pert and straining as his mouth works against your cunt, making you tingle everywhere.

He's on his knees beside the bed, you're thighs hinged on his broad shoulders, the cream of your skin against his ears. He doesn't care that tomorrow his knees will ache because devouring you as you thrash for him on the bed has him feeling like a young man again. 

He sucks the lips of your pussy into his mouth with relish, his hips grinding into the edge of the bed when you cry out. You hear him chuckle before he continues and the sound reminds you that you don't want him touching you like this and bringing out these feelings you've only heard whispers about. Not a man who has decided you're nothing more than a thing to fill. 

"Ssstop," you slur above him, unable to focus as your vision blurs.  

"No."

You keen breathily, your hands scrabbling to grip the bed. His broad hands cup your ass, forcing your sex harshly against his mouth. You hear vulgar slurping noises coming from underneath your nightgown and your eyes roll back. 

You've never had a man before. Your mother warned you about husbands and their selfish desires in the bedroom. But this doesn't feel like what she warned you about. This feels good. 

You feel a pressure beginning between your legs and you panic, trying to force Marcus' head from between your thighs but he just grips stronger, tilting his head from side to side as he drinks you down, his tongue wide and stuffing your cunt. 

When be begins to suck brutally at your clit, bliss overtakes you, causing your back to arch and a shuddering scream to leave your throat. 

Your hips undulate as he continues to fuck you with his tongue, stopping only when you begin to whine that it is too much. He licks you gently after that, cleaning the evidence of your orgasm with relish. 

With a creak he stands beside the bed and removes his tunic. In a daze you lay on your elbows, gazing up at his broad, muscular body knowing that if he wanted to he could snap you like a twig. His cock rests heavily between his legs, just as thick and long as you thought. Despite the pleasure he brought you there's still that glint in his dark eyes, a mockery that you can't stand.

"Get away from me."

Your cunt pulses, drooling with your previous release. You try to curl into a ball, facing away from him. 

You think he may leave you be but you feel his hand grip your waist. You thrash as he rips the rest of the nightdress off your body before forcing you onto your hands and knees. 

"It is now my turn to take, wife. Ready yourself." 

He pushes you down onto your belly, curving your ass up to the sky. Then he crawls over you, his hands pinning yours to the bed under his.  You feel him there at your entrance and you feel terrified tears stream over your cheeks. 

"No need for fearful tears," he assures you as his mouth meets your neck. "You will be crying for more of my cock soon enough."

You cry out as he pushes the head of his length between your dripping folds. He's much too big, the intrusion too great. 

"I will make this quick," he grunts. "For your benefit."

Marcus can hardly believe how good the velvet clench of your cunt feels sliding along his cock as he pushes through your virginal barrier. Not since his first wife has he come close to anything this divine.

His teeth come to grip at your shoulder, biting there, marking you as he feeds his cock into your pussy from behind. 

Your cries are muted, your pain ignored, because all Marcus can feel is bliss. Bliss as he marks you forever as his. Bliss as his thick cock stretches your walls, bliss as your pussy stings straining to take him all. 

And by the time he's buried with his hips against your ass, your shoulder is bruised with the indents of his teeth. 

"No more," you beg as he begins to move within you. "Let it be done." 

"We have only started," he muses, kissing your damp cheek. "The best is yet to come."

His frame is so broad it covers you entirely, like you're wearing him as a robe draped over your curved body. He rocks into you as his massive hands press yours into the bed.  

You feel him pull slightly out before buying himself within your womb. You cry out, head falling forward as the slick feel of his cock buries itself deeper and deeper with every subsequent thrust. With every pump he moves the both of you forward before pulling you back. 

And just when the pain is too great, you feel it morph into pleasure. The feel of him thrusting in and out going from sharp to a pleasurable throb. 

Marcus senses the change in you when your back starts to arch and your hips start to lean back to meet his. You're enjoying it now, just as he knew you would. 

"You like this."

He grins to himself when you don't answer and instead let your head hang between your shoulders. 

He continues to tease you, never letting up, waiting until your noises become breathless and needy and then he recedes, chuckling when you whimper his name. 

What feels like eternity later the two of you are slick with sweat, your limbs shaking as Marcus watches you from above. His hands are on your hips now, pulling you against him. 

He spreads your cheeks wide, groaning when he watches his thick cock filling your tight pussy to the brim. 

You're begging for him to give you the same pleasure as before, nearly sobbing with how cock-drunk you are. He feels so good buried between your thighs. 

Marcus only smirks down at you, a hand pressed on your lower back, urging your ass up higher for him. He thinks about all the things he's going to do with you before leaving for battle. 

The thought is exciting him, sending him erratically pumping as he tilts you back, hand coming to strum your clit as your spine kisses his front. He holds you on his thighs, spread wide and bouncing.  

"What are you?" He pants, his lips squished against your cheek, his fingers curling, making you see stars. 

"You're. . . You're wife," you manage to croak out, your hands gripping his forearm slung over your chest. 

He fucks harder into you, his cock hitting the spot your own fingers can never manage. It's causing more stars behind your eyes, your body limp in his grip like a doll. 

"What are you?" Marcus demands again, only now he punctuates his question with a firm slap to your cunt.  

You ache where he slapped, but a pleasurable one that sends you closer and closer to falling off the edge of bliss once more. Only this feels so much bigger, so much more intense than when his mouth was on you. 

"Say it." 

You writhe on his cock, held by one arm around your middle, the other fucking you with his thick fingers over your clit and his thicker cock splitting you with every upward thrust. 

"Please, Marcus."

Marcus is so sweaty, his muscles gleaming in the low firelight. He moans lowly, the sound making your toes curl. Then his warm breath is hot on the side of your face. 

"Say it and I will give you all that you desire." 

You're so close, that pleasure ebbing and coming back stronger with every swipe and thrust. You try to sound it out, but the shame overtakes you again.

"I am you. . . I am your. . ."

Marcus is groaning into your ear again, his thighs twitching as your arousal soaks down his length. But he doesn't stop filling you over and over, his eyes closing as he revels in the pleasure of your milking cunt. 

"Say it." 

And now he presses the heel of his palm against your sex, holding you by the throat under your chin as your head snaps back onto his shoulder. Exposed like an animal Marcus stakes his claim, latching his mouth onto your neck and sucking. 

"I am . . . I am. . ." 

His thrusting continues and now he forces you back onto your hands and knees, draping his body over yours, fingers and cock never stopping, only drilling you from a new angle. He watches your sweet ass ripple for him as he pounds into your cunt, marvelling at how puffy and shiny and perfect she is. 

"Say it," he booms and you can feel his thrusting growing staggered, his body fucking into you with all that he has.

And you can't hold the words back any longer, not when it feels like your very ecstasy hinges on them being said out loud. It tears from you, ripped from your very vocal chords as he sinks into you, your voice shrill and cracked as you scream it.

"I am your whore!" 

The answering groan of Marcus in your ear makes you cry out loudly, coating his stroking fingers with hot arousal as you cum. 

“My whore,” he hisses as you buck against him.

You shake the entire time, confused at how everything in you burst like a ripe berry on the vine and yet you remain outwardly unchanged. Surely you very soul must have left you at that pinnacle of pleasure. You've never felt anything like it. 

And yet here you remain, in his arms in his bed, human and alive. You both pant heavily, the room smelling of sex and sweat and the oils in your hair. 

Marcus tugs you against him and you roll towards his body, pliant and willing. His mouth finds yours but it's soft and delicate. Your hands run through his soft, greying curls. 

"Are you satisfied?" 

You ask it quietly, almost afraid to know his true thoughts. He's experienced in so many ways, twice your age, strong and capable. And yet the kiss he gives you is gentle. It curves as he smiles against your waiting mouth. 

"I am, wife." 

[iwaasfairy]

IWA HARSH PUSSY SLAPPPPSSS OR FINGERINGGGG

a/n. yea I made it dad iwa and also some oc bullshit fucking suE ME but it’s good i like this one yeAAAA I hope you enjoy BBYYYYY I know I liked writing it hahahHAHA

GET IT RIGHT

tw. incest, dad x daughter, single dad iwa, reader’s a brat, obv age gap, size stuff implied, pussy slapping, (hard-ish) dom iwa, brat taming, noncon voyeurism, it’s a family affair, solo masturbation, jealousy wc. 3k

iwaizumi hajime x fem!reader, iwaizumi eiji and hitoshi x fem!reader

Its not his business that you’re a total nympho. Frankly, he could care less. Hitoshi’s eyes flick from under his baseball cap to the older sibling’s smug, almost accomplished smile when he runs a hand through his head of hair, before shaking some of the excess water out. The lighter brunet chuckles. “Our little sister’s laying on a towel with her tits out in the Oikawa’s backyard.”

“Dad’s over there, ain’t he?” Hitoshi responds, already back to scrolling mindlessly through Reddit to cure some of his boredom. Head of the Iwaizumi house said to ‘go outside for a bit’ so here he is, sweating his ass off in the lawn chair. What you’re up to really is none of his concern. Really. Eiji only smiles.

“And what? You think he’s gonna tell her off? Be for real for a second, Tosh.” There’s a look on Eiji’s face. Mixed in under the amusement and the bolstering, there’s something a bit tense. Impatient, and though he’d sooner die than admit it, Hitoshi recognises the glint that sits in the slight scrunch of his nose. He’s jealous. Yeah, you’re the type of little sister who gets away with having your tits out while they’re supposed to pretend not to see it. After sloppily patting himself dry with one of the towels, the oldest sibling slaps his phone out of his hands to grunt. “Get up.”

He responds before he thinks. “Fuck you, bitch.”

But it doesn’t bother his brother, who only tosses the towel back onto the table. “Stop intellectualising it and get up. You wanna get a look too, right? Dad’s over there right now to keep an eye on our little sister, and no one else is home. What do you think’s gonna happen.”

+

The sun’s so nice on your bare skin, glowing heat onto you and making you feel so sleepy and dazed. You’re all housesitting, which means access to the ridiculously nice pool of the Oikawa’s — and a secluded garden where you’re free to do whatever the fuck you want. The low voice is the only thing interrupting the peace. Daddy. “Babe. What do you think you’re doing?”

Your hat’s covering most of your view, but if you crack open one eye you can just about make out the way your dad crosses his arms over his wide chest, wife beater clinging a bit too tight to his muscular form. You push your lips out. “Sunbathing.”

“Put something on.” He sounds a bit tight, like he’s gotta clear his throat. Good.

“Why though?” You lift the hat up with one finger to look up further, see the slightly flushed visage of your father as he eyes you down. He’s a bit sweaty, yard work, and now has all his attention aimed at you. “I can’t get warm evenly all over if I do. Besides, no one’s home, and no one’s gonna look at me. The only people who can see into the yard is us, and Hitoshi nii’s not going to crawl out of his dungeon to spy on me, I promise you.”

It stays quiet for a few seconds as he takes in your words, before he sighs. Frowns just a bit, as he lets his eyes glide down your body just once. Enough to have his jaw clench, though. “I’m working here.” Then, after a bit more thought, he forces out the rest of the words. “You’re distracting.”

“Daddy~ please~” you start though, now pushing off the hat completely and wrapping your arm around yourself in mock-modesty. You have no intention of actually covering up. And looking at the way he’s breathing and already sweaty, he doesn’t actually want you to cover up either. “Nobody’s home. It’s fine. Please?” His olive green eyes flick to the way you’re pushing up your tits with your arms now, and those swimming trunks start feeling a bit tight on him if the way he shifts is anything to go by. The intense look would’ve scared you off before, but… well, it isn’t the first time you’ve gotten away with worse.

It also probably won’t be the last. “Once the sun is gone I’ll cover up to go back into the pool out front, promise.” You smack your lips, and give him those big puppy eyes that he seems to love so much. “Ei nii’s out there and I don’t want him to get an eyeful anyway.” You roll onto your side to send him your best smile. “Only trust you like that, daddy~” You’re audacious, a brat, but only because you know that gets him going. Wouldn’t do it this way if he really didn’t like it. When you go to lay back down with closed eyes, you can already hear him move in the grass.

A slight line works its way between your brows at that, at the idea that he’d walk away from you. But then a warm palm wraps around your arm to pin it beside your head on the towel, and you can feel the heat of him getting onto his heels beside you. Your breathing hitches, but you force yourself to keep your eyes closed. “Trust me to do what, exactly?” He rasps.

His other hand comes to your shoulder to push his thumb in, nice and hard, and works a moan out of you before you can think— working his way down in circles that pull goosebumps out of you. “What’s all this show really for? To make your big brothers jealous? Hm?” He gets close enough for the whispered voice to tickle your neck, hot thigh pressed against your waist before he places the other on your other side, straddling you. “You think that you can ‘daddy’ all your problems away? That if you look at me sweetly enough I’ll give?”

“I- didn’t-” your voice hitches when his mouth drags over your pulse, slight stubble and warm lips leaving kisses all down the length if it. The heat of the sun on your naked chest only makes the almost touch more irritable and itchy, and you have to fight the urge to just curl your body up against him already. “Didn’t want my big brothers to see. Wanted -you to.” When he noses at your collarbone you try to find your voice, and worm your wrist out of his grip to reach for his hair. “Wanted daddy to play with me again. I’ve been waiting since yesterday. Please.”

You can’t help but think back to last weekend, grinding down on his thigh with his fingers down your throat. Panties coated in stickiness and your entire body trembling with exhaustion. He laves soft mouthed kisses onto your throat enough to have you shaking now, too. But Hajime’s nothing if not consistent, as he noses the side of your breast and his hands slide down to squeeze your waist. “You know that I can’t, right?” He always says that.

You can’t help but laugh, humourlessly, and tug softly at the hair trapped between your fingers. “Then why are you?” And he is. As soon as he gets near enough, you arch your back automatically, still clenching your eyes closed. If you look now, the image will haunt you every day for the rest of summer. You’ll need daddy’s hands on you until you can’t go any more. Your tit is pushed against his cheeks because of your motion, and he groans a low, rumbling sound against your body. You can feel the heat of his bulge through his shorts. “Did you get jealous that Eiji might’ve seen me? Even a little?”

A second passes, before he finally grunts. “Fuck, yeah.” His mouth comes to your tits, tongue rubbing over hardened nipples too well, too knowingly. Knowing your daddy’s had other women before could make you green with envy, but he feels so good. His mouth, and hands feel so fucking good. Good enough to cry about it, trapped under his broad, heavy form as he squeezes and sucks your tits. “You’re a headache, you know that? Do you feel what you do to me?”

“Mhm.” You nod, panting, squirming under him. His hardening cock pushes against your thigh as you roll your hips, and he leaves impatient lovebites all over your tits. “Daddy.. d-daddy. Want you.” He’s so big and hot and heavy against you any time you get this close, it’s not your fault. You’re only a headache because he made you one. The clothed grinding against his covered, hard cock leaves your pussy awfully wet and sticky. Your breaths short. “Don’t you wanna- s-show your boys who your daughter belongs to, daddy?”

Your eyes shoot open when a sharp sting jerks your body, spreading through the flesh of your tit before he laves his tongue over the ridges where his teeth dug in. He clicks his tongue while grinding your other nipple between his fingers, making your bottom lip wobble. It feels so good, he always does. It’s not your fault. “Stop tempting me to make you regret your little stunt.” Your teary eyes meet his, dark and predatory before he pushes himself up, and yanks you closer by your thighs. “Legs up on my shoulders.”

“But-“

“Legs.” He says again, lower. You do, let him help your ass up to his mouth and reposition you so he’s level with your cunt. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he blows on your clit through the fabric, and only one hand keeps wrapped like a vice around your thigh to stabalize you. “I don’t wanna hear anything except how good it feels. Understood?”

You nod, before thinking better of it and speaking up. “Yes.” Fuck, it’s hot. He’s hot. You’re about to melt into a puddle with his face between your legs. He pushes your bikini bottoms aside with rough fingertips before pushing in. And you gasp, doing everything not to whine already. As his nose pushes against your sensitive clit, his lips find yours to leave a wet kiss on the opening, and he pushes his tongue against your sloppy lips without another warning. It’s already too much.

“Agh- d-daddy. You feel g- gh-ud.”

The big, hot tongue pushing you open, makes you grind against him while blood rushes both to your cunt and your head. His other hand flicks over your enterance a few times instead, before two thick fingertips push inside you, slow at first. He makes a show out of bottoming them out, and you can feel the way he smiles when it makes your pussy squelch. His tongue flicks over your clit hard and fast, before sucking. “Fuck, you’re so- good- g-good to me. Daddy!”

“Mhm.” The blood makes your ears ring. It makes you so dizzy it’s impossible to see much past daddy’s face and how good he looks, rubbing his tongue in rough motions over your pussy. He’s licking and licking and licking against your clenching muscles so good it’s almost unbelievable. The rough friction of his chin and stubble against your pussy, the way he nibbles just right at your clit, it’s all too much. It’s too much because it’s daddy— because he knows what he’s doing.

“D-daddy!”

You mewl as you curl your body against him and the push to your clit gets even better. Too good. You’re so sweaty his hand slips on your thigh, instead pulling you back by your heel and yanking you back up, right as your toes curl. His face is making a mess between your legs, and your mouth hangs open. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He- he’s already gonna make you cum. Sweat rolls down your back as your juices run down his chin and he buries himself as deep as he can, groaning your name into your pussy. “That’s my pretty girl, there you go.”

Your thighs squeeze around him and your eyes open through your tears, desperately searching for the eye contact you need to get there. But maybe because he knows you, he pulls back and drops you back down by your legs, spreading them by his thighs. “No, no- daddy pleas-uhh~ I wanna cum.”

