#once every few months i start to get Sad :( like what do u mean……what do u mean i have to talk about something Else…………..

[whimsicmimic]

cant wait to roll up into class with my presentation on radfem theory like hiiiiiii yaaaalllllllllll do not assume i subscribe to Any of these beliefs. as a matter of fact we’re actually gonna dedicate half of the allotted time talking about how normalization of radfem ideology in mainstream dialogue regarding gender has lead to So Much Hate Speech. Just So Much Hate Speech.

[sadstrever]

cw: 116lbs

gw: 106lbs

hw: 150lbs

hi. so my last account got banned so i realize now i should be a little more careful of what i say cuz i guess i concerned some of you. or this will just be my last post because i need to vent.

wanna hear how i started my day? i chew and spit my food into plastic bottles(i know i’m disgusting no one should ever do this) and i was opening it and it exploded fucking everywhere and the smell was putrid and it was all over me and my bedroom. and i was hungover. and it was 7am. and i threw up immediately after. anyways, i haven’t e@ten in weeks. lol. almost a month, which isn’t the longest i’ve gone so don’t worry this is not that bad lol. ALSO NO I WILL NOT BE GIVING TIPS. ever since my brother moved away it’s been pretty easy to st@rve. the hard part now is knowing where to draw the line. my best friend has broken down a lot recently because of me. i’m an awful person lol. i let them get too close and now they know too much about the disgusting things i do. i needed space because seeing him just makes me feel guilty for putting him through this with me. i tried to end the friendship 2 nights ago over a bottle of v0dka. it did not work out very well. i said some really hurtful things to him that i didn’t mean in an effort to push him away. once the alc wore off i made him a cake to apologize which now that i say it out loud, it does not feel like much of an apology at all. he somehow easily forgave me which makes me feel even shittier. he said it was because he knows im sick. i don’t know what i’m doing. the derealization has gotten worse. i tried going half sober which didn’t help. i’ve developed a laxative problem too which also doesn’t help. it’s not as bad as others though, i was just taking 3 a day for a minute(a few months)but that’s so fucking bad for you and it really made my stomach problems worse. i took 3 today for the first time after not taking them for weeks and there was really no reason. just a desperate attempt to make myself feel better. when that didn’t help, i tried to smoke but i got too high because i only smoke every other day now which lowered my tolerance. when THAT didn’t work i went to the gym and burned 460 calories and then THAT didnt work so i walked around and burned 240 more. none of it made me feel less empty. i’m so sick of it. why is it all so fucked. nothing feels right. i want to try and recover but i don’t remember the person i was before all of this. my brain just fucking can’t figure it out. i don’t feel like a real person man. i want to recover and not because i’m giving up. starving is the easiest part of my life. it’s all that seems to make me feel a little better. eating always makes me so depressed and in a worse way. it makes me aware of reality in a way that fucking kills me. i need to do it if i want to feel human, if i want to be a good friend, daughter, sister. i’m gonna wait until i’m underweight which is once i’m 109lbs. 7lbs away lol. it’ll probably take a week or two so i guess i’ll update on how i’m trying to recover. fuck i really don’t want to man. pls give me tips because i can’t die and just be a sad fucking story to everyone i love. or just fucking report me like u guys did last time, not having any safe place with people who relate will totally help too!!!

[call-sign-jinx]

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw - I’m here honey

Summary - Bradley Bradshaw pisses you off to your limit. You lose it with him because of stuff going on back home and end up in his arms.

Warnings - swearing, fluff, making out

A/N - the reader has a manchester accent xoxo

bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw. Where do I even begin?

Well, why don't I start off with, he is a cocky arrogant mother fucker. God he makes me want to claw my eyes out everyone time he flirts with a girl. I mean, what do they even see in him? Sure, he's fit n all. But he's just an arrogant prick that thinks he can get what he wants.

He just writhes in it. He loves it. He's just a twat overall to be honest. and he knows just how to get under my skin. Like right now.

Me and the Dagger Squad are at the Hard Deck, and oh my fucking days, he's just showing off as much as he can. And everyone knows how much I don't like pricks like him. People who show off just for attention. Like, why? To some dumb fuckers he's amazing, but to everyone else, he's just a douchebag.

"Hey! Bradshaw!" Hangman shouted across the room to Rooster who just so happened to be chatting up some blonde bird who probably didn't even have enough brain cells to know that he just wanted a shag tonight. "Come have a round of darts with me Rooster!"

Bradshaw bid farewell to the clueless girl and sauntered over to the rest of the Dagger Squad. He gave me an obnoxious wink which earned an eyeroll from me. Phoenix saw then walked over to sit on the stool next to me.

"You know he just wants a reaction from you? He loves the attention and you know it." I rolled my eyes with a smirk. She gave me a knowing look.

"Yeah, I know. But he just aggravates me tha much tha I can't do much bout it. It's jus automatic now init?" Phoenix laughed at my words. Probably cause of my accent. She loves it so much.

"Then try not to give him a reaction. Like every time he says something stupid or that you don't like. Shut your eyes, take a deep breath, and ignore it." Her advice was actually really good. But not for me.

"Easier said than done Nat. I've just grown up to react to every little thing that happens. Probably the household I were raised in." She patted my shoulder and chuckled a bit.

"I think I'm gonna go outside for a sec. For a toot." A toot means vape. I literally had to explain this about 10,000 times to Phoenix.

She chuckles then gestures to the door. I then walked outside to sit on the bench and got my vape out of my pocket. I took a drag then turned on my phone to reply to my little sister's message that I should have answered hours ago. She was texting me, updating me about how our Nana was back in England. She got diagnosed with cancer a few months ago then started chemo a week after. It's been draining for everyone. And I can't even go to see her because I live so fucking far away.

When I opened the text, my heart dropped and my whole body had gone numb.

she's gone Y/N/N, ik u can't come rn cos ur on duty n everything but i jus thought u needed to know. come as soon as u want xxxxxx

I just sat there. Numb. Frozen. No emotion. No sadness. Nothing. Nada. Absolutely fuck all. I couldn't think straight. Why didn't I at least go see her once? I didn't even get to say goodbye to her. Didn't get to tell her I got into Top Gun which has, well had, always been her dream for me. She wanted me to do it to prove all them dumb ass men that a woman could do what they do but better.

And now, she'll never know. She probably hated me before she died cause I didn't visit her. What if she was upset about it? What if she thought I forgot about her? What if she thought that I stopped caring about her? So many thoughts were running through my head. Different things being said in my head. But they all went quiet when I saw Phoenix walk through the door to outside. Probably to come check on me, God knows how long I've just been sat there staring at my phone. At the text.

"Hey Y/C/S, you okay?" She had a trace of worry laced in her voice and expression. I gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded.

"I'm great thank you." I faked a happy smile as I got up and gestured for her to follow me back into the Hard Deck.

-------------------------------------------

It's been about a week since I got the text from Y/L/S/N. I haven't even reacted how someone would normally react to their family member dying. I didn't even reply back to Y/L/S/N. Just left her on opened.

I just acted like everything was okay. No one seemed to notice except one person. Bradshaw. I could tell by the way he looks at me that he knows something is wrong. But he hasn't asked.

Also, I found out I won't be able to make it to the funeral. Which is great. I'll just say my goodbyes another time. Hopefully Nana will understand. She always did.

Right now, we're having a briefing for the day. Which consists of absolutely fuck all, no flying, just some theory work we need to get done apparently.

I came in late so I sadly had to sit next to Bradshaw whose been looking at me like I'm an idiot for the past week. And it's actually quite unnerving.

After the briefing finished, I went straight to the unisex bathrooms to wash my face and clear my head for at least a few minutes. That was until I heard the door open. I looked to the source of the sound to see Bradshaw. Great. Why does he always come near me at the worst times? It's like he has a sixth sense about this shit.

"Hey Y/C/S, are you okay? You seem a bit off." He had worry and concern plastered on his face and in his voice. I nodded by head as I looked at the ground.

"Why? Why do you even care? It's not like we're friends or anything? And it's none of your business anyway?" I only glanced up at him for half a second before looking back down. It's tiring playing this whole "I'm happy and nothing's wrong!" facade. It's tiring keeping a smile on my face. Making the same type of jokes as if nothing has happened. Cause something has happened. And I haven't even reacted in the proper, normal way.

"I just wanna know. Cause I've gotta be honest... I'm a little worried about you. Something about you's changed. You seem a little less yourself." I'm sorry, but how the fuck has Rooster, out of everyone I've been around for the past week, noticed but no one else fucking has?

"Nothing is wrong Rooster. And even if there was, why would I talk about it with you? All you do and seem to like doing is piss me off." I finally looked up at him. Annoyance clear on my face.

"I only do that shit because I thought we were both joking around with each other. And I thought we were friends. But I guess I was wrong about that." He looked me dead in the eye then walked out.

I looked back in the mirror and made myself look presentable before going back outside from the toilets.

-------------------------------------------------------

It's now been 2 months after the funeral. I'm a little gutted that I couldn't be there to say goodbye. But obviously I wouldn't have been allowed to go, I'm on duty still and I hadn't even told anyone about it. Not even Phoenix. And it's gonna stay that way for as long as I can make it.

I was in the changing room having a shower. Luckily, I had made it short cause as I got out of the shower I heard someone come into the changing rooms.

It was Bradshaw. Yet again.

"Alright Y/N, I was going to let you tell someone at your own pace but just tell me now. What has gotten you so upset that you're just acting like a robot? And don't give me any of that bullshit 'nothing's wrong and I'm fine' crap because I won't believe you." After he finished I got right back to getting changed. I didn't even acknowledge his chasing after me when I went into a cubicle for some privacy.

As soon as I had gotten out the cubicle to put my shoes on, Bradshaw was standing right outside.

"For fuck sake Bradshaw! Why won't you just leave me alone about it?" I looked him dead in the eye with nothing short of anger. I've been feeling a lot of that lately. And every single time is because of Bradley fucking Bradshaw.

"Because you're acting like someone's fucking died! You're acting all numb and shit!" As soon as he finished his sentence, I finally broke down. After fuck knows how many months of my body not allowing me to even react in a normal way after finding out my Nana had cancer. I had finally broke down.

I dropped to my knees and curled up in a ball as I leaned against the wall. Tear after tear after tear. I couldn't stop. Even if I wanted to.

I looked up at the ceiling until I felt hands on my arms rubbing up and down on them. I looked down and saw Bradshaw, sat on the ground in front of me looking at me dead in the eyes. Something came over me and I just threw myself at him into a hug. He instantly wrapped his arms around me as he tried his best to comfort me.

He was shushing me like I was a crying baby, which I practically was if I'm being honest, and telling me that it's all gonna be okay and that he's here with me. After about 10 minutes of solid crying, I calmed down and looked up at Bradshaw.

We were close. Like very close. Close enough that I could feel his breath fan over my face and see the little hazel specs in his eyes. and all the scars on his cheeks and neck. I scanned his face as he did the same with mine. Then I realised. We were still in each other's embrace. But neither one of us attempted to pull away.

"Thank you Bradley." I said to him with the first genuine, but small, smile I had done in months. As I looked at him more, I realised how gorgeous he actually was. And how much of my type he was.

"No problem sweetheart." That nickname. That fucking nickname shouldn't have affected me the way it did. It made my whole body feel warm. It made blood rise to my cheeks.

In that moment, I don't know what came over me but I quickly pressed my lips against his. But he froze, at first I thought it was just shock but after a few seconds he was still frozen. I quickly pulled away and pulled myself out of his embrace and stood up.

"Fuck. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. I don't know why I even did that. By your reaction you didn't like it either." I started to chuckle nervously. Why the fuck did I do that? I've never liked him, not even in a friend way so why the fuck did I choose to do that? I kept on rambling on and on with myself, saying my thoughts out loud for Rooster to hear.

"Y/N." I ignored him and kept on waffling on with myself.

"Y/N." He said a bit more stern at me. I still ignored him and kept talking.

"Y/N!" That finally got my attention. I looked up at him, on the brink of another few tears coming out of my eyes.

"What?" I looked at him softly and looked for any expression other than one that said 'I don't like you, and I didn't like that kiss either so please leave me alone' because that would just make my day worse.

"You shouldn't be sorry. I've wanted to do that ever since we started Top Gun honey. I was just really shocked that you did it because you've never even hinted you liked me. So... could we do that again?" All I did was nod before connecting our lips again.

Bradley wrapped his arms around my waist as I did the same but behind his neck. The kiss was slow, soft. Just the way I liked it. He began to move his hands and caressed the sides of my body. I slid my hands up his neck into his hair and pulled on it slightly, which earned a slight moan from him.

We both pulled away for air. I looked into his eyes and it felt different with him now. Felt nicer. Comfier. He smiled at me as we both came out of the embrace.

“Do you come over to my house? After work?” I asked him as I dipped down to grab my bag. He nodded with a happy smile.

“Yeah, I��d like that. That’s be great Y/N.” I gave Bradley a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before practically skipping out the changing rooms.

-------------------------------------------------------

After work, I just wanted to drive home, have a shower and go to sleep. I didn’t have any plans anyway, did I? Just to check I looked at my calendar and had nothing. So I just walked back to my car and started to drive home.

As I got to my door, I rummaged through my bag, found my keys, and unlocked the door. I couldn’t even be arsed to have a shower so I flopped onto my couch and lost it again. I began balling my eyes out and shoved my face into my pillow.

I must’ve forgot to lock the door because I heard the door open and quickly sat up, alert. Not knowing who or what just opened my front door. As soon as I saw Bradley turn round the corner, I tried to wipe my tears away without him seeing.

“You okay honey?” I just nodded my head weakly as he came and sat down next to me. I leaned my head on his shoulder as I wrapped my arm around his stomach. He wrapped his around my shoulder and stroked it reassuringly.

“I don’t know why it’s taken me this long to actually react to it.” He looked at me confused with his brows furrowed. Of course he didn’t know, I hadn’t told him and now he probably thinks I’m weird.

“Taken this long for you to react to what?” That’s when the waterworks came back yet again. Why the fuck did they have to start at the slightest mention of my Nana being dead? Gone forever?

“3 months ago my Nana died. I just didn’t react. No crying. No being sad. Nothing. Literally nothing. And then when you said I’m acting like someone died, it flipped a switch. Like it turned my reactions on again. And I- I- I just want her back. I didn’t even get to fucking say goodbye to her Bradley! Imagine that, not being by their side when they’re gone. Let alone being in a whole different fucking country!” I sat up and threw my cushion across the room, angry at myself for not even trying to see her. I guess I didn’t want to. I didn’t want the image of her being up and healthy to go away so I just stayed here. In America.

“Oh honey. It’s not your fault.” I shook my head vigorously. I stood up and looked at his form on the couch.

“But Bradley it is my fault. She had all these plans for me. And when I found out she got cancer, I didn’t even try to go visit her. I didn’t want to. I never made any effort whatsoever.” At that, I dropped to my knees tears coming one after the other.

Bradley was quick to move to hug my and comfort me. “Don’t worry Y/N. I’m here honey. For whatever you need. And it is not your fault. At all. I get why you didn’t want to see her, you didn’t want the image of her being happy and healthy to be replaced by someone that isn’t her but looks like her.” He rubbed my arms then picked me up and sat back on the couch with me on his lap. I tightly hugged him, not wanting to let go in fear of him disappearing.

“Thank you Bradley. Thank you so fucking much. And I’m sorry for being a dick to you.” I apologised profusely as I wiped my tears away and smiled up at him.

