#the way they all immediately square up is so damn funny

[marinecanary]

The entire confrontatation with krispycreme girlycollar was amazing but this part specifically broke me

#fight fight fight fight #gorgug hates mary ann and i love it #the way they all immediately square up is so damn funny #dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #dnd #dimension20 #kristen applebees #fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fig faeth #adaine abernant

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Helping Friends - Yuji

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, fluff, yuji is the cutest thing ugh

A/n: This was fun! Day 7: Stuck in wall. But I'm tired so I will be taking a break! Kinktober is hard phew! Excuse the horrible title its 11pm and I'm seeing double asasdf

Word count: 1.4k

Read on ao3

“I need your help.”

“Hm?” Yuji blinked. “Sure thing. What for?”

“Just … Just come over.”

“But ―”

“You’ll see when you get here,” You said through gritted teeth, and of course you were frustrated, but it almost seemed like you were struggling against something. 

“Okay, be over in a sec!”

You hung up. Yuji stared at the black square of his screen. Now, he was curious.

Yuji muffled a snicker.

“Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not!”

“You are!” You wiggled your ass at him. “I can hear you! I’m stuck, I’m not deaf!”

Yuji sobered. It really wasn’t funny if you took a second to consider the repercussions of it all. “It’s lucky I have a key.”

You sighed. “D’you think you can get me out?”

Yuji saluted. “I’m on it!”

He maneuvered around you, careful to avoid your ass sticking out of the wall. He swallowed; of all the days to wear a skirt. He gripped your hips and pulled ―

“Ow, ow!” You wagged your legs. 

Yuji stopped immediately. “Sorry!”

You sighed. “God, I’m gonna be stuck here forever.”

“Don’t think like that!” Yuji said. “How’d this even happen?”

“Remember the hole in the wall I said I’d fix?” You said. “Well …”

Yuji brainstormed. “Maybe I need to loosen you up.”

“Well, obviously ―”

“No, I mean, with something …”

“I have some lube in the drawer of my nightstand?”

Yuji blushed, figured he better not ask, even though now his unhelpful images of you lubing up with your pretty pussy made his mouth water. 

“O ― Okay.”

He strode to your bedroom and fished into the drawer, finding the lube without issue. Kneeling on the floor of the wall, he spilled lube into a puddle in his palm before fixing it around the outline of your body. 

“Ugh,” You said. “This better work.”

He pulled, gently, using increasingly more powerful thrusts to exert you out of your self made hole. Still, you wouldn’t budge.

“Ah, damn, I can’t …” Yuji kept pulling, careful to not injure you, but continued to face resistance. “I’d end up taking this whole wall down.”

You whined. “What’s wrong now?”

Yuji reddened as he toyed with the elastic of your panties. “I think these need to come off,” he murmured.

He waited for your rage, for you to call him a pervert ― he’d deserve it anyway, he had to go and say it after all ― but instead you simply sighed.

“Do it.”

Yuji’s eyes widened. “What ―?”

“We have to get rid of as much friction as possible and I don’t wanna be stuck here forever!” You said. 

Yuji fought the urge to eye the way your panties hugged your cunt and failed. 

“But …”

“It’s okay, Yuji.”

With trembling hands, he hooked a finger under the elastic and pulled. They stuck on the fat of your thighs. Yuji bit into his cheek. Your cunt was right there. Perfect and plump and ― and did he detect a bit of wetness there, between the plush of your outer folds?

No, he was twilight-zoning. That’s all it was.

“What’s going back there?” Your voice took Yuji out of his reverie.

“N ― Nothing!” Yuji adjusted on his knees, desperate to avoid the raging erection making it hard to move much anywhere in any direction. “Okay, let’s try this again.”

Yuji hooked hands around your now-naked hips, tried a few jerky pulls. Your lower half budged if only by an inch.

“I think it’s working!”

“Good! Keep pulling!”

Yuji maneuvered behind you. Bad move. His gaze flickered to your perfect ass, and he could only imagine him in this position in a different context. His hips thrusting into you, your ass rippling with the power of his … Shit. Focus. Focus.