“You’re coming on my cock.” He snaps back, before pushing you open more and slapping your pussy with a flat palm. “That alright with you, miss princess?” He says it like it’s an insult. For a moment, it does feel like it. Your mouth snaps shut against the cry you wanna let out, as his hand lands again before you can react. You jerk against the sting, clench your legs closed around his hand, but he pushes them back open to do it again. And again, and again, until slick is dripping down to your ass and your clit is tingling and swollen. You could burst out into a sobbing fit any second. “Can I do what I gotta do to get you there now?”

“Yes,” you sniffle back instantly, and open your eyes at him. Thick tears sit on your vision at it, you can’t help it. It’s all his fault you’re this way anyway. Your thighs wobble before your bottom lip does, and it’s this that makes him sigh.

“Aw, babe, shhhh— I’m sorry.” He takes only a moment to pull his shirt over his head, then gets back over you to wipe away the thick tracks. It doesn’t do much against the tears that keep coming, but it’s ok. It’s much better when you can place your hands to his bare chest and feel his heartbeat through your palms, reach up to kiss him. He tastes like you, and you suck on his tongue until he moans into the kiss. When he pulls back, that hot, big palm cups your cheek. “Was that mean?”

“I deserved it.” His dialated eyes search yours for a moment, before he kisses you back another few times. The tingling ache between your legs remains, but there’s a pit in your stomach that becomes more demanding again. “Please keep going?”

“Take me out.” Your hands instantly glide down his body at the order, hooking two fingers around the elastic band before pulling. Pulling down until you reveal the trail of pubic hair that leads down to his thick, flushed cock and down further. Down until the fabric can no longer hold him back from bobbing up against his stomach and he lets out a deep breath. You pull a little more to get a glimpse of his fat, heavy balls too, before daddy grunts and places both elbows by your head again. “Lead my cock inside you like a good girl, hm?”

“Uhuh.” Gladly. Your fingers reach for him, touching the dripping head first. Pre gets all over your fingertips, and you truly can’t stop yourself from putting two fingers inside your mouth with a whimper. Your hands return to squeeze around the head, need both to reach and stroke down a few times. Not that he needs it. He’s hard enough to feel his heartbeat through the skin, thick cock twitching as you shuffle around to line up. “‘s big.”

“It’s big to make you feel good.” He agrees, kisses your temple, and bucks into your palm. “Go on.” You line him up with a deep breath, before blinking your long lashes up at him with your lip between your teeth. The head kisses your hole as he hums, slides your slick around on the puffy mushroom head a few times before pushing in. “Ugh-always forget,” he grunts lowly, biceps bulging as he holds himself above you, “how fucking tight you are. My little baby.”

He starts rocking himself inside you bit by bit, and you can’t help but drag your nails along his flexing back to hang on. “Ah, ah, agh, daddy. You’re- so- big.” You throw your head back, and pant, tears still wobbling. You’re no longer sad though. Your pussy’s being forced open too big, too- fucking wide for you to clench around him properly- but it feels so good. He feels so fucking good, oh God. You want to fuck daddy all summer. You want him to never, ever stop.

+

Hitoshi’s so fucking hot it makes it hard to see straight. Cum’s gotten on his shirt, all over his hand, and he’s got boxers full of cum running down his fucking thigh. While his cock’s still hard and red in his fist as he forces his own hips not to buck. He can just barely hear your whines echo over the field to where they’re hiding— and you sound, predictably, just like how he imagined you do. You look good. Fuck, he’s sure you’d look just as good under him, but instead you’re clinging flushed faced, tits bouncing to your dad with his greying temples and letting yourself get used.

You’re pathetic, honestly. But he’s also not fucking blind. His cock twitches hard in his hand, and his other hand comes to cover the flared head as if that’ll keep a third load in. He’s trying to hold it so hard that he’s panting, balls pulling up to his body.

“Think she’ll let me eat the cum out of her when dad leaves?” Eiji’s pumping his cock without shame like there’s no tomorrow, getting drops of hot, clear liquid everywhere. He’s christened the plants with his cum earlier, too. Hitoshi just grimaces, before looking back at the way your body curls around the fat cock driving in and out of you, your cries about to make him bust again. “Huh?”

“I don’t fucking care, Ei nii.” He then furrows his brows so deep that you’d say he’ll get permanent wrinkles, not bothering to look over. “Why do you wanna eat dad’s cum out of her?”

“So I can fuck my own into her.”

Hitoshi’s too busy watching you and breathing through it to care about what he’s saying, so it takes a minute to filter through his hazy thoughts. “You’re a pig.”

Eiji just rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say, quick shot. Have fun trying not to cum when I go next.”

All Rights Reserved © IWAASFAIRY 2024. Works are exclusive to this Tumblr.

[cosmicdreamgrl]

had a conversation today that made me realize i'm in a place in life where i no longer feel the need to downplay my skills. why shouldn't i be proud of the talents i have? exactly

[thorias]

I just thought of something and now I feel miserable all over again...

During Kurt's eulogy, he said that he believed Remy was bluffing and that not seeing himself as a hero was just Remy being modest...

...except it wasn't.

We got a peak inside Remy's head in ep3 when Madelyne was taunting the team with their inner-most fears, and his was literally Rogue telling him that he was a piece of shit and that she'd found a real man in Magneto who was a hero and way better than him.

Also, the showrunner literally said it was "key" that Remy thought he didn't deserve to be a hero when he died.

So don't try to bullshit us, writers. It wasn't fucking modesty. Remy truly DIDN'T see himself as hero and he fucking died believing that.

[weebsinstash]

Do you ever wonder how complicated or nuanced it might be setting personal boundaries with a poly yandere Asmodeus and Fizz. Like do you ever workshop Lust Ring worldbuilding culture and realize "oh wait shit wouldn't it paradoxically be really easy AND ALSO borderline impossible to be open with and enforce your personal boundaries in a place perpetually encouraging the most openly brazen of carnal displays"?

Like. Obviously I like one of them more than the other but silly little guys are growing on me and, just. Imagine being a Sinner and being down in the Lust Ring and realizing they have a completely different culture around just, showing your body and being open with yourself and your desires and, you're suddenly not sure what things are sexual harassment or considered their normal culture and you're not sure what you're even allowed to verbally express discomfort against because. Is it actually something normal and YOU'RE being weird and mean to THEM? Or, are you unintentionally letting people do REALLY creepy things to you?

You move out of Pride and your new coworkers in Ozzie's building are constantly eating dick and pussy shaped foods? Your coworker is throating a dick shaped ice pop at their desk? Your coworkers are varying levels of half naked? That's not perverted, it's normal and healthy and they're confident in their healthy sexuality :) oh, but you think that's weird? You don't want to look directly at someone's tits when they ask your opinion on their new nipple piercings? Aw, aren't you cute, being too shy to be open with yourself! maybe we all need to show you a few things to welcome you to Lust--

Like, I know Ozzie is dead set on consent but I often brainstorm different variations of those opinions or otherwise in a yandere setting. Ozzie is accepting and open and body positive! Therefore he might be completely in the nude while he sits in a recliner and you're asked to bring him something and he ISN'T EMBARRASSED AT ALL. Aw, he doesn't care if you see his dick, he's not ashamed of his body :) and you don't want to tell him to cover up because he's so nice to you, right? Like..... the perfect fucking gentleman BESIDES these um. Conflicting opinions on modesty and boundaries. Like genuinely he is such a good man fr i want him biblicly 😩❤️

These two out here with their fucking "what are you talking about, this blatantly sexual thing we're doing isn't sexual at all, you're being weird and seeing things thst aren't there and also dont kinkshame us wow thats rude?" bullshit. Oh so you got too drunk at an office party so they made sure you got home safely so no one took advantage of you? Yeah that's cool! Or it would be if they didn't take you to THEIR home though! Oh, it was weird for you to wake up literally sandwiched between them in a pair of pajamas meaning they undressed you? Yeah? Well you had to get your sleep and there's only one bed and they wont make you sleep on the couch and Ozzie's chest is nice and broad and warm and Fizz can rest his face on your tummy and-- why are you scowling and looking grossed out, they were just making sure you were warm and cozy, but if that made you uncomfortable, they're sorry you felt that way from them just trying to so something nice for you--

I recognize it's canonically antithetical to his actual beliefs but yandere Ozzie who is like "oh you're not comfortable sharing details about your sexuality or your body or your sex life with me? I mean. Oh gee it would be like so awkward if we were having drinks as friends and I charismatically loosened your lips over time by repeatedly pressing the issues until you give in! It's not a real 'no' if it eventually becomes a 'yes' right?"

Fizz is like. A fucking jester. He's a clown. He's THE silly little guy. So you almost regard him as this nonsexual cartoonish entity until he occasionally has shit slip out of his mouth that reminds you No Honey That's A Grown Ass Man, he's saying shit like "oh wow seeing that crop over there reminded me of the other week where Ozzie and I were doing horseplay and you should've SEEN when I took one to that huge butt of his, he was SCREAMING into the bridle gag and-"

I FEEL LIKE YOU'D CATCH THEM LIKE, ULTRA WEAPONIZING T H E I R RULES. Yeah, consent is important! That's why you're not allowed to flirt with that dilfy incubus, because, what is that in your hand? Gasp, is that a single shot? You've been drinking therefore you can't consent and you're being CARRIED away if that gets you to stop talking to this guy

Like imagine you're this shy bullied little thing and Admodeus is treating you like this precious egg that he can't wait to hatch and then it's like, you're dressing up sexy and coming on to someone ELSE talking about how you wanna suck THEIR dick and suddenly he's all "uh um uh hm you know what?you're moving too fast, people are gonna take advantage of you, you're not ready, let me take you home--"

"BLOWJ0BS FOR ME BUT NOT FOR THEE" for reeeeeeeal!!!!! You're sitting in like, the living room, basically forced to be celibate (unless ya bone them) and in the next room over IN THE ONLY BEDROOM you're hearing like *spanking* *bicycle horn* *that one oh yeah sound effect* *shaking tin sfx* *water splashing* *rubber ducky squeaky noise* *slide whistle* *whoopie cushion* and then the both of them limp out of there visibly disheveled and asking if you want to order a pizza because WOW THEY'RE JUST WAY TOO HUNGRY TO COOK DINNER TONIGHT FOR SOME REASON--

[tcfactory]

Silly thought of the day: Yue Qingyuan's cultivation is plenty high to heal the scars from his sword incident without very visible marks - no discoloration, no obviously different skin texture - but there's one thing he can't cover up: you can clearly see where his shizun and the medicine peak lord cut into him to fix his meridians in the patterns in his body hair. It looks kinda stupid, in his opinion, but at least it's easy enough to fix.

So Yue Qingyuan is getting full body shaves (or waxes, idk which would be more fitting for this setting) like twice a year and between bullshit xianxia lotion and cultivation slowing down certain body functions, he's smooth all over. And it should be nobody's business, because xianxia modesty demands he's covered up all the time, but somehow the others find out about it. They are all still only head disciples and maybe it's a very hot summer so the open spars are done shirtless or their shizuns organize a team-bonding trip to a hot spring or something.

Especially the hot spring scenario would be funny because like. Shen Qingqiu is stewing in the water, in his personal nightmare of being in the company of several naked men (he's debating if it makes it marginally better or much worse that they are his fellow head disciples) with no way to hide his scars, and then his world gets upended by Yue Qingyuan being so smooth and delectable all over.

And it would be really humiliating that he's the only one reacting to this - Mu Qingfang knew about it and its reason already, Shang Qinghua doesn't think it's anything strange because he spends way too much time around Mobei-jun who's an ice demon and doesn't have much body hair to begin with, Wei Qingwei is mildly fascinated, but not enough to comment on it...

But then Liu Qingge walks in and looks at Yue Qingyuan like a god descended in front of him. Liu Qingge is staring and Shen Qingqiu is staring and they notice each other staring and through some unprecedented stroke of divine guidance they decide to have temporary truce for a bit, because clearly they are the only people here with functioning eyes.

And maybe if they work together it will exponentially increase their chances of getting to touch Yue Qingyuan in all his smoothness and that's worth having a truce over, probably.

This all ends with a very happy Yue Qingyuan and a very spicy LQG/YQY/SQQ sandwich.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

What is it with this Targaryens are blood supremacists bullshit?

Let’s make some things clear right now:

1. Targaryen blood is superior. It’s not some sort of twisted Nazi belief, like some people make it out to be. It’s actual fact.

Sue the Targaryens for constantly pointing that out and lacking modesty. It doesn’t make it less true.

Their blood gives them godly features and the ability to ride dragons. The hypocrisy of Andals never ceases to amaze me: they have a tendency to complain about how Targaryens have ‘queer customs’ but what actually bothers them is that they choose to keep their ‘superior blood’ within their family and not share it with others. Andals criticize Targaryens for being different and yet trample over one another for a chance to marry into their family so that their offspring would have godly features and ride dragons. If Targaryens are so “bad”, then why don’t Andals keep to themselves too?

2. When did it become an actual problem to want to stick to your own kind?

Valyrians are not originally from Westeros. Their home was destroyed. They found another home, of people who constantly judge them and look at them differently despite hundreds of years after conquest.

Despite the many flaws in the show, there is something that actually stuck with me: when Daemon said, “Valyria is gone. We don’t belong anywhere.”

This actually broke my heart a little and got me thinking: how many Targaryens actually felt like strangers in their own home despite having been born and raised there?

I mean, Andals constantly treat them differently and yet blame them for wanting to stick to their own Valyrian kind (Targaryens, Velaryons and Celtigars).

The Conquest in itself is no excuse. The Kingdoms were divided and at constant war with one another, which destroyed the smallfolk. The Targaryens took away their individual powers, united the Kingdoms and gave the people a better chance at peace. The Andals are pissed because they lost their autonomy? Well, considering what they used that autonomy for, they shouldn’t have had it in the first place.

I applaud the Targaryens for taking charge and conquering Westeros for a better future. I mean, do you honestly believe that they would have been accepted in Westeros if they hadn’t? That they would have showed up with their dragons, asked to be a part of the Andals’ world and they would have been accepted with hugs and kisses? Don’t make me laugh. They would have never survived if the Andals kept control of Westeros.

And do keep in mind that if their intentions were actually bad, the Targaryens would have turned Westeros into the new Valyria. They didn’t do that though, did they? They even accepted and converted to their faith.

3. Valyrians are actually attracted to their own kind. So what? It’s their custom and nature. It’s the one thing they asked for. The only exception. To be able to keep their traditions of marrying within their family, not only in order to keep their blood pure for the purpose of controlling dragons, but also because they feel comfortable with one another. They connect with one another. They don’t want to lose ties with their true home, with their history, language, culture etc.

Andals will never be able to understand Valyrians. It’s called having a connection with someone. It can be both physical and emotional (like it was with Daemon and Rhaenyra). Why is that such a crime?

Targaryens are constantly criticized for wanting to stick to their own kind, yet the Andals have been treating them like strangers for hundreds of years simply because they are different.

Who is the blood supremacist here?

Who are the ones who constantly discriminate and create the division lines? Answer: the Andals.

[estellan0vella]

Real Victors: B.C Bang Chan x fem!reader (College AU)

WC: 13.3K

CW: Mentions of previous toxic behaviour (from an ex best friend), past abusive behaviour (from an ex best friend), assault (a wrist grab) (from an ex best friend), lots of fluff, awkward, simp Chan

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

It's one of those perfect summer days—the kind where the sun sits just right in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over everything. You're perched on the bottom of the bleachers like usual, legs crossed beneath you as you lean against the cool metal railing. Your white summer dress flutters slightly in the breeze, barely reaching mid-thigh. It's airy, comfortable, and pairs well with the hotpants you've slipped on underneath for modesty. You've opted for a casual look today, strappy white wedges on your feet and your signature dangly butterfly earrings swaying gently as you suck on a cherry lollipop.

The cherry flavour stains your lips red as you absentmindedly flip through one of your favourite books, The Book Thief. It's your go-to read when you want to escape into a story that makes you feel a little bit of everything—sadness, hope, love, and pain. You've read it a dozen times by now, but somehow, every time you open its pages, it feels like the first time. Right now, you're lost in the words, only half aware of the distant sounds of shouting and whistles from the football field.

The Miroh Maniacs are practicing again. They always practice during this time of the day, and like clockwork, you've found yourself in your usual spot at the bottom of the bleachers, soaking up the atmosphere while the guys run their drills. It's not that you care much for football itself; honestly, you couldn't be bothered to figure out the rules. But Felix and Jisung are your closest friends, and since they're on the team, you come to watch them as much as you come to enjoy the time you spend alone with your books.

Felix and Jisung are currently stretching near the field, warming up before practice. Jisung's blonde-green hair is tousled from his constant fidgeting, while Felix's sunny smile never falters, even when he's doing something as mundane as touching his toes. You watch them from the corner of your eye, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"You gonna sit there all day, Y/N?" Felix calls out, his Australian accent laced with mischief. He stands up from his stretch and gives you a wave, his blonde hair catching the sunlight. Jisung follows his gaze and waves too, though his expression is far more playful.

"Just keeping an eye on you two," you tease back, lowering your book slightly. "Wouldn't want you both slacking off while everyone else is running laps."

"Slacking off?" Jisung exclaims, feigning offence. "I'll have you know, I'm the most hardworking player on this field."

Felix snorts and elbows him. "Bullshit. You nap on the bench more than you run."

Jisung shrugs. "Gotta preserve my energy for when it counts."

You chuckle softly and shake your head, returning to your book as they continue their playful bickering. It's a routine by now—Felix and Jisung always find a way to chat with you before practice, and it's become one of the highlights of your day. They bring a sort of lightheartedness that makes everything feel a little less serious, a little more fun.

As you flip another page, you hear the sound of the locker room door swinging open. From your vantage point, you catch a glimpse of Chan, Minho, and Changbin walking out onto the field. They're all decked out in the Miroh Maniacs' black and red uniforms, the bold colours contrasting sharply against the green grass. Chan is at the front, as usual, his short black hair slicked back slightly, though a few strands always fall loose onto his forehead.

