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animasolaoriginal · 7 months ago

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(4) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 4: The Truth

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 5.4k -- READ ON AO3

when a girl learns more than she can handle

Chapter 3 -- Chapter 5

Additional warning: there's sexual assault ⚠️ in this chapter, just a small scene, but I'll tag it nonetheless. Nothing too graphic, but the implication is there! Read at your own risk!

There are eleven people in this camp, Nebbia included, but there are more than a dozen horses, and she's only managed to take care of half of them before Ben beckons her into the shade near the tree line, close to where Thunder grazes, and presents her with food.

And only then does she notice that she's starving. She takes the steaming bowl with shaking fingers, not caring how dirty they are. Horses can be surprisingly dusty, and she can only imagine them running through sand storms or muddy terrain.

The mountain of a man sits on the ground, leaning against a log, his long legs stretched in front of him, one knee angled, his own bowl in one large hand while he pushes the soup's contents around with a spoon in the other. She settles next to him, bringing the stew to her nose and inhaling deeply. Vegetables, some sort of meat, a hearty broth, all so savory and delicious smelling, she feels her mouth watering just staring at it.

“So Ginny is the cook?” she asks with a side-glance. “And Milly the washer, the Stacys work in the supply tent, you are the horse guy,” she keeps listing. “Mitch runs the place and Steve... helps him? What do the three other men do?”

He watches her with an amused glint in his dark eyes. “They mostly sit around and drink,” he says with a deep chuckle. “They're more useful on... well, for other things, outside the camp.”

Nebbia stares at him, so many questions burning under her nails. But for now she focuses on the food, bringing the bowl to her lips and taking a cautious sip. Humming softly, she closes her eyes as the warm liquid runs down her throat.

“Also we do switch our chores, you know?” he adds while she enjoys her food. “I cook sometimes, or provide the meat. And I can stack boxes, too.”

She looks at him as she lowers the bowl and smirks at him. “Have you ever washed clothes over a washing board?” she teases lightly. “Or in the creek?”

“Milly never let me,” he replies with a wink. “And I do not want to mess with that woman!”

A laugh spills from her lips before she rolls her eyes. “Sure, Ben,” she says, holding his amused gaze. “You're afraid of a tiny little lady?”

“Those are the worst,” he chuckles, gently poking her with his elbow. “Right, short stuff?”

She shoots him a dark glare, but can't keep the smile down. It feels so easy to joke with him. “Oh, right you are, mister mountain! We're ankle-biters, after all!”

He nudges her again, giving her another wink before he goes back to eating his soup. She keeps looking at him as she does the same. They eat in comfortable silence, surrounded by the buzzing of insects, the neighing and snorting of the horses, and the bird song in the trees behind them. It's so peaceful, and she still wonders what the catch is.

How did she go from worrying about doing her job right and not dying doing it, to casually sitting on a meadow with this large man who is still technically a stranger to her – and despite it all, it feels right. Feels good. And she realizes she has missed being so... carefree. She hasn't been carefree since the day the Madam has told her she had to start serving men now.

Without training, without proper warning. That first night, with her first cock in her throat, she has wanted to die, to never do this again, because it had hurt so bad and was awful and dirty, and she has been so ashamed of it, disgusted by it. So much so she has scrubbed her tongue afterwards until it has bled.

And even though she has endured it, it never got easier, she always cared about it, about trying to make it better for herself, about doing a good job, about holding it together until the customer was gone. Then she would worry about the next one, and the next... An endless cycle of worries, and she only learned to hide her true feelings better, to pretend she didn't care.

But now she is here, worry-free, for now at least, sitting in the shade, eating a hearty meal, next to a nice man for once. And it all feels too good to be true...

“Penny for your thoughts?” Ben whispers beside her, leaning towards her. She flinches and almost drops the bowl.

“Uh, nothing,” she replies, giving him a weak smile, trying to focus on the stew in her hands.

“Really?” His voice is a low hum in the air.

She takes a deep breath. “What's the catch?” she then blurts out, putting the bowl to the ground next to her as she turns to him, eyes wide, eyebrows raised in worry.

“The catch?” he asks, deep lines on his forehead.

“This is all... well, it feels so different, so nice, so easy. And life isn't supposed to be that easy, is it?” She fidgets with the hitched-up part of her skirt, pulling her knees to her body and hiding them under the wide material.

“You sound awfully bitter for an eighteen-year-old,” he muses, scooting a little closer to her until she feels the warmth of his hip against hers. “But you're right, life isn't as easy as we sometimes wish it would be. But it's easier here, I promise. You're not alone, you're not forced to do things you don't want to do,” he adds, tilting his head to her as she cautiously turns hers towards him, meeting his gaze. His brown eyes are gentle, warm, inviting, she can't look away. “You can ask for help here. You can say no...”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating his words, still fixated on him, and the elephant in the room. “What do you do, Ben? Outside the camp?” she then whispers, watching him frown slightly, before he looks away with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Trying to make a living,” he then says quietly, his eyes wandering over the camp and the house in the distance, while hers wander over his body, the gun on his belt, the cowboy boots, the muscles in his exposed forearms. “With any means necessary,” he adds, causing a shiver to run down her spine.

She stares at him, torn between wanting to feel scared of the image that pops up in her head (Ben holding a gun to another man's head, his face hidden behind a bandana, his other hand closed around a sack of money or other loot) and wanting to justify his actions, wanting to see reason, to understand it. Making a living... by taking it from another? She remembers the supply tent, how well stocked it was, his room full of little boxes and trinkets, how much money he's spent on her last night.

“So, I was right?” she then whispers, licking her lips as she looks him over. “You are the type I would encounter on a Wanted poster?”

He looks at her, his face unreadable, eyes hard and slightly darker, his jaw clenched. Without saying anything, he tilts his body to the side and puts his hand into his back pocket, fishing out a folded piece of paper – that he hands to her.

She frowns, takes the paper and slowly unfolds it. The page is weathered, yellowish, crinkled. Its edges are sharp and rough as if it's been looked at a lot. And there it is, Ben's face, pencil drawn. He looks a little younger there, his hair a bit thicker, the beard less full, the shape of his jaw more defined. The eyes are the same, hard and deep, only with less lines around them.

There are words over and under it, but she can't read them, yet she assumes this is a Wanted poster, maybe it says Dead or Alive, listing his crimes in dark font she can't make out. She traces a finger over the picture of his face, trying to process what this means. He's an outlaw. A criminal. Wanted by the law. What did he do?

“I have another one,” he says quietly, watching her closely. “It's even older than that, about twenty years old.” She looks up at him, raising her eyebrows. Wordlessly he fingers another folded piece of paper out of the chest pocket of his shirt and holds it between his index and middle finger, asking her to take it. “It might surprise you...”

She doesn't know what to expect, but she takes it, unfolds it, looking between him and the even more yellowish paper, even more used than the other one that lies on her knees, Ben's drawn face looking up at her while the real one has his eyes fixed on her hands.

Inhaling deeply, she flattens the paper, more words on the top and the bottom, but this time there are two pictures on it. One of Ben, looking even younger, with just the shadow of a beard, nothing more than stubble, hollow cheeks and a straight nose, his face hard and his eyes even harder. And next to him, in the other picture, she sees...

Herself.

Her eyebrows furrow. It's a girl, with long wavy hair in a side braid (just like she has now), draped over one shoulder, a round face with a pointy chin and high cheekbones and a small nose, beautifully arched eyebrows and full lips, and eyes that pierce her soul. Even in the sepia tone of the aged paper and the fading black print, they are lighter, almost shimmering in the way they're drawn. Her eyes.

She looks up at Ben in slight surprise. “Is that...”

“Your mother,” he says softly, gently taking the paper from her shaking hands, now tracing his rough fingertip over the edges of the girl's face on it.

Nebbia doesn't know what to think. Seeing her mother on a Wanted poster does nothing to her. Somehow it fits the image she has of her, an outlaw would also abandon her child in a brothel, right? Something hot twists inside her stomach, something bitter at the edge of her throat.

“We were... a good team,” Ben continues with a smile, oblivious to her lack of reaction, as he stares at the drawn face in front of him. “They never got us, not for long anyways.”

“What did you do?” she whispers barely audible, leaning slightly closer to him as if the horses could listen in to their conversation. As if the camp surrounding them didn't already know what they were discussing. The camp of outlaws.

Ben looks up at her, quiet for a moment as his eyes wander over her face, the same face as on the paper in his large hands that he slowly, carefully, lovingly, folds up again without looking at it. “Taking from the rich. Sharing with the poor.”

He makes it sound so... poetic. “You've been robbers. Thieves,” she says, not even putting it as a question. “You're outlaws, wanted by the law...”

There's a twinkle in his brown eyes, before his lips tilt into a smirk. “Yes,” he replies quietly, holding her gaze. “Does that scare you?”

It should.

But then she thinks back to her initial thoughts about the man sitting next to her. Good guys, bad guys, does it even matter? In a world where a sheriff can treat her like the whore she's been, leaving her bloody and bruised, while an outlaw like Ben has treated her with so much respect she almost wishes he'd be a little rougher with her. Does it make sense? Probably not. Does it matter? Not really.

“No,” she says, as steady as she can manage. “You've not given me any reason to be scared.” Yet.

His smile is dazzling, his lips curl up over straight teeth, one very visible dimple on his bearded cheek, the lines around his eyes deepening. “And you don't have to worry about anything, sweetheart. No one's gonna harm you, me included.”

The corners of her mouth twitch, and she can't help it, she smiles back, her cheeks warming up, before she slowly lowers her eyes back to the poster on her knees, Ben's stoic face looking up at her. “What... what does it say?” she asks after a moment of silence, her finger tracing the letters she cannot understand.

He watches her, his smile fading. His hot breath hits her cheek as he exhales loudly while leaning over her, his arm draping around her shoulder before he takes her hand into his gently, guiding her finger to the top text. “This says WANTED,” he whispers, and she shivers as she feels the roughness of his beard against her cheek, while he moves her finger along the edges of the large letters. “That's my name,” he continues, showing her the line of letters beneath the title.

She holds her breath, the warmth of his touch making her feel dizzy. Her eyes wander from how his big hand holds her smaller one to his drawn picture. He moves their joined hands lower, to the lines below his face. “That's the reward.”

“How much is it?” she breathes, not daring to move much.

He huffs a laugh, his jaw moving against her cheek. He's so close, his touch gentle, his body leaned over her as he holds her hand, embracing her comfortably. “$1000.”

“Is that a lot?”

“Yes, quite the sum,” he replies, almost sounding proud. There's smaller lines of text below that, and he slowly drags her finger over each word as he lists them. “These are my... felonies,” he says quietly. “Stage coach robbery, train robbery, bank robbery, horse theft, trespassing, property destruction.” He pauses, her finger pressed to the last word. She can make out six letters.

She waits, breathing shallowly against him. “What's the last word?”

He inhales deeply, slowly letting go of her hand and leaning back, retrieving his arm. She watches him as he takes the paper from her, folds it back together, then slips it into his back pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. It still chills her to the bone when he stands up, looks down at her with dark eyes and replies: “Murder.”

A little gasp escapes her. Her eyes wander over his hands, those large hands, long fingers, with veins and tendons moving under tanned skin, the calloused feel of them, full of scars and scratches. And she hears the crack of a nose as he's slammed the same hand, a brutal fist, into the other man's face. Because he's called her a whore.

She doesn't know how she feels about it. He's a strong man, she's seen his muscles, felt his strength, witnessed his brutality, violence, but when she looks into his warm eyes, she cannot picture him murdering someone. Her mind still gives her possible images.

Bullets flying through the air in quiet hisses, wood splintering, meaty thuds when they hit their target, shouts, yells, cries of pain. Blood seeping into the dirt.

Her eyes move to the pistol peeking out of the holster on his hips.

The barrel of a gun pressed to someone's temple, a strong hand holding them in place. Whispered threats, wide eyes of the victim, and then a finger on the trigger, bending, pressing down. Muffled cries, the echo of a gunshot, then sudden silence. Blood everywhere.

She swallows hard and looks down, hugging her arms around her knees. A shadow looms over her, and she lets out a little shriek when Ben crouches down in front of her, his large hands on her knees, his eyes boring into hers.

“Don't be afraid of me,” he whispers, eyebrows furrowed. “And don't trust these words. There's always more to a story than a simple word...”

Tell me then, she thinks, her lips trembling, unable to get the thought out.

“I'll tell you another time,” he says softly, as if reading her mind, one hand moving up to cup her cheek, his thumb wiping over the corner of her mouth. She holds her breath, her heart thundering inside her chest. “Okay?” His question hangs in the air.

Are you okay with not asking any more questions for now?

She nods into his hand, and he smiles slightly, then leans up and presses his dry lips to her forehead before he straightens and holds out his hand to her. She looks up, confused, flustered, not sure how to act, but she grabs his hand and lets him pull her to her feet. He holds it for a moment longer, watching her closely.

“Alright,” he then says, letting go of her, rolling his shoulders. “Let's get back to work, hm?”

The sun is setting behind the house, tinting the whole camp in an orange hue. The horses have been fed and brushed, some of them have braids in their manes and tails now, and she looks back at the fifteen horses and recites their names in her head. She's always been good with names somehow.

On the other side of the meadow she sees Ben carrying a sack of feed towards the troughs. She gives the little chestnut girl named Foxie, who snorts and bows her head as she smiles at her, a last pet, a last praise (“Good girl, Foxie.”), and then makes her way to the tall man who dumps the sack with a low groan to the ground.

“Looking good,” he growls in his deep voice, rolling his shoulder as he takes a look around the meadow and the happy horses. “Not sure Bill will appreciate what you did to his Libby, though,” he adds with a smirk, and she looks back to the tall mouse gray mare whose black mane is decorated with little wild flowers and braids.

She huffs a little snicker, blushing slightly. “Might make his ride to the brothel more pleasant,” she says under her breath, and Ben looks at her and barks a loud laugh, his large hand coming up to pat her back playfully, causing her to stumble slightly.

“Good one,” he croaks out, shaking his head, his hand still resting on her back. “You're a feisty one, eh, Miss Nebbia?” he jokes with a wink.

Her cheeks burn up even more as she looks away, feeling the warmth of his touch through the thin fabric of her blouse.

“You'll fit right in here with us,” he says softly and leans slightly over her, his hand sliding down to her lower back.

She turns her head to him, giving him a timid smile. His brown eyes glow in the light of the setting sun, causing her to stare at them longer than is necessary. Appropriate. He nudges her side with his fingers and smirks at her, then lets go and walks past her.

“Come on now, I think you deserve a wash,” he tells her.

Her heart skips a beat as she thinks back to last night, sharing a bath with him. Even if it has been rather innocent, with both of them on either side of the tub and only the occasional touches (You had your foot on his cock, she remembers with a little gasp, is that considered innocent?), it hasn't left her mind, and the want is still there. The want for more.

Nebbia follows him back to the house, but instead of entering it, he takes a turn to the left and rounds the corner. She can see the sheets and clothes billowing in the soft evening breeze near the creek, a little behind the house, and Milly walking between them checking if they're dry already. What she hasn't noticed before is another area further to the left, fenced off with tarps, nestled between two large pines.

Ben stops in front of it, watching her closely. Once she approaches him, standing small before him, looking up with a curious furrow in her brows, he gives her a smirk and raises one corner of the tarp, showing her what's behind them. She frowns further. It's not what she has expected.

It is like somebody took a wooden barrel, sawed it in half and presented the new pieces as tiny bath tubs. She might fit into it if she squatted, but she couldn't see Ben fitting anywhere near those tubs, unless he'd use it as a foot bath. Her disappointment must have been visible on her face.

He laughs softly and leans closer. “Sorry, darling, looks like you gotta do that on your own this time.” Her head snaps to him, her lips parted. It's almost creepy how easily he can read her.

His large hand closes around her smaller one as he pulls her past the tarps, letting them fall behind them. The area is small, only the barrel tubs and a small fire-pit between them with a large pot full of water on it. It smells like soap and flowers.

“Looks like Milly has it all ready for you,” he says softly, testing the water with his pinky, raising his eyebrows in confirmation, nodding to himself. “Just get in the tub and use the ladle here,” he points to a large wooden ladle hanging from the pot, “to pour water over yourself to wash. Leave it in the tub when you're done. You think you can do that?” he asks with a teasing smirk.

She stares at him, then at the set-up around her, ignoring the tease in his voice. Her eyes wander to the second bath tub. “Will you... join me?” she whispers quietly, stupidly hopeful.

He scoffs a laugh, his hand on her shoulder. “No, this is for the ladies only. Us filthy men will wash in the creek. Milly's made that very clear.” She looks at him, smiling tightly, trying to hide the pout threatening to take over. He seems to notice the struggle and squeezes his fingers into her collarbone gently. “Have fun, sweetheart.”

With that he leaves her standing there, beside the steaming pot of water and the strange little bath tubs. The tarp flaps down again after he's gone. An unsteady breath escapes her. She feels strangely empty without him, alone, cold despite the fire burning beneath the pot. Somehow she's gotten used and accustomed to his large presence, and without it, she can barely breathe.

And it hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

She's spent the entire day with him, or in his close proximity, and last night has been... so intimate, even though nothing has happened (sexually), but he has been there, treating her right, being nice, giving her hope. And he took her with him, allowing her a chance, letting her sleep in his bed, inviting her to meet his people, fighting for her honor, giving her something to do, making her feel like part of something.

But she isn't part of anything if he's not here. It's a strange revelation, and she wonders how she's become so dependent on him, on anyone, when all her life she's been alone, despite being surrounded by so many people. The girls at the brothel haven't been friends, nor family, Madam Claire was not like a mother, more like a... mistress, not giving praise, but demands. Mary has been the only one who's looked out for her, at least a little over the last two years, checking in occasionally, and Nebbia realizes with a heavy heart that she may never see her again.

She wonders what she's doing right now, but then she knows what she's doing, or going to do this night. The same as every night.

It feels unreal to be away from there. Inhaling deeply, the warmth of soapy, flowery steam filling her lungs, she starts undressing, layer after layer, thinking about what she would be doing if she were back at the house.

Preparing for the night, making herself look presentable (knowing it wouldn't matter after the first client who will leave her covered in cum and saliva, her hair messed up from being gripped so hard, her rouge and lipstick smeared from being handled so roughly), and she'd wait, kneeling in front of the armchair by the fire, listening for those footsteps, waiting, waiting for the door to open, for the next customer to walk in.

And she can't even imagine how she would wait lying on the bed, waiting to be claimed, trying to fulfill her new role as a real lady of the night now that she's of age and ready, or expected to be ready. Luckily she may never find out what it will be like to have a random stranger take her however he wants, doing absolutely anything with her just because he's left some dollars in the greedy hands of Madam Claire.

She's been so lucky that the first man to barge through her door on the night of her initiation has been Ben.

Exhaling deeply, she feels a shiver rushing down her spine as she thinks of him, the mountain of a man, so much bigger, taller than her, the gentle giant, his large hands holding her safely, everything about him gives her peace, calms her down, except for the little throb between her legs and the rapid beat of her heart whenever he's close to her.

With her mind occupied with his brown eyes, his handsome face, the sound of his beard scraping over her skin, the strong twitch of the muscles in his arms, she steps into one of the wooden tubs, kneeling down in it, and starts pouring warm water over her stiff neck and shoulders, calming under the warmth and smell of it.

She doesn't notice the flap of the tarp being pushed back until it is too late.

⚠️ A large hand presses to her mouth, and she gasps against it, eyes wide as she stares up at the intruder. It is not Ben. Her heart beats so hard it hurts in her chest, panic gripping at every single nerve and muscle. She flails, struggles, writhes in the strong hold, tries to kick and get away, but the tall man (what's his name, one of those three?, she can't remember) grips her, lifting her up effortlessly, dragging her out of the tub.

Her feet scrape over the ground as she sinks her nails into his wrist, blinking rapidly, trying to see who the attacker is, she's usually so good with names, but she can't remember, can't think. Screaming into the hand on her mouth, she keeps kicking, until she gets kicked in the stomach. All air leaves her, all fight gone as she convulses in pain, stars dancing behind her eyelids.

She's thrown into the dirt, chin hitting the hard earth, causing her to groan, not immediately noticing that the hand is gone. A heavy boot presses between her shoulder blades, pushing her flat on her stomach, before a big hand grabs her wrists to hold them behind her back, the grip brutal, unyielding. She can't move, only kick her legs helplessly before she feels a knee pushing them apart.

Panicked wails escape her, and another hand grips her hair, twists it, almost rips it while the braid comes undone, presses her cheek into the ground, keeping her still, but only for a bit, as her attacker realizes he might need a hand to do what he wants to do. She's not stupid, she knows, she feels her hips being lifted, ass up, her knees pressed into the soil beneath her, hands held behind her back, a body pushing between her thighs, something hot and heavy slapping against her sex.