He kissed me on my forehead and smiled at me. “Oh honey. It’s alright. And I think I was the dick in this situation. Because all I did was show off to you like a pretentious prick. All because I wanted your attention.” And that’s when it hit me. He wanted my attention.

“W-what?” He chuckled at my confusion.

“I tried to get your attention in every way I could, because the first time I saw you, I just thought ‘wow, she’s fucking gorgeous’ and I couldn’t get you out of my head since.” I looked at him with confusion which then changed to something else that I can’t quite put my finger on.

Instead of replying I just placed my lips on his in a hungry yet soft manner. He quickly reciprocated this and placed his hands on the back of my head to deepen the kiss. After a while it turned into a full blown make out session. Like the ones I used to have back in high school. And probably the same for him.

We both pulled away at the same time, and as I scanned his face, all he did was stare into my eyes with something that looked like love? I don't know, my experience comes from cunts who just wanted a shag so yeah.

"Be my girlfriend." Bradley looked at me with a seriousness I've never seen on his face before. I raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" I gave a questioning look when he shook his head and chuckled to himself.

"I'm sorry- I- I mean, will you be my girlfriend?" He said with the same look in his eyes as before. I pondered on the question until I had my answer.

"Yes, only if you tell and show all them girls that you're now mine." Bradley gave me a cheeky smirk and he lay me down on the couch and placed a chaste kiss on my lips.

"Of course honey. I'd love to do that for you." We both smiled at each other until our lips were connected once again.

[fushiglow]

Me: 'aw no i shouldnt read a fic set in the music industry, it'll get me sad about abandoning my own dreams; nope nuhuh, apologies, moving on' -> fast forward a few weeks -> i see ur fic pop up every now n then on both ao3 n tmblr, tempting me to read it -> fast forward again, it's tday -> i end up caving in eventually when i see it on my dash again; checked out the first chapter while having lunch earlier. Got H o o k e d by ur narrative. And so i inhaled two more chaptrs a sec ago while commuting back home aaaaand lil old me proceeded to be WILDLY inspired by ch4 shenanigans and immediately i >Needed< to relisten to the Liszt performance, seeing it anew yet again, and then also dug up some soundtracks i made once upon a time when id been fooling around w the idea of expressing myself thru music -> fast forward again, im home now, n getting all giddy ab it, cheeks flushed n feeling alive, i tell u - im about to dust my piano n just smash at the keys for the till-now-abandoned fun of it, first time in forever. (It won't be good, but it'll be real, it'll be me.) I just. I feel the raw emotion in your fic and it made my heart pound while reading it. You >get it< jfc. (Also satosugu n others work So Well in ur story, so in character, u make it look so natural, as if jjk had always been ab music production and not a grimdark shounen). I only just finished the 4th chapter and im not caught up yet, but i couldnt have waited to tell u my thoughts so. There goes!! ((Also even months later im still deeply wounded by canon so i feel like im irrevocably dysregulated when it comes to engaging w satosugu haha, apologies if i come off strong. U just combined two passions of mine into one fic and im feeling So Fucking Grateful i wanna kiss u on the forehead and bless u for seven generations forward. Again - i havent yet finished what u've already dished out (bless ur soul for posting ur work holyhell) so ima come back when i have more unhinged thoughts as i read. Your writing is so On Point i can't contain myself (my heart is singing w joy because when i connect w the writing style i connect HARD. And lemme tell u, your style is both intense and light and professional and that's my fav combo, ima go n cry over my piano now bye. Until next time, ily sm) (also sorry about this longass ask, it was meant to be a oneliner but it got away from me bc.. Emotions, damn) -royce

Oh... Um...

Excuse me while I fucking cry over MY piano, what the actual fuck 😭 I think this is the biggest compliment I could possibly receive, you have NO FUCKING IDEA how happy it makes me to read that my fic inspired you to sit down at the piano again, holy shit???

cheeks flushed n feeling alive, i tell u - im about to dust my piano n just smash at the keys for the till-now-abandoned fun of it, first time in forever. (It won't be good, but it'll be real, it'll be me.)

I am sobbing and kicking my feet all at once at this image, I love you I love you I love you. Please tell me, how did it go?? Did you have fun? Did it feel good? God, I hope it did!!! 😭

I started writing this fic to heal some of my own hurt about leaving a career in music behind, so I'm writing this for people like you and me. You're my ideal reader and you couldn't POSSIBLY come off too strong. PLEASE come back with your unhinged thoughts, I will gladly scream with you about this — in fact, I'm desperate to do exactly that!

Royce, you're everything. Thank you so much for all your lovely words about my writing too, this soothes all of my doubts about deciding to post something so deeply self-indulgent all those months ago. This is for YOU 🫶

as if jjk had always been ab music production and not a grimdark shounen

Also, what do you mean? That's what it's about, isn't it? 👀

[weirdprophetess]

been seeing people talk about Ethel Cain a lot and had chills the entire time i watched her perform Morning Elvis with Florence so I'm playing Preacher's Daughter for the first time and writing notes as I go

fair warning this is an incredibly long post

first of all i have to say i love this album cover the dark warm browns are gorgeous and really give off that rural small town vibe and i read a few articles about her so i know she grew up in a place like that and the album title is describing her because her dad was a deacon of the church her and her family grew up in

the basssss the bass starting family tree ooooooohhhhh i love that

these crosses all over my body remind me of who i used to be and christ forgive these bones im hiding from no one successfully jesus can always reject his father but he cannot escape his mothers blood W H A T

THE BEATSSS THEYRE SO DARK AND DRAMATIC AND ATMOSPHERIC IM SCREAMING IM ONE MINUTE IN AND THIS IS MAYBE THE BEST ALBUM INTRO IVE EVER HEARD

my brain chemistry has already been altered i instantly need this on vinyl

loveee the guitar starting off american teenagerrrrrr

the suspended vocalization tooooooo)(U*U@PIHF@

i love love love her voice its so rich and she does deep and high notes both so amazingly welllllllll screaming

the melody the flow of the lyrics the beat the synthy floaty sounds im deadddd i love thissss i want to rip it apart like soft hot bread and eat ittttt

SAY WHAT YOU WANT BUT SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT WITH YOU F I S T S FOR ONCE

MAIN CHARACTER TYPE SONG I LOVE THE IRONY I LOVE TEH SADNESS IM GOING TO WALK AROUND TO THIS SO MUCH THAT IS ONE OF THE HIGHEST HONORS I CAN GIVE A SONG @mothercain YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE BITCHHHH

I HAVE FINISHED TWO SONGS AND ITS ALREADY MY NEW PERSONALITY TIME TO HYPERFIXATE FOR MONTHS AND LET IT TAKE OVER THIS WHOLE FUCKING BLOG

THE SUSPENDED PIANO NOTES FOR HOUSE IN NEBRASKA???? Y E S

THE ECHOEY VOCALS MAKE ME INSANE IM CLAWING AT THE WALLS RENDING MY GARMENTS GNASHING MY TEETH OH MY GODDDDDD

I STILL CALL HOME THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA WHERE WE FOUND EACH OTHER IN A DIRTY MATTRESS ON THE SECOND FLOOR WHERE THE WORLD WAS EMPTY SAVE YOU AND I WHERE YOU CAME AND I LAUGHED AND YOU LEFT AND I CRIED WHERE YOU TOLD ME EVEN IF WE DIED TONIGHT THAT ID DIE YOURS

YOU KNOW I STILL WAIT AT THE EDGE OF TOWN PRAYING STRAIGHT TO GOD THAT MAYBE YOULL COME BACK AROUND I HAVE FULL BODY CHILLSSSSSS

THE ROCK GUITAR SMASHING IN AND BEING SO CRUNCHY GODDDDDDDDD

He's never looked more beautiful on his Harley in the parking lot breaking into the ATMs sleeping naked when it gets too hot from what ive heard people say about Lana Del Rey's music this sounds like she might've been an influence

show me how much i mean to you while im lying in these sheets undressed id hold the gun if you ask me to but if you love me like you say you do would you ask me to troubles always gonna find you baby but so will i crying only because im happy hold me across every state line im never gonna leave you baby even if you lose whats left of your mind cause you know ill be right there beside you riding through those western nights

ooh there's another song called family tree the first one was family tree (intro) but there's track five without (intro) delicious

oohhhhhooohohoho same first two lines but then new lyrics

give myself up to him in offering let him make a woman out of me ooooh hoo hoo hooooo

so family tree is a banger

i immediately thought emo cowboy on hearing those lyrics and google actually gave me that so thank you whoever made this image because its truly the essence of this album

the next one is hard times and the first thing i thought of was paramore ive been obsessed with that song lately

nine going on eightaayynn lay it on meeeeeeheeeeheeeee yessssss

im tiiiiired of you too tiiiiired to leave im tiiiired of you still tiiiiied to meeeee

I MET YOU THERE IN TEXAS

MY ASS WHO LIVES IN TEXAS👀👀👀

i met you there in texas somewhere on the thoroughfare on the side of the road with a pistol in my pocket i didnt trust no one but you said baby dont run ill take you anywhere

AND YOU SAID HEY DO YOU WANNA SEE THE WEST WITH MEEEHEEEEEE CAUSE LOVES OUT THERE AND I CANT LEAVE IT BEEEEEE AND I SAID HONEY LOVES NEVER MEANT MUCH TO ME BUT ILL COME WITH YOU IF YOURE SURE ITS WHAT YOU NEED

love love lovvveeeeee the beat that comes in a bit before that part

sad cowgirl winter lets go girls

i am halfway through this album and ive made more notes than i have for some albums twice the length thats how good 13 track albums always are

its not a real cowboy album if youre not spending the last two minutes of a nine and a half minute song just vocalizing

oh the nexts songs called gibson girl ive heard of that but i forgot what it is hang on

a type of drawing by a man named Charles Gibson of the ideal woman of the 1890s ooh should be interesting

the intro for this songgggg

the production is the fucking besttttt

the echoes for this one too yesss i love this shitttt

i dont even know what image to put this over but just youre all the same black leather and dark glasses pourin another while i shake my ass hes cold blooded so it takes more time to bleed obsession with the money addicted to the drugs says hes in love with my body thats why hes fucking it up

the guitar breakkkkkkk:PO(*&^%$^;l;pqokpiaw

next ones name is ptolemaea so lemme go look that up too

oh yeahhh that greek astrologer dude okay

ooh the distortion in the beginningggg

the intensity building is so horror-like i love it

the screech on the last stop made me jump a lil goodbye

I am the face of loves rage what the fuck

the guitar and drums all getting more intense after that line remind of of the end of I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers ill take ten million more songs with that please

the entire ending um???

its a good thing i decided to listen to this album around noon and not the middle of the night because i love demonic speaking parts but not when my eyes arent adjusted to the dark girl

ooh august underground is an instrumental i went to look up the lyrics and apparently its named after a horror film trilogy so ill probably check that out soon

televangelism is also purely instrumental and genius says its ethels ascent to heaven as music god this sounds gorgeous

what i wouldnt give to be in church this sunday listening to the choir so heartfelt all singing god loves you but not enough to save you so good luck on your own baby so i said fine cause thats how my daddy raised if they strike one once then you just hit em twice as hard but in the end the fire bent under the weight they gave me and this heart would break and fall twice as far eating these lyrics

WE ALL KNOW HOW IT GOES THE MORE IT HURTS THE LESS IT SHOWS BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE THEY ALL KNOW AND THATS WHY I COULD NEVER G O BACK HOME E T H E L THERE IS NO NEED TO EXPOSE ME LIKE THIS???

SO I MET HIM THERE AND TOLD HIM I BELIEVE SINGING IF ITS MEANT TO BE THEN IT WILL BE AND I FORGIVE IT ALL AS IT COMES BACK TO ME IM STILL PRAYING FOR THAT HOUSE IN NEBRASKA BY THE HIGHWAY OUT ON THE EDGE OF TOWN DANCING WITH THE WINDOWS OPEN I CANT LET GO WHEN SOMETHINGS BROKEN ITS ALL I KNOW AND ITS ALL I WANNA KNOW

one more song i have no idea what to say

freezer bride, your sweet divine look i have been obsessed with the locked tomb for over a year im not going to NOT think of Alecto when i see this

when my mother sees me on the side of a carton in winn-dixie's dairy aisle like the one promo picture for this right

and arlington's in texas👀👀👀

f.inisheddd thea lbum(*&#!OHPI#!HFo

wow what the hell was that im going to obsess over it forever

if there is not a colored vinyl of this i am going to fucking murder someone this deserves something gorgeous for me to stare at while its playing

in conclusion i cannot in any way let my religious mother know im trying to get this album so im going to work with my friend who helps me get explicit/gay music my mom wont let me because spotifys alright but i need to listen to this on my little portable cd player with headphones on full blast on the floor in the middle of the night because truly every album experience is better that way but especially shit like this

ethel if youre reading this how the everloving FUCK is this your debut album this literally deserves a grammy we all know they havent been shit for a while but if you dont get one for this im going to maul the entire Academy for real. keep doing weird shit i literally heard about you from Morning Elvis with Florence, my number one weird music woman and her taste has not failed me yet, especially not after an hour of being immersed in this

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I listened to some stuff yesterday, it made me remember some things, I got distracted by thinking about that while working, I wrote it down in the hopes that that would help. It’s going to be another long and rambly one that’s really just for me and is worth skipping.

Yesterday, I felt brought me back to a day in 2021 when a few friends and I were helping another friend move out of his apartment. He’d bought a condo – the first person I know to actually buy property – that, he insisted, was not way out in the suburbs. But it’s the suburbs compared to where we live, right downtown. It’s two buses or a 50-minute bike ride away. He was moving there with his girlfriend.

I expecting helping him move to be difficult, but once I started, I found it even tougher than I’d expected. I’ve helped so many friends move over the years, and before that time, it was always at least kind of fun. I mean it sucks, but we do it together, we play music and talk shit and take things apart, then at the end we all sit on the floor in the new place that’s full of nothing but boxes, and drink beer and eat takeout. Then for years after, whenever we go to that place, we have stories about that time we spent and hour and a half getting this couch through that doorway when they first moved in.

It’s possible that because I haven’t done this in a long time (aside from that one day in 2021), I may be romanticizing it a bit. When you’re actually doing it, the process of moving is grueling and fucking annoying. But when you look back, what you remember is the feeling of satisfaction at the end, and the beer and pizza in a room full of new possibilities.

The one last year was very different. It was the first time I’ve ever helped with a move and not enjoyed it even a bit. I kept volunteering to do the smaller, one-person jobs, because I didn’t want my friends to see how sad the whole process made me. Every time I walked through the apartment, I thought about all the times I’d walked through there before, and all the things we wouldn’t do again.

I didn’t even see his new place that day. I did a lot of work with helping them put everything in the U-Haul (you know you’re growing up when helping your friends move means putting everything they own into one U-Haul, rather than doing what was meant to be four but turned into twelve trips back and forth in a friend’s truck), but by the end I could hardly keep it together. My friends told me that loading the U-Haul was the hard part, they had more than enough people to unload it without me, I may as well not come so far out of my way when I was so close to home already. I took them up on that, and didn’t follow them to the new neighbourhood. I walked the ten minutes home and drank beer and ordered pizza alone in my bedroom, because that’s what life had become by May 2021.

So I didn’t see his new place the day he moved into it. I saw a couple of pictures on the group chat, but honestly I skimmed by them because looking at them made me sad. I never saw the place in person until just a few months ago now, when my best friend and I joined another friend and his girlfriend at the first friend’s house for a dinner party.