But there's something else about him that you can't quite put your finger on. Maybe it's the way he carries himself, or the way he looks at you sometimes when he thinks you're not paying attention. You don't dwell on it too much; it's just part of the strange dynamic between you and the guys on the team.

You lift your hand and wiggle your fingers in greeting as they walk out, your lips curving into a small, lazy smile. "Hey, boys."

Chan's eyes lock onto you the moment you gesture. His easygoing stride falters for just a second, and he sucks in a sharp breath, his cheeks flushing slightly as he tries to keep his composure. You catch it all in your peripheral vision, but you don't comment, assuming it's just Chan being his usual awkward self. That is until he starts coughing like he's choking on air.

Minho, who's walking beside him, doesn't even try to hide his amusement. He slaps Chan's back a few times, shaking his head with a sigh. "Chan, for fuck's sake, you're an embarrassment to us all."

Changbin snickers beside them, crossing his arms over his chest. "Man, get a grip. You're gonna die before practice even starts."

Chan glances at you briefly, his face turning redder by the second. You frown in concern, your body instinctively pushing off the railing as you stand and walk over to where the three of them are standing. The grass feels warm beneath your feet, and you lean slightly against the fence that separates the bleachers from the field, looking down at Chan with a furrowed brow.

"Chan, are you okay?" you ask, your voice soft but filled with genuine worry. You tilt your head, red heart-shaped sunglasses slipping down your nose a little as you peer at him.

Chan, still struggling to get his breathing under control, just stares at you. The sight of you standing there, your white dress fluttering in the breeze, your lips forming his name, has completely short-circuited his brain.

You turn to Changbin, hoping for some clarification. "Is he...?"

Changbin smirks, glancing at Chan before turning back to you. "Oh, he's fine. Just hasn't been drinking enough water, so his brain's a bit fried."

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest. "Chan, you know you should drink more water, right? It's like, basic human survival."

Chan finally manages to nod, though his gaze still lingers on you. "Yeah, um, I'll—I'll do that."

"Good." You give him a small, approving smile before turning back toward Felix and Jisung, who have been watching the whole scene unfold with barely contained laughter.

Minho raises an eyebrow as he watches Chan's stunned reaction. "I swear to God, Chan, if you swoon because the pretty lit student smiled at you, I'm going to kill you."

Chan shoots him a half-hearted glare, still struggling to shake off the embarrassment. "Shut up, Minho."

You catch the tail end of their conversation but decide not to press further. It's Minho being Minho, and he's always teasing someone. With a final glance at the trio, you settle back down at the bleachers, picking up your book where you left off.

As you start reading again, Felix and Jisung jog over during their warm-up break and flop down next to you, both of them drenched in the early sweat of exertion.

"Still reading that same damn book, huh?" Jisung asks, reaching for your lollipop without warning. You smack his hand away with a mock glare.

"Hands off my lollipop, Ji. And yes, The Book Thief is a masterpiece. Don't act like you're not impressed."

Felix leans back, resting his hands behind his head as he watches the players on the field. "I swear, Y/N, you've read that book more times than I've touched a football."

You grin, turning the page lazily. "It's that good."

"Or you just don't wanna admit you're obsessed," Felix teases, nudging your arm lightly.

"I'll admit it. I'm obsessed. But it's a healthy obsession. Unlike whatever it is you two are doing out there with all this... football stuff." You wave a hand vaguely toward the field.

Jisung snorts. "Hey, this 'football stuff' is keeping me in shape, okay? Not all of us can sit on our asses reading books all day."

You raise an eyebrow. "You call lying on the bench napping 'keeping in shape'?"

Felix bursts out laughing, and Jisung pouts, crossing his arms. "I don't nap that much."

"You literally napped for the entire second half of last week's game," Felix points out, still chuckling.

Jisung waves him off. "Whatever. I'm just preserving my energy."

"You keep telling yourself that," you say with a smirk, returning your attention to your book. But the conversation doesn't end there, and the three of you fall into an easy rhythm, bantering back and forth like always.

Meanwhile, on the field, Chan can't seem to keep his eyes off you. It's like every time he tries to focus on the drills, his gaze drifts back to where you're sitting with Felix and Jisung, your head tilted slightly as you laugh at something one of them said. He doesn't even realize how obvious he's being until Minho elbows him in the ribs during a pass.

"Dude, pay attention," Minho mutters under his breath. "You're gonna get tackled if you keep staring like that."

Chan quickly averts his eyes, pretending to be interested in whatever play they're running next. "I wasn't staring."

"Bullshit," Minho snorts, adjusting his jersey. "You've been eye-fucking her for the past ten minutes. Everyone on the field can see it."

Chan shoots him a withering look. "Can you not?"

Changbin sidles up next to them, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Oh, get in line, Chan. Half the college is after her. She's the definition of hot girl summer."

Chan tries to play it cool, shrugging as if the comment doesn't bother him. "I'm not... I mean, it's not like that."

Minho rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Right. And I'm not the best player on the team."

Changbin snickers. "You wish."

Despite his teammates' teasing, Chan can't help but steal another glance at you. The way your dress hugs your body, the way your hair catches in the wind, and the way you smile at Felix and Jisung so effortlessly makes his chest tighten. But he knows better than to entertain any fantasies. You're friends with most of the guys, and even if you were interested in someone, it probably wouldn't be him. Not when you're already so close to Felix and Jisung.

Still, he can't shake the feeling that there's something special about you. Something that makes his heart race a little faster every time you're around.

Later, during one of their short breaks, Minho makes his way over to you, dripping sweat and looking every bit as smug as he always does. You barely notice him at first, too engrossed in your book, but then you feel the familiar tug of something being pulled from your mouth.

"Hey!" you protest, looking up just in time to see Minho steal the lollipop from between your lips. He smirks at you, twirling it between his fingers before popping it into his mouth without a second thought.

You roll your eyes, completely unbothered by the gesture. "That's the closest you'll ever get to kissing me, Lee Minho."

Minho laughs and pulls the lollipop back out, licking his lips exaggeratedly. "I'll savour all of those kisses forever, my sweet Y/N."

You snort and wave him off. "Okay, loverboy, get lost. You stink of sweat."

Minho leans closer, grinning wickedly. "And you smell like cherries and flowers."

You shrug nonchalantly. "Bought myself a new perfume."

His grin widens. "That perfume is turning me on."

You meet his gaze with a deadpan expression. "Yeah, well, your smell is turning me off. Not that you've ever turned me on."

Minho clutches his chest dramatically as if you've wounded him. "Ouch. Straight to the heart."

Despite his theatrics, you smile fondly and nudge him with your foot. "Go practice, Minho. You're wasting time."

"Fine, fine." He sticks the lollipop back in your mouth before jogging off with a cheeky wave. "I'll be thinking of you."

You roll your eyes again, sucking on the now half-melted candy. It's always like this with Minho, flirty, playful, but ultimately harmless. Everyone on the team knows it's all platonic between the two of you. You'd never date Minho, and he knows it, which makes the banter even more fun.

Felix and Jisung, having witnessed the whole exchange, burst into laughter as soon as Minho is out of earshot.

"You two are so weird," Felix comments, shaking his head.

Jisung grins. "Yeah, but it's entertaining as hell."

You shrug, leaning back against the bleachers with a satisfied smile. "He's just jealous because I'm too good for him."

Felix laughs, pulling a water bottle from his bag. "If you say so."

Jisung nudges you with his elbow, a wide grin spread across his face. "You and Minho really have the weirdest relationship. I swear he flirts with you more than anyone else, and it's completely pointless."

You shrug, leaning back against the bleachers, still sucking on the lollipop Minho had placed back into your mouth. "He's just mad because he knows he doesn't stand a chance. That, and he's jealous that I'm smarter than him."

Felix raises an eyebrow, his lips curling up in a smirk. "Smarter? Or more stubborn?"

"Both," you reply with a wink before settling into your book once again.

Before the conversation can go any further, Chan's voice cuts through the air, calling the team back to the field. "Alright, break's over! Get your asses moving!"

The guys all groan in unison, but they comply, hauling themselves off the bleachers and jogging back toward the centre of the field. You watch them go, the familiar sounds of shuffling cleats and shouted encouragements filling the air. You prop your feet up on the lower seat in front of you, feeling the metal beneath your heels as you let yourself sink into the world of The Book Thief once again.

The field is loud with the sounds of practice—shouted commands, whistles, and the occasional thud of bodies colliding as they run drills. But none of it distracts you as you turn the page, eyes skimming over familiar words. Your world narrows down to the story in front of you, the heat of the summer sun on your skin, and the rhythmic thump of footballs in the background.

Still, even through the haze of the book, you can feel someone's eyes on you. You glance up from the pages every now and then, catching glimpses of Chan sneaking looks your way between plays. It's subtle, the way his eyes flicker to the bleachers when he thinks no one's watching. But it's not subtle enough to escape your notice. You don't say anything about it, though. It's just Chan being Chan—awkward but sweet, always looking out for you in his quiet way.

You shift in your seat, adjusting the heart-shaped sunglasses on your nose as you get lost in the story again, completely unaware of the tension building on the field.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone approaching the bleachers. At first, you don't think much of it, assuming it's just another student passing by. But when the figure gets closer, you recognize him immediately, and your stomach twists.

Aaron.

The sight of him makes your blood run cold, and a wave of anger surges through you before you even realize what's happening. He doesn't have the right to be here—not after everything. Not after the way he treated you. Your ex-best friend, now a ghost from your past, a haunting presence you've been trying to shake off for months. And here he is, showing up uninvited, acting like nothing has changed.

You slam the book shut, the sound of it snapping closed louder than you intended. Aaron's eyes lock onto you as he climbs the bleachers, his lips curling into a smirk that makes your skin crawl.

"Y/N," he says, his voice dripping with fake charm. "It's been a while."

Your jaw clenches, fingers tightening around the book in your lap. "What the hell are you doing here, Aaron?"

He shrugs casually as if he has every right to be standing in front of you. "Just thought I'd stop by and say hi. You haven't been answering my messages."

"That's because I don't want to talk to you," you snap, rising to your feet, your heart pounding in your chest. "We have nothing to say to each other."

He steps closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Don't be like that. We used to be friends."

"Used to be," you emphasize, your voice cold. "That's the key phrase here. We're not friends anymore."

Across the field, Chan notices the tension between you and the guy on the bleachers. He's too far to hear what's being said, but he can tell from your body language that something's off. His brow furrows as he watches you stand up, arms crossed over your chest, facing the guy with obvious hostility.

"Who's that?" Minho asks, following Chan's gaze.

Chan shakes his head slightly. "I don't know... but it doesn't look good."

The rest of the team starts noticing too, their attention momentarily diverted from practice as they watch you argue with the guy on the bleachers. From their distance, they can't hear anything, but they don't need to. Your posture says it all—tense, defensive, and angry.

Then, suddenly, Aaron grabs your wrist.

The entire team freezes, watching in shock as you yank your hand away from his grasp with a furious glare. Before anyone can react, you swing your book, hitting him across the face with a loud crack. The force of it sends him stumbling back a step, and you see the anger flare in his eyes.

Changbin whistles lowly, muttering under his breath, "Who the fuck is that?"

Felix's face tightens with worry, his jaw clenched as he exchanges a glance with Jisung. "That's Aaron... her ex-best friend."

Jisung's face twists in disgust. "He's a fucking asshole. Should've been put down ages ago."

Minho turns to Felix and Jisung, his eyes narrowing. "What the hell's his deal?"

Felix exhales sharply, scratching the back of his neck. "Best friend turned stalker. He's lucky we didn't kill him."

The rest of the guys look at Felix in surprise, and Changbin raises an eyebrow. "Wait, what? You never said anything."

Felix looks at the ground, his voice quiet but firm. "It wasn't our place to say anything. She went through some serious shit, and we were just there to help."

Jisung nods, his expression dark. "One night, she called me. Locked herself in the bathroom. I could hear him threatening her, saying he was gonna kill her. When Felix and I got to her apartment, he was trying to kick down the door... with a knife in hand."

The silence that follows is heavy, and the rest of the guys exchange looks of disbelief.

Felix glances up, his face set in a grim expression. "Twelve years of Taekwondo came in pretty handy that day."

Minho's eyes darken with understanding, and he clenches his fists, looking back at you on the bleachers. "So this guy's a fucking psycho?"

Felix nods. "Pretty much."

The team watches closely as the confrontation between you and Aaron escalates. You can't hear what he's saying, but from the way his lips are moving, it's obvious he's trying to provoke you. The tension in the air is palpable as the guy steps forward again, getting in your face.

Then, in one swift motion, you punch him square in the nose.

The satisfying sound of bone crunching fills the air as Aaron stumbles back, clutching his bleeding nose in shock. The team collectively holds their breath for a second before Changbin breaks the silence with a loud whoop.

"Beat his ass, Y/N!" Changbin yells, pumping his fist in the air.

Jeongin joins in, laughing as he cups his hands around his mouth. "Hit him with the book again!"

Seungmin, usually the most reserved, can't help but shout, "Kick him in the balls!"

Hyunjin, ever the drama queen, throws his hands up. "Make his face even uglier!"

You don't need their encouragement. You're already seething with rage, your hand still stinging from the punch as you glare down at Aaron, who's now crouched slightly, blood dripping from his nose.

But then Minho narrows his eyes, his gaze fixed on Aaron's movements. He leans closer to Chan and mutters quietly, "He's not backing down."

Chan's jaw tightens, his eyes locked on you and the way Aaron seems to be moving closer again despite the blood and the pain. "You think he's gonna hurt her? Here?"

Minho nods, his expression hard. "He looks like he's about to do something stupid."

Without another word, Chan signals to the rest of the team, and they all start moving toward the bleachers. The air feels heavy with anticipation, every step bringing them closer as the situation becomes more dangerous by the second.

Aaron, oblivious to the approaching football players, raises his hand as if to strike you. But before he can make contact, a strong hand grabs his wrist mid-air, twisting it behind his back with practised ease.

Aaron yelps in pain, his face contorting as Chan steps in front of him, a grin tugging at his lips. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

You blink, surprised but also oddly relieved as Chan appears out of nowhere, his grip on Aaron's wrist firm. The football team gathers around, forming an intimidating circle around Aaron, their faces set in stone. You slide your sunglasses down your nose, making eye contact with Chan, who still has that cocky grin on his face.

"Thanks," you say, breathless but composed. "Never thought I'd need a sweaty hero in cleats and shoulder pads, but... it's not all bad."

Chan chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement. "How about you let me take you to dinner tonight?"

You raise an eyebrow, glancing at Aaron, who's still squirming in Chan's grip. "As you can see, I have a bit of... baggage."

Chan shrugs nonchalantly, twisting Aaron's arm a little more until he yelps again. "As you can see, I can handle baggage." He releases Aaron with a swift shove, then kicks him lightly in the ass, sending him stumbling forward.

Aaron, humiliated and defeated, glares at you before storming off, blood still dripping from his nose. You watch him go, a mix of relief and adrenaline pumping through your veins.

Once he's out of sight, you turn back to Chan, a playful smirk on your lips. "In that case... dinner sounds great."

Chan grins at you, his eyes still gleaming with amusement from the adrenaline of the situation. "Practice is over in ten. I'll shower and then we can go out for dinner."

You cross your arms, a playful smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "You better not smell of sweat or this whole thing is cancelled."

He chuckles, running a hand through his sweaty hair. "I'll smell as fresh as a daisy, I swear."

You point at him, your expression dead serious despite the humour in your tone. "Your body wash better not be tea tree. That shit is fucking gross."

Chan laughs, a deep, carefree sound that makes your stomach flutter for reasons you don't want to admit to yourself just yet. "Noted. No tea tree. I'll pick something extra nice just for you."

"Good," you say, giving him a mock stern look before smiling. "I'll be waiting."

He jogs back onto the field, shouting commands to his team while you settle back into the bleachers, watching as they finish their drills. The tension of your confrontation with Aaron still lingers in your muscles, but the promise of dinner with Chan is enough to pull you out of that dark cloud. It's been a long time since you've felt excited about something like this.

True to his word, Chan wraps up practice in ten minutes, blowing the whistle to signal the end. The team groans, some stretching, others jogging in place, but they seem relieved. You spot Felix and Jisung laughing about something, both of them glancing over at you as Chan disappears into the locker room.

A few minutes later, Chan emerges, his wet hair slicked back, freshly showered and dressed in black cargo trousers and a black long-sleeved compression top that clings to his chest and arms in a way that doesn't go unnoticed. He glances around, scanning the field before his eyes land on you, sitting on the bleachers with your legs crossed, still sucking on what's left of the cherry lollipop from earlier.

Before he can say anything, Jisung shouts from the field, "Have her home by ten, Bang Chan!"

Felix jumps in, smirking as he cups his hands around his mouth. "Bring her back to the frat with you later because we're gonna gossip!"

Chan raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, walking toward you. "I will bring her back after the date," he says, loud enough for them to hear.

But Jisung, ever the loudmouth, shouts back, "Ten! Do you hear me? Ten, Bang Chan! I expect her delivered to Felix's room with a smile on her face!"

You roll your eyes and let out an exasperated laugh. "They're such children."

Chan reaches you, his lips curling into a smirk. "Ignore them. They're just jealous."

Chan wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as you both start walking toward the parking lot. His arm is warm and solid, and you lean into him, feeling a sense of comfort that you didn't expect. It's odd how natural it feels like this has been something building between the two of you for longer than either of you realized.

"So," Chan starts, his voice casual but curious, "you've been reading The Book Thief for what feels like the thousandth time. I think I've seen you with that book more than I've seen you without it."