Whimpers, silent cries, hot tears streaming down her face. Not like this, she thinks. Please... not like this... “B-Ben...” she gasps, trying to think of him, imagining how he would take her for the first time. Definitely not like this, pushed into the dirt, held in an iron grip, exposed and helpless. A body to use, and nothing more. He'd treat her right... “Ben...”

“Shut up,” a low hiss comes to her ear, a rough voice, she has no idea who it belongs to, and then suddenly, a sharp pain on her butt cheek as a hand like a branding iron snaps against her soft flesh. She screams into the dirt, squirming helplessly. A grunt fills the steamy air, it's gotten darker around her, not just because she can barely breathe in her position, with the pain of the slap throbbing through her body, but the sun is gone. It's dark and hopeless. Something hard pokes at her entrance.

“Ben!” she cries out through a curtain of tears, with the last bit of strength, courage, she can muster. The person behind her pauses, curses, and suddenly she's being pushed further into the ground, dirt scraping over her bare breasts, then hurried, receding footsteps, the tarp flaps, cold air brushes over her raised ass.

She falls to her side, still in that awkward position, massaging her hurting wrists behind her back, breathless, unable to do anything else. /⚠️

And suddenly he's there, his large hands picking her up carefully, lifting her onto strong arms, pressing her to his warm chest. “What happened?” she hears his deep voice. “Who did this?”

She blinks, feels him scraping dirt off her cheek, wiping at her tears. Her arms wrap around his neck as she holds onto him. “I-I don't kn-know...” she stammers, shivers. He inhales deeply, a rumble through his chest.

He sets her down for a moment, on trembling legs, it's cold, but her skin burns. Wrapping a blanket around her, covering her up, he picks her up again, cradling her in his arms as he carries her out of the bathing area, towards the house. “Are you hurt?” he whispers, his voice strained, as if he's holding back his anger.

A fist in another man's face. She flinches at the memory.

“N-no,” she breathes, leaning against him, cocooned in the blanket, unable to touch him. “They left before –” they could soil my innocence, she thinks in both terror and relief.

Her eyes wander up to him. Even in the dark she can see the muscle moving beneath his skin as he clenches his jaw tightly. He brings her to his room, not saying anything, sets her down on his bed, covers her in even more blankets. She tries to free her hands, and when she manages to slip one out of her cocoon, she grabs his wrist, holding him back, looking up in desperation. “Don't leave,” she murmurs under her breath.

He stares at her, his face hard, like the one on his Wanted posters. Murder. The word echoes in her head, and she can see this man looming over her doing just that. But she isn't afraid of him, she's... glad. In a twisted sort of way. Knowing what he is capable of. The strength in his arms, his body.

But when he closes his long fingers around her hand and sits down on the edge of the bed, she's relieved he doesn't follow the urge to repeat the crime she has yet to learn more about.

Struggling out of her blankets, she breaks free and throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, presses into him, desperate to feel his warmth, his strong hands on her, comfort, ease, reprieve. He slowly curls his arms around her, one hand holding onto her waist, the other cups around her shoulder, as he embraces her tightly, leaving no room for sorrows.

A tiny voice in her mind complains already. Nothing happened. Stop whining about this. You're fine.

But she doesn't feel fine, because something did happen. She was attacked, inside the camp that was supposed to be her new home. In the rare moments where she was alone, without Ben. It hasn't even been twenty-four hours since she left the safety of the house to live in the real world...

A new wave of hot tears spills from her lashes, soaking into the collar of his shirt, her tiny sobs swallowed by how she presses her face into his neck. She feels him inhaling deeply, his grip on her tightening, trying to squeeze every bad thing out of her.

“Shh, it's okay,” he hums against her, his rough chin pressed to the top of her head. His voice and words sink into her cold skin, heating her up from within. “I've got you, baby girl.”

Chapter 3 -- Chapter 5

END NOTES: Oh the trauma (and all of it just so I could make Ben call her baby girl)!

I gotta say, I love me some dependency and hurt/comfort, even though I'm sorry for what I make happen to poor Nebbia. But it's needed to have these lovely bear hugs...

By the way, I was debating back and forth about the reward sum (again something that comes up once and doesn't matter but I still fixate on it every fucking time): When I played RDR2, all those bounties only ever gave $100 tops, and when looking at the Wanted posters of Dutch and Co. they had much larger sums, but they've been at it a long time, and ooh the stuff they did. But Ben? I didn't want him to be as cold-blooded as the people in the game, but still a criminal worth something, so in the end I settled on $1000. Might make sense, might not, does it matter? Not really. Just sharing my thought process here again, forgive me.

Anyway, back to the growing relationship between Ben and Nebbia. The plot is finally thickening and more things will happen! Stay tuned!

Picture credits to their respective owners. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around the Internet. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

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lizardlicks · 1 year ago

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Nine People You'd Like To Get To Know Better

I was tagged by @blu3berrydraws, @erisenyo, and @paramouradrift lol thanks guys!

Relation Status: Married to my best friend and high school sweetheart

Favorite Color: green. any green. give me a green I will show you how beautiful it is

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: Sweet tooth is currently satisfied. Spicy is just kind of a bonus. I think savory is looking good rn.

Three ships: Zukka is the obvious current answer, but I am a habitual multishipper by nature, so here are three ships that I very much enjoy which might not be on your radars!

First is @ablueeyedarcher's fault: How/Piandao. The SS CapyPanda. Are they minor characters who only show up for two or three episodes a piece? Yes. Do I care? No. Let them smooch.

Number two is Jee/Bato. Look. Jee is a tired gay man, He has served his time. Let him get out there and get the good dick. He's not a home wrecker though, he's not gonna get between whatever Bato has going on with Hakoda... unless maybe they invited him to get between them more literally.

Third is Zuko/Kuei. I know the the post canon comics pitted these two sad bitches against each other but listen, here me out. They're both young, inexperienced leaders dropped head first into navigating attempting to deescalate their countries post a century of hostilities with minimal helpful guidance, and they were also both used and betrayed by the father figures they we supposed to trust and rely on. What if when left alone, face to face, they bonded over venting their similar frustrations? What if that bonding turned into an unlikely friendship? What if that friendship tripped and rolled down a rocky hill of something more and they ended up in a secret affair between the heads of two of the world's most powerful states? What if it all came crashing in on them, but they couldn't untangle their very real feelings from their duty as leaders? What then?

First ever ship: Oh snap this is reaching back into Ye Old memory banks here. If I'm being totally honest I think it was the pink and green (later white, much later all the rest of the damn colors) rangers from the original run of the American version of Power Rangers. The internet didn't exist as we know it today so it was just a group of a half-dozen 7-9 year olds G O S S I P I N G on the playground between rounds of pretending to be actual velociraptors.

Last Song:

youtube

(Two Steps From Hell is my go-to writing times tune everything out music)

Last Film: Technically it was me and the rest of the adults post Thanksgiving diner keeping a running background commentary going on the worldbuilding choices in the Paw Patrol Movie that the little kids insisted on watching. Real answer, the last movie I sat down to watch with intention was Across the Spiderverse.

Last thing I Googled: solar chistmas lights. My coworker was complaining that her only outdoor outlet shares a load with an indoor one (which?? rude!) and her partner wouldn't let her put up more Christmas lights. I had to show her. The way her face lit up as she IMMEDIATELY zoomed to Amazon and started filling her cart. Apologies to her poor family and neighbors, but I definitely made her week and possibly her entire New Year.

Currently Reading: Hey did you know that @erisenyo is already releasing stuff for zukki week because she is. you should definitely go read that.

Currently Watching: Rewatching Blue Eye Samurai while spouse watches it for the first time. He's been big into old samurai and wuxia films since I can remember so I'm just sitting here anticipating his reactions to every easter egg and trope call back they've stuffed into this show and also spotting things I missed on the first round.

Currently Consuming: Peppermint mocha and a cheese, egg and sausage tornado. Don't question me.

Currently Craving: My cozy bed. Also a nice big bowl of curry.

Currently Working On: The next chapter of Learn to Carry Love. I'm so so so close to the finish aaargh!

Current Obsession(s): *Gestures at my blog*

And with that I'm gonna taaaaaaag @ablueeyedarcher @rainbowbarnacle @paintsplattere @allgremlinart @saccharineomens @thepioden @siggymcpissyface @curlicuecal and @yandereleorio! No obligation of course, just for a fun time if you wanna :D

#tag game #there were actually a couple different versions of this game with different questions between all the posts I was tagged in #so I combined them #anyway I have so many more odd ball ships where those came from you should ask me about them #gonna file this under #lizard is starting to ramble #Youtube

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pbandjesse · 5 months ago

Text

This was a really good day off. I feel good. Still tired but like I got a good amount of rest today and that was lovely.

I slept alright. I woke up at 930 o tired. But I did t want to keep sleeping and waste the whole day. I stead I forced myself up and washed my face and got ready for the day.

I did not want to leave the house at all today. What I wanted was go rest and read and do house projects. And that made today a really successful day.

I would have a cinnamon raisin English muffin. And got myself comfortable outside with my book. Which I did finish. I had brought Sweetp and Crabcake outside and it was an absolutely beautiful day.

Once I was done my book I would spend a good hour knitting. I am a full month behind on my temperature blanket but I will catch up. But today was not that day. Instead I worked on the double layer quilt in working on. It was a really beautiful day and I was having a really nice time.

Fleet week is this week and so I had to deal with flyovers all day!! The helicopter was interesting the first time. It stared to become old and tired some after the 4th time. And then there was 5 jets in a line. That only happened the once though. Mostly it was just beautiful and quiet with just soft sounds of the city.

I was having a really wonderful day.

I had a little lunch but it mostly just made my stomach hurt.

I decided to do house tasks to make myself feel better. And for the most part it did help.

I would clean the frog tank and water a few of the plants. I hung a picture. I hung our new battery powered sconces. I hung the frame for the fake transom window I have been planning between the studio and the living room/kitchen. I struggled hard with the nails. I couldn't get the force to get them all the way in. But James would figure it out and helped when they got home.

I would take a break and laid on the couch for a while. I got a little overheated outside as the sun was high in the sky. I had an ice cream and that helped.

I spent a good amount of time painting new flowers in the studio ceiling. I did a dozen small purple flowers. I worked until my arms couldn't be over my head anymore and I ran out of the paint on my pallet. .I would get down a s decided to do some studio organization. I took one shelf apart to move across the room . Consolidated my market stuff. Accidently overweighted a shelf and it came ripping out of the wall and I bent my right thumb's nail backwards. Tore half of it off my nail been it hurt so bad and was bleeding. It was not good at all!

I was very upset. James would promise to help finish fixing things when they got home. And I would go lay down and try and not be sad.

I had Ruby the roomba going. She lost her bow somehow. Weird. But I will fix it later. .I was going upstairs to grab something when I saw James outside. I opened the front door and was super happy to see them.

They would take a moment to cool down. But then jumped into helping me. They fixed the transom window and it's ready to be patched and painted. And eventually I'll put fake stained glass inside it. It's going to look so good.

I decided that I wanted to have my doll house facing the window so people walking by can see it. This took some doing. James added a shelf next to the window sill for extra space so the whole thing didnt fall over.

I would have to stand on a stepladder outside to set up the whole scene again after we picked it up. Which made everything fall down. But it's all fixed now and that makes me happy.

We would eat dinner outside. James had a pasta. I had fake fish and rice. It was beautiful and not to sunny again.

I was enjoying gently swinging. It was very centering. And I was just really enjoying James's company. Talking and being silly and James would do more cooking. And we decided to watch the bridgerton prequel.

I don't particularly care about bridgerton but I love the queen Charlotte clips on TikTok so James downloaded Netflix so we can watch it and that it how we have spent the last several hours.

And it really is fabulous. Sad. Intertwined with the present (in the bridgerton world). I am glad I was able to focus enough to actually want to watch a show. I struggle so hard with anxiety about starting things. But I am very glad we did.

I have requested we watch just one more. The whole show is only 6 episodes. So I want to be half done so we can watch the other half tomorrow.

Tomorrow is going to be a good day though. Im going to drive up to see my parents for Father's day. And I am just really looking forward to that.

I hope you all sleep good. I love you very much. Talk tomorrow!

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noffy96 · 1 year ago

Text

Errink fic: What death takes from us Chapter 3

Here it is, the final chapter of this fic, hope i managed to deliver on the ending!

What death takes from us:

Patience rewarded

Word count: 10359 (this chapter

Chapter (3/3) (Complete)

(first chapter)

Chapter Summary:

Error feels like something is off. And his worries get confirmed when he visits the Doodle Sphere. He has to find a creative solution to help his boyfriend, even if he doesn't enjoy it. But maybe something else was baking up

Link here to AO3

Or continue below the read-more line

He sighed as he closed the portal behind him. Something was off, really off. The feeling only got stronger as he headed towards the house Ink called his home. He had a feeling something had been off this morning. He should have called instead of believing Ink over Tekst. And the loud sounds coming from inside only confirmed his suspicions.

But he had needed a full day of rest. It had been a whole week, of being around way too many people. It was a wonder he hadn't somehow crashed. But he was feeling normal again.

Or as good as the new normal was letting him. Despite being back for six months now It was still not anywhere near how it had been before his little vacation to the afterlife.

He took another deep breath, as he listened to the sounds coming from the house. It could mean one of two things. And he hoped it wasn’t the same as two months back. Ink had been going through enough emotional turmoil lately.

He gave a light shudder as he remembered the normally bright room being covered in coats of thick black ink. The scream of pain he heard as he rushed up the stairs. His boyfriend's face stuck in that jack-o-lantern smile, with black tears streaming down his face.

If he closed his eyes he could still see the way ink collapsed when he came back to himself. He clenched his fist. It had taken everything not to wrap him up in a hug. It would have hurt, and only have made things worse.

He stood in front of the door and debated teleporting in, but decided against it. Didn’t need to get an attack thrown at his face today. He opened the door or tried to at least, but it got stuck. He pushed a bit harder, enough that he could slip through the opening. The door was pushed shut, the second he let go.

He glanced around the room and saw every surface of the room covered with different unfinished works. Canvases with half-finished sketches, different types of yarn work, paper craftworks, plants, sculptures, clay figures, and even more things he couldn’t name.

It was usually a mess, finding materials everywhere. But not covering the ground until there was no place to walk, not this unlivable. He didn’t even see a way for ink to move around by jumping from wall to wall. The sounds he heard from outside seemed to come from the kitchen.

Summoning his strings, he used them to fly over the mess. He grabbed a hold of the doorpost as he looked inside. Loud music was blasting from inside. All the counters were littered with different bowls, glasses, pans, and other appliances. It looked like Ink had started cooking and baking dozen of different recipes and not finished any.

Ink had ever since his death, tried to keep the balance. And lately, he had the feeling Ink was trying to tip it into his favor instead of his own. So the forces that be, were probably trying to make Ink create, no matter how he felt about it.

And right in the middle Ink was working on a cutting board. He managed to find somewhere to stand and checked over his boyfriend. Ink seemed to half throw something on a bit more haphazardly instead of his usual outfit. Some brown shorts and a white T-shirt with different art stains of god knows what. And more worryingly scarf nowhere in sight

Ink's eyes were shifting way too quickly through its symbols. Different spirals kept popping up, as he was mumbling to himself.

But he breathed a small sigh of relief to see that his eyes weren’t very cloudy. So this was most likely not a swallowing too much ink situation. And he had a feeling he knew what it was.

It was one of the worst feelings when the multiverse decided it had enough. And everything becomes so loud, so demanding. The only way for the painfully loud voices to stop, for him, was to destroy. Ink had told him, it was similar for him. Over the years both of them became good at fighting the instinct. But occasionally, it grew stronger and could overwhelm them.

The last time it took hold of him, he was destroying universe after universe, not really realizing which one he did. Popular or not.

Ink in contrast could start making so much, to fill the void up. It often happened when protecting alone wouldn’t be enough. And it could get really bad if all his colors were used up. Ink would forget to eat and drink. And just become a machine that just kept churning out artworks.

When he asked what was wrong with what he had created. Ink had called them ‘soulless’. In the months after, he had been destroying those artworks and universes one by one. Slowly as to not upset the balance and send ink into another spiral. Ink never mentioned it. It had been their little secret

Ink only had one that was so bad in the time they became friends. And to see his then-friend look at all the art he had made with such a sad frown on his face. It had ached something in him.

Ink did like to get feedback on his work. But never seemed to hate or even dislike anything he made. But then, well he never saw ink look so sad.

Now Ink was fighting that instinct, to go out there and make new AU’s. And seemed to be in a creative manic spiral. Listening to the creators to make something, but not being able to finish anything.

He knocked on the wall, Ink didn’t seem to react.

“Ink?”

Still nothing. He huffed, trying not the be insulted at being ignored, He used his strings to clear some space in front of the counter. Then jumped to the now free floor, putting his hands down

“Squid!”

Ink stilled for a second, then slowly looked up. Yellow flooded his eyes and face way too quickly.

“Ruru~! Good to see you! How was your rest?”

Ink's voice was a tad too loud. And he hid a flinch,

“Been fine, you’ve been busy”

Ink nodded happily, but there was a hint of purple in there too. And now that Ink had stopped cutting whatever he was working on. He was swaying lightly, he could also hear bones rattling just below the music.

He frowned and looked to the side,

“You mind if I turn that off?”

Ink turned his head towards the music player, confusingly looking toward it. After a few seconds, he shook himself out of his thoughts

“Oh yeah, that’s fine.”

There was a hidden strain in there, and he had a feeling Ink had put on the music to drown out the noise of the creators. But considering his confusion, it had stopped helping, and he hadn’t realized it was still playing.

Using an attack he quickly turned off the music. Ink"s eyes shifted through more symbols, and he came up with an idea.

“What are you baking?” Ink looked back at him, eyes blinking fast quickly.

“Uhhh..” Ink looked down at his hands.

“...cake?....” Ink started very confused. Eyes cycling a couple more times through his symbols, then looking up happily

“A strawberry chocolate cake! “

He kinda doubted that was what it started as, but he could see a way to quell some of Ink’s restlessness.

“Want me to help finish it?”

The of Ink slammed his hands on the table. Eyes turning to stars.

“You serious?! Yes!, yes, please! Thank you Error!”

Ink’s face flushed a happy bright yellow And despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but give a small smile himself

Baking meant getting dirty, and if he hated something it was creating. But getting Ink to actually finish something, would probably quiet the voices for a bit. And he was willing to suffer through the unpleasant bits.

Ink’s tired swaying had become happy bouncing, as he took off his jacket and scarf, dumping them through a portal back to his home, not wanting to get them dirty.

“So what can I do for you Squid?”

Ink started looking around the counter space, picking up different bowls and pans. Before suddenly grabbing a box with a cake printed on it from beneath three measuring cans. And handing it to him.

He took it carefully, trying to avoid the sticky fingerprints all over it. But grimacing as the icing coated his fingers as their hands brushed together.

“That’s the one I am making! Can you do the wet ingredients, then I go do the dry ones after I finish with the strawberries “

And Ink beamed, going back to cutting up the fruits in front of him... This time it was a little less frantic, Still a bit too quick for his liking. But he knew he shouldn’t rush this. And with some careful maneuvering, he got around the counter, to grab what he needed.

He gave a nod

“Sure thing Inky”

After staring at the box with a glare for a few minutes, He let out a few curses and grumbles. Pulling out his glasses and putting them on. As he read the instructions he went over to grab everything from Inks fridge. Double checking if things weren’t expired, knowing his scatterbrain of a boyfriend.

When he closed it, he noticed that Ink was staring at him. Focussing on his face. Then he realized he was staring at him because of his glasses, he felt his face flush and quickly took them off.

Ink had seen them before why did he have to act like it was the best thing he had ever seen? He deliberately kept his gaze away as he cleaned off some measuring cups, and started adding the wet ingredients together.

Bringing his attention back to his boyfriend after he started searching for a mixer. Only for Ink to look quite lost.

“What is the last thing you did Kiki?”

Ink looked back surprised, back to the bowl he was holding, then up again.

“Added the flour…but I feel like I am forgetting a step”

He grabbed the box and wandered over to stand next to him. So he grabbed his glasses again. Giving a little warning glare to not say anything.

“So you did the flour and sugar?” Ink nodded

“Added the coca?” Ink shook his head, glancing around the room. Then back in the bowl.

“Got butter in here?...should that be?” He quickly scanned the text.

“Is like two steps down, but don’t think it’s gonna be a huge problem” He muttered, turning the box a bit more so Ink could read it. Who took the box gently and read it over, nodding along as he read it over.

“Okay, glad to not have ruined another batch”

Handing the box back. He got some of the batter that was stuck on Ink's fingers on his own as they lightly brushed. And he flicked it at him. Making Ink laugh and dodge out of the way. And he went to grab the mixer and went back to his own bowl.