Yuji concentrated and tugged you toward one more time ―

Your lower half jerked, your ass colliding with his crotch.

“Ah!” 

Yuji drew in a sharp breath, kneeled over his hardon. “Sorry …” His voice was so weak.

“Is that … Is that you?”

Yuji froze. “Wha ― What do you mean?”

“I mean …” Your sock-covered foot brushed against his leg. “Is that you, that I feel?”

Yuji hung his head in shame. “Ye ― Yeah …” He tried for a laugh, but it came out as nervous as he was. “I’m really sorry, I just ―”

“Maybe …” You trailed, rubbing your thighs together. “ … we can make the most of this situation.”

Yuji braved a hand against your thigh, caressing the skin. “You mean …?”

“I think we should fuck while I’m like this,” You said. Yuji had tunnel vision for your pussy and it was almost like it was talking to him, egging him on. Daring him to … “I mean, my panties are already down, aren’t they? You’d just have to …”

Your voice waned, most likely because you could hear his zipper coming down.

“You’d really let me, (Y/n)?” Yuji said, already freeing his aching cock to stroke. “You’re okay with this after all?”

“Yeah.” You sounded so breathless.

Fuck.

Yuji aligned his cock with your sweet, puffy lips. His eyes fluttered closed; his head slid against and between your outer folds, lathering his head with your translucent juices. Already, you felt so good. 

“Mmm, Yuji …” His cock twitched to hear his voice on your tongue. “You feel good ― I bet you’re big.”

Yuji’s cheeks warmed as he eyed the way your folds rippled against his aching member. “I think so.”

You wagged your ass in his face. “Prove it.”

Fuuuck.

He slid into you with ease. His mind reeled as your walls hugged him, inch by inch.  He settled a hand on one of your ass cheeks. “Feel so good …” he breathed out. He fixed a hand at one of your slippery hips to bring himself inside fully, his pubic hairs brushing against the plump of your ass. 

“Ahhh …!” Your voice was heavenly. “Yuji ―!”

With one hand on your slippery hip and another on the crest of your crack, Yuji rocked into you. The wall hole wobbled and knocked in time with his thrusts. His breath lay trapped in his lungs at the tight hug of your cunt. 

“Yu ― Yuji …!” You stammered, voice choked by surprise as he quickened his pace. 

Yuji licked his lips. He hoped you were impressed with him. His eyes fell lidded as he slipped into a trance, single-minded and sidetracked by nothing but the feel of you around him. Yuji’s breath escaped at last in a gasp as you rocked back to fuck him, too. 

Yuji lurched forward, chest against your back as he sped up, hips spanking into your ass. His sloppy hand spurred forward, past the curve of your abdomen to fox out your clit.

“Mmmm!” You fucked onto him messily, but it was impossible for you to keep up with Yuji’s pace.

He bent down to kiss the little bit of exposed skin from your ridden-up tank top, unsure whether or not you even felt it, would even know he’d done it. What you would feel is his fingers flicking at your clit ― and he was rewarded with a louder moan coupled with your legs quivering underneath him, and it was better than any praise you could’ve given him.

“Fuck!” Yuji heard a tap on the other side that must’ve been you slapping a hand to the floor. “I’m ― I’m close!”

Yuji left an even softer kiss to your ass cheek and straightened up again to adjust his pace. He nearly doubled over again at the clench of your pussy and knew instinctively you weren’t the only one.

Yuji crashed hips into you as you cried out. He grunted, holding your trembling lower half steady as you came around him, a jolt of inspiration spurring him to press a thumb into your gaping asshole. 

“Yuji!” 

He whined, spilling into you at the sound of his name. You milked him while he mindlessly thumbed you, lost in what he’d always wanted to experience: being inside you.

He gave a few more thrusts, falling over you again from the frantic stimuli ―

The hole around the two of you gave. Yuji face-planted on your back as you yelped. In an instant, he shielded you, sure the rest of the wall would give in and bury the two of you. 

It didn’t.

Quiet.

“Well ― um …” Yuji slid out of you because it seemed the least he could do. “That worked!”

You faced the floor, your shoulders bouncing with mirth. “I can’t believe this.”