You can't help but laugh at his observation. "It's literally my favourite book ever. And trust me, that's saying something. My apartment is basically a library. I have bookshelves in my living room that go wall to wall."

Chan's eyebrows raise in surprise, and he gives you a sideways glance. "Wall to wall bookshelves? Damn. I think the only books I've read are Harry Potter and The Hunger Games."

You gasp dramatically, pressing a hand to your chest in mock offence. "I can't believe you just confessed that to a literature major. It's like you've committed a cardinal sin."

He chuckles, shrugging as if it's no big deal, but the grin on his face shows that he's enjoying this little back-and-forth. "I mean, it's true! I've never been much of a reader, but I guess you could always try and convert me."

You roll your eyes, still smiling. "Maybe I will. But it's gonna take more than just Harry Potter and The Hunger Games to impress me."

"I'll take that as a challenge," he says with a wink, his arm squeezing your shoulder slightly as you both approach his car. Chan walks ahead a few steps and opens the passenger door for you, his grin widening when he sees the surprise on your face.

"Wow, a gentleman," you tease, sliding into the passenger seat. The car is nice—clean, with that subtle scent of vanilla air freshener lingering in the air.

Chan moves around to the driver's side, sliding into the seat next to you and starting the engine. "Well, I had to impress you somehow. Thought opening doors was a good start."

"Points for effort," you say, settling back into the seat and clicking your seatbelt into place. "So, where are we going, Captain?"

"There's this fifties-style diner about half an hour away," he explains as he pulls out of the parking lot. "They do this amazing cherry and white chocolate shake. It's kinda their speciality."

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. "You really know how to win a girl's heart, don't you?"

He glances over at you briefly, grinning. "I try."

The drive is easy, the sky gradually shifting from a soft orange to deep shades of pink and purple as the sun starts to set. The radio hums quietly in the background, playing some old indie rock song you vaguely recognize, but most of your attention is on Chan.

The conversation flows effortlessly, as it always does with him. You talk about the team, about practice, and even about the antics of Felix and Jisung—who, of course, keep Chan on his toes both on and off the field.

After about thirty minutes, you finally arrive at the diner. It's straight out of the fifties with bright neon lights, red vinyl booths, and a giant jukebox in the corner playing classic hits. You've seen places like this in movies but never actually been to one.

"This place is perfect," you say as you slide out of the car, taking in the retro charm.

Chan walks beside you, a proud grin on his face. "I knew you'd like it. Wait until you try the food."

Once inside, the two of you decide to get your meals to go, opting to enjoy the rest of the evening somewhere a little quieter. You order a steak salad with a cherry and white chocolate milkshake and Chan orders a burger and fries, sticking with something classic.

As you wait for the food, Chan leans back against the counter, glancing at you with a mischievous smile. "So, steak salad, huh? I pegged you as more of a burger and fries girl."

You smirk, rolling your eyes. "Just because I'm friends with Felix and Jisung doesn't mean I have the same terrible eating habits as them."

"Oh, trust me, I know. Jisung's diet is 80% ramen and Red Bull."

"And Felix eats like... five different kinds of fried chicken in a single sitting," you add with a laugh. "I swear, that boy has a death wish."

The food arrives quickly, and with the bags in hand, you both head back to the car. Chan drives for another twenty minutes, taking a winding road that leads up to a hilltop just outside of town. The view is stunning, especially with the last sliver of the sunset dipping below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of pink, orange, and deep indigo.

Chan parks the car at the top of the hill, and the two of you hop out, climbing onto the hood to sit and eat. You settle in, opening your salad container and taking a bite as the cool evening breeze brushes against your skin.

"This is perfect," you murmur, looking out at the vast expanse of sky and the twinkling city lights below.

Chan nods in agreement, sipping his milkshake before glancing over at you. "So, tell me—what's so special about The Book Thief? I mean, I've seen you read it like a hundred times, but I've never asked you why you love it so much."

Your face lights up at the question, excitement bubbling in your chest as you set your salad aside for a moment. "Oh, where do I even start?"

He smiles, clearly enjoying your enthusiasm. "I'm listening."

You take a deep breath, thinking of the best way to explain it. "Well, The Book Thief is set in Nazi Germany during World War II, and it's narrated by Death, which is already such a unique perspective, right? The main character, Liesel, she's this young girl who loses everything, but she finds comfort in words, in books. The story is about how she uses books to survive, to make sense of a world that's falling apart around her."

Chan nods, listening intently as you continue, your voice growing more passionate.

"It's not just about the war or the books, though. It's about humanity. About kindness in the face of evil, about love and loss, and the way we find hope in the darkest times. The way it's written, it just... it makes you feel everything. You can't help but get attached to the characters, even though you know from the start that things aren't going to end well."

He raises an eyebrow. "So it's one of those books that breaks your heart?"

You laugh softly, nodding. "Pretty much. But it's worth it. Every time I read it, I find something new, something that hits me differently. It's one of the few book-to-movie adaptations that I actually enjoyed, too, which is rare for me."

Chan grins, taking another sip of his shake. "I might have to check it out now. You've definitely sold me on it."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the thought of him reading something you love so much. "If you do, let me know. I'd love to hear what you think."

The two of you finish your food, the conversation flowing easily as the sky darkens and the stars begin to appear. It's peaceful, sitting there on the hood of Chan's car, the city below twinkling like a sea of lights. There's something intimate about it, something that makes you feel closer to him in a way you hadn't expected.

Just as you're about to say something, you feel the first drop of rain hit your arm. You glance up, surprised to see dark clouds rolling in overhead. Before you can even react, the sky opens up, and rain starts pouring down in thick, heavy sheets.

You can't help it—you laugh. The sound bubbles out of you as you tip your head back, letting the rain soak your hair and drip down your face. It's cold, and you're getting absolutely drenched, but something about it feels freeing.

Chan, however, looks at you like you've lost your mind. "Y/N, you're gonna get sick."

You shake your head, grinning as the rain continues to pour. "What would Natasha Bedingfield say?"

He blinks at you, clearly confused. "Huh?"

You gasp dramatically, your hand flying to your chest. "Unwritten! Oh my god, Chan! Jisung and Felix are going to burn you at the stake for not understanding that reference."

Chan chuckles, wiping rain from his face as he tries to shield himself from the downpour. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! But seriously, you're soaked to the bone, and your dress is, uh... well, it's kind of see-through now."

You glance down, noticing how your white dress clings to your body, the fabric almost translucent from the rain. You shrug, completely unbothered. "I've got a bra on, and I'm wearing hot pants under the dress. I'll survive."

Chan looks at you with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Yeah, but if you get sick right now, Jisung and Felix will never let me take you on another date."

You point at him, grinning. "Nicely played, Bang Chan. Nicely played."

He laughs, shaking his head as he pulls you off the hood of the car. "Come on, let's get out of the rain before you catch a cold."

You follow him, still laughing as the rain continues to pour, but you can't help but feel a little bit of warmth spreading through you despite the cold. There's something about the way Chan looks at you, something about the way this entire evening has played out, that makes you think this won't be the last time you end up drenched and laughing with him.

Once inside the car, Chan cranks the heat up, the warmth quickly filling the small space as you both sit there, soaked to the bone but smiling like idiots. He glances over at you, his eyes soft, and for a moment, the world outside fades away.

As soon as you settle into the passenger seat, you can't help but smile at how soaked you and Chan are. Rain still drips from your hair onto the seat, but the warmth from the car's heater slowly makes everything feel cosy despite your drenched clothes. Chan glances at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he runs a hand through his still-wet hair, pushing it back.

"Well, that wasn't how I imagined the night ending," he says, laughing softly. His voice is warm, and the way his lips curl into a grin sends a shiver through you—not from the cold, but something else.

You shake your head, chuckling. "What, getting caught in the rain wasn't part of your master plan?"

He grins. "I mean, I had something a little less... wet in mind."

You arch an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh? What was the plan, then?"

He shrugs as he starts the car. "I don't know... something about food, a nice drive back, maybe dropping you off without you looking like you've just walked through a storm."

You laugh, shaking your head at the thought. "Eh, I think the rain was a nice touch. Unpredictable."

As Chan pulls out of the diner's parking lot, you glance over at him, your fingers idly fiddling with the radio dial. You spin it to one of your favourite stations, hoping to hear something upbeat, something to keep this good mood going. The static clears, and suddenly, Natasha Bedingfield's Unwritten fills the car.

You burst out laughing, your hand shooting up to point at the radio. "See! I told you! It's a sign!"

Chan glances over at you with an incredulous smile, shaking his head. "Seriously?"

You nod, eyes wide with mock seriousness. "Yes! This is the universe telling us to go back out there and dance in the rain. Unwritten, Chan. It's fate."

He snorts, rolling his eyes as he turns the wheel, keeping his focus on the road. "Fate or not, Jisung and Felix will actually kill me if you get sick."

You wave him off dismissively, flipping your hair dramatically as the music pumps through the speakers. "Oh, please. They'd get over it. Besides, they do stuff like this with me all the time."

Chan glances at you, eyebrow raised. "Do what?"

"When it rains, and we're at the frat house, we lie in the garden."

He nearly chokes on his laughter, glancing over at you in disbelief. "You what?!"

You nod, completely serious. "Yep. We go out there, rain pouring down, and just lie in the grass, soaking it all in."

Chan shakes his head, clearly trying to picture the three of you doing that. "You're telling me that you, Felix, and Jisung, who are literal balls of sunshine, just... lie in the rain like that?"

"Mmhmm," you hum, smiling. "People think we'd hibernate when it rains, but nah, we're out there."

"Wait," Chan says, eyes widening in realization. "That time when all three of you came down with the flu and you were sick for, like, two weeks...?"

"Yep!" You laugh, nodding enthusiastically. "That was because we were out in the rain a few days before. It was right after that hurricane warning."

Chan slaps his palm against the steering wheel, groaning. "You're insane. All three of you."

You grin, unrepentant. "Totally worth it."

He shakes his head again, his tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement. "You know Minho had to play nursemaid for you three, right?"

"Don't remind me," you groan, laughing as the memories of that miserable two weeks flood back. "Jisung's bed became our sick haven. Minho brought us soup and medicine, and Felix complained the whole time that the soup was too hot. It was a mess."

Chan laughs, shaking his head again. "I bet Minho loved every second of that."

"Minho lived for it," you admit with a grin. "He pretended to be annoyed, but you could tell he secretly loved bossing us around."

The rain has finally let up by the time you and Chan pull up to the Alpha Phi frat house, but both of you are still soaked to the bone, shivering as the cold seeps into your skin. The storm caught you both off guard, drenching you during what should've been a calm and picturesque evening on the hilltop. Even with the heater blasting in Chan's car, your teeth are still chattering, and Chan isn't doing much better.

Chan glances over at you as he pulls into a parking spot. His lips are tinted blue from the cold, his hair dripping water into his eyes. "You sure you're okay? You're shaking like a leaf."

You nod, though it's a half-hearted attempt at pretending you're not freezing. "I'm fine. I've had worse. Plus, it was kind of fun, right?"

He chuckles, his deep voice making you feel warmer than the heat blasting through the vents. "Yeah, I guess it was." He turns the key in the ignition, killing the engine. "But maybe next time, we should pick somewhere indoors for dinner."

You smirk, teasing him. "Oh, what, are you scared of a little rain?"

He grins, shrugging. "I'm not scared, but I'd rather avoid hypothermia if possible. Plus, I'm gonna catch hell from Felix and Jisung if they see you like this."

"They'll live," you say with a laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt. "Besides, I've been soaked in the rain plenty of times before."

Chan raises an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Yeah, but I'm betting none of those times involved a fifties diner date with me."

You can't help the smile that spreads across your face. "Fair point."

As you both climb out of the car, the cold night air hits you again, and you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest. Chan jogs over to your side and wraps his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his side as you both make your way toward the frat house entrance.

"You know," he says, his voice light as you walk, "I was thinking... would you want to go out again next week? Like, for dinner, maybe somewhere less rainy."

You glance up at him, surprised at how casual and confident he sounds, despite the shiver in his voice from the cold. His dark eyes are warm, even in the dim light from the porch. "I'd love that," you say, then grin playfully. "But I don't mind the rain."

He laughs, squeezing your shoulder as you reach the front door. "Duly noted. But I'll still try to find somewhere dry next time."

When you step inside the frat house, the warmth hits you like a wave, and it's a welcome change from the cold rain outside. The sound of voices fills the air—music is playing faintly in the background, and you can hear someone laughing loudly from the living room. The house is busy, as usual, but the moment you and Chan step through the door, all eyes seem to turn to you.

Felix and Jisung, who had been lounging on the couch in front of the TV, immediately leap up when they see you both. Felix's blonde hair bounces as he rushes over, and Jisung follows close behind, both of them wearing matching expressions of horror.

"Holy shit, Y/N, what the hell happened to you?!" Felix exclaims, eyes wide as he takes in your drenched appearance.

"You look like a fucking drowned rat!" Jisung adds, though his concern is clear despite the teasing.

Before you can respond, Chan lets out a small, sheepish laugh. "Yeah, we, uh, got caught in the rain."

Felix grabs a towel from a nearby chair and drapes it over your shoulders, his hands working quickly to pat you dry. "Caught in the rain? You look like you've been swimming in the fucking ocean, mate!"

Jisung, never one to miss a beat, starts wringing out your hair, water dripping onto the floor as he works. "This is unacceptable. Upstairs. Now. Felix's room. You need to dry off before you catch something."

Felix nods in agreement, already ushering you toward the staircase. "Chan, you're staying downstairs. We need to gossip in peace."

You glance back at Chan, who's trying—and failing—to hide his amusement. He shrugs, holding his hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine. I'll stay down here."

Jisung shoots him a mock glare. "I can't believe you brought her back soaked to the bone. What kind of date is this?"

Chan laughs, running a hand through his wet hair. "Hey, it wasn't my fault. The weather turned on us."

Felix huffs, shaking his head. "Excuses, excuses. Come on, Y/N. You're coming upstairs before you freeze."

Felix is already ahead of you, grabbing another towel from somewhere and practically shoving it into your hands. "Chan can stay downstairs and think about how he fucked up," he mutters.

You glance back at Chan, who's leaning against the doorframe with a sheepish grin, clearly amused by Felix and Jisung's antics. "Sorry, Y/N," he calls out, laughing as he raises his hands in surrender. "I'll just... wait down here."

"You better!" Felix yells over his shoulder as he marches up the stairs. "No more soaking wet dates until you learn how to control the weather!"

Jisung snickers, practically dragging you up the staircase. "Honestly, you'd think he'd check the forecast."

You roll your eyes, laughing at the absurdity of it all as you're pulled into the chaos that is Felix's room. It's a cosy space, there's a large desk cluttered with gaming gear and an impressive gaming chair, which you've stolen for yourself more times than you can count during impromptu hangouts.

Jisung shoves you into the chair before throwing a towel over your head, his hands immediately going to work on drying your hair with a little too much enthusiasm. You can't even see him, but you can hear his voice as he fusses over you. "You're lucky we're here. Who knows what kind of shit Chan would've done if we hadn't intervened."

"Yeah," Felix chimes in, digging through his drawer for what looks like some socks. "You probably would've caught pneumonia or something. He's hopeless when it comes to romance."

"Hey," you protest weakly from under the towel, voice muffled by the fabric. "The rain wasn't that bad."

Felix shoots you a look, one eyebrow raised in disbelief. "You're dripping water all over my floor, Y/N. It was bad."

Before you can respond, the door opens, and Jeongin steps into the room holding a steaming mug of hot chocolate. "Chan made this for you, but these two"—he gestures toward Felix and Jisung with his thumb—"told him to stay downstairs, so he asked me to bring it up."

You pull the towel off your head just enough to peek at Jeongin and the mug, your heart doing a little flutter at the thought of Chan making hot chocolate for you. It's a simple gesture, but something about it feels sweet and personal. "Thanks, Jeongin," you say, reaching for the mug.

Jeongin grins, sliding the cup into your hands. "No problem. You're gonna need it if you're hanging out with these two lunatics."

"Hey!" Jisung protests, still aggressively towelling your hair dry. "We're being responsible friends. We're making sure she doesn't freeze to death after being out in the rain with a guy who clearly doesn't own an umbrella."

Felix rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his lips. "Yeah, yeah. Did you guys kiss, though?"

You nearly choke on your first sip of hot chocolate, but you manage to swallow before raising an eyebrow at Felix. "Excuse me?"

Felix's grin is wide and cheeky, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Come on, spill. You went on a cute little date in the rain, and now you're back here all flustered. Did you kiss him?"

You take another sip of the hot chocolate, letting the warmth fill you as you shake your head. "No, not yet, unfortunately."

Felix and Jisung both stare at you, wide-eyed with anticipation after you reveal there was no kiss. The tension hangs in the air for a moment, and then Jisung throws his arms up in mock frustration, pacing dramatically in front of Felix's bed.

"No kiss?" he exclaims, sounding both horrified and baffled. "We sent you off into the rain with Captain fucking Bang Chan and you didn't even get a kiss? This is unacceptable. Felix, write that down."

Felix, ever the sidekick to Jisung's antics, pulls out a small notepad from the drawer of his desk and flips it open with a flourish. He grabs a pen and clicks it, poised to start scribbling. "What am I writing?"

Jisung, his eyes narrowing with exaggerated seriousness, points at you like a detective uncovering a conspiracy. "We need to make a list. A list of requirements and expectations that Chan must meet before he even thinks about asking her on another date."

You laugh, pulling the towel around you tighter. "Are you serious right now?"

Jisung snatches the comb from Felix's vanity and gives you a sharp look. "Now sit back and relax, princess," he says, his voice dripping with mock authority. "I'm about to give you the best hair care of your life."