He stirred everything together until it was good and ready. As he pushed the bowl next to Ink’s, so they could add them together. As he started to search for some chocolate, and as he was rummaging through the cabinets, he noticed something on his hands. There was still some dry icing on his hands.

From when his hand had brushed Ink’s

….

…

Their hands had touched.

…

And he hadn’t even realized

He turned around quickly staring at his boyfriend's back, who was happily kneading what had at this point become a dough.

He hadn’t helped bake anything since he came back. This should have been similar. He should have flinched away, been struck by pain…he wasn’t. All they had to do…? Was it just waiting? That just didn’t feel right.

He felt his body tremble, as he took a step closer. Because this couldn’t be happening. It wouldn’t have so suddenly just been over. For months they had to be careful with every interaction. Noticing how many of their routines now involved touching. Fuck only after losing it all, had they both noticed how big his progress had actually been.

That when they fell back into their routines, they had to work around the casual touches now.

And maybe he did glitch? Maybe he had just brushed the icing. He really shouldn’t be getting his hopes up. But he hadn’t felt that pushing sensation that had accompanied their interactions ever since that miserable first kiss. The feeling had weakened greatly over the last month. But it had been there before. He was getting his hopes up, but he couldn't stop himself.

He was just two steps behind Ink now. And his love raised his head,

“Everything alri-”

Ink stopped talking as he reached forward and wrapped his hand carefully around the other's upper arm. Just below the t-shirt sleeve. Feeling those bones for the first time in over half a year.

“Er-ror?”

Ink gasped and then he had frozen up, and so had he. Just that one moment of contact. It was still prickling as if he had slept on it. But it didn’t hurt, and it didn’t seem to hurt Ink either.

Throwing all caution to the wind he let go and Ink let out another surprise gasp.

He took the last two steps forward and warped his arms around Ink’s chest, Pulling him close against his body. Burying his face into Ink's shoulder. There was a clatter as he yanked Ink's body back, the bowl of ingredients falling over the floor in front of their feet.

For a few seconds, they just stood there, both of their chest heaving with scared quick breaths. His arms tightened as no pain came. Feeling those familiar ribs between his arms and chest. Struggling to hold in his tears.

A trembling hand reached up and rested against his arm…stroking up and down

Once

Twice

Then grabbing on tightly. Scared to let go. Ink’s breath grew labored and quick. Both their bones rattled as reality seemed to settle in over them.

His voice stuttered a bit, but for once it wasn’t the glitches.

“Got you…I’ve got you…”

The sound Ink let out was between a sob and a dry laugh. And then wetness hit his arms. He opened his eyes, raising his head a little. Just able to see yellow-blue tears roll down Ink's face, dripping down his chin. Then feeling them against his arms.

He squeezed a bit tighter. Fighting hard against his own tears.

“Ssshh..it’s okay…It is okay…No need for the waterworks Kiki…if you continue…I will start as well”

A laugh seemed to get punched out of Ink. Along with another sob. A second hand came up to hold onto his arms. In response, he nuzzled softly at Ink's neck. His own face felt warm at feeling that familiar body heat again.

Another sob tore out of Ink's throat. Then Ink started tugging desperately at his arms, making him loosen his grip lightly. Just enough for Ink to turn around. He caught a glimpse of the tears-stained face. Eyeshapes in the form of a soul and a teardrop. Yellow, blue, pink, and purple are all mixed into one.

Inks hands reached up and grabbed his cheeks, feeling it leave behind some more batter, and was pulled down roughly into a kiss.

The last time they kissed, it had burned so bad he had screamed. But now…now all he could feel was inks teeth against his own Just like he remembered how it should feel. Warm and welcome. But also, so very hungry.

Inks magic teased at the seam of his teeth. And for once he didn’t hesitate to open them. Consequences be dammed, as his own hand came to rest against Ink's cheek. Stroking that ink stain that seemed burned into his love's bones.

Tongues quickly rolling out one, by one. Each of which Ink happily devoured. His own tongue fighting so hungrily against his own. Their chest pressed together, their legs tangling together from how much they tried to pull each other closer.

They tumbled onto the ground with painful grunts but neither stopped their hungry kiss. As tears rolled over their cheeks, trying to pour in all of their longing.

Beneath his hands, he could feel Ink’s magic rushing. He knew what was coming, and he growled and pressed closer. Hopefully conveying.

Don’t stop

Let it happen.

Give it to me.

Give me all of you.

The familiar taste of ink hit his tongue. There was still a grossness factor to it. But now it was largely overwhelmed by the fact that it was just able to happen again. And he licked up every single bit that spilled between their mouths. With happy little grunts and groans. Then let his face fall in inks neck.

His boyfriend was now sitting on his lap. Arms looped around his neck and back. Legs warped around his waist, and he was trembling. He tangled around him just as tightly. His own arms held tightly onto Ink’s back, Bringing his legs up to further case him against his chest.

Fuck Ink was trembling so hard. He stroked his hand down the other's spine, trying to calm him. As his own soul hammered faster than ever within his own ribcage.

“Ruru..?” Ink’s voice was thick with tears, and he squeezed a little tighter

“Right here Kiki” Warm hands were gliding over his back. And he was really happy he decided to take off his coat earlier. One of the hands balled into a fist, holding on desperately. It felt so right to hold him close once again.

“Is…is this real?”

He sounded so scared, so fucking scared, and it just made him hold on tighter. Tight enough to hurt his hand, for it to probably bruise Ink's bones.

“I….I didn’t go mad…right?...this isn’t the universe trying to trick me into creating something…right?”

A couple of tears fell, landing against inks shirt.

“Dunno, how that would work Squid…but no…unless we both went mad”

Another sniffling laugh.

“With our track record, we just might have…”

He barked out his own laugh, and gently pinched inks hip bone, making him laugh and flinch away. So he kept doing it. Wanted to hear that laugh more now that he could feel it against himself.,

“What’s that Squid?! Would an insane person make you laugh?”

“Aahh, Nooo, stooop~! “

Ink let out a high shriek as he continued to giggle trying to fight back, but he crushed Ink against himself, making it hard to move

“Trying to undermine my sincerity, aren’t you?!,

“So-orry! Pl-please! S-stop “ Another high burst of laughter, that he could feel through every part of his body, his own face falling into an easy grin

“RURU!” he stopped his teasing fingers, and Ink was panting hard, giving him a soft glare.

He simply raised an eyebrow, and Ink kissed him, quickly and sweetly. Then resting their foreheads together as he tried to catch his breath.

“Thanks, Ru”

He trailed his hands back up Ink’s spine until he was holding onto his back. Giving a quiet hum as he stared into Ink’s eyes. The one teardrop shape had also transformed into a soul, and they were just shifting through all the colors.

But he quickly returned his hands thumbs stroking soothingly beneath his eyes. Eyes raking up and down. Still, a slight tremble in the other's smile.

Ink's hands raised up again, this time he felt them gently trace over the tear marks on his face. Until they hid the frames of his glasses. He blinked, having completely forgotten he had been wearing them.

Ink’s hands gently took hold of them, and with a quiet hum, took them off. Reaching up, and putting them somewhere on the counter, out of danger.

But that hadn’t happened, and now both of them were gonna take their time and enjoy this next kiss. He felt a tongue tease at his teeth, he slowly opened up. He had wanted to return only one. But his body didn’t seem to fully cooperate and summoned three of his tongues.

They both leaned in for another kiss. Half-hooded eyes keeping eye contact the whole time. He didn’t wanna miss a shift in those colors, wanted to see how hard he was affecting him.

Their first kiss had been desperate, trying to convince themselves and each other that it was real. Afraid it would be taken away just as quickly as this little miracle had been given.

Ink hummed happily as they invaded his mouth. His hands lowered till they held onto his shoulders. His own hands reached up to hold the back of Ink's head softly guiding them into a soft push and pull.

Ink’s mouth still tasted of the ink he puked up. But underneath that was the taste, that made ink, well ink. It always reminded him of artificial fruit flavors, this time it was strawberry with banana. It also always did taste kinda chemically, but it didn’t bother him, he was sure he himself was a bit static-y.

Breathing is a bit labored and quick. Ink’s eye lights fully pink. And with a trembling smile, his boyfriend hid himself in his neck. And he gently petted the other's spine once more.

His half-open eyes were still locked with Ink’s. The Pink flush on his cheeks slowly gained more and more colors.

Then there was a desperate little noise, and the hands on his shoulders tightened. In response, he pulled Ink as flush against him as he could. Summoning his final two tongues to tease at the edges of inks mouth. Not able to do more than kinda lick at Ink’s skull. Until, after a few minutes they both pulled away.

“I don’t wanna forget this….” Ink mumbled and he nuzzled the side of Ink's neck.

“You won’t” He breathed out with the utmost confidence This was too important, he just knew he wouldn’t forget.

“But-”

“You won’t” he interrupted. Giving the collarbone a little kiss, which made Ink let out a little surprised gasp.

“...C-could…could you…do something…to ease my mind…that i won’t forget…”

He gave a nod “Anything”

He felt Ink swallow, and his face became a little warmer

“C-could you…mark me?...”

Ink's voice trailed off and became very quiet, and he felt his own eyes widen in surprise, pulling back to look at his boyfriend's face. Which was covered with a pink-blue-ish blush.

“I…you didn’t like it when we tried last time”

Ink nodded. They had only tried once. About a week or two before his death. It had been a spur-of-the-moment thing. They had been making out, He had asked if he could try. Ink agreed but he hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of being marked up.

Ink had said that had liked seeing the mark, but he didn’t like the pain of getting one. He rather tries something different to try and get a similar effect. Like drawing on each other's bones, or hiding one of the thousands of bracelets he had made on his person.

Even if the possessive side of him was disappointed. Ink managed to hold up so many of his boundaries. He’d survive without biting and marking up his lover, it wasn’t the end all be all.

“I…” Ink started, fingers trailing down his arm, until they reached his hands. Then Slowly ever so slowly intertwining their fingers together. Which made his soul beat almost out of its chest. Despite having had their hands all over each other this one thing still felt so much bigger.

There was a soft squeeze which he returned.

“I know….But…I still want to. I want more than words written on my scarf…I…want that proof…something that can only happen because we touched”

Ink still didn’t meet his eyes. There was a pretty big flush on the other cheek, mostly colored blue and pink but it gained a hint of orange. He felt his own face heat up, as his eyes scanned the other's neck,

“Okay…” he breathed out.

Ink’s eyes shot up.

“Really?” He sounded so hopeful. And his own soul tried to beat out of his chest. When he gave a nod. Looking away from the sheer intensity of that gaze

“Where?

He asked if anything to make that gaze stop. He felt Ink pull back a bit, and when he glanced back. He saw Ink’s eyes darting around with a flushed nervousness. Seeing that made him calm down a little.

“A-ah…my neck…I guess…”

He gave a little nod and leaned closer. But then Ink pulled back and he looked back up surprised. Ink’s eyes widened realizing what he did.

“A-ah…sorry Error…I…” At this point, Ink’s whole face had become pink, and he pressed a kiss against his cheek before he could spiral too far.

“It’s okay..” He pressed another a bit lower And he heard his love’s mouth close with a click.

“Just…let me know if it becomes too much…okay?”

A little nod, and he pressed a kiss against Ink’s jaw, then one against the topmost vertebrate. Ink's hand tangled into the bottom of his shirt. The other hand also reached forward, but kept on kind of hovering between them.

He pressed a kiss, a vertebrate lower, Bringing one hand up to where Ink’s neck met his skull, gently guiding him to turn throat. His other hand tugged Ink's shirt out of the way, and then gently wrapped around Ink's spine just below the ribs.

He felt ink freeze up, and he held still himself. Before removing the lower hand and moving it up, gently resting against the scapula instead. And his lover seemed to relax more. He kept kissing down until he reached a little over halfway.

Placing a second kiss, and whispering.

“Here?”

In his own mind, it seemed perfect, Just high enough, that it could be partly obscured by the scarf if he so wished. But not low enough that Ink would not miss it if he glanced into a mirror.

He felt Ink swallow.

“If you think it’s best?” he sounded unsure but also was breathing slowly and deeply. Not something he was used to from his Squid.

His own heart hammered, but still tried to keep a calm voice. Ink seemed nervous enough as it was. And he nuzzled the other's neck softly.

“I can keep go-”

“NO-! “ Ink yelled then stuttered and pulled away., turning completely pink once more

“I..i just…you know how I am with this….stuff. It’s all the same to me...I mean to say..i…uugh. What I mean is..”

“Kiki…..breath”

Ink’s head fell forward burring himself back into his shoulder with a groan. And he kept on petting the other's back soothingly. He was no stranger to Ink’s troubles with emotions. The intimate kind especially.

“You’re okay..”

He breathed against his love's skull. They stayed quiet for a few seconds. Then Ink mumbled softly

“It’s weird to want stuff like this…and at the same time still feel…I dunno. It’s not scared? Abrasive?....something like that....”

He pressed a kiss against Ink’s cheek once more.

“You are allowed to change your mind Inky”

“I know! Like I said I want to….I really, really do…honest. Dunno why I suddenly pulled away…”

Even without seeing his face, he knew Ink was pouting, so he continued to pet his back soothingly.

“Emotions are weird Inky, we can just not dwell on it and try again if you want. Or we can sit and figure it out. Whatever makes you more comfortable in the end.”

Ink shifted around a bit, before pressing closer.

“Drop it and try again…don’t think I have enough paints to last me an emotional rollercoaster”

He gave a nod, gently guiding his love's head back again. As he started kissing back down his neck, until he reached, the same spot... But he decided against pulling back this time. Just kept giving soft closed-mouth kisses against the vertebrates. One hand gently stroking down Ink’s spine. Making him relax a tiny bit.

But he could practically taste the others nervous. He opened his mouth and Ink took in a sharp breath but instead of closing his teeth over the bones, he brought out two of his tongues and started licking them and the sensitive magic between them.

Ink’s breath stuttered out of him

“Er-ror?”

He pulled back just enough, letting his breath ghost over the now wet bones.

“Just…trying something...see if you enjoy it okay?, if not…I’ll stop”

Ink gave a tiny nod, with another sharp intake of breath. And he continued the kiss and lick at the artist's neck It wouldn’t turn tender like ecto would. But he did see Ink’s magic react, the paints swirling towards the points he made contact with misty clouds of pink and purple.

He could feel Ink slowly relax more and more into his arms. Even craning his head to the side more. Ink’s bones tasted a bit like paper he thought distantly. But most of his attention was on the bone beneath his tongue. After a while ink softly asked

“Higher?”

And he did without question, not able to hide his smile, as Ink let out another gasp. Giving the spot the same amount of attention. Then slowly he opened his mouth, resting his teeth against the points he was gonna mark and holding still.

Ink's body tensed again, but not by much, and mumbled a quiet.

“Go ahead”

And he closed his eyes. Focusing on his intent, he bit down slowly and carefully. Trying to pour all his feelings into this bite.

How nervous he was feeling, But also how excited he was. That he loved Ink so much and he was fucking ecstatic that Ink dared to trust him this much. Loving the way Ink just fitted into his arms so perfectly, and that soon everyone would know he was his. That no one could question it, not even Ink himself.

Ink’s breathing quickened beneath him, slowly getting more and more labored. He felt himself growing concerned. And he planned to pull away. But then felt a hand on the back of his head pushing him closer instead.

A surprised noise left him.

“Pl-please…m-more”

Ink’s voice was sounding surprisingly wrecked. Part of him wanted to pull back and check, but the grip on his head increased. And he felt a hungry flare rise up. Ink wanted him to mark him up. Show the world that he was his, so he was gonna give it all that he got.

He bit down a bit harder. And Ink let out a noise between pain and pleasure, that made the heat on his face rise higher and higher. He was pretty sure that along with the love, he was pouring that possessiveness right into Ink.

Mine

That feeling of

Love you

Mine

LOVE YOU!

MINE!

No one would take ink from him again. Not even his own body was gonna keep Ink at this much distance again. Not if he could fight it. They were gonna stay together like this forever.

His eyes widened but he had sense enough not to suddenly pull back and let go. So he slowly relaxed his jaw and summoned all his tongued to lick, over and under the abused bones.

Ink’s other hand was scrambling against his back, sometimes petting, sometimes grabbing tight. He was pretty sure he had felt the nails scratch through the shirt at his bones.

But he was snapped out of everything when he started tasting marrow.

Then he slowly pulled back to look at the damage.

His face lit up with dark blush at what he saw.

Oh, it looked so good, it was hitting him right in all his possessive tendencies. There was a perfect circle of where he had sunken his teeth in. Part of it held the blue sheen of his own magic.

Ink was gorgeous like this.

His T-shirt was pulled down so his shoulder was bare and panting harshly. Eyes half-lidded, but swirling with rainbow colors and little soul symbols. Even the slight tears in his eyes.

And then there was the mark.

But the wound was also colored yellow and pink. Ink’s current emotional state.

“Looks that good?”

He saw the little bit of blue on Ink's finger before he took it into his own mouth. He felt his whole face burn up.

His eyes snapped up to Ink’s, Who’s smile turned teasing, and he made a dry swallow.

Ink giggled and sat up straighter again. The hand that had held him to Ink’s throat, came down to gently stroke his cheek. Then seemingly wiping the corner of his mouth.

“Ink! What the fuck! Gross!”

Ink just laughed, dismissing him entirely, and dropped his hand tracing over his new mark. And he couldn’t help but go back and forth between his love's face and him tracing it.

“Is it always supposed to feel like this?”

He shook himself out of his stupor.

“What?”

Ink stroked over the mark again, seeming to press it a bit harder.

“Getting one of these…It felt so different from last time…is…is this how it is supposed to feel? Cause…cause that. I want more of that…But..”

Ink’s eyes dropped down, not looking at him anymore, but he could still see Ink’s smile growing every time he pressed into the mark.

He raised his own hand, settling it right next to Ink’s and pressing the mark together. Ink looked up back up Staring into his face with wide surprised eyes.

“I think…it might be a special moment kind of thing. Takes both you wanting it, and me giving. Last time… wasn't like that..was more…”

“Trying for the sake of trying,” Ink finished

He gave a nod, and Ink’s eyes widened slightly as he breathed out

“It only works, if our emotions align”

He closed the gap between their teeth with a small kiss.

“Makes it more special?… Don’t you think?”

Ink’s smile grew, then his eyes dropped down toward his neck

“Could….could I try?”

His face gained color again. And he was sure he heard his body buzz. Even if he didn’t feel it.

“You sur-”

“Yes!” Inks said leaning closer, before backing away with a flush.

“I... I wanna try making you feel like I did! I … I really want to try! “

He felt himself nod and Ink’s smile grew, and before he could comprehend. Ink was leaving kisses on his neck. his hands dropped down and hold onto Ink's arms.

Ink’s breath felt warm against his neck, his soul started beating fast out of his chest. And he felt a tongue join the action just like he himself had done.

His hands held on tighter and he feared he might even be leaving bruises. He didn’t know how long Ink kept kissing and licking at his throat. But it felt longer than when he had done it.

He felt his ribcage brush against Inks with every shuddering breath. The way Ink’s hands held onto him so tenderly. Like he was precious, The solid weight of him on his lap, it was making his head spin.

But then he could focus on the teeth he could feel against his throat. His body shivered, and he felt a wave of glitches pass over him. They stung lightly but luckily didn’t return.

It took him another long embarrassing moment to realize that Ink was waiting for some sort of signal, that he was okay.

So he moved his hands up to his love's shoulders, closing his eyes he breathed

“Okay”

He felt another hot puff of air, and then slight pinching pressure, that slowly, increased. That pain was familiar in a way. In a way, his body normally behaved. But he could also feel something different. It was weak at first, just a shimmer of it.

It was kinda familiar, and after a few seconds, it clicked as to why. It felt like Ink’s healing magic. Something so intention and emotion-based. It was often quite weak. But it was similar. But there was a uniqueness to it. Like it’s its own flavor. And the more he relaxed into it. The more he could feel it. Learn how to pick it apart.

As it slowly draped over him, like a warm crochet blanket. His rapid breathing slowed, as the pain crew. Gently he caressed the others back up and down. He felt a shudder going down Ink's back. And he let out a high-pitched sound, as Ink's teeth dug in deeper. For a second he could feel ink’s ecto body appear, then just as quickly disappear.

There was a fire in the action too, something hot and burning. Ink pressed himself a little closer, and he moved his head to the side, giving Ink all the room he could wish. As he tried to untangle these emotions that were being poured into him.

His face flushed as his bones began to ache pleasantly, His hand gently pressing into Ink’s back, hopefully letting him know how much he was enjoying this experience.

Eventually, Ink slowly pulled away with a darkly flushed face. When their eyes met his. boyfriend's mouth twitched up for a second. It felt like he saw thousands of emotions swirl inside those ever-changing eyes.

He reached his hands up to said face and pulled him into a firm kiss. Holding him close for a few seconds.

“Thank you, Kiki” He whispered against his teeth as he let go, and Ink’s smile was a bit wobbly. And he turned his throat a bit

“So tell me…how does it look?”