Okay, to make things simpler I think I need to give a name to the friend who moved, and in the tradition I’ve used a few times on this blog of telling personal stories but changing the names to those of British comedians, I’m calling him Richard Ayoade. Because I’ve actually compared those two people in a previous post about people who have voices like Sheldon Cooper, and I stand by that comparison.

In August, my best friend and I drove out to the condo of Richard Ayoade and his girlfriend, where we were met by another friend of our and his girlfriend, and we ate ramen that the hosts had cooked. It was very good. They’d spent all day making it, and told us all about the process. We also discussed the efforts of several people in the room to get promoted at work, and the efforts a friend of my friend’s was making to upgrade a car, and the upcoming municipal elections. I’m being a bit disingenuous to include the latter on a list of boring conversation topics, as I do like talking politics, but this particular discussion felt so awkwardly restrained that I didn’t participate much.

I mean, I did participate a bit. At one point the conversation turned to federal politics, and our local MP who’d been bullied out of her job by misogynistic harassment. Ayoade’s girlfriend mentioned a few incidents that had cumulated in the word “cunt” being sprayed on the MP’s campaign office’s window. I said yes, I heard an interview in which she said the “cunt” on the window thing was the last straw after all the actual death threats, because that one was so public.

There was silence for a second, and then I realized that when Ayoade’s girlfriend had told the story, she’d said the window was sprayed with the word “C-U-N-T”. She had spelled it out for the sake of polite company, and I had actually said the word, not realizing the discrepancy until after. I immediately got very socially awkward and apologized, and Ayoade’s girlfriend was very nice, saying she’d only spelled the word out in case anyone else might be offended, but she had no problem hearing it, and it was fine. I think she meant it, but I still shut my mouth for the rest of the conversation.

We all had one beer, and then stopped because people were driving. I don’t mean to make it sound like that makes an evening boring either – I’ve had many great nights when no one was drinking, and many great nights when most people were drinking but friends who don’t drink at all or chose not to drink that night were around, and those friends were still great fun, and if anyone even made a joke about those people being less fun due to not drinking, I’d tell them to fuck off. So I don’t mean a night with insufficient alcohol can’t be fun. But in this case, the reason we didn’t have more was because my friend lived too far away for us to walk home, and we were all being responsible adults, and I didn’t know the girlfriends of Richard Ayoade or my other friend well enough to feel comfortable getting drunk around them anyway, and that depressed me.

I mean, it was fine. It was good, actually. I hadn’t seen those friends in a long time, and it was genuinely nice to spend time with them again. I’d missed them. But also, I just sat there politely eating dinner and not saying “cunt” with them, and felt like we were all pretending. This wasn’t what we did.

It’s only in the last couple of months that I’ve started going back to practices for the sport I coach, and I see Richard Ayoade at most of them. We normally don’t talk beyond a quick hello, which is fair because there’s stuff going on, though there is some room for socializing during practice. We used to make jokes to each other during the practices about what people were doing, but we don’t do that anymore. Not because we’re trying to be more responsible, but just because the shared understanding on which we built those jokes has dissipated. Before COVID hit, all the coaches used to go to a pub after two of the practices per week, and that’s where we did most of our socializing and building foundations for the in-practice jokes. But we don’t do that anymore.

The other day, I saw him at practice and he asked me how I’m doing. He asked if I’ve finished that college program, and I said yes, a month ago. Now I’m back to my at-home job and looking for something better. I asked him how he’s doing, and he said he got promoted at work two months ago and is focused on impressing new bosses. He mentioned in the group chat a while ago that he was shopping for an engagement ring for his girlfriend, but I haven’t heard whether there are updates on that.

So we were just standing there, giving each other the headlines of our weeks-old news, and I felt like we were having this incredibly surface-level conversation and pretending the last seven or eight years didn’t happen. I wanted to tell him, “We don’t do this! You and I don’t stand around on mats talking like this. That’s not our relationship!”

We once drove to Michigan together and slept on floors just to yell at children for a weekend (with their consent, I should add; in our sport you have to yell pretty loudly from the corner or the athletes won’t hear you, also most of the people we coached were actually teenagers and not children, if that helps). We’ve actually shared sleeping floor space in many different areas: my friend’s gym, and several friends’ apartments, and hotel rooms with too many people to fit on beds to save money. Richard Ayoade and I have probably yelled at children and teenagers together in at least fifteen different municipalities over the years, going to most of those a bunch of times. We’ve yelled at refs in at least six of them.

I have pushed him into snowbanks and been pushed into snowbanks. I have participated alongside him in four separate drinking games tournaments, with him in charge of doing the math involved in setting up and tracking draw sheets. I have seen him strip off all his clothes and show off how many chin-ups he could do for the promise of two dollars, and at that moment he was sober. I have seen him run four kilometres and drink four beers in fifteen minutes because that seemed like a fun challenge at the time, and I’m pretty sure clothes came off in the process of that as well. He and I have sat on the curb with our other friends at 3 AM, eating shawarmas after drinking too much, so many times.

I let him talk it out for ages as he realized things were falling apart with his previous girlfriend. I always avoided pointing out the obvious, that the relationship was terrible and needed to end, mainly because I always think people should break up with their boyfriends or girlfriends, so I’m biased. It’s hard for me to tell when a relationship is genuinely bad, and when I just think it is because I always think that. But one day, when it was just him and I left at the pub after everyone else had gone home, he said, “I mean, I know she loves me, and I care about her very much.”

Before I could stop myself I pointed out, “You did not use the same word both times there.” He was drunk and didn’t know what I meant, asked me to repeat what he’d said, and I said don’t worry about it, I was just being pedantic, there is no need to read into what was actually just a slip of the tongue. But he told me again to repeat it, and I did, and he said I was right.

When he ended it two weeks later, he went straight from there to a tournament (a sports one, not a beer one), and we went straight from there to a pub with the coaches, and he told me that day was everything he needed to remember that life was so much bigger than that one relationship. But he also struggled with it, and I came over many times over the next few weeks, when he told me he needed a distraction.

When he started dating again, I got all the stories. The first time he had sex, the woman left straight after, and he called me to say he felt weird because after years in a relationship, he wasn’t used to being alone right after that. So I told him to come over and we watched Letterkenny until he fell asleep on my couch.

And the emotional support in difficult times very much did not go only one way. When I first moved into where I live now, it was because I’d been living with my best friend, but he and I had been fighting about stupid things because I can’t share physical space with anyone without freaking out about it. So we decided to split up, and I moved into this house, with a guy on the team I’d sort of known for fifteen years and was civil with but never really liked, since he needed a roommate and had cheap rent in a good central location, and I don’t have to worry about ruining a friendship since he and I never had one. That was four years ago and I haven’t ruined anything – I spend all my time in my bedroom, my roommate and I say about four words to each other per week, it works fine.

I was really depressed at the time, because I was sad about not living with my friend anymore, and feeling like I was impossible to live with. The one upside was that my new place was only a ten-minute walk away from Richard Ayoade’s apartment. I started going over there all the time. We watched Letterkenny and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend and videos of matches from our sport. I listened while he practiced the keyboard. We went on spontaneous walks around downtown in the middle of the night, and he pointed out how moving to the more central location has its upsides, because we could do things like that without even planning it. He experimented with frequently terrible combinations of liquor and soft drinks, and shared the results with me. I walked home from his house at 1 AM so many times, or if we were up later than that I’d just crash on his couch and walk home in the morning.

When my multi-year effort to get a board spot on the organization that oversees our sport and use it to combat just some of the ingrained sexism and general predator protecting that goes on there went up in flames, he let me quite literally cry on his shoulder. I couldn’t bring myself to read the replies to my resignation email, in which I’d taken a chance by writing things I couldn’t write while maintaining my position on the board, risking a bit of my reputation just to try to start a semi-public conversation about the stuff we only talk about in whispers. I only managed to read them while sitting with Ayoade on his couch, getting through the HR-style replies with the same stock lines they’d been using for years, final confirmation that it had all come to nothing and no discussion would be sparked. Then there were more tears, and we drank several brands of whiskey with a number of different soft drinks that night.

When COVID hit, there were a lot of Zoom calls at first. The first time I left my house for non-grocery-shopping-related reasons, it was to sit on Richard Ayoade’s balcony with him, look at the city, and talk about how we couldn’t wait to have our lives back, just like they were before, when this is all over. I told him I’ve been watching a lot of British comedy lately, to pass the time until this is all over and I can go back to my life.

The Zoom chats and the balcony beers got fewer and father between as time went on. I started socially isolating myself as well as physically isolating, and he got closer with his girlfriend, whom he’d met just a few months before the pandemic. Every day ran together when nothing was ever happening, and we lost track of time.

We still met up when we needed it, at least at first. He texted me one day to say he felt like he was falling apart, and we went for a distanced walk to talk about problems with his family. I texted him one day to say I haven’t spoken out loud in three weeks and think I might be feeling suicidal for the first time in years, and he came over and saw me cry again.

When our friend died, it was the height of the delta lockdown, so we couldn’t all gather as a group. But Richard Ayoade and I went over to my best friend’s place, and the three of us had our own little mourning – too small, as the group we’d shared had more people than that, but it was something. We poured out half a bottle of whiskey in our friend’s honour and then drank the rest of it and one more, and watched his old tournament videos and the highlight reel I’d made him as a Christmas gift once, and got our other friends on the phone.

That’s what we used to do together. And that’s just the summary, just a few of the most intense points where our lives have converged, it leaves out so much. It leaves out a lot of the happy times, like when he first got that job that recently promoted him, and he texted me immediately, instead of mentioning it in passing two months later. We all celebrated with him that weekend.

Now we stand there sharing two-sentence summaries of our news, and I knew it would happen. I knew it as I helped him move out of his apartment, a ten-minute walk away, to a place that basically counts as the suburbs. I knew as I moved his keyboard and his couch and the chairs on his balcony, and a box with the glasses and jars he used for mixing whiskey. I couldn’t do it without feeling sad, because I knew it represented all that finally being over for good.

My girlfriend and I broke up last week, and it was really really hard – still is, I’m throwing myself into other stuff and using this blog as a distraction, but it’s been hard – and I didn’t have any friends who felt close enough for me to reach out to them about it. And that, I think it’s fair to say, is not because I had a girlfriend for fourteen months. I hate it when romantic relationships take precedence over platonic ones, or over other things people are passionate about, so I never let mine do that. To be honest, that would be one of the reasons it ended. But the point is that any isolating from my friends that was my fault was not because I was too focused on my girlfriend; it was due to my own mental health issues and tendency to isolate myself as a response to those issues (…another reason the relationship ended). Girlfriend-based pulling away from friends was done by Richard Ayoade, and by a few of my other friends who’ve acquired romantic partners, but not by me. But whatever the reason, I’ve still found myself in a situation of going through something tough and not having someone who will watch Letterkenny on a couch with me about it.

Anyway, yesterday I started listening to a Daniel Kitson show about moving out of his old apartment where he’d shared things with friends who have since moved away and grown up, and about ten minutes in I needed to turn that the hell off and listen to him yell at Tim Key instead. Because the number of times Daniel Kitson has made cry so far is holding steady at three – though I argue that it should be 2.5 at the most because one of those times was actually about my friend who died and all Kitson did was remind me of that, and anyway Isy Suttie was the one who said the actual words that got me so she deserves the credit if anyone does – and I am determined to not let that number go higher. After resisting for some time, I resigned months ago to being the sort of nerd who’s really, annoyingly into Daniel Kitson. But I will not be one who lets him make me cry four times.

So I turned that off, listened to a bit of him doing something else, and then put on music to try to get some work done. I put my entire music collection on shuffle, and of the 11,274 songs, the first one to come on was Sweet Bedford by Gavin Osborn. I don’t think it’s a complete coincidence; I think the supposedly random iTunes shuffle function has a bias toward songs that were recently added or recently played, which that one was. But still, it was strange to have just turned off a show about friendships growing apart, and then immediately have on a song about the same subject. And not just the same subject, but the same person! They both wrote things about growing away from the same person. I looked at my laptop and said, “Fuck off, Gavin,” out loud before skipping the song.

I think the lesson here is that John Oliver needs to stop moving away from places. Or maybe he needs to do it more, because apparently that causes the people he left behind to create great art about it. Maybe he should move every few years to jumpstart the amount of bittersweet nostalgic odes to friendship in the world. Now that I think about it, I did actually listen to some other stuff over the weekend that unexpectedly had some John Oliver moving away-based sad stories, though that was quite a different circumstance. Still though, that’s three on one subject.

I swear I have not intentionally curated my media to mainly consist of stories about John Oliver moving away, aside from the fact that I’ve dived into a fairly specific genre: anything ever made by any comedian who is now in their forties, did a show at Edinburgh at some point between 2000 and 2009, and may have had a chocolate milkshake at some point during those festivals. Turns out there are some running themes within that niche. And I mean, I guess in some ways I have intentionally sought out those stories; I did have a very long and detailed post going recently that collated scraps of John Oliver’s connections to British comedy. But on this specific week, I was not specifically searching to encounter quite so many stories on the specific subject of how people feel after John Oliver moves away from them.

I don’t know if all the art is worth it; he needs to just stay where he fucking is. He’s like Helen of Troy, he broke some hearts and launched a thousand art projects (okay, three, though I think you could count some of Andy Zaltzman’s laments after he left The Bugle as at least one more). If he does it again someone might get killed; I’ve read Greek mythology and no matter how beautiful the art is, these things never end well.

[endoyamato]

as a former shopping addict this is BINGO. let me add some stuff about that: is it a hobby or do u just like buying things and what does that mean for you? does it mean seeing a cute outfit and picturing yourself in it? does it mean just a rush from giving money away? is it having trinkets? is it holding something cute? is it all of it? do you do it when you're sad? happy? stressed? REALLY examine it. and i mean REALLY. and most of the time, "well it makes me happy!" is a shield. why does it make you happy? do you think about it after you bought it? do you KNOW what you bought? do yo find yourself after a shopping spree, not being able to remember what you bought (barring any memory problems u might have regardless)? cuz i often wake up and i think i know i went to xyz yesterday i bought… SOMETHING…. but what… or i'll get a package not knowing what's in it. this can easily be a problem.

BUT! as a recovering shopping + gambling addict!

may i interest you in games with virtual currencies that have zero connection to irl money? example: sims with infinite money cheat. (and no, i did not buy the game. figure that part out urself lol) i fucking love spending money. so i sometimes also spend in-game money in xiv on glams (clothes). or anything else that simulates object go up without ACTUAL IRL MONEY being spent.

AND THE BEST ONE SO FAR: window shopping! at first, try going in person, and take everything you like, yes, everything, grab it, put it in your cart, then walk around the store with it for at least 15mins. do you still want it that badly? think, REALLY think - can you see yourself use/wear/like this in a month? in six months? do you want to move house with it? if not, put it back (in my case, my situation was so severe i had toput them away at the till/somewhere free and not where i found them because iit was urgent for me to leave before i buy but try not to do this as it gives the people who work there more things to do). when you've successfully done this several times, congratlations! you are recovering! it's okay if you at first buy 10 things insteaad of 20, or 5 instead of 10, and so on. try, but do your best. i started from spending 200LV in a store at once a few years ago to only buying 3 pens just the other day in the same store! and a snack is always worth it in my opinion, so if you buy juice or a pastry instead, it's a win.

next, create a wishlist like mywishlist.online and add everything you see to it and i mean EVERYTHING you like (they have a little addon that makes it easy) and then. oh then. wait exactly 1 day. do u still think abt it? no? then u dont want it. want it after 1 day? wait 3. then wait a week. then a month. if you are still thinking about it after a month, consider it! you can also go stare at it longingly in ur wishlist for 10mins, but i guarantee you that 8/10 you won't even remember what's in there. i routinely go clean my wishlist cuz i'm like omg i do NOT want this. do this especially for shops that are traps for you - temu, shein, aliexpress, bookstores, a specific brand, etc. the more you do it, the easierit will be, trust me.

also through all of this, try to identify what makes you go on shopping sprees and try to fix THAT issue.

if you are further in your recovery: gacha games you don't care about. yes, really, but i don't recommend this one if you're JUST starting your recovery and you've NEVER gambled before, as they can be very tempting.

if this is your first time with gacha: if you get the urge to spend, wait ONE MONTH. if after a month you're still heavily into it, look into its popularity - many gachas shut down these days so your money will be wasted. every time you get the urge to spend out of whatever emotion, close the game and wait 15 minutes. then if you still want to, go do something else.