You roll your eyes but settle into Felix's gaming chair, leaning back as you let Jisung gently work through the knots in your hair. Despite the aggressive energy he usually radiates, his hands are surprisingly gentle, carefully detangling each knot without pulling too hard. It's almost... soothing, in a weird way.

Felix, sitting cross-legged on his bed, notebook poised on his lap, taps his pen against the notepad like a man possessed. "Right, where were we?" he asks, a grin pulling at his lips. "Oh yeah, making sure Captain Bang Chan lives up to our best friend's standards."

You give them both a playful glare. "You two are way too invested in my love life."

"We're not invested," Jisung says, pausing to rake the comb through your hair again. "We're protective. There's a difference. Now, let's get back to this list of demands. You deserve only the best, so it's our job to filter out the subpar dudes."

Felix nods solemnly, clicking the pen. "Agreed. If Chan doesn't meet these standards, we'll end this for you before it even begins."

You snort, leaning back into the chair. "You're both absolutely insane."

"Insane, but right," Jisung insists, giving your hair a soft tug for emphasis. "And trust me, you'll thank us for this later."

Felix's eyes gleam with mischief as he starts writing. "Alright, first of all—Chan needs to know everything about The Book Thief. Characters, themes, hidden meanings. He better be able to have in-depth discussions with you about the book at any time. If he can't do that, then what's the point?"

You chuckle, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease as Jisung works the comb through your hair. "You two really think I need to date a literature major?"

"No," Felix replies, shaking his head. "But if he's going to date you, he better know the basics. He should at least be able to have a conversation about your favourite book without embarrassing himself."

Jisung nods in agreement, still combing. "Exactly. This is crucial. Next up—Chan must proofread your creative writing assignments for your minor if you ask him to. I know you, Y/N. You obsess over every little detail in your work. Chan's gotta step up and help with that."

You burst out laughing. "He's not even a lit major! How do you expect him to help me with my writing?"

"Doesn't matter," Felix says, scribbling furiously in his notepad. "He's smart, isn't he? He can read and give feedback. That's part of being a supportive boyfriend."

Jisung hums thoughtfully, gently untangling another knot. "And let's not forget the most important rule. Chan must always carry cherry lollipops. No exceptions. That's your thing, Y/N, and if he doesn't have at least one on him at all times, he's out."

Felix smirks, adding that to the list. "Definitely. You've got a brand, and he needs to respect that. Cherry lollipops are non-negotiable."

"You two are ridiculous," you say with a smile, shaking your head as Jisung continues combing through your now smooth hair.

"We're just getting started," Jisung replies with a grin. "Let's see... Oh! He must memorize your coffee order. If he can't order it perfectly, he's done."

Felix nods enthusiastically, jotting it down. "And he has to be able to tell when you're having a bad day just by looking at you. No asking. He should know instinctively."

Jisung leans over your shoulder, inspecting Felix's list. "Don't forget, he must also be willing to go to the bookstore with you and carry all your books. If he complains even once, he fails."

You laugh out loud at that one, swatting at Jisung's hand. "Oh come on, that's a bit much!"

"No, it's not," Felix insists, wagging his pen. "It's bare minimum boyfriend behaviour. He needs to support your reading addiction."

Jisung grins. "He should also randomly surprise you with books. No special occasion necessary just because he knows it'll make you smile."

Felix writes that one down too, adding, "And he needs to know your taste in literature inside and out. If he buys you a book you hate, that's a big red flag."

You groan, but you're still smiling. "How are you two even coming up with all of this?"

"It's easy," Jisung replies as he finishes with your hair, setting the comb down on Felix's vanity. "We just know you really well, so we know what you deserve."

Once Felix and Jisung are done crafting the list of increasingly ridiculous standards, Jisung leans back in Felix's gaming chair, admiring their handiwork with a gleam in his eye. "Alright, now we're going to make sure Chan actually agrees to this."

Felix nods, slapping the notepad with a grin. "But wait! We're missing something. Before he can even sign the list, we need to create The Felix and Jisung Best Friend Test."

You pause, mid-sip of your hot chocolate, raising an eyebrow. "The fucking what now?"

Jisung jumps out of his chair like he's struck with divine inspiration. "It's the ultimate screening test. Before Chan can officially date you, Felix and I need to make sure he's worthy of our approval."

Felix grins devilishly, clearly in full agreement. "Exactly. We'll come up with a set of questions that he has to answer. If he passes, then he's worthy of dating you. If he fails..." He lets his voice trail off dramatically.

Jisung crosses his arms and nods solemnly. "Then it's a no-go."

You stare at both of them, half-amused, half-exasperated. "You two are so full of shit."

"We're not full of shit," Felix says, his voice overly serious. "We're just looking out for you. This is important. We have to protect you from subpar boyfriends."

"Yeah," Jisung adds, already pulling out a fresh sheet of paper to write the test questions. "You don't want to end up with some guy who doesn't even know your favourite book or messes up your coffee order."

You groan though you can't help but smile. "Alright, fine. Let's hear these 'test' questions."

Jisung taps the pen against his chin thoughtfully. "First question: 'What are your intentions with our sweet Y/N?' Gotta make sure he's in it for the right reasons."

Felix scribbles it down with a smirk. "Good one. If he hesitates, it's an automatic fail."

Jisung nods. "Next question: 'Why didn't you kiss her on the first date? Is she not good enough for you? What's wrong with you?'"

You nearly choke on your laughter, shaking your head. "Oh my god, you're seriously going to ask him that?"

"Absolutely," Jisung says, grinning. "We need answers."

Felix adds, "And it's important. If there's no kiss on the first date, we need to know why."

Jisung leans over Felix's shoulder, reading the list as he adds more questions. "How about this one: 'What are you going to do if Y/N gets kidnapped? How are you helping Felix and me get her back from the heathens?'"

Felix cracks up, his pen still moving. "Yes! And we're expecting a detailed answer. None of that 'I'll call the cops' bullshit. We need action, a full-on rescue plan."

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose but still smiling. "You guys are fucking ridiculous."

"And yet, you love us for it," Jisung says with a cheeky grin. "Alright, next question... What's a question that'll really throw him off?"

Felix taps his pen thoughtfully. "How about... 'If Y/N wanted to adopt a pet raccoon, what would your reaction be?'"

Jisung snorts, grinning wildly. "Perfect. That'll tell us if he's capable of handling your weirdness."

You burst out laughing. "I don't want a pet raccoon!"

"Yeah, but hypothetically, what if you did?" Jisung replies, shrugging. "It's a test of his adaptability. Gotta see if he can roll with the punches."

"Okay, next one," Felix says, his voice slightly muffled as he scribbles away. "'If Y/N comes home with ten books, what's your reaction?'"

Jisung grins. "And if he says anything other than 'I'll help carry them,' he's done."

The two of them continue brainstorming ridiculous questions while you lean back in the gaming chair, amused and baffled by their dedication. After a few more minutes, they finally stop, looking at the list like they've just created a masterpiece.

"Alright," Jisung says, holding up the notebook triumphantly. "The Felix and Jisung Best Friend Test is complete. Let's go find Chan."

You roll your eyes, but there's no stopping them now. You stand up and follow them downstairs to the living room, where the rest of the guys are lounging around. Minho and Jeongin are sprawled on the couch, while Hyunjin and Seungmin are half-heartedly watching something on TV.

As you walk in, Minho raises an eyebrow, glancing at you and then at Felix and Jisung, who are clearly on a mission. "What's this all about?"

Before you can answer, Jeongin scoots over, making room for you on the couch. You sit between him and Minho, and they both immediately pull you into their warmth. Minho wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "You're freezing," he mutters, his voice low and concerned. "Did Felix and Jisung not take care of you upstairs?"

Jeongin grabs your hands, rubbing them between his to warm them up. "Yeah, you're still cold. You need to warm up properly."

You smile at their concern, feeling the warmth from their bodies seep into your skin. "I'm fine, really. You two are just acting like overprotective brothers now."

Minho snorts. "Someone has to look out for you."

Before you can say anything else, Jisung suddenly dims the lights, casting the room into a shadowy glow. Felix stands near the light switch, his face serious. "Alright, everyone. We're about to interrogate Chan."

Chan, sitting comfortably in the armchair, looks up in surprise, his brows furrowing. "Uh... what?"

Jisung steps forward, pulling out his phone and turning on the flashlight, shining it directly into Chan's face. "You heard us, Bang Chan. You're about to take The Felix and Jisung Best Friend Test."

Chan blinks, momentarily blinded by the light. "Wait, what?"

Felix steps forward with the notepad, his voice dripping with authority. "This is a screening process. If you pass, you're allowed to date Y/N. If you fail, well... let's just say you'll have some explaining to do."

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

But Chan just laughs, leaning back in the armchair and crossing his arms. "Alright, let's hear it. What's this test?"

Jisung clears his throat dramatically as if this is a matter of utmost importance. "First question: What are your intentions with our sweet Y/N?"

Chan looks amused but answers seriously. "My intentions are to take her on nice dates, make her smile, and get to know her better."

Felix narrows his eyes, scribbling something in his notepad. "Good answer. Next question: Why didn't you kiss her on the first date? Is she not good enough? What's wrong with you?"

Chan laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well, the timing didn't feel right. I didn't want to rush it."

Jisung leans forward, still holding the phone flashlight up. "You sure it wasn't because you don't find her attractive?"

Chan's face softens as he looks at you. "Definitely not. I just didn't want to ruin a good night by moving too fast."

Felix jots down some more notes, looking satisfied. "Okay, next question. What are you going to do if Y/N gets kidnapped? How are you helping Jisung and me get her back from the heathens?"

Chan raises an eyebrow, clearly trying not to laugh. "Uh... first, I'd call you two to let you know what's happening. Then I'd help track her down, using my connections and resources. I'll be the one to take down the kidnappers."

Jisung nods approvingly. "Good, good. We need someone who's willing to get their hands dirty."

Felix continues, his tone completely serious. "Alright, here's a tricky one. If Y/N wanted to adopt a pet raccoon, what would your reaction be?"

Chan chuckles, leaning forward slightly. "If Y/N wanted a pet raccoon, I'd probably try to talk her into getting something a little less... wild. But if she really wanted it, I'd help her take care of it."

Jisung grins. "Good. Adaptability. Nice."

Felix glances at the list, nodding to himself before moving on. "Alright, final question. If Y/N comes home with ten books, what's your reaction?"

Chan doesn't even hesitate. "I'd help her carry them, no questions asked."

Felix and Jisung exchange a glance, clearly impressed with Chan's answers. Felix gives a satisfied nod. "Alright, Chan. You passed the test."

Jisung shuts off the flashlight and steps back. "You're not out of the woods yet, though."

Felix pulls out the list of ridiculous standards they'd created earlier and clears his throat. "Now, we have a list of standards that you need to agree to if you're going to date Y/N."

Chan raises an eyebrow, leaning back in the armchair. "Standards?"

Jisung smirks, grabbing the notepad from Felix and reading aloud. "First: You must know everything about The Book Thief, characters, themes, quotes, everything. Y/N needs to be able to discuss it with you at any time."

Chan chuckles, nodding. "Alright, I can do that."

"Second," Felix continues, his tone serious. "You must proofread her creative writing assignments if she asks. No complaints."

Chan nods again. "Deal."

"Third," Jisung adds, his grin growing wider. "You must always carry cherry lollipops. No exceptions. If Y/N asks for one and you don't have it, you're done."

Chan laughs, clearly enjoying the absurdity of the situation. "Got it. I'll stock up."

Felix flips to the next page, continuing the list. "You also need to memorize her coffee order perfectly, be willing to go to the bookstore with her, and carry all her books without complaint."

Jisung adds, "Oh, and you need to surprise her with books every now and then. No special occasion necessary."

Chan grins, shaking his head. "That actually sounds fun. I'm in."

"And last but not least," Felix says, looking at the final line on the list, "you need to be able to tell when Y/N's having a bad day just by looking at her. No asking. You should know instinctively."

Chan looks thoughtful for a moment, then nods. "I think I can manage that."

Jisung hands him a pen, a triumphant grin on his face. "These are non-negotiable, Chan. You are to sign this list and commit to these standards."

Chan takes the pen, still smiling, and signs the bottom of the list with a flourish. "There. Happy?"

Felix and Jisung exchange satisfied nods, clearly pleased with themselves. "Very," Felix says, tucking the list into his back pocket. "You've officially earned our approval."

You can't help but laugh at the entire situation, shaking your head. "You guys are unbelievable."

Minho, who's been watching the entire exchange with an amused smirk, tightens his arm around your shoulders and leans in. "I'm surprised Chan actually put up with all of that."

Chan shrugs, standing up from the armchair. "It was worth it."

Jeongin, still holding your hands, grins. "Well, I think this means we can officially welcome you into the family, Chan."

Chan gives a mock salute. "Glad to be here."

It's game day, and the energy on campus is absolutely electric. The Miroh Maniacs are playing their biggest rivals—the Northridge Titans—and you're, as always, exactly where you belong: on the players' bench, close to the action.

The sun is high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the packed bleachers. Fans are screaming, faces painted red and black in support of the Maniacs, and you're sitting in the middle of the chaos, completely calm, once again flipping through your worn copy of The Book Thief.

Your red summer dress flutters lightly in the breeze, contrasting against the bright green of the football field. The black wedges on your feet sink slightly into the grass, and your signature red heart-shaped sunglasses sit perched on your nose. You cross your legs, turning another page, your focus entirely on the book. It's comforting, especially amidst the madness of game day.

The Maniacs' jerseys stand out against the green—Chan with his number 03, Minho wearing 25, Felix sporting 01, and the rest of the team spread across the field. Their black and red uniforms gleam in the sunlight, and the tension in the air is thick.

It's always like this when they play the Titans. These games are intense, brutal, even. You've seen more dirty plays and borderline illegal tackles during these matches than you care to admit.

Today is no different. From the moment the game kicks off, the Titans come at the Maniacs full force. You can hear the crack of helmets and the heavy thud of bodies slamming into each other, the crowd roaring in response to every hit. The referee's whistle cuts through the noise, but it doesn't stop the Titans from playing dirty.

You catch sight of Felix getting shoved to the ground by one of their linebackers, a dirty move that earns him nothing but a smirk from the Titans' player. Jisung's quick to step in, shoving the guy back before the referees can even intervene.

"Fucking Titans," Jisung mutters, glancing toward you as he returns to the field. You give him a supportive smile from your spot on the bench, watching as he lines up again. He's always one to defend his teammates, especially Felix.

As the game goes on, you try to stay focused on your book, but it's hard not to be distracted by the intensity of the match. You glance up every now and then, watching as Chan barrels through the Titans' defensive line, Minho weaving through the chaos with his usual precision. Changbin's a wrecking ball, slamming into players with no hesitation, while Hyunjin and Jeongin dart across the field like lightning.

You can feel the pressure building with every second that ticks by, especially as the Titans continue to play dirty. By the time halftime rolls around, the score is close, too close for comfort. The Maniacs jog off the field, sweat dripping down their faces, some of them muttering curses under their breath about the Titans' underhanded tactics.

As they head to the locker room, you settle deeper into your seat, trying to focus back on your book. You're mid-sentence when you suddenly feel a presence nearby, someone standing too close. You glance up, annoyed at the interruption, only to see a guy from the rival team standing right in front of you. He's got the Titans' logo plastered across his jersey, and the look on his face immediately sets you on edge.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" he says, his voice dripping with sleaze. His eyes rake over you, lingering in ways that make your skin crawl. "Didn't think a pretty little thing like you would be hanging around with those losers."

You ignore him, hoping he'll get the hint and leave. You flip the page in your book, acting like you haven't even noticed him. But of course, guys like him don't take hints.

"Hey, sweetheart, I'm talking to you," he presses, stepping even closer. You can smell the cheap cologne and sweat on him. "You waiting for one of those fuckers on the Maniacs? Why don't you come watch the real men play instead? I could show you a better time."

You grit your teeth, doing your best to tune him out. You've dealt with assholes like this before—guys who think they can say whatever they want because they're on some team. It's not worth engaging. But he's not done. He leans in closer, his voice lowering as he continues his vulgar comments.

"You know, a girl like you shouldn't be wasting time on a bunch of losers like them. I could make you feel good, babe. Real good. Just say the word."

Your fingers tighten around the book, every fibre of your being screaming to shove him away, but you hold back. He's not worth your energy. You stay silent, eyes glued to the page.

"Oh, come on. What's wrong? Cat got your tongue?" he taunts, leaning over you now. "You're not gonna say no to a guy like me, are you?"

And then, just like that, he reaches down and snatches your book out of your hands. You feel your stomach drop as he holds it above his head, grinning like he's accomplished something.

"Reading, huh? What a waste of time. Why don't you come have some fun with me instead? I promise it'll be better than this boring shit."

You stand up, crossing your arms over your chest, glaring at him with a look that could burn a hole through steel. "Give it back."

The guy just smirks, holding the book even higher above his head. "Oh, I'll give it back when you ask nicely. Maybe throw in a little thank you while you're at it."

Before you can even respond, someone from behind shouts, "OI!"

The guy freezes, and you turn to see Chan storming over, the rest of the team flanking him like a wall of muscle and fury. His eyes are locked on the guy holding your book, his jaw clenched tight, and there's murder in his expression.

Without missing a beat, Chan wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You lean into his side, your heart pounding, but the tension starts to melt away with him there. Felix and Jisung are already stepping up, both of them glaring at the guy.

"You've got three fucking seconds to give her the book back," Felix growls, his usually bright and playful demeanour nowhere to be seen.

Jisung steps forward, fists clenched. "Or we'll make sure you won't be able to hold anything for a long fucking time."

The guy falters, glancing nervously between them, but he tries to play it off. "Relax, I was just having a little fun. No need to get all worked up."