Ink stared at it. Then whispered.

“Gorgeous”

He preened at the compliment. Reaching up to touch it. Feeling the slight dend in his bones. It would heal with time, and might even become a bruise for a day or two. Not long. But there was something terribly exciting about having Ink so clearly mark him up.

It was a statement in itself. Cause nobody else would ever be allowed that close to him.

Inks hand hovered between them so he took it and brought it up to his neck just beside the newly made mark. The flush on Ink's face got a lot darker. He simply raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend. And after a few seconds of hesitation, he felt Ink’s thumb press slightly into it.

He had to swallow a moan, but couldn’t suppress the shudder. Inks glanced up, their eyes holding for a second. And Ink did it again with a little smile on his face. And he glared after holding back another moan.

He leaned forward and stole another quick kiss. When he pulled back, Ink was smiling brightly.

“Satisfied?”

Ink nodded. Arms raised around his back once more and pulling him into another hug. Ink tugged his face over his shoulder and he did the same. Glad to be holding Ink close.

“I ain't letting you go for the rest of the day, you know that right,” he muttered

Ink laughed and he could feel the rumble of it through his chest.

“Honestly…same. But…is that safe?…shouldn’t we…you know… try and tone it down so you don’t overload yourself?”

He squeezed Ink tighter

“If this is just a one-time thing, I ain't fucking missing out by toning it down ”

Ink nuzzled and kissed his jaw. Then he let out another laugh

“There is batter all over your face”

He returned the gesture with a kiss of his own, and a little growl

“And who’s fault is that?”

Ink let out another giggle, and then a deep happy sigh

“I missed this…”

The arms around him squeezed him gently.

“Me too…”

They happily stayed like that for a couple of minutes. Hands gently trailing over backs, hips, arms, their bare bones. With little nuzzling kisses placed here and there. It was almost sickeningly sweet, but fuck it. They hadn’t been able to do as much as hold pinkies. He was gonna indulge all he could for as long as he could.

But the kitchen floor was getting uncomfortable, he opened a small portal beside them to peek into Ink’s room. Happy to see it wasn’t such a mess as the rest of the house.

“Ruru?”

He smirked, and pulled back, placing a quick kiss on Ink’s teeth. And then opened a bigger portal beneath them. Making them fall through right onto Ink’s soft bed.

Ink let out a shriek when they fell, holding on for dear life. Then he angrily sat up and straddled him further pushing him into the bedding.

“What the Hell Error!! “

And he laughed loudly.

“That’s for dragging me into all your portals squid”

Ink gave a pout, and wriggled himself lower, until he was laying on top of him, instead of sitting.

“If you wanted to cuddle, you should have said. No kisses for this clever trick.”

He said while burying his face into his chest. Laughing softly at his boyfriend's slightly childish antics. And raised a hand up to pet, and then softly trace Ink’s skull. Ink let out a soft sigh and buried himself further in.

“Your soul beat…it sounds different…I think”

His hand stopped moving. Staring down at his boyfriend.

“Explain?”

“The beat…is different? Last time…it was… one, two, one, two a pause. One, two, three? And now it is more like..a quicker one, two three, one, two, three. And a longer pause? That… is not normal for souls right? I mean I know yours is not like normal souls..but for it to change?.... Are you alright?”

He could hear the worry creep in. And he craned his neck forward to place a kiss at the top of his skull.

“Dunno if it is or not…just know that the beat is irregular. Sci made no mention of it after he checked me out. So doubt it something serious”

He felt Ink’s arm tighten

“I didn’t like how much you were glitching after the check-up”

“Not much to be done about it, I sure as fuck didn’t like it either. But rather not die a second time because of something stupid”

Ink let out a sad hum.

“How are you doing with the voices by the way?” He asked Ink softly

And Ink let out a sad laugh

“Of course you noticed.”

He rolled his eyes

“Be hard not to Inky”

“The creators have quieted down. For now, I still...feel them. But…then again. They always seemed to leave me alone, when we do stuff like this”

He blinked a couple of times, a hand trailing down Ink's arm until he found his hand, intertwining their fingers softly

“You never told me that”

He felt Ink shrug.

“Didn’t want you to feel obligated to hug me if you were having a bad day”

He felt his soul squeeze in gratitude. But also regret.

“I am willing to fucking help you, you know that right? I can deal with a bit more discomfort than normal. If it helps, I know how terrible it can be when the pressure to do our job becomes too great”

Ink stayed quiet. And he had a feeling that Ink indeed knew. But still felt like this was his own responsibility. He didn’t expect this to resolve in one day. But he could work on this. They work on it together.

He nuzzled to the top of his loves head

“If they still screaming at you tomorrow,. I help you create some SU’s”

Ink shot up, staring at him. A mix of excitement and worry on his face.

“You don’t have to I know-”

He cut him off with a kiss

“YOU have been doing my job, when I was gone. YOU have kept doing my job to keep the balance even after. Because my glitches were so bad that leaving the Anitvoid was a fucking pain. I think I can return the last six months, no fuck, that's wrong, I've only been back six. So that means EIGHT months of work, for ONE fucking day Ink. I don’t like creating any more than you like destroying. But I am willing to do it for you. Just as you are for me. I am sick and tired of seeing you run yourself so fucking racked okay?”

There were some blue tears gathering at the corner of Ink's eyes. And he gently encouraged the other forward to bury his face back into his neck. He noticed the surprise gasp and felt Ink shift away. Ink’s face heated up, and he realized he pulled him to the side ink had left the mark.

“It’s alright Kiki. You have been wonderful, let me return the favor okay? “

Ink was shaking and he felt a slight nod. And he gently traced his hands over Ink's ribs. Trying to follow the patterns of where he thought the tattoos were.

“Ruru…I…sorry…didn’t mean to worry you..”

He kissed the side of his boyfriend's face

“No harm done, you know I love it when you only pay attention to me. But not at the cost of yourself,

“I’ll try…to be better”

He pulled back. Cupping Ink's face in his hands, staring into Ink's eyelights. A pink teardrop and a blue upside-down triangle.

“I Love you as you are, But your consideration is really appreciated”

Ink's eyelight shifted, to a star and heart. And he was pulled up into another soft kiss. He let his eyes close as Ink pressed closer and firmer. Letting himself be pressed back into the soft blankets.

Fingers were tracing up and down his cheeks, as their tongues met once again. Most of the Inky taste was gone, only leaving that artificial flavor that was so Ink. It had shifted as the colors had. It now tasted like watermelon.

His own hands kept trailing up and down Ink's ribs and spine. Stroking the bones through the thin t-shirt. Trying to make Ink let out more soft sighs. He wasn’t trying to rile him up. No, he was trying to find that perfect spot that would make Ink sink into him as if they could do this all day.

Fuck he wouldn’t mind if this is all they did the whole time they could still touch. Minutes ticked by with nothing more happening. Either their tongues were softly sliding together and sharing hot puffs of breath. Or they kept giving each other soft little pecks on the mouth and cheeks.

One hand was simply holding onto Ink's back, the other stroking down his spine. While Ink's hands weren’t letting go of his face. That was until unknowingly to both of them Ink’s shirt rode up a bit and he stroked the bare bone of his love's spine.

Ink let out a very surprised-sounding squeak, and pulled back, blushing madly. Tugging his shirt back down seemingly feeling embarrassed. Sitting back up and glancing away with a flushed face. He slowly raised back up onto his elbows

“You…okay?”

Ink gave a little nod, still avoiding eye contact. He decided gently rest his hands on Ink's upper arms rubbing them gently. Ink’s eyelights were quickly shifting through many symbols, most noticeably an exclamation point.

Ink never mentioned having had a problem with any kind of touch. But then again, he doesn’t remember ever seeing ink in a crop top. Maybe his spine was just super sensitive. Wouldn’t be the strangest thing.

Ink was looking panicked enough that he decided to drop it for now, and see if he could help him calm down.

“Sorry about that”

Ink shook his head,

“I-it’s fine…just…suprised thats all”

It seemed like a load of bullshit as Ink hadn’t really stopped his shaking. He gently tugged at his arms, and to his surprise Ink followed easily. Ink's head laid against his shoulder as he curled himself around his ribs.

Inks eyes seemed to linger on the mark, one hand coming up to trace his own. Still oddly quiet.

“I…just… too much I guess” Ink mumbled softly.

He paused at the admission, gently cradling Ink closer to himself. He understood that feeling perfectly. And he gently nuzzled the top of Ink's head, for now not making eye contact so his boyfriend could calm down.

“It happens Kiki. Anything I can do to help?”

Ink snuggled closer, rubbing his face against his shoulder like a cat would. With every breath seeming to calm down more.

“Can you just talk?”

He hummed,

“Did you check your phone today?”

Ink shook his head and his smile grew, he knew Ink would get a kick out of this news.

“Well, I got a text from Blue, so i am assuming you got it as well”

Ink shuffled around and pulled out his phone. The second it was unlocked he stole it out of his hands. Smiling as he saw that Blue had indeed sent the message to Ink as well so he wasn’t breaking a secret.

Ink tried to make a grab for it, but he just caught it in his strings and rose the phone to the ceiling.

“Uh-uh, no peaking, That’s no fun at all Kiki.”

Ink glared at him and crossed his arms and laid down on him again, seemingly trying to put all his weight on it. It was fine, he didn’t mind and wrapped one arm around his boyfriend. ,

“So, Blue gave us a status update Can you guess what it is about?”

One of Ink’s eyes turned into a question mark. And he was happy that this small discussion was already working on keeping Ink's mind off what just happened.

“Did…did he finally make it into the royal guard?”

“Wrong, sorry that would have been great for him though, you get two more guesses” And he held up two fingers

“Yeah he deserves it, but.. mmmm “ Ink looked around the room.

“Did he win that, ‘Best Sans in the multiverse poll’ thing that was going around?”

Ink gave a shrug that implied he didn’t care so much either way as he lowered one more fingers

He laughed hard

“Fuck I had completely forgotten about that shit, Dunno, check that later, weren’t you up against him?”

“Last chance to guess Squid”

His love closed his eyes and seemed to rack his brain deeply, and made all kinds of little vocal noises. That over some time he just had come to dub as thinking noises.

“Did his brother finally ask out, fell’s brother? “

He brought his fingers to Ink's forehead who went crosseyed following it, then he gave a firm push, making Ink bend backward.

“And wrong again, That was the closest you got through”

Ink rubbed at his forehead with a pout and sat up straighter again.

“Wait really?... I was close? Wait did he ask out someone else?! I was sure Stretch was having a crush on- “

He slapped his hand over Ink's mouth with a little glare.

“Hey no more guesses, you only had three you little sh- EW gross INK did you just lick me?!?”

He was surprised that no glitches sprang up from his angry outburst. Ink only stuck his tongue out at him. And he glared at his boyfriend, he didn’t want to think about how badly that could have gotten if that had activated his glitches.

He wiped his hand on one of the many blankets surrounding them.

“So do you wanna know or not”

He grumbled trying to get the gross feeling of his hand, while seeing Ink excitedly nod. Then his eyelight became an exclamation point.

“Wait!! Don’t tell me…?! “ A smile was growing on Ink's face, the eyelights changing into rotating stars. And he couldn’t help the grin of his own.

“Yup, he and Lust got into a relationship. A couple of months ago apparently”

Inks clapped his hands excitingly. Both had seen the pinning from their shared best friend. And his own case, both of those idiots during the Undernovella’s marathons. Sometimes those two were acting just like his beloved soap opera. It was only a lot more painful to watch it happen in real life”

“Oh, I am so happy for them. But why did they wait so long to tell us “

He chuckled, shaking his head

“Dunno, why didn’t you tell anyone, we were dating those first few months”

Inks eyes turned determined

“Because you didn’t want me….ooh…I see your point….that was insensitive of me wasn’t it?”

He raised his hand up so he could cup Ink’s skull again, placing a chaste little kiss on his nose ridge.

“Perhaps, at least they didn’t hear it”

Ink gave a nod,

“Can I have my phone back now so I can congratulate them properly before I forget?”

“We really aren't going anywhere hmmm?” he asked with a laugh

He chuckled again and lowered the phone, which Ink snatched out of the air, He unlocked it, but then he froze.

Gathering some blankets from around them, wrapping one around them and Ink snuggled up into his side as he texted with a smile.

Ink hummed.

“Wasn’t planning on. No. How about you grab some chocolate, and we then alternate between watching some Undernovella reruns and some art videos? You know….make this a proper impromptu stay-in date”

“Fuck, You read my fucking mind Ink”

He kissed just below Ink's eye, where a light flush still was. Opening a portal into a fell universe and took several bars of chocolate. Breaking off some pieces to nibble on as he warped his arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, pulling him closer to his side.

When he was about to pop the fourth piece into his mouth. His lover tugged on his arm, he looked down to see Ink look up with a little hopeful smile. He brought the piece to Inks' mouth who bit into it with a smile.

Then Ink held up his own little piece bringing it to his mouth. He made sure to lick at Ink’s fingers as he took it. And Ink dove after them for a short-but well loving kiss. And then snuggling back into his side.

After a few moments of silence on which Ink was scrolling through his phone to find a video

“This isn’t gonna last…is it..”

Ink's voice was sad, and low, He closes his eyes and didn't dare to speak louder than a whisper

“Most likely not…”

Ink held him a bit tighter

“You know I don’t blame you for-”

He leaned down for a kiss, cutting Ink off again

“I know, we keep fighting, remember”

Ink gave a soft nod, eyes a pale blue and he nuzzled closer

“Let's just enjoy what we have”

Ink gave a smile, as he started a video.

Later, much later. He woke up, The deep sleep was struggling to let him go. It had been a while since he slept so soundly. Nothing had woke him up in the middle of the night. Or whatever time it was in the Antivoid

But then he realized that he wasn't at home, he wasn’t lying on his bean back. No, he was lying on a bed that he had also come to be familiar with.

Ink’s

Ink and he had been able to hug, they had been able to touch. And by all likelihood.

Yup, there was still a weight on him. Ink was lying on top of him, and one of his hands was tangled in his shirt. His own arm was wrapped around his boyfriend's lower back, holding him to his chest. Their other hands tangled together in a loose hold.

His body didn’t feel as calm as it did yesterday. The second he moved the glitches would most likely start once again.

And he hated that, so he laid still. As still as he could to be able to have Ink in his arms for just a few seconds longer. And by the silence in the room he had the feeling ink was doing the same.

His breathing sounded like he was awake, they lay there, completely still for a while. What was it five minutes? Ten? Fifteen? He didn’t know but he knows they gotta end this at some point.

“Morning Kiki” he breathed out. Making sure his chest still moved as evenly as it could

“Morning Ruru.” Ink’s emotions were always more muted in the morning, as he ran low on paints. But his voice was quivering, dreading the inevitable as much as he, most likely all up on his blues.

He was afraid to squeeze the hand still tangled with his own, to breathe too deep and let their chest start moving out of rhythm. Afraid of the pain he knew would come.

He kept his eyes closed and mumbled

“I love you so much…thanks for yesterday..”

Inks breath hitched and there was wetness leaking into his shirt.

“Love…you to…” The words were quiet, so very quiet. But he knew they would be added to the tally.

He braised himself

“Okay…let’s do this”

“Yeah…”

He counted to three and then removed his arm from around Ink. Immediately his body started prickling and burning badly. Ink pulled away now free from his hold. Shuffling to the other side of the bed a safe distance away. He struggled through the pain feeling the cool air hitting it as the blankets got taken off.

But it was over relatively quickly, his head was buzzing, as were his ears. But he had expected the glitching to last much, much longer.

He slowly sat up and stared at his hands in wonder. Glitches were obviously going down his arms and legs. They were buzzing like crazy, leaving little shocks of pain like always. But it was more bearable,

If he had to rate it, he had been expecting nines across the board. But right now it was at seven. Still painful, quite a lot so. But..fuck he could grin and bear this.

He looked back up to his boyfriend. Ink had been staring at the mark on his neck. And when iInk noticed him staring flushed and then quickly started chucking his paints.

Their eyes met. Ink took a last gulp and gave him a sad smile. His mouth opened, but no words came out.

After a couple of false starts. Ink shook his head, moving to the edge of the bed.

“Well, I am sure you need a minute or two, I make us some toast okay?”

Ink tried to do business as normal, maybe so that it wouldn’t hurt as much. It made his soul sink at the thought.

“Wait!” he managed to get out, just before Ink’s feet hit the floor.

Ink looked back up, A question mark in his eyes.

He started at his hands again and held it out. Ink looked back at it, tilting his head from side to side. Before eyes widened with exclamation points.

“You sure?”

He gave a nod. Ink's hand reached forward. Slowly, tentatively. When their fingers almost touched. Ink pulled away slightly as if scared. A flash of orange came over Ink's eyes, and he closed the distance.

He let out a wince, but before Ink could retract his hand back, he intertwined their fingers. And held on. He closed one eye and bared through the pain for a few more seconds and then let go with a slight hiss.

Ink held his hands to his chest. Upset that the touch had hurt him. But also didn’t seem to be rubbing his hand like he had done for the last few months and they accidentally brushed together. A smile broke over his own face

“Yeah…fuck…that hurt…but…if that is how it is when I am agitated…if I rest enough…I think I’ll be able to hold your hand again.”

Ink started at him, eyes little pinpricks

“You…you…really?”

He nodded. Shaking his hand still, trying to cool it down.

“Yeah…maybe rest two? or three days? just to be fucking safe. But I am pretty sure. This feels like…you know a really bad day from before…Then...Yeah I am pretty fucking sure we are able to just-”

He was cut off by the noise Ink let out. Ink's hands had flown to his mouth, and he could see that he was restraining himself to not propell himself forward and hugging him once more

The tears that were flowing out of his eyes had a happy yellow sheen to them.

“I…this is…” Ink laughed sounding half delirious.

Ink closed his eyes tightly hand pressing closer to his chest

“I am trying not to get my hopes up…”

His soul nearly broke in two at the words, As fucking lovely as Ink’s consideration for his condition was. Both of them wanted this back so bady

“Ink…” he said slowly, waiting until ink met his eyes again

Then said with all the conviction he could muster

“I am sure, we won this one battle”

Ink shook, then the smile that broke over his face was large.

“I wanna kiss you…but I can’t so I am gonna do something stupid”

Before he could even make a face. Ink started blowing kisses at him, and it made him huff out a burst of surprised laughter. But Ink didn’t stop, and the giggling, sound of pure happiness was addicting.

So maybe…just maybe, he blew a few back.

Maybe they sat there doing that for longer than was strictly necessary.

But after all this time, when he felt closer to normal than he had in so very very long. Who cares that he was acting a bit silly with his boyfriend.

They earned it. And they were gonna damm well enjoy it. He thought as he stroked over the mark Ink had given him. Ink flushing and doing the same.

He wasn’t gonna let go, not if he could help it. They might not be back to before exactly but they made it.

They finally fucking won.

#noffys writing #errink #error sans #ink sans #fanfic #undertale #utmv #ink x error

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somethingusefulfromflorida · 1 year ago

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I found it!

I spent all of last night looking through my old emails, and I found two word documents from June 2013 that I sent to my mom so she could print them out at her job because we didn't have a printer at home. It doesn't have a name, I just called it the New Language Dictionary, and it's just as terrible as I remembered!

I went with a OSV word order, object subject verb, in part because I read somewhere that it was the least common word order on Earth, but mostly because I thought it was funny to make it backwards like Yoda.

My example sentence was a Roosterteeth reference...

People like grapes

Grapes people like

Dienegafri dieneumaleos neguatanes (literally two-grape two-person they enjoy)

My main thought process was "does English do this? Then i'll do the opposite." English pluralizes words with suffixes? I'll use nothing but prefixes for everything!

to run: haranar

running: niaharanar

to stop: tarapor

stopping: niatarapor

to want: hanamineir

wanting: niahanamineir

Why are all my verbs so long? It's like I thought it wouldn't sound foreign enough unless everything had multiple gibberish syllables. Oh, and did I say vaguely Latin sounding? I meant vaguely Spanish, because that was the only language I had ANY experience with. It was a required course in elementary, middle, and high school, but they never progressed us beyond the basics, so I learned and relearned the alphabet, the days of the week, the months, the seasons, emotions, yo hablo, tu hablas, el/ella habla, half a dozen times. I ended up trying to combine the sounds of Spanish and French, q for k sounds, j for zh sounds ( as in vision, pleasure, amnesia), ch for sh (except sometimes ch is k, and sh exists by itself, but also s and c by themselves are sometimes sh too), it's all an anomaly.

Didn't want to drift too far from English with the vowel sounds though

a = aw (as in "fall")

e = eh (bed)

i = ee (see)

o = oh (snow)

u = oo (you)

ae = ah (cat)

ai = aye (time)

ei = ay (name)

ie = ih (sit)

uu = uh (fun)

oi = oy (boy)

ou = ow (cow)

uu for uh is particular egregious, yikes. Aw, ay, ee, oh, oo are the basic five, don't know why I didn't copy them over from Spanish.