HOWEVER! keep in mind that gacha can easily pull you down a gambling rabbit hole so ONLY actually install one to HELP you with this if you are well in recovery and HAVE gambled before. do NOT get into it without prior experience in this, as they are VERY predatory - it's how i was got at 20 (that's how i went down that addiction spiral, personally). now i can play gachas without these urges, but it took a long time, and it helps if you don't gaf about it and just want to see the currency go wheee

and get an adblocker.

"advertising doesn't work" the increase in scentbird ads and people talking about a "personal signature scent" directly correlates with my family's interest in perfumes. Even if they're not using scentbird, something probably changed to make them want perfumes more, right?

[blog-reflection]

ONE / Twenty One - Amber’s

I am sorry. 

First day alone in my new life and I needed time for myself. Even though I had an awesome time with Jesse and Lucia, I do need to refill my social battery like, alot. That’s why I wasn’t able to get a new story out on the usual schedule. Nonetheless, life is doing pretty damn good so far, nothing to worry about. I can survive on my own, thanks to Jesse constantly saying I am. The night was chill, especially after that break out in the club. After I got Jesse safe and sound to the trainstation I took my bike and just rode it through the city constantly thinking…reflecting on the past months. I achieved a lot actually, kinda proud of myself not gonna lie. Moving here was the best thing I could have done. Regrets? Zero. Jesse and Lucia have been a great support in that time, especially Jesse. Having them around just makes life way more joyful than being all on your own. Meeting Sarah as the housekeeper is even better. Strange to say that to someone who’s as old as she is but we’ve been getting pretty close over the last few days considering the short notice. She made it clear that weekends like that shouldn’t accrue that often though. It’s not like she’s having an issue with us hanging ‘round her place but she kind of needs her alone time too. I promised her that she’ll get as much freetime as she want’s. I haven’t even celebrated my birthday and I will definitely not throw omega parties, I don’t even know enough people to get in contact with or even to go out. And I will not go alone in a club, that’s just sad.   

But that’s kind of it. Today I’ve been chilling in my apartment, taking in every last inch of the place so I get as familiar as I can. I love it, I really do. It’s cosy, I love the colours, all my plants. It’s pure cottage living with that tiny bit of modern style mixed into it. And on top all that new furniture. I was in desperate need of a new bed, and let me tell you, this one is big, flat and feels like a massive cloud. The only thing I miss from Dover is the huge ass window right in my room where my bed was. I loved it. I mean I bet my neighbours are happy they don’t have to see my naked ass cheeks pressed against them while I sleep but that’s a different story. I checked my phone since it started to make some noise. It’s Sarah, asking if I’d be able to get to the Ambers since the package she wanted to claim yesterday hasn’t arrived yet. And yes, Sarah is down stairs and could walk easley up to Ambers herself but since I wanted to get some stuff for the evening I said it’s no big deal. So I got up, dressed in some plain white joggers and an oversized mixed coloured jumper. I looked like I’d be sleeping under the bridge, like a messy, but classy kind of homeless person. I love it. I got downstairs with my backpack and walked to Ambers. It’s not a long walk, maybe five minutes down the road. I took my phone with me and listened to some music while walking. I opened the door once I arrived and the little bell attached to the door started to ring. 

Amber: Ahhh James, Hi. How may I help you

Okay, what now? How did they know who I am? I mean, they aren't even here yet.

James: Yeah I ehm, sorry what? Amber: Haha, you’re funny. James: Ehm, thank you? Amber: Soo, how may I exactly help you? James: Oh right yeah, Sarah sends me regarding… Amber: Oh yeah one second I’ll get the parcel.

Oh my god. This place is literally freaking me out. Amber’s constantly knowing what I am about to ask. So strange. 

Amber: All right, that would be Sarahs. Anything else? James: Oh thanks, actually I’d like some buns and that one right here? Sorry I can’t read it.

The sign displayed some words I simply wasn’t able to read. It wasn’t a cake, but also not a cupcake, but it looked sweet. I’ve never seen something like that before to be honest.

Amber: All right. Here are your buns as well as one of our house specials. That would be… five pounds sixty. James: Yo what? That’s all? Amber: I mean, you can give us more if you want. I mean it’s not like you have to pay rent or anything.

Okay stop it. Never can she know that I get my apartment paid for. How could she know? It makes zero sense at all. I just paid my bill, grabbed my bag and the parcel and walked back home while talking with Lucia on the phone.

Discord call 

Lucia: Ciao amore James: Ciao Lucia, hai un minuto per me? Lucia: Sì, come va? James: Oggi hai un evento molto strano. Lucia: Spill. The. Tea! James: So I was in that Amber's place and… Lucia: Let me guess, they know you even though you’ve never been there? Happens babe. James: Yeah. I mean how? This is like next level craziness going on there. I felt that Amber was such a creeper. Lucia: Amber’s are…a strange place I agree, never liked going there. You just need one friend or person that you know and have them goin in into an Amber. James: Yeah but I don’t get it. Who would have told them that I was James? Lucia: Maybe Sarah told them? Or maybe Jesse? WAIT? Have you said Amber, like the person working there was called Amber? James: Yeah why? Lucia: Yeah okay listen, All Amber’s have one employee called Amber, who is in direct bloodline to the Amber family. James: So what? Lucia: Amber’s are the worst. Like literally the worst. They observe everything, know everything, and tell everyone. You could literally go to an Amber’s in Scotland and they would know your deal. Jesse: That sounds illegal if I am honest. Lucia: Let’s just say, Ambers is a massive grey zone. Docent of people have been complaining but the police never really find anything. Apart from that, it’s a business for them. You can go there for information about a special person. Chances they know them is like ninety nine percent. It’s a trade though. You offer them information they don’t know in return to info you need. James: Jesus Crust that sounds freaky! Did you ever need that? Lucia: Once but it wasn’t worth it. Honestly, maybe try avoiding them. James: Thanks for the tip but I don’t think I can. The next post office is miles away. I’m way faster going there. Lucia: Alright è non problema. James: Nonetheless, grazie amica, tutto bene. Lucia: Ottimo, ciao, buonasera!!! James: Ciao!

Alright. I opened the door and went inside, put Sarah’s parcel on the desk on the floor and went into my room. I hit up Alexa and played some wild tomorrow land music to dance the house down while opening a bottle of lillet. Thriving in the beat I was once again in my element. To be honest, I had way more moves in my room than in the beast and prey. I hit up some music videos of fireworks on my TV and let the show start. 

Later that day, well night by now, I made myself some food. I’ve thrown some fries and chicken nuggets into the oven and waited twenty minutes until all of them were done. I poured in another glass of lillet and finished it off with some berries, placed myself in the bed, laid down while eating and stared at the ceiling. My fairy lights were the only proper light source I had and I loved it. It took me about ten minutes till I annihilated all the fries and nuggets before the beat dropped and went back to dancing and jumping. I also almost finished the entire bottle of lillet and to be honest I kind of started feeling the alcohol . 

I’ve decided to call it a shot and get some rest. The last week has been a lot and I still feel like my social battery is killing me. Nonetheless I am happy to be here. But for now I just switched Alexa to play my favourite podcast while brushing my teeth and going to bed. 

About half was into the episode I’ve fallen asleep.

[blackvail22]

i talk here a bunch each day because i have no one else to talk to.

its sad, honestly.

i couldnt go to my counseling appointment, so i wont be able to see her again for another 2 weeks

thats nearly a month since ive seen her

im not doing very well so this isnt good at all lmao

idk how im going to make it another 2 weeks but all i can do is try ...

i think i start work again next week. im afraid of what has changed... probably not a lot. all i know is we have a new manager, and ive heard he's nice

i have a postop appt on tuesday for my tonsillectomy. finally i will have what my disease means explained to meeee. i keep thinking about it, and its been bothering me. i probably wont know if i have another surgery until after my next ct scan (they have to space them out so i dont get exposed to too much radiation and i had one less than a month ago) and idk when that is

im so bored. i have to be the problem

i really think i am

"my friends wont reach out" but when i reach out its super dry and they varely engage. maybe im seeing it in the wrong perspective. maybe my vision is skewed, and im seeing it in the wrong light.

maybe its because theyre busy

maybe at work

going to work

hanging out with other friends

going to hang out with other friends

i want to have a good friend group so bad but i feel like i cant have one

i feel like my only friend was em even though she used me. oh, i dont know if i ever told u the reason why we arent friends anymore

so, i dont have the best memory of the order everything happened, but ill do my best to sort it out

after spending a bunch of time together, we started to fade away. i would ask her if she wanted to spend the night, she would hesitate for a good 30 minutes, talk to her mom, and then say "sure". sometimes she wouldnt wait until we ate dinner (but a good amount of times she did) until shed say "oh i forgot something at home" or "my stomach hurts" and id walk to her house with her (except the times when she'd tell me not to).

when i walked with her, she would always say "ill be right back" and then shed be gone for 10 minutes and her mom would come out and be like "hey... she doesnt feel well so she's going to say home". and each time i would walk home crying. at this point, she was already blowing me off, not talking to me, and overall being rude, but i still went back to her every time.

this rare occasion was in early september of 2017. we only hung out, and then she said she had someone else shes hanging w at her house. she had become friends with people that hated my sister as well as a girl that honestly no one knows. em started to become them... like literally she became a copy of them. the whole group of girls would tell her that my sister is a fat, ugly whore. they fed her all of this, and they would talk and call my sister names and generally talk shit about her

a few days after i heard abt this, i saw things from em that she was having a hard time. i was outside doing yard work, and she was walking by. i said "hey, i hope you feel better" and she yelled "fuck you" at me while, again, giving me the finger.

i dont know what i did, but that was the last time in years that we would talk to each other. we would be "friends" on the bus the few days she went to school sophomore year...

now, though? i dont exist to her. i saw her at my work TWICE this past year, once being on my recent birthday, and she pretended she didnt know me. i look the same as i did before... this most recent time, she was with her boyfriend, one of the friends from '17 and her mom. as i greeted them, everyone looked over except her... her mom even did a double take.

she claims she doesnt know why our friendship went to shit when we were toxic to each other our whole friendship. it was never healthy.

she seems to be happy though, at least happier than me. shes pregnant again. im not sure of the gender, but i think its going to be a boy. she's always wanted to be a mom, so i hope shes a good one.

[heybaetae]

same, i'm definitely more needy with certain people and others i can go weeks/months without hearing from but if im being honest its bc i don't feel as close to them but they're cool to speak to every once in awhile, do u feel the same? ah my other friend texts only but i feel better when i can talk to people ;-; have u ever had text convos when it got lost in translation and became a big thing? or is that just me being hella sensitive and not being able to take something as a joke but i also can make jokes idk its weird lol. u know whats funny? i dread giving gifts ;-; it brings me sooo much anxiety.. cause i'm always like, if i get something "cheap" they'll think i didn't try, if i get something expensive, they might not like it. i don't spend much on myself but i end up spending a lot on others cus i feel like ppl weigh their importance in ur life with how much a gift costs sometimes. i'm with yoongi, at some point we need to agree not to give gifts (but ironically i love receiving them too so i never said such thing) lol. OMG u get it. i'm not good with words at times & so i share songs cause they share it for me & that means SO much to me. i made someone a whole ass playlist and was so hurt they did not even remember it.. not my best moment cus i became so petty 🤷🏻‍♀️ you sound like a really sound friend tho, being army gives u extra points 💜💜 lol. related but not rly, when i think of my friendships, sometimes i think too much of vmin and think we can have petty fights and be ok as long as we talk it out so we can learn & grow from it, but most of the time its never like that and it makes me sad its not. i always end up trying to fix it first. like the other person would've been fine if we didn't make up :/

honestly i have had some really bad luck with friendships and i have often wondered if the problem is me or if i just let people take advantage of me and walk all over me too easily. have i really attracted that many shitty people who were willing to hurt me or am i actually toxic and deserved it? i don’t believe that i am. i’ve definitely made mistakes, but i’ve always tried to be careful about people’s feelings and i don’t think i’ve received much of the same respect in the last few years. the pandemic really showed people’s true colors, that’s for sure. communication is such a fickle thing sometimes and one small misunderstanding in someone’s intentions or tone can really blow up in your face. i know that better than anyone. as for jokes that don’t land, i think it’s important that someone knows where to draw the line with their words and if they know you’re sensitive about something that they do their best not to cross it. that’s happened to me as well. when it starts feeling like bullying instead of just lighthearted jabs at your expense, that’s when a potentially uncomfortable conversation needs to be had. have a backbone! stand up for yourself! it’s not a weakness.

i get what you mean about gifts, i sometimes put so much pressure on myself to come up with something good but at the end of the day i know the thought counts more than anything and if someone doesn’t appreciate what you gift them then that’s something they should probably reflect on within themselves. i’m grateful for every little thing i’ve been gifted no matter how big, small, expensive, or cheap.

[velvettequila]

1. Were you named after someone

Yes my grandpa he died three months after I was born but even before my mom was pregnant with me she said she was always gonna name her child after him

2. When was the last time you cried

A couple days ago my grandma insults me quite frequently and it gets to be to much espicially being on vacation visiting her sister with her

3. Do you have any kids

I actually want one but I’m like girl wait Ive had a few scares tho since my birth control interacts with another med of mine and prevents the child thing. I have nieces and nephews I love very much and every time I see them I’m like ahh I want a. Baby

4 do you use sarcasm a lot

Only with my mom really we are sarcastic i don’t use it with a lot of people I don’t think

5 Whats the first thing you notice about people

Facial features and personality especially when people are rude or judgmental I tend to notice really quickly

6 whats your eye color

Grey it’s not like slate grey it’s really pale and it makes me look Creepy sometimes

7 scary movies or happy endings?

SCARY MOVIESS I love scary movies so much I literally have probably spent so much money horror movies.

8 any special talents?

I can play alto sax and piano Idk if that’s special but I learned how to psychologically analyze people at 14 cause I have an odd fixation with the mind I guess that’s special being 14 I mean I didn’t like master it but for a 14 year old it was kinda empressive

9 where were you born

Cleveland Texas their is only one hospital their and now it’s closed but my mom worked their my mom is a nurse she literally was so mean pregnant is what I’ve been told by her old co-workers

10 what are your hobbies

Researching law history psychology politics . Crocheting, collecting squishmallows, reading is the most important

11 do you have any pets

Yes a pitbull prince and a yorkie Duke I’m really sad to be moving away from them but I’ll be able to see them on breaks.