Changbin, looking like he's seconds away from throwing the guy into the bleachers, steps up beside Felix. "Give her the fucking book. Now."

Minho crosses his arms, his gaze icy. "Before we decide to make sure you never play another game again."

The guy's bravado cracks, and he lowers the book slightly, trying to keep what little dignity he has left. "Whatever," he mutters, tossing the book toward you. "She's fucking ugly anyway."

Before anyone can react, Jisung lunges. He tackles the guy to the ground with a force that knocks the breath out of everyone watching. The rival player barely has time to register what's happening before Jisung's fists are flying, rage clear in every strike.

You feel Chan's grip tighten on you as he pulls you back, keeping you close. "Stay with me," he murmurs into your ear, his voice low and protective. You lean into him, still trying to process everything as Jeongin and Hyunjin rush over, pulling Jisung off the guy before things get out of hand.

"Enough, Han!" Hyunjin shouts, dragging Jisung back. "He's not worth it."

Jisung struggles for a second, but eventually calms down, breathing heavily as he glares at the guy on the ground. "Don't you fucking dare talk about her like that again."

The guy scrambles to his feet, muttering curses under his breath as he stumbles away, clearly shaken.

Felix steps forward, placing a hand on Jisung's shoulder. "Let him go, man. He's not worth it."

You finally exhale, the tension in your chest easing slightly as the situation defuses. You're still leaning against Chan, his arm wrapped securely around you, and you glance up at him. He's watching the guy walk away, his jaw still tight, but when he looks down at you, his expression softens.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice gentle.

You nod, though your heart is still racing. "Yeah. Thanks for that."

He smiles, pressing another kiss to your forehead. "Always."

The second half of the game kicks off with a surge of intensity that practically crackles in the air. The crowd is louder than ever, chanting and cheering as the Maniacs and Titans line up on the field. You can feel the tension pulsing through the stadium, but all you can think about is the smirk that guy had on his face and how Jisung tackled him to the ground.

You catch Chan's eye as he gets into position, his jaw tight, eyes focused like a predator stalking prey. He's locked in now, and it's obvious who he's targeting.

The moment the whistle blows, Chan charges forward with a level of ferocity you've only seen in games against the Titans. He barrels through the opposing players like a tank, zeroing in on the guy who had the audacity to mess with you.

There's no hesitation, no mercy in his movements. Chan slams into him hard, sending the player sprawling onto the field with a heavy thud. The crowd erupts, half in awe, half in shock, but you just smirk, knowing this is personal for Chan.

From the bench, you and Jisung watch with amused satisfaction. Jisung's been benched for his earlier outburst but he's not bothered. In fact, he's enjoying every second of watching Chan wreck that guy's shit.

"Damn, Chan's out for blood," Jisung mutters, leaning back on the bench as he watches the game with a grin. "That guy's going to feel those hits tomorrow."

You chuckle, flipping through your book even though the game keeps pulling your attention. "I don't feel bad for him. He had it coming."

Jisung nods, watching as Chan lines up for the next play, eyes narrowed on his target. "Oh, for sure. That dude's lucky Chan's not actually trying to break bones."

Another whistle and the play starts again. Chan doesn't miss a beat, taking down the same guy with ruthless efficiency. It's like watching a lion pick off the weakest in the herd. Each tackle is harder than the last, and each time the guy gets up, he's a little slower, a little more shaken.

Jisung laughs, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. "You know, Chan really likes you."

You pause, pretending to still be engrossed in The Book Thief even though the words are starting to blur from how fast your heart is beating. "Yeah, I know. He was really sweet on our date."

Jisung raises an eyebrow. "Sweet, huh? Is that why you didn't kiss?"

You roll your eyes, shifting in your seat. "I don't know. I just wish he would've kissed me. I mean, he was perfect the whole night, but..."

Jisung snorts, shaking his head. "He's waiting for the right moment, that dork. It's Chan. He overthinks everything."

"He's sweet," you say with a small smile, glancing over at the field as Chan flattens the guy again. "But yeah, he could be a little bolder."

Jisung chuckles, leaning back and crossing his arms. "He's a huge step up from the losers you usually date, though."

You give him a side-eye but can't help but laugh. "Thanks, Ji. Real subtle."

Jisung grins. "Just saying. Chan's actually a good guy. He treats you right, and he's obviously willing to tackle anyone who looks at you the wrong way."

You smirk, watching as the game progresses with Chan's relentless assault on the guy who'd tried to mess with you. The Titans are starting to look rattled, their dirty tactics failing as the Maniacs pick up momentum. Every time Chan hits the guy, you and Jisung share a glance, unable to hide your amusement.

"God, he's just laying him out over and over," Jisung laughs, shaking his head. "I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost."

You lean back, crossing your legs and finally closing your book, realizing you're too distracted to read. "He deserves it."

"Damn right he does," Jisung mutters, eyes flicking back to the field. "And Chan? He's doing it for you. You see how hard he's going?"

Your chest flutters a little, watching Chan as he commands the field, each hit more powerful than the last. Yeah, you've noticed. He's not just playing for the team right now. He's playing for you.

The final whistle blows, and the Maniacs emerge victorious with a hard-fought win. The stands erupt into wild cheers, red and black confetti raining down as fans jump to their feet. The Maniacs' players are high-fiving and clapping each other on the back, but your eyes are locked on Chan as he jogs off the field, eyes immediately searching for you.

Felix, Minho, and the rest of the team are basking in the victory, but Chan's focus is entirely on you. As he gets closer, you can see the adrenaline still pumping through his veins, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His hair is damp with sweat, his jersey streaked with dirt, but he's never looked better.

He doesn't stop when he reaches you. Instead, he hooks his arm around your waist, pulling you up from the bench in one fluid motion before pressing his lips to yours. It's not gentle, not soft like you might've imagined for a first kiss. It's fierce, fueled by the high of victory and the raw emotion from earlier. But it's perfect.

The second his lips meet yours, the world seems to blur. The roar of the crowd fades into the background, and for a moment, it's just you and Chan. You kiss him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as he lifts you slightly off the ground. You can feel the strength in his arms, the heat radiating from his body, and the way his lips move against yours is enough to make your head spin.

Around you, the entire football team erupts into cheers and whistles, but you don't care. You and Chan are locked in your own little world. His grip tightens on your waist, pulling you even closer as his lips move against yours with a kind of urgency that takes your breath away.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and Chan presses his forehead against yours, his smile wide and genuine.

"Took you long enough," you tease, your heart racing.

He laughs, his eyes sparkling with that boyish charm that always gets to you. "Sorry, I guess I was waiting for the right moment."

You chuckle, still feeling the warmth of his lips lingering on yours. "Well, I think this qualifies."

"Damn right it does," Jisung calls from the sidelines, still sitting on the bench. He's grinning from ear to ear, and Felix is right beside him, laughing. The entire team is watching now, most of them whistling or clapping, and you roll your eyes at their over-the-top reactions.

Chan sets you back down, his arm still wrapped around your waist as he turns to face the team, his grin widening. "Alright, alright. Get your laughs in now."

Felix smirks, clapping his hands. "I knew it! I fucking knew it was gonna happen today. Took you long enough, mate."

Minho, ever the smug one, crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow. "Not bad, Bang Chan. Not bad at all. But we all knew it was coming."

You roll your eyes, leaning into Chan's side as the team continues to tease. Jeongin comes up and claps Chan on the back, grinning. "Finally, man. We were starting to think you'd never make a move."

Chan chuckles, tightening his arm around you. "Yeah, well... figured I'd save the kiss for after a win."

Jisung, still lounging on the bench, raises an eyebrow. "You're just lucky you didn't fuck it up. If you waited any longer, Y/N might've made the first move."

You smirk, looking up at Chan. "He's not wrong."

Chan laughs, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your temple. "Guess I'll have to make sure I'm quicker next time."

The rest of the team hoots and hollers, clearly enjoying the moment. Even Hyunjin, who's usually more composed, is grinning like an idiot. Seungmin shakes his head, trying to suppress a laugh. "I'm just glad we finally got that over with. It was painful watching you two dance around each other."

Felix claps his hands together, a wicked grin on his face. "Alright, next step is Chan officially joining the 'Best Friends Approved Boyfriend' club. Y/N's got some standards, and we need to make sure he's up to the task."

Chan groans, shooting Felix a look. "I already signed the damn list. What more do you want from me?"

You laugh, shaking your head as Felix continues to tease. "We'll let you off the hook for now, Captain," you say, giving him a playful nudge. "But only because you did good today."

Chan grins down at you, his eyes softening. "Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you."

As the team slowly starts to head toward the locker rooms, you and Chan linger for a moment longer, basking in the aftermath of the game and the kiss that's still fresh on your lips. The sun is beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the field, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

Chan pulls you closer, his voice low as he leans in. "So, what do you say we go out tonight? Celebrate the win... and the kiss?"

You smile, your heart fluttering at the thought. "I'd like that."

He grins, pressing one last kiss to your forehead before leading you toward the locker rooms. The Maniacs may have won the game, but in this moment, it feels like you and Chan are the real victors.

[tyxoxo]

hello!! i just read your nomin smut, and if we still can, i wanna request #7 and #13 for the nsfw dialogue prompts with them

[“Can you guys just fuck already?” +“Did I just say that out loud?”]

warnings: haechan is a perv, implied blackmail, fruity nomin, throuple, oral, facefucking, exhibitionism/voyeurism

a/n: since i didn’t want this to be a copy of my last one, i added haechan in the mix. i hope that’s okay 😭

“I don’t know why I agreed to this.” Jeno spoke into the palms of his hands, followed by a heavy sigh. Would he end up regretting this decision? Maybe.

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. You won’t even know I’m here.” Haechan said with a smirk. He was awfully smug, eager to watch his two friends absolutely destroy their shared girlfriend, and ultimately cash in on the show of a lifetime. 

You, Jeno, and Jaemin all gave a “bullshit” expression, eyes darting over to the boy sitting on your reading couch in the corner of the bedroom. 

Neither one of you believed his jest, and judging by the laugh he tried to hold in, it only brought more truth to his mischief. 

Somehow, through blackmail as you would like to call it, he found out about your combined throuple after walking in on Jeno and Jaemin unloading on your face just a week prior.

It was bound to happen, not only from the three of them rooming together (not including Renjun), but because Haechan was a perv. 

You almost wished it was sweet little Renjun that stumbled upon it, because maybe then you wouldn’t be here like this.

Of course you were mortified when it happened—a cup's worth of jizz on your face right as he “walked in”, blinding you from all aspects of degeneracy. Jeno and Jaemin’s heavy groans masking the sound of the door being opened, and the only indication of a disturbance was Jeno’s sixth sense; being able to feel a fourth presence behind him. You couldn’t even open your eyes and stand up properly when you heard him yell, relying solely on Jaemin to guide you to the bathroom while Jeno remained in the room ripping Haechan apart. 

No amount of “sorry’s” would have calmed down their anger, especially Jeno’s. And for your sake, Jaemin diffused the situation while you took refuge in the kitchen, binging on dry cereal to calm your nerves. 

Hoping to put the horrid event behind you, all of you tried to carry on like nothing happened, with Jeno threatening once to kill Haechan if Renjun found out. 

So far, so good.

But somehow the bastard made a proposition later that night: either let him watch a second time or he’ll not only tell Renjun, but the rest of his “buddies” that we didn’t even know about. 

Jaemin tried to call his bluff, saying that there was no way he had other “friends” out there, and if he did, they were just as stupid as him.

Of course, he had proof. With a list of contacts just waiting to be informed. 

Discussing such a topic was not how Jeno and Jaemin wanted to spend their night: dealing with an awful case of post-nut dysphoria. 

And such a “deal” almost made the three of you wonder if there was a recording hidden behind his scheme. 

—

Now here you were, having already tried to drag out the inevitable for a week now. But you honestly wanted this over with; whatever to secure your modesty that should’ve been kept within the comfort of your two partners. 

“You know I could still kill you right?”

Jeno spat passed his palms as he sat slouched on the edge of the bed. The only noble thing you could provide was a pat and rub of his back, occasionally scratching across his spine because you knew deep down that he loved it. 

Surprisingly, it helped him ease up, but you still had Jaemin on your other side, trying his hardest to be the pacifist.

You looked over to the left at his incredulous expression, using your other hand to rub along his thigh for assurance. He met your eyes, slightly smiling as if he wasn’t the tiniest bit annoyed.

“Let’s just do this. I’m sure it’ll relieve some stress once we get started.” Jaemin huffed out, leaning forward to look at Jeno to formally initiate the evening.

“Wait before we start, give us your phone!” 

“Good idea…fucking christ.” 

Somehow Jaemin chuckled at Jeno’s pained exclamation, only adding more fuel to the fire.   

You thanked your last minute effort to keep this in the walls of this room only, successfully confiscating his means of extortion.

Haechan seemed to get comfortable after you placed it far away on the nightstand. And the three of you had no choice but to carry on.

As soon as you sat back down on the bed in between them, they got to work on your flimsy pajama shirt, raising it above your head to expose your chest.

Because of the additional body in the room, you almost covered your breasts out of instinct, but none of it mattered once Jaemin’s kisses lingered in that direction.

Meanwhile, Jeno got to the usual work of devouring your lips and grasping your cheek, sucking just as passionately as Jaemin did to your nipples.

Your hands matched the same energy, inching down towards their respective packages, where your eyes blew wide through Jeno’s kisses at the fact that they weren’t as flaccid as you thought they would be.

“What’s that look for sweetheart?” 

Haechan spoke quietly, but with just as much weight. You didn’t dare look in his direction, nor acknowledge his question. 

But Jeno helped speak your mind, way better than you would have been able to.

“Shut the fuck up Haechan…” Jeno’s words went from biting, to becoming lost in translation as he held in a groan. You began to stroke both of them through their basketball shorts, giving the perfect amount of friction against the nylon material.

You multi-tasked well, being able to keep a steady pace considering Jaemin swirled his tongue so skillfully across your raised nipples. Even tugging harder than he normally would, most likely to distract you from the sore thumb sitting in the corner.

But you spoke too soon, as your peacemaker boyfriend left his hand in place of his warm tongue to get a taste of both of you.

There was no hesitation, not even from Jeno as all three of you conjoined your tongues as best as you could—licking, sucking, smacking, all of the above to overpower the sounds of Haechan working to undo his zipper. 

You never got tired of their unique flavors, whether it was from their mouths or their cocks. And to be able to claim them as yours, brought so much fun into your life; an entire glass full of excitement and scorching hot thrills.

You felt Jeno’s unoccupied hand, all the way down to the contours of his palm lines as he cupped your clothed core. His prominent middle finger poked along your warm slit, tickling up your spine and back down into your pelvis like a surge of electricity.

“Are you gonna let me taste you? Hmm?” Jeno broke the mile long kiss of a lifetime, to whisper against your now-swollen lips. You seemed to have fallen drunk to their charisma, but with the help of Jaemin, he brought you back down to a measly level of sobriety with a harsh squish of your cheeks to elicit a response.

“Yes…please, I love when you eat my pussy….” 

“Good girl…” Jaemin cooed against your neck before forming a line with his saliva, from your racing pulse all the way up the back of your ear. You shuddered from the warmth, to which he smiled for the first time.

The weight of the bed felt lighter for a split second, as Jeno positioned himself in between your thighs. Jaemin fell back with you against the mattress right as you missed the death glare Jeno gave Haechan as they locked eyes.

Of course, the perv had already freed his dick from his boxers, sitting in the most splayed out position on the small cushion.

Jeno told himself he would try his best not to acknowledge his roommate's presence, but he just thought of the most wonderful idea…

His lean frame still blocked most of Haechan’s view as he pulled down your velvet pajama shorts in a flash, but one way or another, Jeno was going to make sure Haechan got to hear just how good he made you feel. 

You yelped from the cold air that immediately hit your core, but the sudden change in temperature didn’t last long. He pried your legs far apart, inhaling deeply as he licked a stripe from the crevice of your ass all the way to your pulsing clit.

Jaemin swallowed the sigh of relief that bloomed from your heavenly chords, and continued to eat up every whimper as Jeno began to devour you.

Haechan’s mouth hung open, completely overwhelmed by the sound of Jeno slurping up your juices. He just knew you tasted as good as you looked. 

Deep down, he envied Jeno’s animalistic desire and the rewards that came with it. Why couldn’t it have been him that got to grip the soft flesh of your thighs, lick in between your folds with however much desperation he wanted. 

Nonetheless, Haechan stroked his leaking cock, even faster now that he saw Jaemin doing the same as he continued to kiss you. 

But he managed to dart his eyes everywhere, from Jaemin’s hard length, to your wiggling body, and from what he could see of your dripping pussy. 

“You taste so good…so perfect.” 

Jeno’s words were muffled at best, but that was okay, he knew Haechan heard every word.

“Did you hear that baby? You taste amazing, like always…” 

Jaemin spoke in between his sloppy kisses, making sure you soaked in all of the praise before it was his turn to claim you. And eventually, he kept his eyes locked onto Jeno, the two of them sharing a telepathic high-five at their own game of bragging. You unknowingly backed up their tactics as you raked your fingers through Jeno’s hair, ushering him further in between your thighs. 

You gave what Jaemin liked to call, a “cutesy nod” as you caught your breath, something you always did when the pleasure became too much. But who could blame you, when the high built up like a drug—like your very own narcotic that you could seize whenever you wanted.

“I deserve a taste too…” Jaemin called for the switch, despite your orgasm approaching. You whined from the emptiness as Jeno rose up, slapping your thigh before he left you. The sting managed to surge all the way to your clit, causing your exposed body to jerk in front of Haechan. 

Finally, he was able to see all of you. Even if it was for a few blinks, you were everything he fantasized about and more.

Absolute perfection—completely drenched, chest glistening with a thin sheet of sweat.