I didn't include words like "because" or "girl" or "travel," but I do have words for "zombie" (joramerot), "football" (lajaqa), "psychology" (michaqonte), "heptagon" (jenona), "microwave" (lechnaqe), and "dinosaur" (jeresnaqo).

The words for wisdom, courage, and power are taken from the Triforce goddesses in the Legend of Zelda (nayru, farore, and din), and I don't even play those games so I don't know why I included them.

I do notice a few Greek and Latin roots sneaking in here and there

new = neota

water = hydralaqo (rain = hydragoba, well = hydrosa, fish = hydraneta, the words for boat, bridge, ark, lake and amphibian all have hyd in them)

stupid = morionus (clever, ain't I?)

I found exactly two words with X in them, "some" (xuntei) and "time" (xumos). No word for "sometimes" though.

The grammar rules are inconsitent to nonexistent, in no small part because I didn't fully understand tenses or participles. "Past, present, future, what else could you need?" If I could't make sense of it, I just skipped it or forced it into compliance. "I had seen him" became "he, I used to have, I used to see," "hiq vaiaden fotaden."

This is a glorious mess.

I'm really glad I didn't lose it.

I just discovered Swadesh Lists, lists of 100 or 200 basic words that tend not to change over time as the rest of the language evolves. I got really into conlangs in high school and college, and this is a resouce I wish I'd known about back then. This link includes lists from 200 languages, modern and historical, including reconstructions of proto-languages and the more well known conlangs. This is the perfect way to compare cognates around the world and see how different consonants shift from predecessor to successor and across relatives in the same families. I'm an amateur so I can't appreciate them all in the same ways a linguistic scholar could, but this scratches an itch in my brain I didn't realize I've had for years.

I think I'm gonna try my hand at conlanging again. My first attempt, something like 10 or 12 years ago, was essentially just English replaced with vaguely Latin sounding gibberish. This was probably like five laptops ago, I doubt I still even have a copy anywhere, but if I can find it I'll post some of it here.

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letsprayitwritesitself · 7 years ago

Text

groundhog dave part 7 day five

Relief. Unadulterated and alien it washed over him when he woke up on February 2nd. Shame from upsetting Jack remained annoyingly in the pit of his stomach - he had still done the thing, after all - but Jack did not know. He wouldn’t say the wrong thing, now. He’d do better.

Because the day had still been useful. He was glad he’d dared to rely on the fact that it would disappear - he’d learned more about Jack, for example, namely that he was sensitive about how he came across despite appearing not to be (and having no reason to be) and that he was genuinely... a good guy. Dammit.

He now knew truths about himself, too. It made him cringe to think back over his four years at the station, apparently swanning around lofty and presumptuous, acting like he was too good for it all - humiliating, but fixable, surely.

There was still a jarring streak of gratitude through this embarrassment. Like someone pointing out you had spinach in your teeth - vexing, but you ended up glad that they pointed it out. Where “spinach” here equalled asshole behaviour.

Was that why this was happening? He had struggled, of course, with trying to identify the source of this thing, phenomenon, event - science? God? A powerful hallucination? If this were a movie it would clearly be a way to bring Davey’s attention to what needed changing in his day to day - and sure this was not a movie, but if he leaned into that point of view a little bit, what was the worst that could happen?

So he had already made a couple of changes. Taking the guys breakfast in the morning felt nice, and it showed that he appreciated their effort. Going with the flow where the weather was concerned, instead of getting mad that they couldn’t force the van through the storm? Way easier.

Shit, maybe Jack did have a point.

So he did this day almost - almost - the same as the one before. Not the underwear thing, though that had been novel and fun (also cold). He stopped for coffees, greeted the storm with a grin, told the guys that he was sorry for being an asshole on the way, then headed to the diner for just pancakes. Yesterday was a fun indulgence. Today might be the time to see what he should do.

They sat in the diner. Davey didn’t need to ask what he had desperately wanted to before, which felt good, and he let himself be a little glad that he had asked after all. Instead he could focus on figuring out how to built a rapport with Jack. He was clearly onto something - his advice about devaluing other peoples’ opinions was something Davey could remember and use, and it made him frustrated with himself that he had never thought to give Jack the time of day before.

‘So, you’re from New York?’ Not really a question. He remembered this from their first night out.

‘Yup. Born and raised.’

‘Why Philly?’

‘It’s where the job was, right? And like, why not. Something different.’

‘Wanted a change?’

‘Kinda. Like, feel like a change is normally a good thing. Shake it up.’

‘Do you go back much?’

‘What, am I being interviewed?’ Jack laughed quietly, tearing his slice of toast into halves and then quarters.

‘Sorry, I just. Feel like I don’t know anything about you, which is terrible. We’re colleagues, y’know?’

‘Alright. Sure. I haven’t been back that much. I really like Philly, and like, once you meet a few new people in a new place it gets easier to stay. Aren’t you from New York too?’

‘Yeah. I moved for the job as well.’

‘Think you’ll go back?’

‘One day. Probably. It’s where my family are, you know. Old friends. Childhood memories, kind of thing.’ Davey watched as Jack stiffened, averting his gaze. ‘Not the same with you?’

‘I don’t really, ah, have a “family” in the sense of - in any sense.’ He emphasised the word family with air quotes, a move that tugged on Davey’s heartstrings. ‘But it’s fine - good, even. Maybe. Nothing tying me down!’ Davey hadn’t heard this in any of their conversations. He wondered if Jack was opening up because Davey had first, and marvelled at how quickly he had surrendered this obviously crucial bit of information once Davey had expressed an earnest intention to get to know him. Like it informed more of Jack’s life than he realised, maybe.

‘That’s a great way of looking at it. And awesome that you’ve been able to build bridges in Philly so fast?’

‘Yeah, I was a keen bean in my first week or so. Like, sending everyone facebook requests my first day. Went on like sixteen dates.’

‘Dates?’ Interesting. ‘Anyone I know?’

‘One or two from the station. Lisa. Amber. Albert. Not like date dates, just kinda. Drinks. Movies.’

A blip of white noise exploded in Davey’s ears for a second. Did he know that Jack liked guys? He would have remembered if it had come up in their previous talks.

‘I - I remember that feeling. When you first get here - so many people, right?’

‘Exactly! All trying to impress each other and be heard. It’s wild, but I love it.’

‘I know what you mean. Sort of. Actually, not really.’

‘How about you, is there a Mrs. Creative Producer back in Philly?’

‘No. Um, it would be a Mr. Creative Producer. But there’s not one of those, either.’

‘You must meet so many people though?’

‘Yeah. I do.’

They slipped into a silent lull. Davey couldn’t tell what Jack was thinking but he was now casting his mind back over the sparse handful of dates he’d enjoyed in his four years of working (and of course those he hadn’t enjoyed.) He’d been out with Albert too, plus one guy from the research team, Specs. Then Skittery, the runner, and Darcy, the old weatherman. One a year, interspersed with the odd (very odd) match from Tinder or friend of a friend, and not that he was desperate or anything, but - that lack of direction, the frustration of feeling stuck, it was only amplified when he came home to his empty apartment or woke up to zero texts. Not desperate, but ready. So ready.

‘C’mon.’ Jack broke the silence. ‘Why don’t we go see what else Punx has to offer?’

It was still snowing. Jack was great company. Davey nodded and stood up.

As they stepped out the door Davey caught a look at the clock tower overlooking the main road. It was 10:30. Their conversation had lasted exactly as long as yesterday’s had, the one where he’d upset Jack (that, phew, again he thanked his lucky stars had disappeared.) He felt good, this felt like maybe how the day should be going - like he had started to realise what he needed to retain and amend from different versions of Groundhog Day, and the more right he got it, the more he felt like this ordeal might be winding down.

Otherwise what hope did he have?

But. If he was leaving the diner the same time they had the morning before...

He paused outside the door, holding out his hand to stop Jack walking away.

‘What?’

‘Hang on. One second.’ He adopted a power stance, feet planted on the sidewalk, crouched down, ready.

Jack shifted on his feet, glancing around awkwardly, pulling his coat round himself to shield against the snow. ‘You alright there, Davey?’

The puppy barrelled down the street, but Davey was there. He had to dive to the side just a little to grab it, but he managed to scoop the wriggling animal up into his arms, hugging it close to his chest as it squirmed and panicked.

‘What the heck - how did you see this little guy?’ Jack’s eyes widened as he watched Davey try to calm the dog.

‘I just - did. Here, can you?’ Davey passed the puppy over to Jack, elated that this bullshit day had given him an opportunity to do something moderately impressive in front of him. Jack held it tight, whispering soothing shushes into its ear, and Davey took a second to watch before nodding towards the direction of the motel. ‘I, uh, I know the owner. I think she’ll be this way.’

They continued down the street, and because Davey knew he could rely on the relentless repetitiveness of the day’s events, he was ready when the delivery man fell out of his truck and sent the boxes of cupcakes flying - haphazard and clumsy he managed to grab them in his arms: one large and flat, then four slightly smaller on top, they still landed with a crash but none of them hit the floor. The truck driver stumbled out and grabbed Davey’s shoulders to steady himself, gushing out an apology.

‘Shouldn’t make me do these fuckin’ deliveries in the snow, listen, you saved my ass, you really - look, take one, they won’t notice if one’s gone,’ he took the boxes from Davey and flipped open the top one, taking a red velvet cupcake out and pressing it into Davey’s hand.

As he hurried into the bakery Davey turned to look at Jack, keen to see his reaction and vaguely concerned that this might appear almost choreographed. Jack stared at him with raised eyebrows. The puppy strained up to lick Jack’s face.

‘This much adventure always follow you around?’

‘I think everyone’s just going a little crazy cuz of Phil.’

‘Is that right?’ Jack directed this question down at the puppy, and a weird, warm feeling started to stir in Davey’s stomach. Uh-oh.

He took a bite out of the cupcake as they kept walking back towards the motel and offered the other half to Jack. Jack struggled for a sec, trying to shift the weight of the dog into one arm so he could grab the cake, but the thing was wriggly and scared so he settled for saying ‘Can you just -’ and opening his mouth after a quick nod towards the cupcake. With the faintest blush Davey took the hint and fed Jack the remaining half, trying to mirror how casually Jack seemed to incite this physical contact but struggling just a little, and at the same time marvelling at how far their dynamic had transformed since the night before (well, you know, however many nights before.)

At the gate to the motel, sure enough, was the puppy’s owner, weeping into Mrs. Bloom’s shoulder, and Davey let Jack take the lead in reuniting them. He watched Jack grin from ear to ear as the pup slathered it’s mom’s face in kisses, before movement stirred from across the lawn and caught his eye.

Oh Jesus. He’d almost forgotten there was one more thing to prevent.

He crossed over to where he knew the man was about to fall off the ladder, intending to steady it so it didn’t slip into the soil, but he seemed to get there a second too late. The man fell, toppling backwards, landing directly on Davey.

He sat sullen in the emergency room, broken arm cradled in his lap. The day had been going so well. Too well. Almost perfect. But of course, it couldn’t be perfect, because this was Davey. He’d briefly fallen in love with the idea that being nice to Jack, and saving the puppy, the cakes, and the window washer, things he wouldn’t have done before this whole sorry experience, were the key to being liberated from this horrific cycle, but apparently they were just a ticket to actual bodily harm. Sure, when he’d ignored them the other day, it didn’t feel good but it felt better than a literal snapped bone.

He remembered with a jolt the day before, when he’d seen the man fall, that he had sat up right away proclaiming how fine he was. So he probably didn’t even need to try and save him? Talk about biting off more than you could chew. If he was bored with this fucking existence before, now he was actively pissed off by it.

Jack sat next to him, trying in sparing attempts to cheer him up but somewhat aware that the moody producer he’d known before was probably back for the time being.

‘This has gotta be a good few days off, though, right?’ He nudged into Davey’s side, trying to draw his eye away from where he was staring at the grubby waiting room wall.

‘I want to be at work.’ He replied curtly. ‘I wanted to be there this morning, too.’

‘God, you don’t switch off, do you?’

‘I’m annoyed that I didn’t want to be here today and now I’m in the E.R., alright?’

‘You might have broken your arm in Philly? This might have always been written in the stars.

You have no fucking idea.

He resisted the urge to snap at Jack, instead tipping his head back and letting out a long sigh. ‘You don’t have to stay,’ he said, staring up at the ceiling. ‘I’ll understand if you don’t want to spend your day here listening to me complain.’ God, just half an hour before he had literally been feeding Jack a cupcake. He couldn’t have asked for a better morning. How could he have been so misguided?

‘C’mon, I’m not leaving you on your own. They might put you on really strong pain meds, and that’s something I wanna see.’

Davey smiled. In the heavy silence of the emergency room he let himself dwell on two things. One: How much his fucking arm fucking hurt. Two: How in theory he had now spent five days with Jack, thinking about Jack, getting to know him and starting to open up to him, and how if this was normal life then he’d be totally justified in starting to feel something for him. He couldn’t have predicted any of this, not the cycle of the same day, nor the fixation on Jack that it would lead him to, and especially not the ability it somehow gave him to plan days with Jack that led to this weird almost-tension. Even now, sitting here, it felt almost natural and completely tempting to just lean into Jack’s side, thanks to that now kind of pathetic, sick-kid feeling that had settled over him. He felt completely entitled to some physical comfort, but resisted.

The problem, though, was that was much as through this day he had fostered something new with Jack, if the morning came and it was February 2nd again, it would all be gone, and yet this tiny little inkling of a crush would still be there. And it would keep growing, because Jack would still be Jack. Davey would have the bad luck of having developed a crush seemingly overnight, in reality that had come from days of contemplation. How the hell was that fair?

‘Dave? Can I ask you something?’

‘Hmm?’

‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but... Did you ever ask not to be sent here?’

‘Did I...’

‘Like. You seemed really annoyed about it. But you never said whether or not you had a choice.’

‘I didn’t have a choice. I mean. I don’t think I did?’

‘Could you have found out? I know it’s too late now. But.’

‘I’m still a tiny cog in the machine, Jack, I don’t think any of them care what I want.’

‘But you don’t know, do you? Listen, I’m only saying because now I’ve started to get to know you, I can see that you’re not the dead-eyed producer-bot I thought you were. I feel like I know that you can do better.’

Davey opened his mouth then closed it. He sighed. ‘I’ve never tried. You’re right. I’ve never -’

‘David Jacobs?’ A nurse finally, finally appeared in the doorway. ‘You can come through now.’

‘You didn’t have to wait for me.’ He said this through a smile as he walked back into the waiting room and saw Jack engrossed in an old copy of Good Housekeeping.

‘Shut up, yeah I did.’ Jack stood up, holding out Davey’s jacket then reconsidering. Davey’s arm was now in plaster and tucked against his arm in a sling, so Jack draped the jacket round Davey’s shoulders, gently tugging it together at the front. ‘You all fixed up?’

‘Ish. Six weeks in this, which is hilarious. You’re going to have to drive us back if we ever get to leave this place.’ He walked through the front door which Jack was holding open for him.

‘I wanted to say, Dave - I’m sorry if I overstepped, what I said before. It’s none of my business what you do or don’t ask the executives. I just, I’d hate to think of you languishing in Punx for no reason.’

Davey laughed quietly. ‘Languishing is definitely right. No, I really hate to admit it but you have a point.’ It was around 3pm. The sun was blinding. The wind, cold. ‘I’m heading back to the motel. I think I’m done for the day.’

‘I’m sure you are. Can I walk you back?’

‘Yeah.’ Punx was small enough that it was barely a ten minute walk. ‘It made me think, what you said. I think that this... Me getting fucking maimed on the job - it might have given me enough fuel to. Y’know. Do something.’

‘Alright, I like it. Do what?’

‘Call them. Talk to the execs. Be heard.’ It had felt like an epiphany. It had happened as he sat in the X-Ray room, waiting for them to ascertain that the arm was broken (something he felt fairly confident he could tell them for free) - the realisation that everything he had been sad and annoyed and disillusioned by, in this version of this day, might be on the verge of being fixed. He had made a better impression on Jack and Crutchie, there was this new spark that he knew he wasn’t imagining - the last thing had to be his job. So if he could call up the producers tonight, make his case, tell them with reason and logic why he was better than this - that would leave no reason for him to have to do this day again. He would have learned his lesson.

‘I think you’d be really happy that you did. They really like people who speak up, I mean, you know that.’

‘I do. In theory.’ But then he had come to expect this day to repeat itself. It was one thing to think that he had this right, and quite another to actually be right.

Didn’t that just mean there was literally no harm in trying?

They stood at the bottom of the motel staircase.

‘Guess I’ll go find Crutchie and fill him in.’

‘Where is he?’

‘He’s friends with basically everyone in this town; he’ll be in some restaurant or living room somewhere.’

‘Thanks for... Thanks. Today’s been bananas. In a... not-terrible way.’

‘You’re telling me. Give me a call if I can pick you up any painkillers or candy or, I don’t know. Grapes. Sick people stuff.’

‘I will. Thanks, Jack. One thing you can do?’

‘Go on?’

‘Will you sign it?’

With his good hand he dug a marker out of his pocket and handed it to Jack, who accepted with a smile. He waited for Davey to gingerly extricate his arm from the sling, and held it gently. He cradled Davey’s hand in his own as he wrote, meaning Davey could barely breathe as he focused on the dizzying scrap of skin-on-skin contact where Jack’s fingertips touched the very top of his palm, and his thumb imperceptibly stroked across his knuckles.

‘Here.’

It was a cartoon of a groundhog with a cast on it’s arm, and the message Little shit couldn’t predict this. Take it easy, superstar. Jack.

Davey cradled the arm back against his chest like it was precious. ‘Thanks.’

‘I’ll check in on you later, alright?’

‘Yeah.’ He took a step backwards up the stairs, and with a smile Jack started towards the door. Davey took a deep breath in, and said one more thing. ‘Jack?’

Jack turned.

‘Um. When we’re back in Philly, do you wanna - can I buy you dinner? Say thanks for waiting?’ An agonising pause. Jesus. Say something.

Jack nodded, eyes crinkling in a smile. ‘Yeah. Yeah, you can.’

‘Andy?’ Even as he spoke on the phone to his boss, even as he had a twinging broken arm laying across his stomach, and even as snow piled up outside and the sky grew darker despite it being not even five, a persistent smile played about Davey’s lips. The day was perfect. But... perfect in an imperfect way. Not a fairytale, but something like it. It was hopeful. ‘Just keeping you posted from the front line.’

‘Sure thing, Dave, shoot.’

‘We’re staying here through the storm. I’ll be working on the ACLU thing from here and I can send you plans and scripts as I have them. I, um, I broke my arm. So there’s that. If we could make sure Jack’s insured to drive the van back, otherwise we have to do something.’

‘Broke your arm? Jesus, Jacobs. Feel free to take tomorrow off.’

‘No, it’s fine. It’s fine - Andy, I need to ask something. I don’t want to wait until I get back.’

‘Go for it, kid, but quick.’

‘I don’t think I should be sent on these things anymore. I think... I think I’ve made my case for being kept on the big stuff at home. And I know I’ve always done it, but I think maybe that’s because I’ve never said I don’t want to. And I don’t. Obviously if you decide to keep me o these, I’ll do a good job, you know I will. But. Just in case you didn’t realise. I’m a good producer and I think I could be utilised better.’

God, another painful pause. People had to stop doing that to Davey.

‘I agree.’

‘What?’

‘You’re good at the Groundhog Day stuff, but I know you’ve got the skills to take on bigger projects. This is what happens when you don’t speak up, kid! We’ll talk Monday.’

‘Oh my god! Thank you, Andy, thank you so much!’

‘Get some rest, kid. Didn’t need to break your arm to get my attention.’

‘No. Right. Thanks.’

He put his phone down on the nightstand and fired up Netflix on his laptop before settling down carefully in bed. He could tell, he was sure that he had done everything he was meant to, particularly because remembering the night they had arrived in Punx, he never could have predicted any of what had happened this day. Tomorrow would come. February 3rd would come. He was sure. It had to.

Right?

#newsies fic #newsies #javid #jack kelly #davey jacobs #ello friends its me with ya yearly update on these boys #no but u dont know i WILL finish this i will i will never forget about it #catch me in a nursing home age seventy writing the final chapter #jk but listen in case u ever think i've forgotten about it i haven't i promise #s/o to the half dozen people that read it #literally no-one could be reading it and i'd still feel the need to finish it

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chanluster · 4 years ago

Text

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

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart.

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening.

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

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

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

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

It was partly you as well.

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

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

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

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

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

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

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

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____?”

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

Your mouth dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had all the time in the world for this.

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

You wanted this as much as he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like your best friend promised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

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

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

You blinked.

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

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

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

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He read your every plea.