12 do you play any sports

Not anymore I used to do marching band in highschool and softball when I was younger. Now I just ride motorcycles we’ll just one I only own one and only reason I’m including that is cause riding bikes is dangerous and expensive like cause bikes that I tend to love and the one I bought is pricey and riding suits are expensive but they keep u safe

13 how tall are you

5’3 160 cm i stopped growing around 14

14 favorite subject in school

Highschool I loved reading and creative riding and currently I love my law classes espically criminal procedure

15 Dream job

Probably attorney general a senator Supreme Court justice I would love to be able to take time off once I have a kid that’s why I started investing in real estate but I think I really wanna be in the cia or fbi but I love law so much and being in court

@imliketheiceifreeze @dyingofcookies

15 questions and 15 mutuals

I was tagged by @mexicangela @boobiebaguettebouquet @hart-kinsella & @movrings 💖

Were you named after anyone?

I was almost named after someone but it changed because the name 'sounded too old'. I was almost an 80 year old baby 😂

When was the last time you cried?

Full-on cried? Probably months ago. I got a little teary watching Black Panther: Wakanda Forever recently though.

Do you have kids?

No, but I'd like to one day. But that's a whole other complicated issue.

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Yep. If I ever stop being sassy, assume I'm dead.

What's the first thing you notice about people?

Physically? Their eyes. Personality-wise, their sense of humor and the way they laugh.

What's your eye color?

Blue.

Scary movies or happy endings?

Both. Both is good. I like being scared, but I also hate being scared...and I think I speak for everyone when I say you can't beat a good rom-com!!!

Any special talents?

Hmmm, apparently I can throw my voice and it freaks people out - that's my theater training in action babyyy!!! 😂

Where were you born?

In the words of Bruce Springsteen, I was born in the USA (sorry).

What are your hobbies?

I hate this question so much because I always have this moment of staring wistfully into the middle distance like 'what is a hobby?' lmao BUT I guess I'd have to say writing, playing the piano, video games (just finished Resident Evil: Village and about to get onto the DLC)

Have any pets?

Three chaotic dogs - one of them has emotional problems so fireworks are his arch enemy (but so are trucks, the doorbell, wine corks, balloons, the vacuum....I could go on)

What sports do you play/have you played?

Tennis, badminton, lacrosse, hockey, but not anymore! I'm more of a yoga/pilates gal these days.

How tall are you?

5 ft 2. SMOL.

Favorite subject in school?

English & Drama.

Dream job?

Writer for TV & Film, although I have a few novels left in me yet - although I do think about getting into interior design staging every now and then. Either way it comes down to something creative & flexible (like me 😏)

I'm tagging (if you feel like it!): @existential-labrador @biscuitboxpink @stephaniejuhnay @angelofmusings @targaryenvampireslayer @babyjakes @winter2112rose @cardierreh15 @whiskeyncoke-redux @iguessweallcrazyithinktho @sarcastic-coffeedrinker @thelastsock @sillyrabbit81 @inlovewithhisblueeyes @gyllenhaalstories

[insertdisc5]

Devlog #3 - Musings About Text Speed

Hello everyone! Welcome to this month’s devlog! This one will be about what I did this month, and also text speed in video games.

Anyway, if you just stumbled upon this, I am Adrienne, also known as insertdisc5! I’m the developer, writer, artist, main programmer, etc of the game. The game being In Stars and Time, which is the next and final game in the START AGAIN series, following START AGAIN: a prologue (available here!).  You can find out more about In Stars and Time here!!! 

ALRIGHT LET’S GET TO IT

I've had quite the productive month, mostly because I took a one week break from my day job to chill and rest and work on the game. Which means…

Act 3-4 is more or less complete and implemented and tested!!! I say "more or less" because I'm still missing a few illustrations, and a few sidequests I'd like to add. BUT!!! The main story for those acts is complete!!! YAHOO!!!

I've also been drawing a bunch, which hasn't happened for a little bit. After months of not drawing, I hung out with a friend and we drew together, which helped me unblock myself art-wise! THANKS, FRIEND!!!!! Anyway here’s one cryptic illustration, just for you guys.

(Siffrin goes ^u^)

I’ve also been playtesting the game from beginning to (temporary) end! I haven’t done that in a while, so it was interesting to play it in its entirety and see what works, what doesn’t (and needs to be fixed), and also the parts that are broken code-wise and I need to jump into and figure out. There’s less of those than I anticipated though, so: YAHOO

I do want it on the record that while playing through I knew what was going to happen (of course I did, I wrote the damn thing), but I did get some very fun moments that made me go “oh god!!!! That’s really good!!!!!! Who wrote this!!!!” I wrote this. It’s always fun to feel surprised by your own work, and it happened a bunch, so I’m very happy!!!

And now it’s on to scripting the few things for Act 3-4 I have left, and then finally jump into scripting for the final acts, Act 5 and 6. I’ve had the base for the events written down for a very long time, as well as countless notes on “ok we GOTTA MAKE SURE that this thing happens”, so it’ll be a matter of sitting down and making sure all those notes become a cool thing. Which it will, because, come on guys (I strike a pose) it’s me.

What else, what else… Oh! Somehow I found myself wondering about text speed this month.

I’ve asked my followers on twitter what text speed they preferred in their games, (buzzfeed voice) AND THE ANSWERS WERE SURPRISING (not really)

A few random ramblings about text and dialogue in video games:

-I found it very interesting that most people set text speed to fast-but-not-instant (FBNI speed!), and that people using instant speed were relatively low. It almost made me wonder if I should just force the player to play the game at FBNI speed (kinda like how Ace Attorney forces you to use one speed), but hey. If I can add options, might as well add them. 

-I did leave instant speed in in ISAT, but it IS kind of sad to see the text appear all at once when I already made sure the text appearing would pause slightly at every comma or end of sentence (see above!) One of my gripes with instant speed is that it sometimes kills the pacing. Can you really feel the WEIGHT of a sentence if it appears all at once?!?! Thankfully, I did find out how to add very slight pauses with the instant speed! Heck yeah! Even at instant speed, you will go at MY pace, player!!!!

-Many people also love when, if your text speed isn’t instant, you can press A while the text is still appearing to make the text appear all at once! Thank god this is already a thing in RPGmaker and I don’t have to figure it out myself. What I DID figure out is how to make this NOT happen, for important moments! Again, you will go at MY pace, player!!! It’s a fun, subtle way to catch the player off guard, so I’m glad I figured it out, teehee.

-One of the reasons I was wondering about text speed is that I’m a very fast reader, and I didn’t really take that into account when I made START AGAIN: a prologue! I had a few dialogues where the text would advance to the next box on its own, without player input, mostly when a character would interrupt another or something like that. Because it’s fun and cool! Haha they interrupted this character so the text box advanced on its own! How realistic! What a good use of video game code powers!

    But here’s the thing: some players (especially streamers, who read everything aloud) did not have time to read what was on screen before it went away! And if they had the text speed on instant, the code made it so that they would get literally one frame of text before it went away! AND THAT’S NOT GOOD!!! So for ISAT, I made sure I would add text that advances automatically VERY rarely, and when I did (because, again, it’s fun and cool), I made sure the text speed would slow down significantly, and the text would stay on screen for as long as it took me to say aloud a few times. So you are welcome, slow readers everywhere. Sorry it took me so long!!!!

That’s it, that’s all for today! Let me know if you have any questions, or if there’s any aspect of the game development struggle you’d like me to talk about! See you next time!!!

AND DON’T FORGET TO WISHLIST THE GAME ON STEAM ALSO IT REALLY HELPS BECAUSE STEAM’S ALGORITHM IS MORE LIKELY TO SHOW OFF GAMES WITH A HIGH AMOUNT OF WISHLISTS THAT'S THE REASON WHY GAME DEVS ALWAYS ASK TO WISHLIST!!! OKAY BYE!!!! 

[chanluster]

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

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

back to masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart. 

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening. 

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

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

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

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

It was partly you as well.

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!! 

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth 

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

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

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

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

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

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

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

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____?” 

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

Your mouth dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had all the time in the world for this.

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

You wanted this as much as he did. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like your best friend promised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

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

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

You blinked. 

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

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

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

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He read your every plea. 

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

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

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

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

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

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

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

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

Your best friend could see right through you anyway. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Hyuck.” 

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

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

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS: 

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

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn 

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually 

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful 

“This asshole,” you muttered. 

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS: 

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me 

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing. 

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

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

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

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

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

Again, the situation here was different.

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

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

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

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

“Now I know you’re lying!”

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

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

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

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

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

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

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

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

“Shut up, Chan.”

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

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

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

“A Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did change your life.

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

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

Hopefully tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung!”

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

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

“Boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The joy was not returned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission to punch him in the face?” 

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

“Fuck.”

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

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take. 

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

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

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

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

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you even come here? 

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

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

Then were you feeling miserable?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes. 

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

“Oh my God!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time. 

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

Were you really just friends? 

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

But...to be more?

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

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

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

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you!”

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

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

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

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

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

You had finally told him of your feelings. 

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

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

God, you were such a bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum for me, baby.”

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

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

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

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Chan. Please.”

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

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

“Donghyuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

Bang Chan, your very best friend. 

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

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

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

“Cum for me, ____.”

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

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

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

You decided to break the silence first. 

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chan!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Chan?”

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

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

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

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

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

He parted his mouth. 

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

You blinked. 

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

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused. 

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you. 

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[deluluass]

all yours; all mine

71 and 58 with Atsumu pleaseeese. I just love this man and I would appreciate it if you wrote something with him. Youre so talented!💕 — anon

sidenote: anon, i hope u know that u have a very special place in my heart for being the first ask ive ever received. i hope u are well & having a gr8 day ;U;

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; daddy kink; mild angst; implied post-breakup depression; toxic relationship/s

Breakups are a messy business. A lot of crying, begging, screaming (if it's that type of a breakup). Whatever it is, breakups generally inspire intense— so-intense-it-could-get-you-kicked-out-if-you're-in-a-public-place, high-strung, and the most unpleasant kind of emotions. 

It’s understandable, considering you’re losing the person you love. 

But he doesn't even look upset.

"Aah," Atsumu sing-songed, twirling the plastic stirrer between his fingers. "Ya wanna call it off?"

The heat from the mug bit your skin as you gripped it. 

"What?" you choked, shaking your head. "I didn't say that, Atsumu. I only-"

He scoffed. "Fuckin'- ya just did."

You finally looked up at him, porcelain clinking as you placed your drink back on the saucer. Ball cap on,  muscles filling up and straining his hoodie and jeans; even in an outfit that almost concealed him he never fails to take your breath away. 

Only, it's for a different reason this time.

"I said that I-" you cleared your throat. "I want- I want you to-"

"I get it, I get it." Atsumu sighed, waving his hand nonchalantly. "Let's break up, then."

He was already standing up and he didn't even deign to meet your eyes. You didn't expect much when you'd travelled all the way to Tokyo just to have a talk with him. After all, the last conversation you had was over the phone. (And that, too, did not go well). 

Though, is it too much to expect he'd at least listen to what you have to say?

"Tsumu-kun! Wait!" 

Some customers were already staring, urging you to hide, hop on the next train, and run back home; away from the cold scrutiny of strangers. 

But not now. Not when what you have with him is hanging on a balance.

"Please, sit down and- and let's talk," you huffed, voice and hand trembling as you held onto his.

Breakups are a messy business, you heard.

A lot of crying. A lot of begging. A lot of screaming. Whichever kind it is, don't breakups usually inspire only the most intense emotions?

But he doesn't even look upset, doesn't even look like he feels anything other than a passing irritation, as if you were a fly buzzing in his ear, when he told you, "I know this is ya first rodeo, but yer gonna find someone new eventually, hm?"

It's been a long time coming, Atsumu thinks. He'd known for quite a while now that his relationship with you would end, actually, ever since you'd wanted to include "feelings" and "trust" and "opening up" into the mix. 

"Why?" he'd laughed at your face once. "What? Ya ain't happy? That it? We got somethin' good goin' on don't we?"

He didn't get it, at first. You'd always been your cheerful, bubbly self; never failing to be that one sunny spot when his day gets too pesky and such a pain in the ass. You were happy.

Until you weren't. 

"You don't.. tell me things," you muttered, fiddling with your hands on the kitchen table. "Which is fine! I'm not- go at your pace, but- but know that I'd listen to you. Always. I'm here, 'Tsumu."

And it wasn't as if he didn't try. It's just that Atsumu realized, a few months later, that he wasn't any good at it. 

Every time he'd lay it all out in front of you⁠— every tiny and pathetic and gritty part of him, you would eventually take him in your arms. So much smaller, weaker than his and yet Atsumu did not mind if it could be his entire world. 

Then, a thought would creep in, like a thief that'd stab him in his sleep. In the safety of those tender arms, with those guileless eyes peering at him, Atsumu would think that he'd rather stay there forever, cling onto you until he bites the dust.  

It disgusted him. 

Atsumu couldn't stand it. Because if he could be anything in this short life, he'd choose to be perfect. And that- that wasn't it. 

So he avoided it when the occasion arose. Diverting the subject to mundane stuff was easy, at first. The weather, the new show you're binging, your slacker of a boss, what happened back in the game. When that didn't work⁠— well, there were other ways. 

(His favorite was sticking his tongue in your wet cunt, to prod at the soft walls with the tip, and to lap and suck at the clit until you're begging for the stretch of his fat cock.)

The break up was understandable. When you'd greeted him in the café as if you'd spent the entire time you were apart crying, Atsumu knew it was over. 

You just repeated what you'd always said. It's okay to be vulnerable. If he needs some time to work out the right words then you'd always wait because I love you, 'Tsumu. 

(But there was that feeling again. Like he could die on the spot if you would so much as leave his sight.)

(Ending it was the only way out. When poison seeps itself into the bloodstream, you're left with no choice but to cut off a part of you.)

Unlike others, he can say that it was a clean parting. You wanted something and he was bad at it. And because he hated fucking up, Atsumu decided to leave. Easy. 

Really, the only people who didn't understand were his teammates.

"That's strange," Hinata spat, rice bursting to his chin when he suddenly faced Atsumu. "I don't think I've seen her for weeks now."

He could hear barely suppressed groans  behind him, no doubt from Bokuto and the others, before their spiker blurted out a confused, "What?"

Because, of course, Hinata could only mean one "her.” (There had only ever been one that Atsumu Miya allowed inside the team's gymnasium; inside his circle of friends; inside his life.)

Apparently, except for Hinata Shoyo, everyone had caught on that the both of you had thrown in the towel, so to speak. (And here they thought the guy's finally in it for real.)

"Nah, it's fine," Atsumu smirked, addressing it to everyone gathered around Samu's onigiri stand.  

"We broke up." 

He clicked his tongue. "It's not like there ain't no other fish in the sea."

The remark, casually said in between sips of cold coffee, was met with a gaping silence. 

That turned out to be right, like everything else that he'd predicted. 

A hole is a hole is a hole is a hole. No disrespect meant to you. But before you there had been many others who'd helped warm his bed. It just so happened that you got to stay for far longer. 

(Because waking up next to you meant waking up to that dreamy look, as if whoever's in charge up there has finally given you everything you've ever wanted.)

(And when he greets you with a hoarse good morning you say it back with eyes that tell him he's worth it, simply for being there.)

Anyway, going back to that old routine hadn't been difficult. 

(Except when he finally does it with someone new, for some reason he keeps searching for a different touch, expecting that endearing combination of inexperience and enthusiasm.)

(And when they cum he can't help but put a hand on their mouth, around their throat, because he's hearing the wrong voice, seeing the wrong face.) 

It's obvious, looking at him. Everyone can see that life's going pretty well for Atsumu. He can only hope that the same goes for you.

"You're miserable."

Peeling your attention away from the mother braiding her young daughter's hair, you hurriedly brought it back to the two women sitting in front of you.

"See?" Aya swung her hand in your direction. "Not even listening."