But even Haechan was getting impatient, he was still waiting on you to be fucked. And if it didn’t happen soon, his own impending orgasm would be ruined.

He paused on his own pleasure, choosing to catch his breath while his two roommates undressed and got in their respective positions. Jeno remained to the left of you on the bed, giving Haechan a clear view of when he would fill your mouth from the side. Although Jeno towered over you, he still offered some assistance as you propped yourself up on your elbows. One hand rested behind you to support your head and neck, and the other gripped his rock-hard length, just waiting to slip past your lips.

Jaemin was down below like you expected, peckering small kisses along the inside of your thighs. You could feel his smile as he gave another kiss, this time on your clit. It felt just like Jaemin; even if you were blinded, you would immediately be able to tell it was him: being the mascot for all of the edgers and teasers, while Jeno reigned over the savages and deviants with pride. 

And you were always in the middle of it, ready and willing to be sucked into the wild ride.

The night's events started up again, with Haechan being able to see a whole lot more now. He watched as you welcomed Jeno into your mouth, letting him hit the back of your throat like an absolute doll.

You pushed through the edging that Jaemin unleashed upon you, bobbing your head up and down on Jeno’s length instantly. 

His abs tensed with every connection of your nose to his groin, causing Haechan to forge a death grip around his cock as he eye’s trailed up to Jeno’s furrowed brow from your luscious enthusiasm.

Despite being obstructed from the amount of dick in your mouth, you let a series of whimpers slip past Jeno’s accompaniment while Jaemin sucked along your folds like candy. 

It was your duty to let him know he was doing so well, and how you grinded against his mouth told him so. 

His tongue formed so many different shapes as he indulged; flattening like a board when he made contact with your wet lips, and perking up to tap along your sensitive nub to feel it twitch.

“Don’t fucking stop. Keep taking me all the way in…” Jeno’s demands from up above were a sign that you were losing focus. Your release was so close, and too powerful to let go of.

And if Jaemin backed off of you like he was known to do, you could honestly cry.

“I can tell you’re close love. Try and beg for me.” Jaemin cooed against your wet mound, offering a challenge that would make or break your orgasm.

Jaemin commanded one thing, while Jeno commanded another: either let up and beg, or risk a brutal reprimand if you didn’t keep your mouth where it belonged. 

You were ready to make your final decision when—

“Can you guys just fuck already?”

“Fuck…did I just say that out loud?” 

The nuisance that you almost forgot about, made his presence known again. 

Although it was a whisper, it was heard clearly, being enough to make you whine in disappointment from yet another denied orgasm as Jaemin backed away from your core. Your mouth left Jeno, much to his dismay as he left out a pained groan. All you could do was fall backwards on the bed, fighting back the urge to scream. 

“You better be glad I’m too far gone to do anything right now.” Jeno spat as he raked his hands through his locks that were beginning to stick to his forehead, ultimately searching for a “happy place” in the process.

“Unreal…”

You didn’t let Jaemin finish the rest of his possible rant, instead choosing to voice your distress.

“Please! I was so close!”

You screamed into the palms of your hands, fanning your butterflied legs back and forth to take your mind off your aching pussy. 

Jeno and Jaemin hated to admit it, but your desperation was hot. Their pervert roommate indirectly attributed to your edging, and seeing you become a crumbled mess on the sheets only fueled their sadistic tendencies even more. Though, they would rather burn in hell before ever crediting the dead weight in the corner.

All three boys formed a look of intrigue, with Jaemin initiating your well-deserved ending with a simple nod and cheeky grin.

With your head still in your hands, and a moment of silence, it was too late for you to catch their plan. And before you knew it, Jaemin stood in front of your sprawled figure, lifting one leg on his shoulder as he pistoned inside you.

You didn’t expect it at all. In fact, you thought the night was over. But here you were, raising your upper body to watch Jaemin stuff you to the hilt. Unbelievable.

“Fuck!!” Your cries of pleasure matched your reaction; with all of this liberation being long overdue. 

Jaemin’s own sigh of relief looped through your brain, creating your very own broken record from his satisfaction. 

For the first time, you decided to let your eyes drift past your hard working boyfriend and over to the boy in the corner. 

He was in heaven.  

Disheveled hair from countless times of sweeping his bangs out of his face to get a proper view. Bottom lip puffed red from incessant chewing. And skin flushed golden from the speed at which he stroked his cock.

Your witness to his own undoing caused a shift within you, and you felt so fucked up from not wanting to look away. 

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” 

Jaemin teased as if he wasn’t pounding you into oblivion, but you felt too flustered to admit it. Especially now that Jeno was going to prevent any flattering remarks with a simple, yet effective facefuck.

He had always been the jealous type after all.

Soon after Jaemin entered you, Jeno did a makeshift 69 position, choosing to arch his upper body as high as it would go. His clenched fists rested on both sides of your body, relying solely on familiarity to direct his length inside your mouth. 

To him, this was the best way to dissolve the anger that manifested over the course of a week.

You tried your best to prepare your throat, but the pressure from this angle caused you to heave around him. Jeno could care less if you couldn’t take it like this, practice makes perfect. 

He wasted no time, practically laying into your face with no intention of going easy. 

“Look who’s enjoying it now?” 

Jeno had reached borderline-feral, and he had every right to back up his degrading with how well he used your throat.

Not only were your ears ringing, but your entire neck felt like it was burning, and it didn’t help that the echoes of skin slapping had magnified. At this rate of filth, you weren’t going to last. And Jaemin could feel you getting closer with every contraction around his cock, but he reassured that he would be right there with you soon, 

“So happy I get to fill this pussy…” 

Only a few more shaky breaths remained as Jaemin emptied everything he had to offer inside your walls, forming a white ring of your combined juices along his shaft with every thrust.  

The entire atmosphere felt light as you attempted to voice your orgasm through the cock stabbing at the back of your throat, but all you could do was reach up and grip Jeno’s wrists for support as the familiar band snapped along every inch of your body. You gripped his wrists even tighter, digging your nails into the veins that decorated his arms.

Jeno intermixed his shaming in between his groans effortlessly, reminding you that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Nope. I’m staying right here. Right where I…belong.”  

His last word signaled the explosion, forcing so much of his cum that it bubbled past your abused hole in thickened spurts. 

You massed together the last remaining strength you could to smack Jeno’s arms as you floated away into near unconsciousness. Fortunately for you, he backed out just as quickly as he entered, unleashing a series of smacks to your cheeks to bring you back down to earth.

You didn’t even notice or feel that his cum had splashed out onto your eyes once he gave you the freedom to breathe. Regardless of the déjà vu, this was the most euphoric you had ever felt in a while, and you knew they felt the same too. 

Jaemin had just experienced the effects of the comedown as Jeno laid next to you, and he would have remained inside you for a little while longer had it not been for his mental reminder of his roommate. 

Because of your intuition, you knew Haechan probably looked completely stunned after his own release. You couldn’t see anything with the cum painted on your face, but you could hear those unfamiliar breaths coming from him in the corner. 

But now that you all followed through with the deal, it was time for a well-deserved aftercare session without him. And if he had to leave the house entirely for the sake of some privacy, so be it.

Jeno must’ve read your mind, as you heard him reach over for Haechan’s phone on the nightstand.

“Alright, time to go. And we mean go go.”

You let the two of them continue with their bickering as Jaemin leaned over to pick you up within his broad fame while still inside you.

“Here, let me help you…and then how about a movie after?” 

His endearing tone soothed you beyond comprehension, and you clung onto him like a koala as he began walking, presumably towards the drawer to grab one of his t-shirts for you to wear after being cleaned up.

You nodded before turning your direction to the sound of Jeno escorting Haechan out, followed by a loud crash.

“What the fuck dude?!” 

You heard Haechan shout, followed by running steps towards his phone that had been chucked down the hall.

The last thing to end the night was the loud slam of the bedroom door and Jeno’s dark humor, 

“If you see me on the news later, it’s because I’m wanted for murder.”

why have majority of my requests been crack i-

[brbsoulnomming]

Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 7

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | AO3

-----

Eddie doesn't know why he can't just shut his mouth.

Well, no.

He does know why, and it's because he talks to distract himself, to make himself sound confident and in control and not afraid at all. Fuck, he's terrified right now, and walking by Steve's side and yammering at him helps, even if he kind of thinks he should have stuck more to Ozzy Osborne and less to Nancy Wheeler. The way Steve's looking up ahead at Nancy after Eddie had commented about her true love worthy actions is - complicated in a way that Eddie, if he's honest, never expected to see on Steve Harrington's face.

Eddie'd kind of always figured that the guy had maybe four emotions and not a whole lot else going on under that hair. He feels bad about it now, now that Steve's walking by his side in hell barefoot and bare chested, the copper scent of his blood still marred and fouled by the strange ichor of the demon bats whenever Eddie leans in too close to him, wearing Eddie's vest better than Eddie himself ever has.

For your modesty, Eddie had said, as though it wasn't really for the sake of Eddie's sanity. As if he wasn't tempted by all that bare skin for more than one reason, as if it wasn't mostly because of the dim light and the grime that he hadn't caught more than a handful of the words inked on Steve's skin, the way he'd been staring.

As if he wasn't doing his best not to still stare. He knows there's come on, I didn't even do anything this time on Steve's bicep, knows it sounds like exactly something he said and lied about. Knows there's oh yeah, Jessie's real cute, legs for days somewhere on Steve's chest, and he's trying to think about something else besides the way it makes him scramble to remember if Jessie was one of the many girls he'd pretended to have a crush on.

Something else. Anything else.

Absurdly, he wonders if there's still demon bat blood and flesh between Steve's teeth, if Eddie could taste it as well as smell it if he kissed him.

"It doesn't matter. Nancy and I aren't soulmates," Steve says quietly, yanking Eddie out of his own thoughts and back on to the topic at hand, which is -

Right. Steve and Nancy, not Steve and Eddie and bloody ichor kissing.

"How do you know?" Eddie challenges.

There's a measured, purposeful silence, and Eddie's eyes widen a little.

"Did you test it?" Despite his true love talk, he hadn't known Nancy and Steve were that serious, back in '84 - or maybe one of them just had something really specific on their skin, that let them know immediately.

Steve scoffs, though, lip curled up in the briefest sneer before he seems to give up. "Not intentionally."

Oh. That's - oh.

"Oh," he says lamely, unable to come up with anything else.

He thinks about asking did you ever go to the hospital, then? or is this what you were trying to protect me from? because fuck, he wants, and he's in the middle of hell and he might as well throw it all in, but… what if it isn't him? Right now, Eddie thinks he'd rather hold onto the pretense that it is, that it could be, than know for sure.

Still a goddamn coward.

"She said she loved me," Steve says, once again snapping Eddie back into the conversation, and huh, he's going to have to remember that.

That Steve will talk, too, if Eddie's quiet long enough, if he gives him the space and shows him that he'll listen.

"Not all the time, but enough," Steve continues. "I believed her. But then - she said that we were just pretending. That it was all bullshit. Both of those things can't be true."

Eddie swallows. "I mean… yeah, sure they can. People can have a lot of feelings about things that are messy and don't make sense, right? Like she could love you and think what you guys were going through was bullshit."

Steve's quiet, and there's this look on his face like he wants so bad it's hurting him, and fuck, Eddie's heart aches. Then Steve seems to shake himself out of it.

"We've got more important shit to worry about, anyway. How're you holding up, man?"

Eddie blinks at him, thrown by the quick subject change. "Fine?"

Steve gives him a look, but - he isn't actually lying.

"Oh, you know, I'm terrified as shit and I feel like my legs are jello and my lungs are about to give out, but at least the murderous mob can't find me down here and I'm not in this alone anymore, so, you know. Things are looking up."

That gets Steve to give a little amused huff, at least, one corner of his mouth turned up in a little smile before his expression goes contemplative. "Maybe I should talk to them."

"Uh." Eddie stares at him. "To who?"

"Carver and the rest of the team. I mean, I don't really know the freshmen, but the older guys seem to be the ones leading the charge anyway."

Yeah, no, that still isn't making any more sense, and he raises an eyebrow. "And you're just. Gonna waltz up and ask them nicely to call off the freak hunt? Jesus fucking Christ, man, are you serious with this?"

The look on Steve's face tells him that yes, he is, and -

"Nope, no, uh-uh, I cannot overstate how bad of an idea this is, you - Buckley, Wheeler, a little help over here?"

The girls stop and turn to him practically in unison, and he waves a hand at Steve. "Stevie here thinks he should go have a nice chat with the mob out for my blood and tell them that he's ashamed of their behavior, and they should all go home and think about what they did."

"Hey!" Steve protests, in that harsh whispery tone that says he'd be shouting if he wasn't worried what attention that would draw. "That's not what I meant, geez, I just thought I could try to run interference with the guys on the basketball team."

Nancy and Robin exchange a look.

"I mean, it's not a terrible idea," Robin says, but she looks unsure about what she's saying.

"Of course it's a terrible idea," Nancy retorts. "Do you want to draw their attention to us?"

"I think their attention is already pretty drawn," Steve points out.

"To Eddie," Nancy replies. "What's the point of working to keep him hidden if we're just going to announce that we're involved with him somehow?"

Steve scowls. "How the fuck is Carver not a suspect, anyway? It was his girlfriend, then he's found at the scene of the crime with his friend's body, and he's still walking free and leading the crusade against someone else? That feels like basic detective work to me."

Eddie snorts. "Probably the same reason why your parties used to get busted up with a warning, but I got arrested for supplying the people who went to them."

He expects some blustering protest, especially when he sees Nancy's eyes cut to Steve with a wary resignation, but Steve just deflates a little.

"Oh." He looks over at Robin, giving her this little crestfallen expression with a searching eyebrow raised.

Robin's brows are pinched, and she shrugs at him, which apparently gives Steve the answer to whatever he was asking.

He turns back to them, shoulders squared. "So all the more reason I should talk to them. If he's getting by on that shit, then I can use the same thing to get him off your back."

Nancy looks at him all soft and contemplative, and for a moment Eddie has the horrifying thought that the back up he called for might actually be against him, but -

"It's still not worth the risk," she says firmly. "And we have more important things to worry about right now than Jason Carver."

Another earthquake strikes before Steve can attempt to continue the argument - if he was going to, anyway, Eddie'd seen the look of determination on his face but he's also seen the way he tends to ultimately defer to Nancy.

It doesn't really matter, he guesses, because the shaking is violent enough to knock them around - Nancy ending up held securely in Steve's arms and Eddie and Robin ending up hitting the ground.

Well, Eddie ending up hitting the ground, but for once his ability to throw himself around without thinking comes in handy, and he manages to catch Robin enough that she lands mostly on him.

There's a silent round of looks between the four of them, making sure they're all okay, and then they're off again.

"Hey, Eddie," Robin says as she comes up alongside him. "Thanks for the save."

Eddie huffs out a little laugh. "Steve just did the exact same thing."

Robin's expression goes a little scrunched. "He just threw himself on the ground and gave me an admittedly not very soft landing spot, but better than the Upside Down floor?"

"No, he - hey, shut up, I'm very comfortable - he came up to thank me for a save, too."

Her eyebrows shoot up, and then narrow contemplatively, gaze settling hard on Steve's back where he's walking with Nancy. "Oh did he. Your own personal thank you, huh?"

"Uh."

Eddie doesn't exactly know what to say to that. He'd fixated on Nancy to deflect from his own actions so he didn't have to process finally accepting his massive crush on Steve Harrington in front of the man himself, because she seemed like the obvious choice, but Robin had jumped in after Steve without a second thought, too, maybe she didn't appreciate not being singled out for a thank you.

She doesn't look unappreciated, though, she looks like she's mulling something over, a tentative little smile of amusement tugging at her lips before she looks back at him.

"Well, we both know what you did."

His eyes widen. No. There's no way she knows he's having horny soulmate thoughts about Steve Harrington, she can't -

"Making sure the kids didn't get in the boat?" she prompts. "Even though it meant that you had to come back out on the lake? Yeah, you can talk about being a coward all you want, but we see you."

Eddie flushes, grabbing for a piece of his hair to hide behind and immediately dropping it, considering it's still damp from lake water and Upside Down gunk. "Don't make me into something I'm not, Buckley."

He's not the hero in this. He's barely a party member. He's just - a companion they picked up for this particular quest because they had no other options. Eddie's got no illusions about where he stands in all of this, no matter how much he wants it to be different.

She rolls her eyes. "Well, it's still nice to have another almost adult in all of this. We actually outnumber the children, at least for now."

Eddie frowns. "How many children are involved in all of this?"

"Six," she replies. "A hoard of six of them that used to show up to irritate us when we were just trying to serve ice cream without getting screamed at by overheated mall rats; it was very annoying how many children Steve was friends with. Then I invited myself into their little party, but we kind of got Erica Sinclair involved too, so the numbers didn't exactly improve."

She pauses, then looks at him suspiciously. "You don't come with another child that we're going to have to watch out for, do you?"

He barks out a laugh. "No. The three youngest of my flock are already involved with all of this, it seems. The only thing I come with is blood thirsty jocks."

It comes out light and joking, the way he'd meant it to, but it still makes her look at him consideringly for a moment.

"No," he says, guessing what she's thinking.

"We would, you know, if you wanted us to," Robin tells him. "Steve's run interference with his old crowd before."

He opens his mouth to retort that he doesn't want them to, then snaps it shut, aware that would be a lie before he even says it. "It doesn't really matter what I want right now," he settles on. "Like Wheeler said, it's too risky."

Robin looks at him like she knows exactly what he was going to say, and he shifts his weight uncertainty, fiddling with his rings and waiting for her to call him on it.

She doesn't, though. She just gives a little hum, watching him for a moment longer before turning her focus back on the path ahead of them, calling out to Steve to ask him how much farther and getting into a shouty whisper fight about who needs to lower their voice.