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

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

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

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

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

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

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

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

Your best friend could see right through you anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Hyuck.”

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

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

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS:

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

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful

“This asshole,” you muttered.

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS:

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing.

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

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

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

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

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

Again, the situation here was different.

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

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

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

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

“Now I know you’re lying!”

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

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

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

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

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

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

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

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

“Shut up, Chan.”

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

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

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

“A Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did change your life.

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

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

Hopefully tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung!”

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

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

“Boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The joy was not returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission to punch him in the face?”

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

“Fuck.”

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

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take.

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

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

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

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

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you even come here?

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

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

Then were you feeling miserable?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes.

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

“Oh my God!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time.

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

Were you really just friends?

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

But...to be more?

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

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

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

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you!”

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

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

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

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

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

You had finally told him of your feelings.

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

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

God, you were such a bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum for me, baby.”

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

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

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

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Chan. Please.”

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

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

“Donghyuck!”

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

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

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

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

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

Bang Chan, your very best friend.

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

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

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

“Cum for me, ____.”

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

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

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

You decided to break the silence first.

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chan!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?”

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

“Chan?”

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

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

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

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

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

He parted his mouth.

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

You blinked.

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

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused.

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you.

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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konohagakurekakashi · 2 months ago

Note

"Iieee, I just sometimes forget that not everyone has Team 7's stellar luck when it comes to missions. All of our missions turned out to be more trouble than they were worth, after all."

He drawled, lone hue skimming the remaining reports in his grip. Kakashi only let up in his reading once she hinted at him being her successor, silver brows crumpling for a reason other than the array of spelling errors nestled within his fingers.

Hn. Not that again.

Wearing kata hats really weren't his thing. Not with his hair.

"Respectfully, I still don't remember accepting that specific can of worms, now or in future."

As it were, people just kept assuming he'll warm the chair eventually. 'People' mostly being Tsunade (still skilled enough to warm the chair herself) and her Jōnin Commander. The rest of the village had more realistic hopes - or so he liked to believe. He tucked the half-read, adzuki stained reports underneath an arm; then breached the remaining distance between himself and the Kage to clasp the proffered o-choko cup, a lofty grin creasing his mask. "Clearly, I can't handle it...my tolerance levels subpar to our Godaime's. A dozen of these with the Elders breathing down your neck? The legend of the Sannin wasn't exaggerated."

He lifted the cup into the air to toast said Godaime's fortitude and 'sage-given' patience, before he tugged his mask aside to take a sip. The familiar burn of alcohol was quickly supplanted by smooth, fruity undertones - which in itself was unexpected, the Jōnin pausing to tilt the cup in silent consideration. He thought she might have been humouring him at first, but... surprisingly...this really was the good stuff.

"There's your birthday gift!" points at the 4 feet tall pile of reports awaiting his attention. "I'd recommend starting on them as soon as you can if you plan to leave this office before tomorrow."

He blinked at the stack she pointed out, the urge to see what would happen if he just kicked the heap of reports (all most likely newly-minted, Genin, D-ranks if the saccharine smirk coiling at the Kage's mouth was anything to go by) growing by the minute. He shifted on his feet, the fantasy of a paper drizzle, only reeled in by the equally vivid vision of a downpour of miss-matched office furniture following in its wake. He was getting old now, he didn't heal as quickly as he used to, best to avoid that one.

"Maa....just what I always wanted."

His tone couldn't get any more blasé if he tried, dull gaze shifting from the stack of ink and dead trees, to the Godaime.

"You shouldn't have, Tsunade-sama...........Really."

#Konohagakurekakashi #Senjutsunade #Hatake Kakashi [The Scarecrow]#Senju Tsunade [Godaime Sake-sama]#Hatake Kakashi #Senju Tsunade #Kakashi Tsunade #The Blonde and the Brat #Naruto

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clavissionary-position · 2 years ago

Text

◆ G A C H A C O M M E M O R A T I O N ◆ ROSE ⨉ COFFIN Headcanons

N A P O L E O N I S A A C S E B A S T I A N

THIS BLOG IS 18+ minors/ageless blogs please dni TAGS ⨉ WARNINGS: spoilers for isaac, sebastian, and vlad . angst . sexual content . description of a panic attack and ptsd during one of the serious parts that gets resolved unrealistically . shameless crack during the non-serious parts . strangely wholesome in places . historical inaccuracies INSPO: the works of various writers in the fandom and how they write the suitors mentioned . the vampire-photoshoot episode of Wallflower (or at least I think that's what that episode was about. Haven't watched since I was 15) . this hauntingly sexy music video for all of my coffin-writing needs WORD COUNT: 3800+ READ ON AO3

✝ n a p o l e o n

one "You're not giving me much of a choice here, are you?" He says with brows cutely furrowed when you tell him about Comte (and Leonardo?)'s Weird Idea of the Day™. Those silly purebloods and their not knowing how else to pass eternity.

He's still recovering from their last scheme which ended with him and Jean having to fish several dozens of pairs of women's lingerie from the fountain at the Place de la Concorde. All while you were forced to explain to onlookers that there was, in fact, nothing to see except two soggy men in white shirts. Jean didn't appreciate the windfall from that, so he'd hidden behind the statue and posed for the pigeons until you apologized.

What a waste of perfectly good lingerie though, Napoleon laments, economically.

two From his window he can see several residents helping to carry large batches of gorgeous black roses, unique with their red under-sheen, into the mansion. Ah, but they would look so lovely paired with you, and with those earrings you wore when you first stumbled into the mansion.

Napoleon feels like he's lived a thousand lifetimes, but his memory is reserved for you. Just picturing you with the roses makes him heady. He looks at you watching the residents below, and you have no idea of the adoration in his eyes. He looks away the second you turn your head, and you both share a chuckle.

A couple of the more spirited residents, namely the individuals at the beginning of the alphabet, catch Napoleon spying on them and they in-turn offer him evil, laughing winks. Even Leonardo throws him a crooked salute as he strolls past with Lumiere wrapped around his neck.

Napoleon groans under his breath. Is there something about this photoshoot that nobody is telling him? Fine, then.

He shows you some teeth and spins you around to wrap his arms about your waist, whispering into your ear: "I hope you're prepared for EVERYTHING this will entail, nunuche."

He doesn't know what "everything" is, at all, but he will never pass-up an opportunity to tease you. This will be his revenge for your calling the attention of random Parisian bystanders to his wet nipples. Those are only ever meant for your gaze.

three Secretly he's nervous. Posing for grand portraits is one thing, but photography is something he only knows of from chats with Sebas and half-heard conversations during his security gigs. Lately amongst the nobility there has been much talk of George Eastman's Kodak Company, and while Napoleon would be lying if he said his curiosity wasn't piqued, he has no idea what to expect or how to prepare even. Maybe Isaac can offer some insight?

Napoleon's uncertainty is only made worse however when he learns that Comte has sent you off to procure even more roses for this photoshoot. Which means you'll be spending some time with a certain florist. Napoleon recalls telling you that he's never had reason to be jealous before he met you. He's never experienced the kind of love he has for you, but unfortunately something so wonderful comes with its host of thorns.

He manages to keep his jealousy―which isn't any better or worse than what most people in his shoes might experience―well under-control, especially for fear that it might turn into something ugly and scare you away. But whenever you're with Vlad, something just itches him the wrong way.

He trusts you though, so he bites down on his worries and focuses on the photoshoot. At least Sebas will be there to distract him. He fries up a batch of karaage before bathing and getting into costume.

four Lining an entire coffin in roses is a bit extravagant for his (personal) tastes (as he will spare no extravagance for you). But people really like this sort of thing? He can't say he completely understands, but to each their own. If you're into it, then he'll learn to be into it too. Rather, if you're into it, it would be impossible for him not to be. Though it really seems like something better-suited for Vlad or Shakespeare. Napoleon doesn't have the vocabulary for "spooky goth bois", but he's able to articulate his point to you later just fine.

five The roses are kind of uncomfortable. Is he going to have to clean all these up afterwards, or…? Seems unfair since it wasn't his idea to do this in the first place. But he's not about to dump this work on Sebas. He'll have to see if Jean is available later to help. (spoiler: Jean is eating marorons backstage)

six Sebas has photography duty. He's enjoying this. Very. Much. He knows exactly how to pose Napoleon for max キュン points. That angle that requires him to hover above the coffin, above Napoleon? Heart-pounding and insane. He doesn't know if he's mentally cataloguing the way the light bounces off Napoleon's lips for posterity or for himself or both or―

But while he issues his instructions (and occasionally administers them himself) with pure professionalism, he's definitely six seconds away from stroking-out at any given moment. I most certainly thought I was used to Napoleon's exposed chest by now, he scribbles into his diary while biting his other fist.

seven Okay, the roses are really irritating Napoleon's backside now. Maybe if he reduces the amount of surface area he exposes to them… Nope, it's even worse when he's on his side. Now he's partially smothered in roses. Sebastian tells him to get up. He can't. He's stuck. Fuck.

eight When is this photoshoot supposed to end again? Exuding sex-appeal is usually somewhat of a default state for him, but if he has to consciously think about it then he's at a complete loss. He prefers loss when its him getting lost in seducing you. When he gets to the state of mind where he doesn't even see it as seduction, but a serenading with his entire being, that's the kind of domestic bliss that he'd gladly surrender himself to over and over again.

nine When you finally come back from shopping, Napoleon finds himself struck by just how lovely you look struggling to hold what looks like a thousand roses in your arms. Before he can stop himself, he's climbing up out of the coffin and taking you in his arms for a whirlwind kiss. The roses fall to your feet as he bends you backwards. The lighting is perfect.

ten Sebastian enthusiastically uses up the rest of the roll trying to capture one of the top ten most beautiful sights he has ever seen. Unfortunately this means that the sight of Leonardo using a trampoline when he thought he was alone in the mansion has been bumped from the list.

✝ i s a a c

one If he's being perfectly honest with himself, you and he have engaged in far stranger activities than canoodling in a coffin bursting with roses. As well he feels it's terribly exploitative of Comte to be throwing you in here with him. What if he suddenly gets hungry and the lid closes on you both? That blood would be on Isaac's hands, but definitely also Comte (and Leonardo?)'s.

They prepared a full, 3 by 1 meter table of sandwiches for breaks? Sandwiches made by you? Oh his sweet little British heart is positively over the celestial orb known as the moon. Now he wants to bite you from the unbearable happiness alone.

two The question on the back of his mind (and occasionally slipped out between his breathlessly-kissing lips) is where did this coffin materialize from?

Was there a dead person in here before? (Because that certainly well changes things!)

This quantity of roses must have been expensive to procure: is Comte okay?

Is he really hearing Dazai's whimsical laughter from the nearby darkness or has he just been conditioned to hear it forever and ever and ever?

Does it bother you that his feet don't reach the bottom of the coffin because he's so short? (You assure him that is hardly the case while feeding sandwiches into his blushing mouth-hole)

three Unlike Napoleon above, Isaac is extremely familiar with modern 19th-century cameras. In fact he's the one who built the one being used for the photoshoot. He'd not an inkling at the time that it would be purposed for such frivolous activity, but he supposes that he doesn't mind so long as the camera is returned to him without issue. He needs it so he can upgrade it to a model that can capture the stars and your heavenly body. By the Gods did he just say that last part out loud.

four

By the Gods, Dazai is the photographer.

Isaac doesn't need to dig through to the bottom of the coffin to know what the entire flooring is layered with.

"I hate you," Isaac mouths to him as you dab sandwich-residue from his expression twisted in rage.

Dazai clicks the shutter with glee. "Did you know that every single one of your students ordered a copy of these bromides? I sold out within minutes."

"YOU DID WHAT?" (screamed at 126 decibels while covering your ears)

src x

five Dazai, seemingly unfazed by potential loss-of-hearing, proceeds to call you by the wrong name as he redirects you to mount Isaac while placing your hands on his bare chest.

"Now use your mouth to feed this into his mouth."

"Feed what?"

"This."

"Right, but what's 'this'?"

Dazai laughs and toggles a switch on the camera to prepare for shooting. "I'm not allowed to say the word or I risk even more hearing loss."

six Comte stops by to see how things are going. He is saddened by the gross under-utilization of the roses after he went through all that trouble to procure them from Vlad (it was actually quite easy but Vlad issued him an ominous warning about collecting interest at a later date and Faust immediately smiled really, really big).

Isaac gives Comte the wide-eyed, pleading, "help me"-stare. Comte misinterprets the stare as Isaac having accidentally soiled himself. He panics. This is why he signed up for adult-children and not children-children. "L-LEONARDOOOOOO!" he wails as he trips over a crate of forbidden fruit on his way out.

Isaac looks at you as he thumbs a breadcrumb from your lower lip and then suckles on said-thumb. "I don't know why he's getting Leonardo. Surely he could have asked Dazai to leave himself."

"What's that? You want me to join you inside the coffin?"

seven Dazai has somehow convinced Isaac to act out CPR on you in a sensual way "for his adoring fans in academia". He stops you two halfway to suggest you stop laying there like a corpse and use the roses to weave a flower crown around Isaac's head. Overall it's an incredible and aesthetic art direction, ruined only by the fact that Isaac never learned proper CPR technique, so he spends the entire time trying to suck your lips through his teeth while drumming on your chest.

Weirdly this turns you on. And when you clench your thighs around Isaac's sides, his dick does a somersault so olympic in nature that a squeal rips out of his throat.

Dazai pretends to confuse it for a hiccup and uses a pair of salad tongs to pass him a cup of forbidden fruit juice.

Isaac slaps it away, reaches up to shut the coffin door, opens it again to hang a necktie between the crack, shuts it again, and then proceeds to ravage you in the dark of roses.

eight Isaac's bromides are a hit at the university. If the students are crazy over them, the staff positively lose their marbles.

Normally this is the kind of scandalous affair an esteemed professor loses his job over. And technically Isaac does lose his job, for all of about two minutes, and in a manner unbeknownst to him, because just moments after the decision is made Dazai slips in through the window, weaves a fanciful tale about how the man pictured in the bromides is a look-a-like, and then loses half his kimono in his escape-sequence.

At least 15 different students ask Dazai when his bromides will be released (Atelier/note: methinks it will be with the Jean and Mozart rose x coffin gacha).

nine There's only a handful of people more enthused by the camera that could produce such quality photographs than in the disgraceful photographs themselves. These are the people whose company Isaac seeks out. Rather, they find him and (respectfully) hound him with questions. He is delighted to explain his plans for the next prototype and bounce ideas off his colleagues.

Yes, there are one or two vultures among this group of people, hoping to profit off Isaac's work. Isaac suspects as much and he tests them posing a question about how they would overcome a particular design challenge. They flounder for a satisfactory answer, but Isaac surprises them by asking simpler questions to help them work up to the correct answer themselves. He wants to instill in them the joy of problem-solving on your own. It's a risk, he knows, but he doesn't want to go back to living the cloistered, miserable life he had before he met you.

ten Dazai sells-out a second volume of bromides, and you wonder if Comte and Leonardo truly had something to do with this scheme, or if they're just quietly profiting off their own investments.

✝ s e b a s t i a n

one His roses are an unusual color, not seen in nature. But it's simple enough to dye white roses in preparation for the photoshoot.

You and Akihiko and Lotte spend a peaceful afternoon in the garden, taking turns feeding each other cucumber sandwiches while working on the roses at a leisurely pace. He patiently instructs you and illuminates you with his breadth of knowledge. Unlike his usual demeanor when you two are on the clock, his whispers in your ear are gentle and subtly-bladed with desire. Each petal that comes between your fingertips becomes something forbidden and decadent.

Such an idyllic sight it is from a distance that Mozart serenades you three through his open window as Comte and Leonardo fondly look on from their smoker's-only balcony. And then Shakespeare randomly skips past with a water-drenched Theo on his heel. Fun times are had by all.

two Then night falls and your nether parts are ill-prepared for just how sexy Akihiko looks laying on a bed of roses, his entire focus solely on you, trailing his gaze from your eyes down to your parted lips, further still to the pulse throbbing inside the delicate casing of your beautiful neck. You two are both keenly aware of the other's breathing as it slows together into a languid sigh between a heated, all-consuming kiss.

three "Hello, Sebastian," says Faust, presumably having come to collect Vlad's interest.

"NO!" Akihiko shouts as he closes the coffin lid on the both of you.

All you can hear in the sudden, cool dark is the rustle of petals and Akihiko's clamoring heart fighting with the storm within your own chest. But you two are safe in each other's embrace.

Faust knocks on the coffin door and his voice comes through muffled. "I'm kidding. I'm here to pick-up the old man."

"Oh!" You suddenly remember. "He's probably in the Pureblood Nursery with Leonardo!"

The atmosphere immediately changes. You and Akihiko overlap hands and push the coffin door open together.

Faust smiles down at you with shark-teeth. "Just kidding, I'm your photographer."

four "Permission to challenge fate by declining your generous offer," Akihiko replies in monotone. You don't know how your man does it, but the coffin is now somehow half a meter away from Faust. You can't make-out Faust's expression (though you can imagine the evilness that must be soaking through his skull), because Akihiko has firmly placed his body in your line-of sight.

You're just as worried as Akihiko is by this turn of events, but you're also suddenly so desperately taken by the sculpted lines of his back muscles, poking through the semi-sheer fabric of his costume shirt. It takes a moment too long for you to tear your gaze away or to avoid tracing those beautiful lines with the feathery petals of one of the roses.

To make matters worse, Akihiko happens to look over his shoulder and catch you thirsting for him.

five We'll continue this later, Akihiko mouths to you as a glint of unbridled desire passes over the eye that you can see. The rest of him is beautifully-haloed in the studio lights.

Faust drops his boot down on the edge of the coffin right in front of your face. "Is that so?" The glare of the studio lighting renders his eyes indiscernible behind his glasses.

"It IS so!" You kick Faust's boot away and then close the coffin door on you and Akihiko once more.

Once you're in the dark, you wrap your arms around him and breathe in his gentle, clean scent. The scent of a man who launders like it's his job. Because it is.

"I'm sorry―" Akihiko begins, but you cut him off with a finger to his lips. Or to his nose first, because you're behind him and you overshoot. Then you feel teeth on the pad of your finger as he gives you a love-bite. "I was told we would be having a guest photographer, but I'd have never thought in a million years that Comte would collude with that oaf."

six "This oaf is tired." Faust lays down on top of the coffin and plays with Mephie on his belly as he waits for you two to open it again. This of course is a catch-22. How can you open the coffin if he's on it, and so on. The obvious answer is if he gets off the coffin of his own volition.

Or if Mozart tackles him (Atelier's/Note: I'm going off the version of Mozart in the Ikevamp Stageplay that knows parkour and hand-to-hand-combat).

Akihiko doesn't know what's going on, exactly. He can make some assumptions based on the type of impact (definitely sounds like someone large was just suplex-ed into the catering, possibly by someone smaller in size), the shouting (lots of colorful German), the tiny screeching (he's not entirely sure they belong to Mephie), and the sudden lack of piano music. He almost doesn't want to open the lid to check, especially now that you've got your hand in his pants.

Yes, yes, whatever is going on outside the sanctuary of this coffin can wait. He rolls around, knocking his elbows against the sides of the coffin in the process and activating the human tragedy known as the funny-bone. 'Tis but a trifling matter. He presses feverish kisses into your lips and all along the side of your neck. The roses interfere more than they enhance the mood, and their scent is too synthetic after the dye-job, but he thinks of none of that. His thoughts are of you and you only.

seven Mozart rips the coffin door open, seemingly having won the scuffle with Faust somehow. His eyes widen at the sight and he quickly closes the lid and backs away, tripping over a crate of forbidden fruit that someone has carelessly left behind.

"Use a tie next time," Mozart tells Sebastian later. "Onegai, Sebas," he adds in Japanese for some reason.

Back in the present, Faust collects himself from the wreckage of the overturned catering table. A thin trickle of blood trails from his lips, a sight that some may find disastrously sexy, and so the author has chosen to include this detail. He grabs Mephie and leaves the studio, presumably to plot his revenge against the composer. Or to visit the Pureblood Nursery and fetch Vlad, because that really hadn't been a lie.

Back in the coffin, Akihiko has become all hands as he roves every curve and point on you with butler-precision. Some part of him acknowledges that the danger outside has passed, but the mood inside the coffin is far past the point of no return. This man is grateful to be alive. If only he hadn't accidentally switched diaries with Jean earlier that week, because he has so, so much to detail about the endless joy you bring him.

eight In the absence of the photographer, you end up being the one photographing Akihiko. After a shower and insistence from Comte that his mansion calendar cannot be completed otherwise.

Akihiko wouldn't have it any other way. You're the one who knows him best. He wants to be photographed the way your beautiful gaze beholds him. This is just one of countless ways you keep his heart beating.