"No, no," you giggled sheepishly. Kaori was already pursing her lips.

"No, seriously. I am."

You sat upright, setting the chopsticks on your bento box. 

"Then what was it she said?" Kaori pressed. She folded her arms and you knew you were in trouble. 

"Uh..huh." You nodded. "Right. So. Um...."

"You didn't catch it," said Kaori.

"I didn't catch it," you winced.

Both girls sighed. 

The first three buttons of their blouses were open, the heat of the afternoon getting to them. And as they leaned back against the wooden bench, you had a feeling that they were about to give you the Conversation that's been waiting to happen for two long months.

That's why you'd decided to start it before they could. Just so it won't linger anymore painfully so.

“I know what you're going to say."

They only raised their brows, a mere "okay, go on" than an actual expression of surprise. 

"I've been sad. I haven't been..fine. That is true," you inhaled, preparing yourself for the agonizing part. Then, you released your breath.

"Ever since..'Tsu-" you gulped. "Ever since breaking up with Atsumu I haven't been feeling like myself but nowadays I'm getting back on my feet and I'm still working see so really there's no need to worry okay? Okay."

Aya grinned, but it didn't hold her usual devil-may-care humor to it. 

"You say that," she started, "but we’ll probably always be if you keep at that- at that⁠—"

"You're rarely in the moment," Kaori supplied, to which Aya replied with a harsh thank you. "You're distracted. And we know you're trying your best to be okay on your own. We've given you space, but remember that you have us."

Something was lodged in your chest and you found it hard to breathe. You'd missed them. You hadn't realized it, but you missed your friends. 

So much.

"Thank you," you whispered, forcing back  tears. "I- I wouldn't know what to do if it not for you two-"

"Hold it." Aya raised a palm. "Before you get corny again. Can I just say, I know he's your first dick-"

"Aya," Kaori murmured.

"And we all know it was good-"

"Aya," you hissed.

Your face burned as you searched from left to right, making sure no innocent being heard her.

"But can I just say," she slapped a palm on the surface of the table. "I don't care what you or the TV or his fans say about him! But the man's a walking red flag since day one!"

Kaori rolled her eyes. And despite yourself you couldn't keep a chuckle from bubbling. 

"Here we go again."

Aya almost rose from her seat. "When he sent that poor dude from accounting to the ER for just, I don't know, breathing your way, I knew something was up!"

You felt your smile die. 

That had been the first time it happened. You'd asked him what's wrong, after you'd rushed to the hospital, and all he gave you was silence. A whole day of it. He hadn't spoken a word about it, only that he'd warned you not to talk to that bastard again, or else.

(You'd learned, much, much later, that he doesn't do well with people that annoy him. That's what he said. You wanted to know more, but he suddenly decided that he had to make it up to you between the sheets.)

Kaori touched your hand. "Talk to us," she whispered.

You hummed as you shook your head. "I just remembered him," you said, only half of the truth.

If they knew it, they didn't let on. But Aya did say, "Tell you what. Company outing's upon us. So you know what that means?"

"Oh, I don't know," you mumbled apologetically. "I might sit this one out."

"No," Kaori gritted. 

Aya held your face with both hands as she  stared you down.

"You will buy yourself a new swimsuit. You will enjoy that cheap beach resort." 

The heaviness was lifting, bit by bit, as you felt your stomach ache with laughter. And with each silly word uttered by your friends, you could almost see the gray clouds overhead disappearing. Even for a little while.

"And you, you beautiful person you," Aya beamed. "Will finally, finally get laid."

Having best friends who are dead set on helping you get over an ex is a fearsome thing to behold, indeed. 

You couldn't even get a word in edgewise as they took you in a whirlwind of spas, salons, mani-pedis, and shopping bags. 

"Calm down. You rarely spend for yourself," Kaori told you when she'd caught you peeking forlornly at the frightening bill you'd amassed. 

But, try as you might to miss owning a fat wallet, you couldn't deny that you have no regrets wasting your money away. Not even for a single cent. Because you did feel amazing.

And when the day arrived, you couldn't help at the giddiness of having compliment after compliment thrown your way. 

"Is that really you?" said a co-worker when you'd boarded the bus. "You're glowing!"

During the games, as well, you'd often hear "Love the new look!" and "Have I ever told you before that you're so pretty? Because you are." And you'd preen with a soft-spoken thank you, having been taught by Kaori that denying a compliment makes one look stupid.  

It was so silly, honestly. Though not the part where, after a lovely comment, you'd be emboldened to strike an actual conversation. Learning that a coworker has a new baby now, or that so and so has recently moved up the corporate ladder; learning that, during your period of grief and self-pity (and even during the blissful time you’d spent with Atsumu), there were so many things you hadn't noticed.

You basked in it: the shower of pleasantries and anecdotes that had you feeling soft and fuzzy inside. The same way you lazed on the sandbar, clutching tiny conch shells in your hand, as you watched the sun tinge the sparkling waves with warm light.   

"Hey."

You jolted, turning towards the person who'd called your name. It was him. "Poor dude from accounting" as Aya dubbed him.

"Sano-san," you gasped, reaching for the towel beside you to cover up. "How- how are you?" 

Of all the people in your office, he was the last one you wanted to see. Solely for the reason that things have been awkward between you ever since that incident. A working relationship characterized by the literal turning of the other cheek whenever you two bumped into each other.

"Oh, pardon me," he scratched the back of his head. "Do you..want me to go?"

Yes. 

"No..!" you blurted out. "I think-"

The sun was almost setting. You wrapped the towel around you as you took in the balmy sea breeze. 

"I think I'm done hiding," you whispered, meeting his gaze for the first time in a long while, head on and baring the tiniest hint of shame, like how you did with your friends and other coworkers.

He didn't say anything, allowing you to continue. "I- It's nice. Talking to people again," you giggled. "Look, Sano-san. About before, I'm really sor-"

"Actually," he smiled. "That's why I'm here. Well, my partner pushed me but-"

You grinned at the blush that rose to his cheeks. 

"But I wanted to tell you: No hard feelings."

Sano-san extended a hand. You stared at it for a few seconds. His hand, then his face. Back to his hand, then his face again. And when you'd finally accepted it, it felt like witnessing the cage that’s imprisoned you for centuries finally open.

"By the way," he added, walking back towards an obviously amused fianceé. "It's a good look on you, being happy."

Atsumu entertained the possibility that maybe— just maybe, not everything was  fine the night the Jackals went home after an overseas tournament.

As soon as the plane landed on Japanese soil, the hunger he felt throughout the journey morphed into some kind of  anticipation, palpable through the thrill that electrified him into wakefulness. He might have left in a hurry, only half of his mind present when the Coach ordered for a short meeting. 

His foot tapped endlessly on the way⁠— while in the car; during the tedious elevator ride⁠— and when he'd finally entered his pad, slamming the door open with much eagerness than usual, Atsumu felt his heart plummet down his stomach when he was welcomed by a dark and empty hallway. 

You're not here. Not anymore.

Hasn't it been almost half a year now? Why did he expect you, face brightened by a grin that went from ear to ear, to materialize in front of him, with the smell of something delicious wafting from the kitchen? As if a magician with a hat trick.   

("Welcome back!" he was aching to hear.)

(You always insisted on eating with him when he got home; sometimes opting to just stay by his side⁠— munching on a midnight snack while you babbled on, if he arrived later than usual and you'd already had dinner.)

("It's lonely having a meal on your own," you explained. "Don't you think food tastes better if you have someone with you?")

Perhaps it was the jet lag. Or, it could be that the abrupt change in time zones was starting to mess with his head. Either way, Atsumu was sure that sleep would eventually cure him of the momentary delirium. 

But then he woke up the next day feeling like someone had pissed in his morning drink. The day after that, too. Even the next had been the same, persisting onto the following weeks. 

Until one game, after a winning streak that had the crowd chanting their names and with blood still roaring in his veins, he condescended to survey the numerous people occupying the bleachers. 

And when he couldn't find one⁠— one person that had always stood out to him despite being constantly drowned in an ocean of spectators— it was only then that Atsumu Miya decided that enough was enough. 

You hadn't really agreed with Aya when she told you that you'd be getting "laid" during this short vacation. 

Reason number one: it's a company outing. And you're sure you'd be breaking some protocols by fooling around with any of your coworkers. Reason Two: as you'd sagely imparted to a miffed Aya, "I don't think it's nice to cure a broken heart with sex; strings attached or no."

That being said, the lingerie she'd chosen for you did flatter your figure. It didn't matter that "no one would see it," as Aya grumbled. It was enough for you that you yourself saw it, you thought as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror. 

The way it was tailored made it seem like it was made just for your body. The details of lace also made it look so pretty that you felt kind of sad that you'd have to cover it up with a summer dress soon. 

Nevertheless, you allowed yourself to strike a few poses in front of the mirror; feeling like a teenager on their first date as you admired how you looked in it. 

You smiled to yourself, humming a tune, before you opened your makeup kit and prepared the necessities you'd be bringing for the bonfire dinner. 

"Wipes: check," you murmured, rummaging through your bag. "Hygiene stuff. Where are you hygiene stuff, hygiene stu⁠—"

You froze.

Something rustled. Outside. As if something had moved. 

Putting a robe back on, your heart thundered against your chest as you stepped out of the bathroom and into the dimly lit sleeping area, illuminated only by a small reading lamp.

"Be careful there, girlie," the old caretaker warned as she guided you to this room. "Lots of mean spirits lurking about."

You didn't believe in ghosts. For some reason, however, your coworkers did. So you'd taken it to yourself to move here after a room assignment mishap, leaving Aya and Kaori behind. 

It didn't seem like the cursed chamber that she purported to be. Sure, it was isolated at the furthest wing of the beach house, away from the other rooms and separated by a too dark hallway. But that had been the creepiest thing about it. Besides, you heard from logistics that renting the house didn't cost much, despite its size, so maybe it's just that they lacked the resources to renovate. 

The floorboards creaked beneath you. "Aya? Aya, I know it's you," you called out as you squinted, catching a faint silhouette reclined at the corner of the bed. 

It was too large to be Aya, but you chalked that up to the shadows playing with your eyes. You puffed out a chortle, resting a hand on your hips when she finally stood.   

"Very funny, Aya," you snorted when she sauntered towards you. "Just you wait until Kaori hears about.…" you trailed off.

"......this."

You drew in a breath as she moved closer, revealing a build that was much taller, towering almost in the small room, shoulders that are way broader than the ones your friend has, and a face that clearly wasn't Aya's.

"Evenin'," Atsumu yawned. 

Your legs refused to listen to you.

"Been a minute, hadn't it, darlin'?"

You don't know why he's here. 

And even if you wanted to ask, you find that no sound could escape from your mouth when you tried to open it.

You do know this, as he gave you a lopsided grin that used to have you eating at the palm of his hand, along with a lazy gaze that was belied by a bird-like focus:

That although he told you that all he wants is a little chat, you knew that he didn't come here just for that.

You ran.

Atsumu had been the worst boyfriend.

He's aware of it now, realized it fully when he knocked on Samu's door, shit-faced, and it only took a single look and a consoling arm from his brother to break Atsumu into tears and snot, as well as Samu's voice telling him, "Yer a big baby. Ya need her, dontcha?"

That's why he followed you here, figuring that you'd love a thoughtful surprise. Because you always have. He didn't expect you'd take to it kindly, of course, not right away. But he also didn't expect that you would be doing the surprising.

You were talking to that man when he arrived. 

Didn't he tell you not to?

His intentions still haven't changed. He's here to bring you back, but before anything else Atsumu's sure it's only normal that you guys clear things up first. 

And if you're going to do that, he can't have you running away now, can't he?

Grabbing you by the waist, Atsumu's palm tingled at the feel of your body, pulling you closer to him as he pinned you to the wall and stifled your shrieks with his hand.

"Everybody's gone, angel," he whispered, losing himself in your skin, though covered in silk; lips and fingers roaming every which way because finally, finally, fuckin' finally you're here and you're real.

"Just wanna talk." He stroked the curve of your ass, middle finger tracing the lining of the crack. "Ain't this what'ya always wanted? S'let's talk," he murmured against your collarbone.

You were already crying, shaky hands weakly grasping his back and tears wetting even his cheeks. Atsumu couldn't help but smile. You'd always been a crier. It's one of the many things he loves about you. Always so honest with your emotions.

"I missed ya," Atsumu groaned as he grinded his cock against your pussy, feeling it harden when he mouthed your tits.

There was something peeking out of your robe, he noticed as it became more rumpled. 

"D-don't," you breathed, your attempt to swat his hands away thwarted when he seized your wrist.

It was lace. The color pulling the eye to your body like a siren's song. And when he stripped the robe off of you, silk swishing down your elbows, Atsumu saw that it was a piece of lingerie. One that he hasn't seen before.

Because he didn't buy this one. It wasn't from him. You weren't the type to get one yourself. 

Until now.

"This for him?" he murmured, pressing a kiss against your pulse, beating like a drum against his lips. 

"Wh-who?" you whimpered.

"The ugly piece of shit. Saw you guys gettin' chummy earlier."

He was close, too close to you, back at the beach. You smiled at him, laughed and showed him what he isn't supposed to see. And when he touched you— when the fucker touched you, Atsumu wanted blood on his hands.

"Yer gonna fuck the guy whose face I busted?" 

You squeaked as he dug his blunt nails against your wrist. Atsumu licked the red impressions they made.

"And what- what about it?" Your voice was so brittle and small. God, he just wanted to hold you. "It's none of your business, who I spend my time with. And don't- don't tell me you're jealous because-"

He chuckled, the sound of it making you shrink back into the wall. "Jealous? Doll, ya wouldn't wanna know what I'm feelin right now. But, sure." Atsumu lightly nipped at the tips of your fingers. 

"'Course I'm jealous," he rasped. "You're mine."

Then, Atsumu looked at you. And what he saw in your eyes made him stumble that when you shoved him away, all he could do was stand and stare.

"I'm not your thing, Atsumu," you cried. A light-year difference from the girl who'd always stare at him so tenderly. "I never was and I never will be. I'm not yours."

You didn't run this time. You should've. 

Atsumu clenched his jaw. "Like hell ya ain't," he snarled.

People say that breakups are a messy business. Atsumu was so sure he wouldn't have to endure that, before he met you.  Now that he's had the experience, though, Atsumu can say with confidence that breakups are, in fact, a goddamn mess.

But you're over that now. It's time to turn over a new leaf and return to one another. And Atsumu's finding out, in the process, that making up can be astonishingly reminiscent of the breakup.

You started crying when you woke up, screaming for help as you tried to budge the rope that was tying your hands to your knees. You got louder when you found out that you were naked and not in the rickety confines of the beach house. 

"Welcome home, baby," he beamed, eying you from between your legs. 

The begging started when you realized how drenched your little pussy was, his tongue lapping and slathering the cum dripping from your twitching hole, against  your swollen folds; his calloused thumb massaging deep circles on your clit. 

And when he stuck another inside your puckered asshole, you writhed out of your binds and squealed, "T-tsumu-kun…!"

Fuck. 

"Babydoll," he growled. "Daddy's gotcha, daddy's gonna treat ya so fuckin' good."

He slapped your damp cunt with his long fingers, thrusting them inside to rub and feel at your walls, at the bump that never failed to make you screech. "Daddy's been mean hasn't he? Hm? Been a bad daddy to ya, baby?"

You could only gasp out wordlessly as he slurped the juices off your clit, not stopping until you were gushing, sloppy cum drizzling on the bedsheet, every muscle in spasms, incapable of even stretching out your legs although Atsumu knew you wanted to, you really wanted to so fuckin' bad, resorting to curling your toes instead. 