And, well. That's the end of that, it seems, and they continue onto the Wheeler house to get their hands on Nancy's Wheeler's apparent stash of firearms. He tells himself that the warmth he feels is the satisfaction of having won that argument twice, and not from the fact that someone - that Steve Harrington - was ready to stand up for him despite the risk.

It's a good thing the lies he tells himself don't count.

Taglist: @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void

-----

Part 8

[fullmoonandstar]

Nine Days in Hell

Chapter 2: The Lure

Raphael x afab!Tav Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: R Word count: 1.4 k Cw: second-person perspective, sex acts mentioned (including hand on throat) Summary: Haarlep's frequent use of your form leaves you pent-up and frustrated, but Raphael offers a solution AN: you're welcome Part 1

You sat up straight, and your head whipped around to see bare chested Raphael in his human guise, a towel wrapped around his hips, closing the curtain behind him. A curse may have left your lips. 

You hated how charming his smile was. Even though you knew what he was, a part of you had a strange fascination with him. Today, however, his smile had a hint of annoyance to it, as if he didn't like being stood up. The devil was not happy that you had let him wait. Good.

"What do you want?" you asked coolly. "Actually, I don't care. Go bother someone else."

"My, my, aren't you ever the feisty little mouse," he purred. 

Raphael walked to the basin, turning his back to you and setting the towel aside before grabbing the ladle. 

"I'm just here to spend a refreshing evening at the bathhouse with an old friend," he said, meeting your gaze over his shoulder. You tried to look away, but the curves of his behind and broad back drew your eyes anyway. He dumped water on his shoulder, letting it run down his back, and your eyes followed. Even in his human form, his skin had a red tint to it that seemed unnatural. Raphael ached his back leisurely and a moan escaped his lips. You thanked the gods for the fact that he didn’t see your face when you heard his voice make such a scandalous noise, and prayed he had no way of knowing how pent-up you were. If anyone were to touch you in the right places, you would come undone in a heartbeat. After his lewd display, Raphael placed the ladle back in the basin and turned around. You averted your eyes. 

"Come now, pet, what's the matter with the false modesty?" he mocked.

The water rippled as he joined you in the pool and sat down next to you. It was true that you had indulged Haarlep at the House of Hope, but you only remembered fragments, glimpses of ridged red skin, wings and horns and unparalleled ecstasy. Seeing them in their glamour and seeing Raphael were two different things. 

"I just don’t care for unsolicited dick."

He laughed. 

"What do you want, Raphael?" you asked again, getting annoyed with his antics real fast, and looked at him, making a point of only looking at his face. He did not return then favour.

 His brown eyes racked over your body, and you felt exposed under his gaze and fighting the urge to cross your arms over your chest. You had seldom experienced feelings of inadequacy, but in upon your return to the city and your constant state of arousal, you had noticed the way others looked at you. The ladies of the city were all slander arms and legs, unblemished skin and graceful movements. You had been a soldier, a paladin, for the better part of the last decade and none of those applied to you. Your life had left scars on your body and face, your arms and legs were built to swing swords, hold shields and jump over charms. You had strength, but certainly not grace. And it all didn’t matter because Raphael was not here for any of that, he wanted something from you. 

"I already told you, soaking with good company." 

He smiled and said: "What better way to spend an evening than in the company of my most esteemed client. I always liked you, you know." 

"I stole the hammer from under you, and almost beat you to death."

"Yes, I remember. Why did you spare me?" 

His smile was pleasant, but the question was pointed. 

"Cut the bullshit." you snarled. "I know you're up to something. You always are. So, say your piece or fuck off. "

His eyes glittered with some emotion that you could not quite place. 

"Straight to the point as always," he said. 

"Fine, I'm here to make a deal."

You rolled your eyes. 

"I didn’t make a deal with you when the world almost ended, what makes you think I will now?"

"Because you won’t be able to say no." The smile on his handsome face got a cruel edge to it. 

"You should count yourself lucky I didn’t kill you when I had the chance, and I’m beginning to regret it," you snapped. 

"Get out of here. Leave." you waved in the direction of the door and added: "And tell that brazen Incubus of yours to stop using my form. What are they even doing?! Are they in a challenge to fuck all the nine hells!?"

A dangerous sparkle ignited in his eyes. You had said something that played into his cards. 

"That’s what incubi do, sweets. They are such greedy creatures, taking everything they can get their hands on, but don’t worry, there is a solution to your … situation." 

"If you think I’ll sell my soul in exchange for the incubus to stop, you are wrong."

"I would never ask such a thing," he exclaimed in fake exasperation, but then he leaned in so close you could smell his obnoxious perfume and purred: "But maybe we can come to an understanding."

You knew this was a manipulation, but If there was any way to end this, you should at least hear him. You were so tired, so emotionally drained, so desperate with a thirst you didn’t know how to quench, that you swallowed his bait, hook and all. 

"What do you suggest?"

"Give me a month." His voice quivered with excitement, and in his eyes burnt a dark fire.

"A month of what?"

"Of You."

That did not clear up your question. What did he want from you?

"A month of me?" 

A month could be ages in the hells, and your gut told you that there was more to this than he had said so far. He was so close, and you failed to will your body into not reacting. A drop of water ran down from his hair along the side of his face, guiding your eyes to his delicate neck, broad shoulders and firm, round chest. You balled your hands into fists to keep them from creeping up to feel the hard muscles burn under your palms. All of this was a ruse, even his handsome face was a trap. He already knew that you had a weak spot for him, and you wouldn’t let yourself be exploited like this. 

"No," you said finally. An amused smile bloomed on his face, as if this was a joke you had shared before.

"You drive a hard bargain, as always, but maybe I can convince you yet. It would be sad to see you suffer so deliciously without any purpose." 

He leaned back, giving you a bit more space, and you took a deep breath to calm the stirring in your stomach. Raphael waved his hand and a bunch of paper pieces appeared in it. 

"Maybe you need a bit of inspiration, as to what this month could entail. "

He held the papers out for you. The top most page was a sketch, and you needed a moment to decipher the lines, but then it was like a punch in the gut.

The sketch was a top view of a devil, presumably Raphael in his true form. He was on all fours, his wings were half open, as if to shield for the outside. He was on top of someone, but their face was obscured by his massive body, only the small hands that clutched helplessly at his back and their point of contact was visible. His powerful, thick thighs spread their legs open, and he was buried deep in the folds. You could almost feel the movement, the hard thrusts bringing you closer to a release. 

With shaking hands, you took the sketches from his grasp and looked at the next one. 

This one showed, in first-person perspective, Raphael’s head between the legs of a woman. His big, clawed hands held her legs open and his tongue was working her bead. His eyes burned into you with such intensity, it made you shiver. This would be the view you would have if he ever was to do that with you. 

In the next one, Raphael sat against a wall, his wings relaxed as he looked seeming into the face of the person on his lap. Only the woman's back was visible as she sat on his lap like on a throne, his hands almost encircling her hips completely and supporting her movement.

The last sketch made you yelp. 

The woman was lying on her front and Raphael was on top of her, entering from behind, pressing her body into the mattress. Her face was contorted in a mask of pain and pleasure, with his hand securely around her neck. Around your neck. 

Check my Masterlist for more

[sgiandubh]

Saw your comment: "We're not all thirsty mommies, nor 12, nor bitter bitches. I'd love to see and hear more about what is beneath that mask, not beneath that shirt." Sam has done that before. He wrote an entire book about his journey but the book is called bullshit and he a liar. He's written well-thought out articles and forewords to books. He speaks intelligently and passionately and knowledgably about his liquors and the process of getting to market, and is called a shill. His work with Prickly Thistle is expensive and taking peoples' money, even when it helped this woman-owned mill immensely. It goes on and on. Today he's been accused of hypocrisy for a plastic cup, thirst trapping to change a conversation and using his social media as a PR tool to fool gullible women. Some may want to see beneath the mask but when he's shown what he is willing to you get the above.

Dear Hypocrisy Anon,

Thank you for your thoughts. I have read your long comment very carefully and let's say I agree with about 85% of it. The itching point is, of course, the book: Waypoints is a good ghostwritten memoir I have commented at length, with a more benevolent view than most of those who found it took some substantial liberty with what they (and I, for that matter) think it's the current state of play in SC Land. Note I am not saying the truth: that's only for Them to know, not for us. So dismissing it and calling everything a lie is a bit of a stretch. It's just a memoir, to be followed by other projects, other books. And who knows, another memoir, later on, where he could correct the course again at his convenience. He's only 43. Give the man some credit.

Trouble is, the world is a vast and diverse place. It's not just this fractured fandom. If he wants to remain relevant beyond OL, he needs, in my humble opinion, two things: a) to score a big role in a big budget production, which would improve his notoriety and help him reach a different public and b) curate his personal image a bit more and get out of this midlife crisis fake character he's peddling around. The only people who find it interesting are the thirsty mommies in *urv's crowd and that's, uhm... a bit irrelevant, in the big scheme of things.

So, no more political blunders, please and thank you. Shut the hell up and play Switzerland on complicated and divisive society issues which can get one in boiled water for a comma. Carefully picked and curated CSR projects, he'd ideally be more actively involved in. And yes, maybe a bit more transparency on the so many great things he does, like that partnership with the Edinburgh's Youth Theatre he didn't even mention himself or include in his stories (no doubt, out of a very British and endearing sense of modesty). And always remember: when faced with something beautiful and fragile, like that story, people will try their best to smear it and break it. I am not bitter, just realistic.

Same goes for your conclusion: I am sure many would like to see more of what is beneath that mask. It's too bad that a bunch of bitter, nasty, clueless, but also very noisy women occupy a bigger part of the stage than they should.

But have faith, Anon. For the moment, all of this is nothing what a good PR, not the clowns he obviously hired, can't fix with relative ease. Trust me. I've seen way worse. And remember, always remember what dear Wilde (God, I love that soul!) said: 'every saint has a past and every sinner has a future'.

You just gave me an idea for a future post and for this, I thank you, Anon. But for now, I have to catch up on a thing or two, rather than determine the morality of a plastic glass. I hope this long answer helps somewhat. Thank you for dropping by: it was a pleasure reading your musings.

[quotablefanfiction]

What. On. This. Wretched earth, had his husband done now. “Binghe.” He called out sharply. It was too early for this bullshit. “Husband can’t be mad at me.” Binghe, the demon toddler, said.

Shen Yuan is tired of dealing with this nonsense (chp. 12)

He Was Made For Untidy Rooms and Rumpled Beds by Bluethursday (AO3) The Scum Villain’s Self-Saving System – Explicit – Luò Bīnghé/Shěn Yuán #Alternate Universe #Canon Divergence #Hurt/Comfort #Obsessive Behavior #Possessive Behavior #Oblivious Character #Shen Qingqiu is just trying to relax over here… #it’s not his fault he’s pretty #his milkshake is bringing all the boys to the yard #Victorian Era seduction #necks are sexy #Historically inaccurate clothing #Teenage Binghe is thirsty #Masturbation #endgame Bingqiu #Adult Binghe is still thirsty #Explicit sex scenes #Sex toys

Shen Qingqiu kind of, sort of, does not have the same modesty standards as a xianxia novel set in some form of Ancient China? He also hates the heat, who knew right?

[random-imagines-blog]

Imagine being caught in an intimate moment with John Winchester by Sam and Dean.

Being around John just had a way of making you feel alive, making you feel taken care of, making you feel like you actually deserve the good things in life that sometimes popped up through all of the bullshit. You just finished a rigorous lovemaking session with him, and you were still feeling the afterglow of it, radiating with it.

Only the blanket gave you any kind of modesty. You were propped up on your arms, stomach to the bed, while caressing John’s cheek beside you. “You’re way too good at that,” You laughed. He smiled at you, facial hair giving him a grizzly appearance.

“I aim to please,” He said, rolling onto his side. He kissed your fingers, all while stroking your ribs under the blanket, over the curve of your ass and then -

The door to your motel room opened. It didn’t fly open but it was still quick enough where you couldn’t hide anything that you were doing. The sons of the man that you were currently in bed with just let themselves in, and it took them a moment to comprehend what they were seeing. John was on the jump though, sitting up as fast as he could. “GET OUT.” He shouted.

“What the hell-” Dean let out, while Sam started to stammer some kind of excuse. You let yourself drop down onto your chest and put the pillow overtop of your head, trying to hide as much of yourself as possible. They knew it was you. Who else would it be. But the awkwardness was overwhelming.

“OUT.” John yelled, and this time they got the message. Sam grabbed Dean by the shoulders and pulled him back outside, the heavy door closing shut in their faces. It blocked out whatever conversation they were having out there. “Y/n? You okay?”

“Well that was utterly humiliating,” You mumbled into the pillow. He lifted it off of you and laughed a little as some of your hairs stuck to the pillow, making them rise. “I don’t know how I’m going to sit with them in the car tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” John repeated. “It’s already morning. We leave in less than an hour.”

You groaned, realizing that you had missed a night of sleep. You had a lot of fun during it obviously, but that was going to be catching up to you later. “Coffee?”

“The Irish kind.” John agreed.

Requested by: Anonymous

[ohbo-ohno]

Kinktober Day 19 - Voyeurism

Ghost x Soap - 1k (on ao3)

summary: Ghost muses on his opinions about his new Sergeant while watching his favorite show. (Ghost POV)

cw: noncon voyeurism but no actual touching

Johnny looks so pretty with water running down his body, head thrown back and eyes squeezed shut. The scruffy hair, the scars, the blood slowly washing away - all of it paints the prettiest fucking picture Ghost has ever seen.

He hates it. 

Johnny has no right being so tempting, no right looking like that even when he thinks he’s alone.

Ghost’s heavy breaths fog up the window of the door he’s looking through, and he roughly wipes away the condensation with the side of his fist. The last thing he needs right now is a reminder that he’s not supposed to be watching Johnny, that this is wrong.

Of course it’s wrong. Everything about the way Ghost feels for Johnny is wrong.

He was never supposed to matter. This was all supposed to be temporary, but Johnny went and got himself a permanent spot on the task force, and now Ghost has to live with a constant want while Johnny walks around without a care in the world.

He snarls as Johnny relaxes further into the warm stream of water, heaving a big enough sigh that Ghost can watch as it leaves his lungs.

Here Simon is, panting like an animal and hiding behind a door, while Johnny gets to fucking relax, gets to treat himself like a fucking king.

Alright, that might be a little unfair. The military showers are far from royalty worthy, but still. Ghost hasn’t known peace since the Sergeant tapped his shoulder and promised to save him a seat, it’s bullshit that he gets to feel so at ease.

If Ghost had anything less than perfect self-control, he’d have fixed all of this tension weeks ago. Stormed right up to the Sergeant, shoved him into the closest room, and fucked all the horrible need away. But no, he can’t just go around fucking his subordinates, Price would pitch a fit.

So he’s stuck outside the shower, like a peeping Tom. It’s humiliating.

At least Johnny is decent enough to give him a show.

He always waits for the water to cover him fully after a mission, for all the dirt and grime and blood to be washed away. That had been a shocking thing to learn about Johnny - he likes things clean. He’s always the first one in the showers as soon as they’re dismissed from debriefs.

Once the water runs clear and all the filth has gone down the drain, Johnny palms his cock.

He’s never soft with himself. Ghost isn’t sure if he likes that or not - part of him wants to pin Johnny down on the filthy bathroom floor, watch him whine and complain while he strokes his cock as slowly as possible, giving him just a hint of sensation. The other part of him wants to pin Johnny to the tile and stroke him hard and fast, watch him writhe and maybe even cry a little when the pleasure starts to hurt.

Johnny walks a line between those two extremes. He jacks himself quickly and with little finesse, but he always makes sure he’s got some lubricant, and he never edges himself. He’s almost efficient about it.

The sight of Johnny’s body, scrubbed clean and gone a little pink from the heat of the water, is like a trigger for Ghost’s cock these days. He’s already thickening in his pants before Johnny starts truly getting himself off.

He doesn’t pull his cock out - for some reason that feels like a step too far. Instead he holds a heavy hand over his crotch, fucks his fist as best he can while still maintaining a thing veneer of modesty.

Another thing Johnny doesn’t even realize he gets. He puts on such a pretty show for Ghost every night, and Simon never gets to reciprocate. 

It’s difficult to follow the exact motions of Soap’s work with the steam beginning to fog up the glass from the inside. The vague motions almost get Ghost more worked up, though, leaving him to imagine what Johnny’s fist looks like around his cock.

It’s not difficult to picture, Simon’s seen it more than enough times by now.

The fog is an excuse to watch Johnny’s face. He’s always so expressive, teeth digging into his lower lip, eyebrows twitching wildly as he brings himself closer and closer to the edge. He never breathes steadily when he gets himself off, and the way his chest rises and falls in such jerky movements never fails to get Ghost all that much closer to the edge.

He’s stunning. Ghost hates it.

Johnny’s almost glowing when he finally comes, mouth dropping open into the perfect o shape. His hips buck into his own fist as he milks himself, stripes of cum painting his abs. 

Ghost comes at nearly the same time, low growls he can’t silence rumbling in his chest, the uncomfortable stickiness of a wasted load of cum soaking into his boxers.

He matches Johnny’s breaths, tries to calm himself down.

He doesn’t know how much longer he’ll be able to resist finding that closest room, resist finding out how pretty that gorgeous expanse of tanned skin would look under his skin.

Ghost wants Johnny reddened from his palm, not the steam. He wants his cum buried deep insode of Johnny - his stomach, his hole, anywhere he can get it. He wants to be able to edge Soap, to show him the exquisite torture of delayed pleasure. He wants to hold the man down, force him where he wants, feel all that rippling muscle and fight that Johnny carries.

He wants Johnny. 

He’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to resist him.