Indeed, he doesn't take his eyes off you for a moment as you position yourself to take a photo from above. He wants to latch onto your reaching hand and pull you in all over again. But he stays his ardor and lets you fuss with his bangs, adjust his open shirt with a languid touch, and he lets your splayed palm linger on his warm chest.

Akihiko knows you want him to touch you again. Instead he smiles in a way that rivals Napoleon's cocky grin. "I'll ask you to recall that we're still on the clock."

nine Akihiko finds you in his room some time later, pouting and gloomy. At first he wonders if he's done something wrong, but when his mind comes up blank, he finally notices the developed photographs spread across his bedding.

He almost doesn't recognize himself in them.

"Don't laugh?" You hold one of the photographs up, staring at it so intently that Akihiko wonders if you aren't into mixophilia. "I know how it sounds, but I want to keep all of these to myself. I don't want to share them with a soul. They're too sexy!"

This is prime-opportunity for a flick to the forehead.

Instead, Akihiko sits down beside you and pulls you into a hug. He brings his lips to your ear and flicks the top with his tongue. "How sexy exactly?" He pulls you tighter the more you writhe.

"So sexy that I could…"

"Mhmm?" He doesn't want to embarrass you quite yet by pulling away to see the look on your face. He contents himself for the time-being with tracing the lines of your back. A vivid memory jumps to mind, from the day of the photoshoot, when he happened to catch the way the studio lights accentuated the shape of your lovely back. He'd stopped himself then. He's not so sure he can stop himself now.

ten Akihiko's photos are a hit with the residents. Leonardo wants multiple copies. Comte orders one more than Leonardo for weird rivalry reasons. Isaac wonders how Dazai has managed to turn Comte's own idea into a profitable business for himself.

Jean, however, is frowning as he looks the photos over. "Does nobody else see it?"

Arthur peeks over his shoulder. "See what?"

"The demon."

Vincent laughs awkwardly. "Wh… what do you mean by demon?"

Jean places each photo on the dining table and then goes through them sequentially, pointing to one spot each time. The top-left corner of the coffin on this one, the bottom-right on that one. It goes on and on.

Comte frowns. "This is disturbing."

Akihiko sighs in defeat. "It is. Mephie photo-bombed every single one." Then he pauses and casts you a meaningful smile. "Looks like we need to revisit the coffin again."

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp napoleon #ikevamp isaac #ikevamp sebastian #ikevamp dazai #ikevamp faust #ikevamp comte #ikevamp mozart #vhcuteot #atelier writes ikeseries #atelier basement #ikevamp mephie

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shini--chan · 3 years ago

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How would the 2p face react when on the way home, there keys falling down In front of the door they get them and centimeters before there heads a laundry Maschine was landing there, when they shockingly look up they see the reader on the balcony standing also shocked. (because she tried to kill them) She be like "How did that happend? What did you do?," sweats and nervous smile.

Before we begin with today’s menu, I have to vent. Generally, I am a rather optimistic person despite all the dark stuff I read and write. Yet there are some instances that make me lose my faith in humanity. Namely, when some people can’t get in their heads that this is a damn yandere writing blog and not a fluff circus.

I mean, seriously? I write about sexual harassment, verbal & physical abuse and co., kidnapping, manipulation, the reader having children forced on them and having their dress code controlled… and some people say they noticed people asking for “an affectionate s/o” and they want a “tough s/o pretending not to love xyz”.

Really? Is it that I’m not writing the characters yandere enough or has Hollywood romanticised abuse to the point where people think it is cute to be gaslight? Or so romantic to be coerced into a relationship? Looking at films like “The Notebook”, I really think it is Hollywood.

Warning: torture

Yandere 2p!FACE – Condemnation

America

“Feel sorry now, dolly?”, Allen asked tauntingly, and gently knocked on the wash machine. A dulled bang was what followed, probably from you slamming your hands against the metal insides.

“Fuck you!”, you cursed, and it was clear from the cadence of your voice that you were very upset. Why wouldn’t you be. Yet the whole scene didn’t pull at his heart strings one bit. After all, you had brought this one yourself. Relationships were supposed to be reciprocal, as he had stated often enough, so this turnout was just fair play.

“We can gladly do so latter, babe. Do ya think if I go a bit hard on ya, I can finally drive the point home?”, he asked taunting. A few muffled sobs could be heard from inside your make-shift prison, along with a few dozen expletives that would make even a prostitute blush. He had taught you well in a sense. Just not how to behave, but he was working on that.

To say that Allen wouldn’t take the whole fiasco of you dropping a wash machine on him would be an understatement. He would be so very furious and wouldn’t shy away from displaying it. Punishments would ensue, because he is of the opinion that relationships should be mutual.

While he is a big advocate for rebellion against unjust authorities, he would nevertheless prefer to do the rebelling and not be the one being rebelled against. As such, he can’t simply turn a blind eye to the obvious coup.

Canada

Your arms burned as you continued to rub the wet shirt against the washing board. It had already been over an hour since you had started to do this, and you had only worked your way through half the pile of laundry.

The sun was burning down on you, and your muscles were numb where they weren’t on fire. Sweat run down the sides of your face and the back of your neck. Discreetly, you glanced over your shoulder at him. James was seated in a garden chair directly behind you, staring off into the surrounding woods. A pair of headphones covered his ears as he listened to an audiobook. In other words, his attention wasn’t on you.

You took the opportunity to throw your head back and take a few deep breaths of air, allowing your arms to rest. If had known this would be the consequence of trying murder your captor with a washing machine, you wouldn’t have even dared touch the contraption.

A well-aimed kick in the back made you lurch forward, and you let out a low groan as sharp pain spread up your spin. Come tomorrow, you would certainly be black and blue.

“Hey! I didn’t say you were allowed to stop. Carry on and do the washing. By your pace, you’ll only be finished well after sun down. Nights get cold around these parts.”

James would opt for killing two birds with one stone. Firstly, you would need to be punished for your actions. Secondly, he’d have neither the mood nor the motivation to drive to town to buy a new one. Which would mean that you would have to do the washing the old-fashion way. You would have really brought this on yourself, and he wouldn’t fail to constantly remind you of that.

England

Oliver hummed a merry little ditty as he surveyed his selection of tools. The older ones were still of wrought iron, with ornate handles and Latin inscriptions. Some were from the time of the Industrial Revolution, stainless steel that was more of the minimalistic style. The newer additions were rubber pipes and carbonfiber rods. All for the purpose of causing pain.

Softly letting his fingers ghost over the instruments of torture, he then turned to you. You were strapped to a table, goosebumps all over your skin due to the chill of the cellar and being strapped to a metal operating table in just your underwear. It could just as well be the fear that was making your blood turn into liquid nitrogen.

Deftly, he selected on ancient device and walked over to you. He appeared in your visual field, a manic smile gracing his face. After all, the dark, twisted part of him revelled in the fact that he had an excuse to scare the living daylights after you.

“So poppet. What shall it be? Shall it be the pear”, he chirped, holding the object up so that the light glinted off it. Demonstrativly he twisted the handle so that the leaves squeaked open. Fear shone in your eyes, and you struggle against your restraints. You screamed against your gag.

He chuckled to himself. One things that stood that he would never really use it on you. After all, he couldn’t afford to break bones that wouldn’t heal probably. Yet shocking you and installing fear in you was the whole aim of the game.

Oliver’s reaction would be the most extreme reaction of all the 2ps on this list. The moment the machine would land next to him would be the moment he would start planning various methods of torturing you. It would be an occasion to really intimidate you, to show you what the consequences of really defying him would be.

France

“You know, this is just further proof that humanity is lost and rotten”, waxed beside you. It was well past twilight, and the only source of light was the silver rays of the moon falling through the open curtains. And there also was the lit end of his cigarette, but that didn’t really count.

A puff of smoke rose from his lips. “I had put such faith in you, and yet you tried to murder me. Tell me, am I condemned to be surrounded by thief and traitors and pest?”, he mused, as if he were some great philosopher. If he was one, then he certainly wasn’t one worth listening to. Heck, you were only there because you had been rendered motionless and speechless by your restraints.

Raising his hand, your abuser then put out his cigarette on your arm, resulting in a burning sensation that made you scream against your gag.

François would see your actions as a confirmation of his cynical believes that the world is rundown, and man is just another monster. Not just that, but a greater monster than those that lurk under beds and in closets and in abandoned buildings. He simply wouldn’t have expected to find such depravity in you, the person he adored. Since he would know his sphere of influence is small, he wouldn’t roll up his sleeves in order to change the world. Instead, he would set to work to “purify” you.

#yandere hetalia x reader #yandere hetalia #yandere 2p hetalia #yandere 2p america #yandere 2p england #yandere 2p france #yandere 2p canada

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wakatvshi · 4 years ago

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Hey! I saw that you receive requests so.. I would love some marley warriors + jean (because i love him) with an s/o who's really.. Touchy, please? Could be headcanons or imagines🥺 thank you so so much! 😭

Yeah! I would love to! They’re kind of rambling but I hope you like them and that this is what you wanted! I didn’t do Annie because I just couldn’t really figure out what to write about her but if you really want her send a seperate message and I’ll give you annie with a touchy s/o!

Heads up though I’ve never written or read for Zeke before because he’s not personally a favorite so I hope he’s okay in this!

JEAN KIRSTEIN ══▸

Jean would LOVE a touchy s/o. He’s a very touchy person himself so having someone who’s as touchy as he is would make him so happy.

When the two of you are alone he’s all about touching you and always wants to be touching you. When you’re working on something and he can’t be touching you all the time he’ll sit next to you or as close to you as he can be and just be near you. Which helps you both because you’re a touchy person.

Something both of you love is when you��re sitting in his lap, just doing whatever you’ve been doing. He’ll walk in and you’ll give grabby hands and want to be held and he’ll want to hold you. Doesn’t matter what gender/size anything he wants to have you in his lap and it makes him happy.

In public, he’s more shy about touching because he’s actually a huge baby and his ‘flirty’ persona that some people think he has is 100% real. He wants to act like he’s smooth but he’s not. He’ll hold your hand and walk with you in public but anything more it’s not going to be him initiating it.

If you’re with him in public and you want more affection than holding hands then you’ll have to do it and he will turn bright red and stutter if he’s supposed to be talking. It’s adorable and he’s so happy even if he’s bright red.

Another one of his favorite things is you playing with his hair, it turns into a big puddle when you play with his hair and when you compliment him in basically anyway.

If any of his friends catch him being super cute or you being cute with him (aka Sasha and Connie) they’ll laugh and tease him and he’ll get defensive but doesn’t actually mind it. Even if he did you’d just hug him from behind or wrap your arms around him and he’s glaring at them but also super focused on the attention he’s now getting.

Sleeping with Jean is basically a cuddle fest as well, thankfully for you he’s touchy as well so when you both wake up tangled in each other neither of you really mind it.

BERTHOLDT HOOVER ══▸

Bertholdt with a touchy s/o would be so good for him but also something that he has to get used to.

Eventually he finds out that he loves it but at first he doesn’t expect it. He’s very shy and stand-offish even if he doesn’t mean to be. So any physical affection for the most part will have to be done by you. Even years into your relationship you’ll have to be the one who makes the moves.

The first time you initiate any kind of touch he goes bright red and has no idea how to react. Outside he’s frozen and staring at you, sweating a little. Inside of course he’s beyond happy and he wants nothing more than to move and do the same, he wants to hold onto you too. He wants to touch you and be affectionate but he doesn’t know how. It isn’t until you try to move away that he finally acts and grabs your hand.

Even years into your relationship most of the affection will be initiated by you so it is a good thing that you’re not afraid to be the one who reaches out for him. It also brings him out of his shell quite a bit.

When the two of you are alone he loves the affection you give him. He doesn’t know how to ask for the affection he wants but he does give small signals and you know him well enough to reach out and grab his hands or crawl in his lap.

PDA is a no go for him completely, he’s obviously a shy person and being super affectionate is outside of his comfort zone as it is so adding anything else would just be far outside his comfort zone

I also do feel like physical affection is his love language so him having the freedom to act on that and having someone who wants that affection like he does would make him so happy.

Sleeping with Bertholdt is always a fun experience. You might start holding into him or him holding onto you but you’ll end up in a dozen different positions before you wake up.You’ve got no real say in how you sleep when you’re with him.

REINER BRAUN ══▸

Literally a teddy bear and would LOVE to have an affectionate s/o. Needs an affectionate s/o.

Reiner feels unlovable, he feels worthless and he is very depressed and I’m by no means saying you can fix him or fix anyone like that, but affection is everything to this man even if he doesn’t think he deserves it.

You’ll have to be the one to make the first move for the first time but as soon as he realizes how much you do love affection he’ll be happy to initiate as well. Sometimes he’ll surprise you by being the one to reach out and hold you first.

Obviously you love that, you’ll just be doing something and possibly not even paying attention to him and Reiner will be the one to walk up and wrap his arms around you and just stand there.

To him affection is proof of love and comfort that he desperately needs. It would take him a little to get used to at first im sure, he’s not used to it like his mother isn’t very affectionate but he craves it.

With Reiner it’s easy to be touchy. Even in public he doesn’t mind, he’s more in awe of the fact that you want to be seen with him and want to give affection.

He’s not super huge on over the top PDA but he does love holding your hand or kissing your cheek. Also piggy back rides, I can see him being a fan of that because it’s touch and that’s what he loves and craves.

Sharing a bed with Reiner is always the two of you tangled in each other. He likes to be the big spoon and likes to hold you but he’s 100% okay with you holding him, sometimes he even prefers that.

Reiner needs to feel loved and affection is the best way to do that in his mind. So being touchy would be perfect.

PORCO GALLIARD ══▸

To me Porco is literally the embodiment of “disgusting. do it again.”

Now not because he’s not a fan of affection but he has this cool guy persona that he puts on around people. He wants people to see him as the tough guy when it’s only half true. You can see it with the kids that he’s actually a super affectionate guy.

Porco needs validation and having an s/o who’s super touchy would give him that. When you’re touching him he feels like he’s number one. He’s your main focus and it means the world to him. Of course he’d never tell you that.

You’ll have to be able to read him a little to be able to tell when he wants something because he’s stubborn and sometimes it takes a lot for him to ask you for something if he’s not sure how.

Now if he’s just in the mood to be affectionate himself he’s good with just holding you or grabbing your hand. He’s also big in kissing, he loves kissing but usually he tries to make it more suggestive or almost casual.

For just cuteness you’ll have to be the one who holds his face and kisses him or who just holds his hand or hugs him. He has to lean the importance of cute nonsexual affection.

PDA to him makes him blush a little also super proud that you’re the one on his arm and he wants to show you off and loves that you want to show him off. Being the “most important” to you is important to him.

When Porco sleeps he’ll sleep holding you for a few minutes but he’s not one who likes to hold onto someone when he sleeps. Biggest surprise when sleeping with him is that Porco LOVES to be the little spoon. He’ll deny it with his dying breath but he adores it.

Also random cutsey headcanon for Porco that will never leave my head is that Porco loves when you baby talk to him. I have no reason for this hc but I just feel like he would love it.

PIECK FINGER ══▸

A queen of physical affection honestly. Lives for it and lives to give it.

She’s in her titan form a lot and when she’s finally out of it she has trouble walking on two legs so you being there for her to lean on when she’s not walking with her crutch and just actually physically supporting her would mean the world to her.

She also likes that you want to be affectionate with her after being in her titan form for so long. she wants to be held and wants her hair played with. If you let her just lay in your lap and play with her hair or hold her hand she’ll be the happiest woman in the world.

A lot of your affectionate time is spent with you both laying or sitting somewhere together. If you’re giving her attention or letting her give attention she’s loving it.

Another thing she loves is walking around with you, she doesn’t shy away from PDA. If you’re together and if you want to kiss her cheek or something she’s more than happy about it. She’ll laugh softly and get the faintest of pink on her cheeks

She does have to make sure that she’s professional about it because she is a warrior and has to keep up her professional persona.

Of course, you’ll have people who are beyond jealous watching her with you and honestly she thinks it’s kinda cute that people are jealous because to her it doesn’t make sense.

Sleeping with Pieck is just cuddle city for both of you. She likes to be hold and be held and you’re happy to do both as well. There’s nothing either of you like better than the intimacy and connection that the two of you have laying there and holding each other.

ZEKE YEAGER ══▸

This man takes a while to get used to physical affection. He’s not really had affection before so you’ll have to work at it.

When he was younger he didn’t have much affection, we know that grandfather spends a great amount of time in the hospital for mental issues and we saw from how they raised Grisha that they’re not super affectionate.

His life has mostly been spent working towards his goals and trying to do what he could to make sure he could complete the goals. So he’s not really put much attention to romantic relationships.

Having you be super affectionate would for sure throw him off a bit but he’s good at hiding that. I do think once he was used to it, he’d just lean into your touches and want to stay there.

He doesn’t like PDA at all, he’s the captian of the warriors and he’s respected even by some of the people of Marley. So it is hands off in public. He will walk close to you though, if your arms are brushing and you’re close to him he is happy.

Alone though he does love affection. You playing with his hair is a good one but what he really loves is getting massages from you. He works hard and if you’ll just stand behind him rubbing his shoulders and kissing the top of his head he’s the happiest man ever.

When you’re sleeping Zeke is 100% big spoon. He wants to hold you, if you want he’ll let you hold him but he’s most comfortable when he’s able to hold you. That’s when he shows his real affectionate side. He wants you close to him, and he loves holding you. He feels like he can rest when you’re in his arms.

#jean kirstein x reader #reiner braun x reader #zeke yeager x reader #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #porco galliard x reader #pieck finger x reader #bertholdt hoover x reader #bertolt hoover x reader #attack on titan imagine #aot imagines #aot imagine #attack on titan x you #my writing #headcanons

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thecursedhellblazer · 2 years ago

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DEAN WINCHESTER - lostxndbroken

It’s been a long while since he walked into a crime scene with a partner. The last one was with his brother. For a quick moment, Dean felt a deep pull and the need to call Sam and make things right and go hunting together like the good old times. Though, this time there wasn’t any making things right. Too much shit happened between the brothers and Dean couldn’t trust him anymore. He tried many times, but there simply wasn’t a way to fix the vase that had shattered too much than he could count. The glue wouldn’t stick anymore, and it fell apart faster and faster.

“You sound like a pain in many asses,” he responded as they entered the home to reveal a horrid mess.

Dean was too focused to notice the magic that John used to do, God knows what. For a moment he wondered if this was one of Crowley’s hell hounds, but as far as he knew, they weren’t as big as the marks this one left. Crowley, another prick that screwed him over a dozen too many times, but to be honest, he screwed him over just as much in return, if not more.

He ran over a couple of books that lied scattered around, some encyclopedias about nothing related to what he and John were getting into, some non-fiction trash and biographies. “Biographies,” he huffed as he said softly while scanning around. Who’s life could be interesting enough to be written into a fucking book? Then he paused, remembering that Tucker had basically written his life word for damn fucking word.

“Good intentions? If you had any, you would’ve told me your name when I told you mine.” He looked at him for a bit, glaring at him and his lips in a thin line that showed some of his frustration.

“John Constantine? I’ve heard of you a lot and none of them good. Who am I to judge though…” Dean shrugged. “Brought the end of the world on humanity a few times too many,” he said, muttering.

Dean kicked against a few broken objects lying on the floor. He couldn’t spot anything that could show which hound and demon caused this. All he knew was that a deal making demon was off the deep end and were cheating their way for early reaping. “Found anything that could lead us to this fucker?”

John snorted out a laugh at Dean’s comment, his amusement completely genuine this time. The hunter had no idea of how right he was to assume that he was a thorn in many people’s side. And not just people. He was probably the human who had pissed off the highest number of supernatural creatures in the history of Earth.

The hilarity turned slightly bitter towards the end, even if just subtly. The few people who were aware of most of his troubles had often asked him why in hell and every other real he kept getting himself into that sort of situations. His usual reply was a joke about how he enjoyed “living dangerously”, followed by a smooth change of subject. The truth was much darker, and something the occultist preferred not to think about.

Chasing away those thoughts, the Brit moved to join Dean near the bookcase, lips pursing as he scanned the titles, searching for anything that looked out of place among the boringly normal collection.

Or, well, normal if you didn’t consider that half of it was shredded and covered in blood.

“Aye, not me favourite kind o’ readin’ either,” he commented, kicking the remains of what had once been an epistolary. “Me life’s got enough shite, I dun need to know ‘bout someone else’s struggles. Th’ only t’in’ I read dese days tha’ ain’t fables ‘s th’ bloody paper.”

That was how most people in the Life found new cases and he was no exception, even if he also relied on a lot of much more unorthodox sources.

The occultist shot the hunter a glare as his “good intentions” were questioned and then let out a huff. “Well, yeh alive, uninjured n’ breathin’, ain’t yeh? Tha’s proof of me intentions enough. N’ yeh should know, since yeh ‘eard o’ me. I dun gots th’ best reputation among yeh lot.”

Understatement of the century.