"E-enough, please, please, stop!"

How adorable, Atsumu thought. "My little slut," he cooed, tapping the tip of his hard cock on your pussy. "My good 'lil fucktoy."

He relished it, wanting to draw this on forever, so he slides it against your folds, pussy lips wrapping the meat of his cock, gyrating his hips back and forth, as if he were fucking you, and grabbing your tits to play with your nipples. 

"Atta girl," he laughed, licking his teeth when he finally sunk inside your tight cunt, pushing you so far down into the mattress until his chest was rubbing against your tits, your feet dangling against his shoulders.

"I don't-I don't want this, 'Tsumu," you sobbed. "Don't want this!"

Oh, of course you don't. Atsumu knows you don't. He'd fucked you against your will, after all. 

But you were taking him so well, darlin'. Your walls were hugging his cock so fuckin' nicely that he couldn't help but shove deeper inside you, craving for the way your pussy twitched rapidly around him. 

If you weren't bound, he's also sure that you'd be pushing his hips away. But that's not what's getting to him. Because as he pistoned his cock into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass, you instantly turned your face away.

Did you know that you were breaking his heart? Shattering it to pieces, when you close your eyes like doors, locking them to prevent him from ever reaching you again. 

So he gripped your chin. Forced you to meet his eyes as you wept and shook your head. 

"Am gonna be better, baby," he groaned.  "No more keeping things from ya. None of that bullshit, now."

Atsumu shivered as you came around him, convulsing under him and strained voice still begging him to stop. Because he wasn't. He would never stop. Not when it comes to you. 

"Am all yours, angel. All yours." He pounded your fucked out cunt, chasing his own high as he kneaded your tits. 

A tear fell from your eyelids. And when he kissed you, it felt like everything in his life shifted back in its rightful place. "You can have it all," he sighed, cupping your cheek.

"So give me all of you now," Atsumu pleaded. "Come back to me."

[aliasimagines]

It Was You All Along // Dave Lizewski

requested by a lovely anon 💕

Can u write dave x fem!reader where reader Always had a crush on him but he kinda ignored reader bc of Katie but then someone popular asks reader out and he gets jealous and y/n dresses up super hot and he realizes he fucked up

word count: 1809

a/n: i hope this is close enough! ❤️ (i couldn't think of a different title but this one reminds me of Agatha All Along xd)

"Hey, Dave! My folks are gone for the weekend and I thought we could have an X-men watch party. Wanna come?" 

"Sorry I can't, I'm hanging out with Katie." 

"Again?" you ask a bit louder than intended,causing a few people to look at you in the hallway. You continue with a lower voice "Aren't you like, tired of all the lying? Like, what if she finds out that you're not actually gay, hm? Cause you know she will, eventually." 

"Why do you care so much?!" Dave says, clearly frustrated. 

You raise an eyebrow. 

"Oh why would I? Maybe because we have been best friends since diapers, you stupid asshole!" you say not caring if some students hear you or not, anymore. "But you know what, you are right. I shouldn't care. Go play pretend with Katie but don't come to me, crying when you end up getting your heart broken." 

"Don't worry, I won't." he snaps back. And you turn around and leave but not before flipping him off. You felt the angry tears rolling down your cheeks as you zigzagged between the chattering teenagers. 

You couldn’t  believe how Dave could be so blind! He only had eyes for Miss Perfect. Whom by the way, is a real bitch and would go back to ignoring Dave or calling him a freak if it wasn’t for his little gay act. 

Somehow you made your way over to the restroom and locked yourself into one of the booths.

Dave couldn’t even see you as a potential “love-interest”. Eventhough you were the one who always were there for him, you were always there when he called, running to him like a lost puppy. And he couldn’t even care less. And you hate him for it. But you hate yourself more for still liking him. 

It’s not like you can do something about it, if you could, you would have. But that’s not how it works, so you are just crying your guts out on the toilet trying not to think about Dave.

In all honesty, you have no idea how you made it through the day. You almost cried during biology but you caught yourself after a few lonely tears. You could feel Dave’s gaze on you but there was no way you would look at him. As soon as the last bell rang you were out of school, hurring past Tod and Marty, not being in the mood for them either.

The next day wasn’t any different, you didn’t hang with Dave, Tod and Marty like you normally do. You didn’t sit with them at lunch, instead walked over to the only empty table you saw and placed your tray there. You mounched on your food, completely unaware of your surroundings until you hear the chair next to you being pulled out. You look up to see Matthew Greendale, resident hottie of the school sit next to you. 

"Hey, sorry, it's not a problem if I sit here, right?" he asks. You eyed him suspiciously. 

"No, it's fine." 

It's fine?! You mentally scold yourself. You never even spoke to this guy, outside of literature in first year. Why would he sit next to you? 

"I didn't want to sit with all the other "popular jocks" he answered you unspoken question while taking a bite of his canteen-hamburger. “They’re fun and everything but it’s nice to get away from them sometimes.”

You think of your friends who are sitting a few tables away and you can’t help but agree with Matthew.

“Yeah, I feel you.” you say without thinking.

“Hey..We used to sit next to each other in freshman year, didn’t we? It’s y/n ,right?” 

You nod with a smile, honestly being surprised that he remembers you.

“Yeah!”

“I haven’t really seen you around a lot. But when I do you are always hanging with those comic book nerds.”

“Hey! Comics are great.”

He puts his hands up in a defense.

“Oh no! I didn’t mean it as an insult. Some comics are good, my little brother made read one last month. It was actually great.”

“What comic was it?”

“Oh, uhm..It was about some kind of blind dude in a devil costume.”

“Daredevil?” you ask with a giggle.

“Yes, that one!” he laughs too.

The two of you continue talking until the end of lunch break. He is surprisingly fun to talk to and he even offers to walk you to your next class after lunch. You had such a good time you didn’t even think about Dave, heck, you didn’t even notice him literally glaring daggers into Matthew.

“What’s up with you, dude?” Tod asks snapping Dave out of it. 

“Yeah, Dave. What the shit is going on with you and Y/N?” Marty asks too.

Dave forrows is eyebrows. Yes, what the shit is going on with the two of you? Every since yesterday's 'fight' with you he can't stop thinking. About how he spends most, if not all of his time either with being Kick-Ass or, rather with Katie. It used to be different. He spent every second with you and he just threw you away so he could maybe get laid. And sure, Katie may be hot as fuck but she is.. Well, she is not you. 

"We had a fight, yesterday. I.. And she was right." he explains with a grimace. "But why the fuck is that Greendale asshole is with her?" 

"You jealous or something, dude?" 

"Wha- Of course I am not jealous! Why would I be? You guys are nuts." 

Jealous… The word rolled around in his mouth like a new flavored milkshake he never tasted before. 

Could he be… Jealous? He never thought of you that way, you were always his best friend. Just that. But.. The more he thinks about it the more he can't stop that twist like feeling in his stomach. 

That night he can't focus on crime fighting. All his thoughts are tied to you. Whether he likes it or not, memories of you keep popping up in his mind. How didn't he notice your beautiful smile before? And your laugh? It's like a beautiful melody. And… Gosh! When did he become such a sappy teenager? Oh and another thing.. He kept trying to think of something else, anything else like Katie for example but he doesn't care anymore! 

Dave goes home early with a frustrated growl. The remaining hours of the night he spends with tossing and turning and daydreaming instead of sleeping. 

(the next afternoon, Atomic Comics) 

Dave bangs his head against the wood table once again. A tired groan leaves his lips when he hears Tod almost choking on his iced coffee. 

"What the tunk, Tod?" Marty and Dave ask almost at the same time. The dirty blonde haired boy keeps pointing outside the huge window that they are sitting next to at Atomic Comics. 

"Is that fucking y/n?!" 

Now all three of them look outside the shop and see you, all dressed up nad seemingly waiting for someone. 

"Holy fuck!" Dave whispers. He stares at you, with his mouth a gap before jumping up from the booth they were sitting at and rushing outside the store. 

"Y/n! Y/-" he yells almost tripping on thin air. 

"Dave?" you question, quickly turning towards him. Damn, you missed him. No! Yeah, you did… "What do you want?" 

"What do I- What, can't I talk to you?" 

"If you wanted to talk you would have in these past days!" you say. Yes, you might have missed him, but it's not like you're gonna show it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I am waiting for my date to show up." 

"Your.. Your what, now?!" 

"My date" 

"You can't go on a date!" 

"And why is that, Lizewski?" 

"Lizewski? Really, you're calling me by my surname? Are we in such a bad place right now?" 

"I don't know, you tell me. Are you going to tell me what i can and can't do, hm?" 

"I didn't mean it like that. I just…" 

"What, it's fine when you say it but when I do it with you about Katie I'm the bad friend?" 

"No,it's just-" 

"Sorry. Matt's here." you point to the street across the road where you saw the boy walk towards you. "I gotta go." 

You start walking away but Dave grabs your wrist. 

"Please, don't." he mumbles. 

"Why not?" you snap at him but your expressions soften upon your eyes land on his saddened face. 

"I- because I don't want you with him. O-or anyone." 

You raise an eyebrow. 

"What?" 

He took a deep breath before looking around. Matt was waiting patiently by the traffic light so he could cross the road. Dave quickly began explaining. 

"You were right. About Katie. I was such a dickhead, I am so sorry, y/n. I am sorry for ignoring you over her and and.." from the corner of his eye he sees the traffic light turn green. "Shit! I don't want you to go out with Greendale cause I.. Because I like you. Like really fucking like you. And oh my god you look so fucking hot in this outfit, not that you're not always hot but holy shit. I know we are just friends and you don't think of me that way but I ju-"

"Oh my god! Do you ever shut up?" you yell before pressing your lips to his. Dave stumbled back a little, but quickly recovered and kissed back. Your hands cupped his face and his hands grabbed your waist in response. You both tilled your heads, deepening the kiss earning loud knocking from Marty and Tod as they watched the whole scene through the window. Not that you noticed any of it. You didn't hear the passing by car honk at you nor the yells or whistles. You also did not notice Matthew walking away with a sad smile after seeing the two of you. Your touches intertwine and you're pretty sure you heard Dave moan slightly which causes you to giggle into the kiss. You both pull away gasping for air. You look down at your shoes, hoping to hide your flushed cheeks. Dave scratches his back and looks around nervously only to see his two idiotic friends making kissy faces. He lifts his middle finger for them before clearing his throat. 

"So.. Khm.. I guess you like me too?" 

You let out a soft chuckle.

"Yeah, I do." you say looking at him with a smile.

"That's.. Fuck. That's great." he replied genuinely happy. "Wanna get out of here?" 

You nod and you take off. You take Dave's hand and he intertwines your fingers with a smile. Maybe he is truly a superhero. He helps people and he gets the girl of his dreams. The happy ending. 

Dave Lizewski taglist : @sethcohenluvr @your-hispanichufflepuff

[looooooooomis]

F I N A L  G I R L  |  F O U R

You were his final girl.  And there was no chance in hell that anyone or anything was going to mess that up.

p a r t   f o u r  |  k e y s

masterlist here

pairing: Billy Loomis x f!reader word count: 4.4k warnings: angst, s m u t, some more s m u t, teasing, finger-licking good billy boy, implied/referenced cheating, def not a healthy, functioning relationship (but like eh we persevere), some more s m u t. 

Despite your best efforts, the last few days had been miserable without Billy.

You hadn’t realized just how much of a routine he’d become over the last seven months, how much you’d both come to rely on each other and, fuck, did you miss him. You missed his smell, you missed that small little cheeky grin of his, you missed curling up beside him and feeling him over every inch of your skin. Your body craved for him in an almost primal way but, while you could live with denying your body its needs, it was your heart that hurt the most.

What was supposed to be a quick release for the two of you had never been that easy. You’d been in love with the idiot since freshman year, seen him through his various ups and downs and he’d seen yours, too. Which was precisely what made this entire situation that much harder. Not only were you dealing with your own heartache, but you were witnessing his, too.

Billy’s grief was more or less a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it sort of thing. Ever the stoic silent type, you hadn’t expected to see much of what he was feeling splayed out on that handsome face of his, but shocking even you, his regret was palpable. And each and every time those brown eyes met yours, that grief that was as clear as day struck you blind.

You’d tried telling yourself that it was for the best because, in all honesty, it was but that didn’t make the pain go away. Nor did it make you miss him any less. You were trapped in a vicious cycle of missing Billy, sticking to your guns, and worrying about him all at once.

God, you’d really fucked up with this one.

“You sure you’re okay?” Tatum asked, narrowing her eyes at you as you shoved a handful of books into your locker. “You’ve been scatterbrained all week.”

“I’m fine,” you shrugged, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You tell me,” she leaned her hip against the locker. “Is this about Steve?”

You blinked as the question played on loop in your head. “Steve?” You asked, giving the strawberry blonde your full attention. “First of all, and I mean this from the bottom of my heart: ew. Secondly, huh?”

Tatum smirked. “Don’t play dumb, you’ve been acting all weird since Billy went psycho on his ass last week.”

“No, I haven’t,” you hoped your laugh didn’t sound as fake as it felt. “Also, Steve’s an asshole. If the day ever comes when I am interested in that big oaf, feel free to euthanize me.”

“Promise,” she made a motion of crossing her heart, “but in the meantime, you swear nothing is up?”

“Cross my heart,” you mimicked the gesture and shut your locker. “What are you up to after practice tonight? Want to go see that new Brad Pitt movie?”

Her shoulders fell. “Can’t, Stu’s coming over,” she unwrapped a lollipop and shoved it in her mouth. “I’d say ask Sid, but she got into it with Billy last night so she’s in a mood.”

You tried not to care, you really did, but her words hit you like a freight train. “They did?” You asked, hoping beyond hope that your voice didn’t sound quite as high pitched as it sounded in your head. “What happened?”

“Who knows,” Tatum shrugged, “Billy’s always been a little intense and Sid’s been a little cagey since…well, you know – so, it’s bound to happen.”

You swallowed hard and continued to nod along to Tatum’s words. Were you nodding too frequently? Did you appear too interested all of the sudden? Catching yourself, you focused on the leftover gum on the locker just behind your friend’s head and cleared your throat. “That’s shitty.”

“Relationships,” Tatum waved off, “they’re all pretty shitty sometimes.”

Before you could finish putting your foot in your mouth any further, the third bell rang out signaling your next class. Your most dreaded class: Biology. With a groan you tossed your bag over your shoulder and frowned across at Tatum. “See you at practice?”

With a nod, Tatum took off towards her class as you slowly sauntered towards your own. You were halfway down the hall when you heard a set of heavy footfalls running towards you from behind. Glancing over your shoulder, you barely had time to register Stu’s smiling face before he threw an arm around your shoulders. “How ya doing, pal?”

“Peachy,” you scraped your eyes along his profile and blinked. “If you’re about to play the rule of dutiful henchman for you know who, I’ve got a class to flunk.”

“Harsh,” Stu beamed, “I see why our boy’s so smitten.”

With a roll of your eyes, you glanced around at the people around you and glowered up at him. “Stu,” you warned, “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“For what?” He feigned innocence. “I haven’t said a word.”

“But you want to,” you mused. “And I don’t want to hear it.”

Stu chuckled. “All I was going to say is, like, I get it.”

You shouldn’t have taken his bait. What you should have done was push him off of you and continue on your merry way to class. That would have been the smart thing to do, the responsible thing to do.

Too bad you were neither of those two things.

Roped in, you sighed in defeat. “Get what?”

“I’ll be the first to admit,” he began, “when Bill told me that you and him were…you know, I laughed. I mean, two broads, man? I can barely handle the one how’s he going to deal with two of you?”