“Nay, not yet. But there gots to be somet’in’. Dis poor sod made a deal wit’ tha’ ‘ellish basket, so he got somet’in’ outta it. Even if jus’ for a wee while.”

He glanced around the room once more. The place was nice, but not enough to scream ‘billions’, so it wasn’t money. And he hadn’t seen any award that could have indicated than the victim had suddenly gained some particular talent.

“Do yeh think he gots a safe? I bet tha’, if we can find it, our clue might be in there. Can ne’er go wrong wit’ th’ classics.”

#* Blokes like me? We cheat. * ::ic::#* I walk my path alone * ::threads::#* Lost Souls and Broken Deals * ::thread::#v. My Demons know how to Swim #lostxndbroken #(( relax and work flows just fine. ::queue:: ))

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lcksndkys · 4 years ago

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Pairing: hobi x reader

Rating: NSFW

Genre: dancer!hobi x bff reader

Word count: ~4.1k

Warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex on a kitchen counter (bffs who trust each other, but still should wrap it before you tap it!!), brief masterbation, nipple play (cus duh, it’s me)

A/N: When I wrote Permission, I thought I’d leave it semi open ended, but there were a few people who wanted some closure ( @btsarmy9593 @junghelioseok ) and I was happy to continue this story!! S/o to my people @jinpanman and @wwilloww for the song recs and the figurative pom poms!! If you liked it, feel free to talk to me about it!!

01, 02

The next few days had passed without word- carrier pigeon, smoke signal, or otherwise- from Hoseok.

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’d admit that it appears neither of you are willing to revisit the events that had transpired in the small studio any time soon. You still can’t believe Hoseok kissed you as part of his audition routine. A year spent romanticizing what it would be like, and he ruined it so recklessly.

You had heard from Seokjin, a mutual friend, that Hoseok nailed his audition and was offered a job at The Pied Piper. Bitterly, you wonder who he locked lips with during his routine, and immediately banish the thought from your mind.

According to your sources (read: Jin), Hoseok has been rehearsing choreography with the rest of the cast over the last few weeks. Part of you knows that he’s busy, and the other part wonders if he’s just using his busy schedule as a means to avoid you.

Either way, it doesn’t stop you from missing him. Conversations have been short with Hoseok replying with one worded responses and no attempts to keep conversation flowing.

Logically, you know that you could confront him. Half of you is dying to, but the petty side of you refuses to cave first.

You’ve spent the past few weeks burying yourself in work and chores. You almost forget the feeling of his body grinding against you, his hand wrapped around your neck, his lips on yours.

Your skin prickles at the memory.

I wasn’t talking about you.

What was that supposed to mean? Who was he talking about?

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you refuse to believe what Hoseok was possibly implying. Because if his affections were surface level, it would crush you.

You dive back into your work, taking on as many projects as possible to keep from dwelling on thoughts of Hoseok.

At work the following morning, your phone vibrates with a notification breaking you from your muddled thoughts.

You feel around your desk for your phone tapping the screen to see that Jin has texted you.

[11:21am] WWH: it’s friyay.

[11:22am] WWH: We’re goin to The Pied Piper tonight!! Pick you up at 9 ;)

Groaning, you discreetly check your periphery noting that your colleagues appear to be too absorbed in their work to watch you try to decline a very insistent friend.

[11:24am] You: No, Jin… I don’t really feel well :(

Several minutes pass with no further pleading from Jin, but then your phone buzzes again.

[11:34am] Yoongi: If you don’t come to Hoseok’s opening night, he’ll be crushed.

[11:39am] Yoongi: Come with us. Please

You sigh. It’s not often that Yoongi begs, but you know he’s right. Although things between you and Hoseok have been tense lately, you know you can’t miss the opportunity to support your best friend.

[11:41am] You: Fine.

[11:42am] Yoongi: Atta girl

The Pied Piper isn’t what you thought it would be. It’s less of a strip club and more of a small concert venue with tables and booths of various sizes surrounding a raised stage. You let Jin lead you towards your seats with Yoongi following close behind.

To your dismay, the small table you arrive at is frighteningly close to the front row where you’re sure Hoseok could see you.

Taking your seat flanked by your two friends, you cross your legs in the attempt to tamp down the nervous bouncing of your foot.

To your right, Yoongi places a calming hand on your knee to stop your fidgeting.

“It’s just Hoseok,” he reminds you. His knowing eyes stare deep into yours.

You take a deep breath and let Yoongi’s words soothe you.

On your left, Jin is trying to talk over you to Yoongi about checking out the strippers on the other side of The Pied Piper after the show.

Just after 9:30pm, the lights begin to dim, setting your nerves alight.

Soft music starts as a dozen or so men saunter through the crowd to take the stage.

You feel the swoosh of air behind you as one of the dancers passes by the back of your seat. Coming around to the front of your table, you’re mesmerized by the fluid way his body moves. Blond hair slicked back, he dances in front of your table for the remainder of the song and sends you a flirty wink.

Mesmerized by him, you watch as he spreads his legs in a deep squat, arms crossed over his chest as he thrusts his hips to the beat. At the end of the song, he blows you a kiss with his full lips, turning to focus his attention to a different table of patrons.

You feel a pointy elbow nudge against your side and you turn sharply to your left to see Jin’s smug smile as he waggles his eyebrows suggestively at you.

Rolling your eyes, you focus back on the show.

The men have gathered around on stage as the intro song fades. Once in formation, another song starts up. More upbeat, the men break out into the next part of the choreography, each following the routine to complement his own style.

Some have started unbuttoning their shirts to show more skin.

Your eyes dart around, stalling on a particularly handsome dancer as he rakes back his long, dark hair with a heavily tattooed hand while swaying his hips to the music. Slowly unbuttoning his black shirt and swaying his hips and thick thighs, he flashes his doe eyes and muscles to the crowd, looking equal parts boyish and lethal.

Your gaze follows his powerful body as he moves across stage, undressing his upper body to reveal the smooth, inked planes of his torso. He throws his shirt somewhere behind the audience (probably for staff to pick up) and you watch him until he passes by a familiar figure.

Dressed in a white button down with sleeves rolled up his forearms, Hoseok catches your eyes with his dancing. Your breath stutters in your chest, skin heating in memory of his hips grinding against yours.

Trying to focus on a different dancer, you settle on watching Blondie while he drops to his hands and knees humping the floor slowly and sensually to the beat of the song. You remember this move when Hoseok performed his audition piece for you, and you can’t help but recall the way desire had pooled deep and hot in your belly. Watching this beautiful man dance tonight, while pleasing, does not move your heart.

As the night progresses, the dancers move seamlessly through the choreography jumping from one routine to the next. Most of the dancers are now topless, in nothing but fitted jeans with underwear bands peeking up over their beltlines.

You try to keep your eyes off Hoseok.

Try.

Until the group breaks formation to disperse into the audience for a more close up look at their, ahem, dancing skills. Hoots and hollers fill the air as the men spread out and start giving lap dances to their audience.

At your left, Jin cackles loudly at the sight of Tattoos straddling a middle aged woman against her chair. His prominent front teeth are on display as he smiles at her, leaning down to whisper in her ear over the booming music. Seconds later, you see her nod her consent enthusiastically while he presses her hands against his rippling pectorals.

Hoseok has been watching you watch Tattoos with a frown.

Distracted, you don’t see him rapidly approach your table until he stands before you. Of course Jin bought tickets in Hoseok’s section.

You tense up and think about running, but Yoongi’s calming hand briefly returns to your knee, encouraging you to stay. It’s just Hoseok, you remind yourself.

In front of your table, Hoseok locks eyes with you, slowly starting to undress his upper body. Leaving his shirt open, he pushes his sleeves further up his elbows revealing his sinewy forearms.

Although the room is dark, you can feel the flush of blood creep up your neck and face at Hobi’s intense stare. You swallow down a whimper as he grips the back of your chair and spreads his thighs wide over yours, hovering several inches over you. There’s no contact between his body and yours, yet you can feel his warmth.

“May I give you a dance?” he asks huskily into your ear.

You shiver at the contact as your body betrays you. Feeling your nod of consent, Hoseok grins and slowly drops his weight onto your lap.

Bare witness to my evolution

Violent moans, untamed contusions

We’re not really here it’s all Illusions

Vaguely you hear and feel Jin howling in delight at the sight unfolding next to him.

Holding you close, Hoseok pulls your hands off your lap to wrap around his waist while he grinds his hips against you. He tucks his face into your neck, dragging his perfectly sloped nose against the sensitive skin there. At this distance, you can’t see his face and pray that he can’t feel the bounding of your pulse.

You grab me there your fingers sink

We breathe, we tense, no time to think

I take you 'til you’re on the brink

Then we dive off the edge in sync

Sliding up and down your body, Hoseok encourages your hands to wander across his hips and lower back.

You bite your lip and allow your fingers to ghost their way under his open shirt, up along the ridges of his ribs and down to his ass, feeling the way the muscle contracts as he moves against you.

Make love, fuck

Lick me up

Petals, pluck

Drive me, clutch

You feel the rumbling in his chest as your wandering hands explore his body.

Hoseok eagerly rolls his hips against yours to the beat of the song. Goosebumps litter your neck as he pants into your ear.

What’s your pleasure, what’s my name?

Blend and merge until we’re same

Nothing much of us remains

As the song winds down, Hoseok pulls back from you to stare into your eyes. He gently removes your hand from his waistline and presses your palm into his chest- left of center- over his thrumming heart.

Your breath catches in your throat at the look he gives you. Hand still trapped against his chest, all you can focus on is the pounding underneath your fingertips and the burning in his hooded eyes.

In this moment, there’s no strip club, no Jin or Yoongi, no audience or dancers. Everything fades away and it’s just you and Hoseok.

Until the song changes yet again and Hoseok dismounts from you without a second glance, swiftly moving on to the bachelorette party next to you.

You can still feel the heat of his body as you watch Hoseok dance around them, hips thrusting wildly as he artfully maneuvers his body to the bass. He smiles at the blushing bride-to-be and her entourage.

Hoseok picks up her hand as if to inspect her engagement ring before pressing a kiss to her knuckles with a wink. He’s clearly flirting with her, but with the noise of the club, there’s no way to tell what he’s saying.

Teeth clenched tight, you remind yourself you have no right to be jealous.

Your gut wrenches at the sight of him wrapped around another woman as his body undulates against her. He backs off slightly only to pick up her legs, spreading them to wind around his waist to better grind against her. Peals of laughter ring out higher than the music. An unpleasant weight settles deep in your stomach as you watch Hoseok basically dry hump her.

There’s a brief lull in the song, barely long enough for Yoongi to hear the pained gasp that leaves your lips when he moves on to one of her friends.

The comforting hand on your arm prompts you to drag your watering eyes off Hoseok. You meet Yoongi’s furrowed brow.

“Wait. Do you- ” he looks from you to Hoseok, and back again. His eyes widen as he rapidly deduces the reason for your sudden mood.

You quickly glance at Jin who is still busy watching Hoseok entertain the table of bachelorettes.

Biting your lip to hold in your sniffling, you nod once up and down in quiet confirmation.

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

Instead of relief, it feels like your chest caves to the pressure of admitting your feelings. It was easy to lie to yourself, but you don’t think you keep up the act now that Yoongi knows.

Suddenly the club becomes unbearably stuffy.

You lean over to Jin, raising your voice over the music. “I’m gonna go get some air,” you shout and quickly make a beeline for the exit.

With your back turned, you don’t see the pair of longing eyes follow your figure as you leave.

Outside, the air is crisp as it nips at your exposed skin. You take a few deep breaths letting the sharp air soothe the ache in your heart. Deciding you can’t stay and watch the rest of the show, you sent a text to Jin and Yoongi to let them know you’ve called an Uber to go home.

Freshly showered and lying in bed, you browse through your work emails to keep your mind busy. You’re determined to fall asleep without the memory of Hoseok grinding against random women tonight.

As the minutes tick by, your eyes grow heavy with sleep and you roll over to put your phone on your bedside table.

Thump, thump. Thump. A firm fist pounds on your door insistently, ridding you of any drowsiness as adrenaline floods your system.

Tapping your phone, you see it’s much too late for any decent social visits. There are no missed notifications; nothing to suggest you may have a visitor tonight.

At your hesitance, the rapping continues more adamantly.

You cautiously approach the front door and peer through the peephole.

Hoseok.

Relief washes over you, followed closely by frustration. Weeks of near-silence and he shows up unannounced at your door at 2am??

Throwing open your door, you’re ready to send him away.

The words die on your tongue at the sight before you. Eyes downcast, hair messy.

“I know it’s late, but can I stay?” he asks quietly.

Your heart lurches in your chest as you swing the door wider and step aside to allow him entry. From the smell of his lightly floral shampoo you can tell he must’ve showered after the show.

Your eyebrows raise in alarm when you note a slight wobble in his gait as he makes his way to your kitchen. He's clearly been drinking.

He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a cup of water. Taking a small sip, he nervously passes the glass back and forth between his hands.

“I- uh- I went out with Yoongi-hyung and Jin-hyung after the show,” he explains.

Arms folded over your chest, you nod in understanding.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks. “I’ve been an ass.”

There’s a tense moment as you both regard each other.

“Yeah it fucking sucks to have your best friend ignore your existence for weeks at a time” you retort.

He flinches at your harsh tone. “I just… I didn’t know how to be around you after… that.”

“After what? Your audition? Hobi, I don’t care that you want to dance in a strip show!” you lie easily through your teeth.

“It’s not the dancing,” he pauses to take a deep breath, steeling himself. “I meant… the kiss”

His adam’s apple bobs as he breaches the topic. “It wasn’t part of my audition routine. I kissed you because I wanted to. I want more” he whispers.

Eyes rounded in surprise, your mind is both loud and silent at the same time, short circuiting at his confession.

“And you kissed me back, but like, it didn’t seem like you were that into it and I just- I let you think it was part of the routine” he babbles on.

“But- “

“I like you- really like you” he says earnestly. Fingers wrap tightly around his water, cutting to the chase.

“I had no idea,” you insist.

“I literally told you how I feel back when I practiced my audition piece for you”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t clear.” you bite back.

“My kissing you wasn’t clear enough?” he shoots back with a quirked brow.

You sputter. “I really thought it was part of your audition!” you exclaim.

“Forgive me for being old-fashioned, but I don’t often kiss women I’m not interested in,” he says, setting down his glass to take a few steps closer to you.

Your head spins. “So, you’re still interested?”

“How many times do I have to tell you I’m into you before you get it?”

“Maybe one more time” you grin up at him suggestively.

Hands hovering over your waist, he smiles as he leans in, nose gently grazing yours as he breathes you in.

You tilt up chasing his lips when he suddenly pulls back.

“I need to know this isn’t just some fling for you. If we’re going to do this, it needs to be the real deal.” His eyes search yours and he must see what he’s looking for as he grins, dimples on full display.

Hand sliding up his chest and cupping his jaw, you hold him close.

“I’ve liked you for months” you confess quickly. “It’s real, trust me” you say, pulling him back into you. You slot your lips against his, eager for another taste. Suckling gently on his lower lip, you feel his chest rumble with a growl as he presses into you with ardour.

Hoseok’s hands find their way around you, feverishly mapping out your body as he allows you to mold your mouths together.

He immediately tilts his head, deepening the kiss.

Your fingers pull at his dark strands and eagerly caress his neck. You feel the way his jaw moves as his mouth opens wider to send his tongue out to press into your mouth.

His hands turn frantic, pawing at the curves he's been fantasizing about over the past couple of years.

You let him push you up against the counter top as you continue kissing, his hips pinning you in place as his hands continue to greedily rub up and down your back and sides before slowly creeping up your front.

"Can I?" he rasps, fingers staying below your ribs,waiting for your consent.

"Please. I want you to touch me, Hobi" you beg.

He growls at your enthusiasm and roughly cups your breasts. Even beneath the layers of clothing, he can feel the way your nipples pebble with desire.

Pushing his hands aside, you reach down and pull your sweater and top up and over your head exposing your bare torso to him.

“Fuck,” he grunts, hands returning to roll and pinch at your sensitive buds.

You shiver with need as he plays with your tits, enjoying the way pleasure shoots down to your cunt.

Hands leaving your breasts, he swats at your bottom. “Up,” Hoseok commands.

Obediently, you hop up onto the counter top, careful to avoid his barely touched glass of water. He spreads your thighs to slot his body against you. Legs pulling him in closer, you feel the evidence of his arousal at your center as he presses his erection against your quickly dampening panties.

His arms wrap around you bringing your chest to his face and suckles your nipple into his hot, wet mouth. Moaning, you send both hands into his hair as he continues his erotic assault on your body.

Hoseok grinds his hips against your core as he laves equally at both tits, leaving your nipples perked and shining in his saliva.

“On or over the counter,” he rasps.

“I want whatever you want,” you pant, desperate to feel him against you.

“Fuck,” he huffs. “Can I take these off? I wanna see all of you” he pleads, tugging at the waistband of your sleep shorts.

Instead of responding, you push him back a step to slowly slide off your remaining clothing and scoot back on the counter top. You part your thighs giving him the perfect view of your glistening cunt.

To entice him further, you slide a finger up and down your slick, swirling around your clit, and dipping into your sodden entrance.

“Holy shit, I want you so bad,” Hoseok groans with his eyes focused on the way you fuck yourself open with your fingers.

He allows himself a moment to enjoy the sight of you pleasuring yourself for him, studying the way you touch pussy. Having enough, Hoseok pulls your hand off yourself and wraps his lips around your digits, moaning at your taste.

“Fuck me, Hobi, I’m ready,” you whimper.

Unable to hold back any longer, he growls, pulling you down from your perch and flipping you to face the countertop. With gentle pressure against your upper back, he encourages you down to your elbows, bending you forwards to present your cunt to him.

You hiss at the feeling of cold marble against your hardened nipples.

Distracted, you don’t hear the rustling of clothing as Hoseok tears himself free, eager to feel your skin against his.

You gasp at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock sliding against your slit, bumping against your clit to send tingles of pleasure through you in waves.

“Is this ok? I’m clean,” he promises.

You trust him.

“Me too. I’ve never had anyone bare,” you moan, pushing your hips back in the attempt to slide him into you.

“You want me, baby?” he asks one last time.

“Yes, Hobi, yes, just fuck me-” you whine, cut off when he takes his first stroke into your quivering walls, going slow so you feel every inch of him.

He thrusts gently a few times into your heat until he finally bottoms out inside you.

Eager for more, you push your hips back against him to fuck yourself on his cock. “I like it rough,” you urge him.

Growling, Hoseok sets a brutal pace, desperately drilling his cock in and out of you.

You whimper in pleasure at his handling. Hoseok caresses at your back and hips and ass as if attempting to memorize the feel of your skin as he sinks into you over and over. Curling his fingers around your hips, he pulls you onto his length as he surges forwards, your breasts bouncing with the force of his trusts.

Eyes clamped shut in pleasure, you feel your legs shake with your impending release.

“Hobi, I’m getting close,” you whimper.

He grunts in approval, suddenly hoisting you up onto the counter so that your toes barely skim the floor.

You squeal in surprise. In this position with your legs dangling, you wildly grasp at the smooth marble in the attempt to hold onto something. Hoseok pounds into you and you are unable to do anything but accept the pleasure he gives you.

“Cum on my cock,” Hoseok urges. “I need to feel you cum first”

“So deep, ah- fuck! You feel so good, Hobi” you gasp as he continues to thrust into you.

Your toes curl as his pace increases, desperate to get you off before he blows.

“Touch me, please, I’m so close,” you beg.

Sending his fingers between your legs, he rubs quick circles as you showed him earlier around your throbbing clit.

Your walls flutter wildly around him as you begin to unravel.

“That’s my girl,” Hoseok grunts as he feels your walls tighten around him.

You cum with a strangled moan of his name, puffing against the marbled surface as you clench rhythmically around his turgid length.

Ears ringing in post orgasm haze, you feel Hoseok continue to thrust desperately into your wet heat.

Panting he asks urgently, “Can I cum inside?”

“Fill me up,” you whimper, nodding enthusiastically.

With your permission, Hoseok lets go. Draping his front against your back, he buries deep into your cunt and releases into your velvet heat with a loud, drawn out groan.

Lying prone over the marble and still speared on his cock, Hoseok peppers sweet kisses along your nape and shoulders, gently suckling against your skin as you both revel in post-coital bliss.

“Mmm,” you keen at his attention as he presses one last lingering kiss behind your ear.

“You were serious earlier, right?” he asks softly. “You really want more, too?”

Craning to look back at him, you see a line of worry between his brows as he waits for your confirmation.

“I just wanna be yours, Hoseok,” you affirm with a shy smile.

He beams down at you, and like a flower to a sun, you can’t help but smile back.

#hoseok fanfic #hobi fanfic #hoseok smut #hobi smut #dancer hobi #exotic dancer au #f2l au #who wants a lapdance from hobi

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