“I’m hoping there’s a point coming,” you groused.

“Right,” he laughed again, “my point is that I get it. I get why you two work. Why he’s knee deep in this big fucking mess because of it. You two work.”

“Stu,” you threw your head back and glared at the ceiling. “Stop.”

“What?” He asked. “Am I wrong?”

You gently pushed him away from you and dropped your voice into a whisper. “That’s not the point. He’s with Sid.”

“So?” Stu made a face. “Her mom just died, what do you want him to do? Dump her and break her heart? Her mom just died, that’d callous, man.”

“We’re breaking her heart either way, whether she knows it or not.”

Stu stopped walking and there was a compassion in his stare that left you reeling. For as long as you’d known him, Stu Macher had always been the goof. The reckless, chaotic idiot that seemed to fit just perfectly into your little mish mash of a group. But the sincerity in his blue eyes as the two of you stood in the emptying hallway was a look you’d never seen before.

“And by doing this, you’re breaking yours.” He limply shrugged. “Billy’s, too.”

Your shoulders fell as the weight of Stu’s words sank in. You couldn’t exactly say much in terms of a rebuttal, naturally, because he was right. There were no happy endings for either of you at this point in the charade. Sid had still been lied to and cheated on, Billy was still trapped in a relationship he no longer wished to be in in fear of hurting the girl he once loved and you were stuck in the middle, watching two people you cared for fall to bits while having to remain stoic in fear of showing your hand.

What a fucking mess.

After another minute of silence, Stu wriggled his eyebrows and squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. “Just something to think about.”

Taking off down the hall, Stu left you to your own devices as you stood in the middle of an empty hallway with far too much on your mind. In an almost zombie-like trance, you took off in the direction of your biology class, not quite caring that you were about to be marked as tardy for the third time that week. But, before you got to that god-forsaken class, you heard the click of a door not far off before a pair of arms encircled around your middle, yanking you into the nearest classroom. A surprise yelp tore out of your mouth, but the full-fledged scream died in your throat as soon as you realized just who it was who had grabbed you.

“Jesus, Billy, you scared the hell out of me.” You grasped your chest and took in the dark, empty classroom around you. He was still holding you against the nearest wall, you could feel the heat of those large hands through your thin shirt. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Sorry,” despite the desperation in those brown eyes, his voice never wavered. It was still as calm and collected as ever. “I’d go to your house, but it’s been like Fort Knox for the last week or so.”

You chewed on your lip for a moment before averting your eyes to the ground, not quite being able to stomach the weight of his stare just yet. “Billy, unless anything’s changed, I—”

“In case anything’s changed?” He reiterated with raised brows. “Everything’s changed. I miss you, Y/N, more than you can even comprehend. I know I’ve fucked up, I know that, but I need you. The last nine days without being able to really see you or feel you or kiss you or—”

“I get it,” you held your hands up and gently pushed him away. “And it’s been hard on me, too, Billy. But it doesn’t change anything.”

For a few, long, agonizing moments, Billy remained still as a thousand different emotions splayed out across his face. There was anger and grief, sadness and desperation. But the look you got as he dropped to his knees in front of you was pure, unadulterated fear. “I promise you, Y/N, the second I can, when the time is right, Sid and I will be no more. But me and you are it, sweetheart,” his hands gently circled around your hips before embracing you around your middle. “I’m so fucking sorry that this is how it has to be right now. And I’m sorry that I’m too fucking selfish to let this go, but I can’t. I need you. I need us. You’re everything good in my life and I know I need to start proving that to you.”

Still, you remained quiet. Your fingers itched to reach out and run your fingers through that slightly greasy, unruly mop of hair, but instead you kept them pinned down at your side as you considered his words. There was no doubt in your mind that he meant them, the desperation on his face said as much, but you had your reservations. Taking your silence in stride, however, Billy simply reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box.

Your heart nearly stopped.

“Oh, jesus,” you grumbled, burying your head in your hands. “You better not be doing what I think you’re fucking doing.”

“Open the box, Y/N.”

“No,” you held your hands up. “Not if it’s…that.”

Billy sighed. The muscle in his cheek twitched. “It’s not a fucking engagement ring.”

Somewhat relieved, you continued to stare down at the box in slight disdain. “So, what is it?”

Billy sighed. “Fucking open it and you’ll see.”

“Buying the ‘other woman’ jewelry, Billy?” You shook your head. “You’re like a walking cliché at this point.”

“Shut-up and open the goddamn box.” Standing up to his full height, he continued to hold the box out towards you and breathed out a quiet laugh when you remained unwavering. “It’s not a fucking bomb, Y/N, open it.”

With a sigh, you snatched the box out of his hand and, rather unceremoniously, opened it up to reveal a key. Not a fancy skeleton key or a charm in the shape of a key but a regular, run of the mill house key. You blinked, mildly surprised. “Okay, I’ll give you a point for creativity with the box,” you pulled the key out and observed it. “But what is it?”

“It’s a key,” Billy said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“I see that,” a small smile pulled at your lips as you looked across at him. “What’s it for?”

“It’s a key to my parents’ cabin.”

If you were meant to understand the significance, the story was lost on you. Looking back down at the key, you surveyed its tiny ridges briefly before nodding. “And what’s that have to do with me?”

He took a step towards you and grabbed the hand still clutching onto the key. “My dad doesn’t go up there much ever since my mother left and I figure we could both use a place where we can just…be.” His raked his thumbnail along your knuckles. “No Sid, no anyone. Just you and me.”

You were trying to remain unfazed by the sentiment, to remain icy and cool to the man you were supposed to be pulling away from, but between the softness in those warm brown eyes and the weight of the key still clutched in your hand, you could feel your defenses waning. “You expect Sid to just not care that you’re disappearing up north every once in a while?”

“I’ll make it work,” he shrugged it off. “And, to be honest, I don’t care what she thinks.”

Your answer came in the form of a long, drawn out sigh. “Billy,” you began, but before you could dive into the rest of your speech, his large hands slid up your arms and neck to cradle your face.

Slowly, he backed you into a nearby desk and traced the apple of your cheek with his thumb. “We can sneak up there whenever we want. Spend a whole weekend up there, just the two of us. I can worship this fucking body of yours in every square inch of that cabin. I can go into town and hold your fucking hand in public. We can do whatever the hell it is we want to do up there, whenever we want, without worrying about any of our idiot friends seeing us.”

Your pulse quickened at the thought of being able to parade around like a normal couple in a town where not a single soul knew who you were. You swallowed, trying to steady your excitement with a dose of realism. “It’s still not fair to Sidney.”

“Fuck Sidney!” Billy’s voice echoed out around the vast, empty classroom, alarming you with just how angry he sounded. His chest heaved with a white-hot rage that you couldn’t fully comprehend, and his jaw was wound shut as his nostrils flared with each and every heavy, uneven breath he took. You swallowed hard and watched the man steady his nerves, unsure of your next move. You’d seen Billy angry before, but that level of emotion was definitely new.

You weren’t sure whether to be terrified or turned on by the sudden outburst.

But, just as quickly as it happened, Billy’s eyes slowly opened to reveal those molasses coloured eyes again. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he appeased. “But I can’t have her stand in the way of this. I won’t.”

You remained silent as you shimmied on top of the desk that had been poking into your ass for the last few seconds and tried not to focus on the way your body seemed to melt into Billy’s as he stepped in between your legs, still looking at you with all the intensity of the world.

“If we do this,” you found yourself muttering, “there’s going to be some ground rules.”

A sense of hope blossomed in Billy’s chest as he vigorously nodded his head. “Anything you want,” sliding his hands up the sides your stomach, he gently held your waist and gave it a small squeeze. “You name it.”

“When we go up to the aforementioned cabin, we go out.” You told him. “While I’m more than happy to blow you in the living room without worrying about your dad walking in, it would be nice to go on an actual fucking date.”

Billy nodded and, with his hands still on your waist, he tried not to focus on the thin cotton of your shirt bunching between his fingers as his thumb danced along your ribcage. There was so little between you in the empty classroom, barely any space as the two of you were practically nose to nose. And between that short little skirt you had on and your pert nipples beneath your thin tank top, it was enough to make his cock twitch inside of his pants. “Anything else?” He asked, his voice husky as he nudged his nose against yours.

“Yeah,” you ran your tongue along your now parched lips as you sat with Billy standing between your thighs, holding you in place as his thumb traced agonizingly close to your tit. Were you even breathing? It didn’t feel like it. You were wet, too, which made his inhumanly close proximity almost too much to bear. “Lock the fucking door this time.”

A roguish grin enveloped his features as he stepped out from between your legs. Crossing the threshold of the classroom in two seconds flat, Billy locked the door and made his way back to you with that same mischievous glimmer in his eye. His eyes were hungry and, as his hands shifted down to your ass, he tugged you even closer to the edge of the desk. Closer to him. With your legs still open and on either side of his hips, you just about died when your clit managed to rub against the zipper of his jeans.

A quiet, low moan tore out of your throat from the sensation.

“Anything else?” He asked, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” your breathing was ragged as Billy’s slow, methodical fingers, trailed up the side of your stomach. He was being extraordinarily temperate and slow to further tease you but, despite knowing how risky this was, you were putty in his hands. “Touch me.”

His nose brushed against yours again as he shifted his hips just enough for the zipper of his jeans to rub against your clit again. The bastard knew what he was doing.

“This feel good?” He asked as his hips toiled into you again.  

You were practically dry fucking against the desk, you could have been caught any second. But, fuck, when he pulled you in a little more and slowly gyrated his jean-clad pelvis against your clit again, you couldn’t care less. “Mhmm,” you hummed.

Slowly, Billy’s dept fingers slid up from your waist towards your breasts. Raking his thumb against the swollen bud, he leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the side of your neck.

He knew his jeans were rubbing against your clit and, as he looked down and saw the visible wet patch on your blue thong, he wanted nothing more than to rip them off of you and bury his face in between your legs. “God, I’ve fucking missed you.”

When his hand squeezed your breast, you arched into his grasp. “I bet you did.”

Billy smirked and rolled your nipples between his fingers through the fabric of your shirt. With every roll of your hips, the strap of your shirt slipped down just enough to expose your breast. Without missing a beat, Billy leaned into your chest and allowed his mouth to consume your nipple, swirling his tongue around it expertly before biting down. You hissed as a combination of both pain and pleasure ripped through your body.

Your fingers curled around the hair along the nape of his neck and gave it a firm tug as is hands held you firmly in place. “Fuck, Billy” you moaned, breathless.

He released your nipple slowly, nipping at it one final time before leaning his forehead against yours again. You wanted like hell to close the distance between you. You wanted to feel his lips on yours. Feel the tickle of his stubble along your upper lip and have that expert tongue brush against yours.

But you also wanted to make him sweat a little.  

You weren’t sure what had come over you as you slid your hand down your torso. Maybe it was adrenaline of being caught or the relief of having Billy in your arms again but as you allowed your fingers to dip beneath the hem of your exposed thong, the look on Billy’s face made it all worth it.

“What are you doing?” His Adams apple bobbed up and down as he watched you touch yourself. You were in an awkward angle, but as your finger circled your clit and you watched the bulge in his pants grow, you were coasting high.

“What’s it look like I’m doing?” You hummed, feigning innocence. “When I say touch me, I mean it, Billy. I’m taking matters into my own hands.” You pinched your clit and arched your naked chest into him. “Fuck.”

You heard him swear under his breath as his lips ghosted over yours. “You’re doing my head in, woman,” he growled, sliding his fingers beneath your panties. You gasped when his thumb began to circle your clit. And when he slid two fingers inside of you, you nearly saw stars.

His mouth found yours, mid-moan. Reaching the hand that had just been down the waistband of your shorts, you ran your fingers through his hair as his tongue coaxed yours. Everything about this man was electric. His fingers quickened their pace and before you knew it, you were thrusting into his hand. Placing sloppy kisses down from your mouth and along your jaw, Billy nipped at your ear. “How’s this for touching you, sweetheart?” He hissed, licking and biting his way across your neck.

Your breathing was rampant as you felt yourself edging closer and closer. “It’s alright,” you teased with a cloudy grin.

“So stubborn,” he laughed into your neck and curled his fingers so that he hit an area inside you that felt almost primal. The moan he got in return made him bite down on your collarbone. He curled his fingers again and you nearly choked. “You sure?”

Pulling his hair, you steered his face back to yours and crashed your lips against his. “Fuck me.” You mumbled into his mouth.

He applied the smallest bit of pressure to your clit and flicked his fingers one final time, sending you over the cliff. With a long, shaky moan, you bucked your hips uncontrollably as you came into his hand. Every inch of you felt as though it was on fire as Billy made you ride out your orgasm, not for a second easing up on your clit as you writhed beneath him.

“Play with your tits,” he barked out through hooded eyes.

“You play with them,” you argued, but the resolve in your voice was gone. You weren’t entirely sure if you knew your name at that point. All you could focus on was the feeling of his finger pinching your highly sensitive clit and that was it. Everything else was a blur.

“God, you’re so fucking stubborn.”

You were so wet and so turned on you could barely think straight. “Billy,” you pleaded, your entire body heating up almost unbearably so. When he ignored you and instead continued his attack on your clit, you whimpered. “I need you to fuck me.”

With a bruising kiss, Billy released your clit and, in seconds flat, tugged his jeans far enough down his hips before slipping inside of you. The moan that escaped your lips was undeniable as he pumped into you. Reaching up, he grabbed your tit and squeezed as he bit down on your exposed neck. It was a sensory overload coming from all angles.

“Fuck,” Billy’s hoarse voice was in your ear as he pumped into you. “You feel so fucking good, Y/N.” He reached for your face and tilted your chin up towards him, meeting you halfway with a sloppy kiss. Moaning into his mouth, you managed lose yourself in that instance.

Gone was the room around you.

Hell, gone was everything up until this point.

All you could focus on was the feeling of Billy inside of you. Biting down on his lip, you tugged it back as he rolled his hips in a way that made you quiver. He was thrusting, hard, in an almost animalistic that made your entire body shake with the velocity of every desperate push. He moved between kissing your lips, to biting them to suckling your neck as he continued to rail into you with all of passion in the world. He was a man, unhinged, and you weren’t sure if you’d ever seen him so sexy.

Not surprising in the least, it didn’t take him long to come. You’d riled him up to the point of no return and, as you felt him come inside of you, you all but laughed when his forehead dramatically fell against your own.

For a few minutes, neither of you moved, simply just remained still and firmly pressed against one another. But, as the weight of your current whereabouts slowly dawned on either of you, you both slowly pulled away from each other, both wearing a small smile as you re-dressed yourselves.

Once his pants were done up, Billy stepped into you once again and placed a kiss on your forehead. “Cabin this weekend, okay?”

You nodded and hopped down from the desk. “Yeah, maybe,” you teased, fixing your skirt.

Billy’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, maybe, eh?”

“Yeah,” you winked, “I’ll think about it.”

“Smart ass,” Billy smirked. “That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days.”

“I’m counting on it.” Once you were both fixed up, you nodded towards his hand which was still slicked with your juices. You laughed. “Oops.”

But Billy didn’t seem fazed. Instead, your breath hitched in your throat when he raised his hand to his lips and licked your slick clear off, relishing in the taste of it with a knowing smirk on his face. “This weekend.” He reiterated, driving the point home.

“This weekend,” you agreed, walking towards the door. Ensuring nobody saw the two of you leave an empty classroom together, you unlocked the door and gave Billy a small, knowing smile. “See you at lunch, lover boy.”