He joined you. The laughter didn’t stop as he helped you dress and shave the wall chippings clinging to your body. He was ready to offer you his jacket when you stopped him ―

“Yuji, I’m fine!” You assured him, stopping him. “Really!”

“Hmm.” He scanned you. “Okay.”

You giggled. “And thanks for coming ― stop,” You added as Yuji started laughing again. “Thanks for your help.”

Yuji grinned. “You can always count on me.”

#jjk smut #yuji smut #yuji x reader #yuji x you #yuji x y/n #yuji itadori smut #kinktober #jjk x reader

[partycatty]

You're my favorite writer and I'm a Sucker for Johnny Cage x Himself from Mk11.... please?

okay, so lovingly, i don't feel comfortable directly writing johnny x himself... but i can do you one better?

johnny cage > two for one

the timelines collapse, leaving you in the face of new era and previous era johnny. you're not quite sure how you ended up in this situation, but their hungry stares are undeniable.

warnings: smut.. idk theyre frotting bro idk what else to say. ur rubbing their schmeats together. kissin tips. lockin cocks. diddlin dongs.

notes: THIS IS MK1 JOHNNY ("johnny") X MK11 YOUNGER JOHNNY ("cage") X READER!!! NO DILF HERE!!!

[ masterlist ]

a swirling tornado of sand interrupted your meeting with liu kang and his recruited earthrealmers, pulling into view several faces you had not met before. one of which being a man bearing a large chest tattoo of "JOHNNY," and you could only assume it was his name. as well as him came others you were later taught were counterparts to some of your companions, namely thunder god raiden, monk kung lao, and a mortal liu kang. a part of you was filled with dread for now knowing not one, but two johnnys.... johnnies? another part, though, was intrigued, if not horribly flustered.

as time went on, you had to spend more and more time around these newcomers as well as your people. your johnny was always clinging to you, or lingering near you but dear god this new johnny was like a lost puppy with a raging boner. his comments, flirtatious advances, and feather touches were driving you up a wall. he was testosterone humanized.

you couldn't deny that your johnny was dizzying in essence, from his charisma to the way his form hugs his clothes deliciously. but, dear lord, this new johnny was a hunk. he was huge in every way imaginable, and you tensed up when they were both in your presence. this all came to a head when you were attempting to work on your reports, but the alternate timeline johnny - the one in which you've started calling "cage" out of formality - couldn't keep his hands to himself. this particular instance, you were trying to inspect a map outstretched on the table, and cage was looming directly behind you, placing his hands on either side of you and effectively trapping you against the table. you tried so hard to ignore it, but his musk and faint cologne made your eyes gloss over with desire.

that is, until johnny strode over to the scene and ripped cage from your proximity, aiming an accusatory finger in his face.

"listen man," johnny was irritated, perhaps suspiciously more than normal. "lay off, yeah? she's trying to figure out how the hell we can send you back to whatever timeline you came from."

"don't you touch me," cage snarled in response, squaring up. he was only a couple inches taller than johnny, but his size was almost double. "i'm a star."

"and? so am i!" johnny shouts back with a groan. as the bickering picks up, you couldn't help but watch in amusement. but then, the insults become less funny when johnny grabs cage's purple sunglasses and stomps on them with a huff. cage frowns.

"ladies-" you interject, standing between the two brick walls of men. "you're both pretty." and so, the two men feel obligated to listen to you. you shoot a glance at johnny, silently scrutinizing his behavior. instead of just taking your scolding, johnny grabs you by your upper arm and drags you into a broom closet. god damn, they wore the same cologne. the closeness was nearly too much, combined with johnny's admittedly sexy scowl.

"why are you letting him manhandle you like that? you don't know him." johnny asks under his breath, towering over you as he holds your arms.

"what do you care?" you're almost offended at his tone, but then it all clicks. johnny's defensive of you, protective. hell, he's jealous... of himself. this realization makes a smile bloom on your face, and johnny immediately knows what you're beginning to understand.

who said you could only choose one of them?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

all it took on cage's end was one sultry stare, and he was sauntering toward the broom closet and locking it behind him. it was incredibly hard to think straight when both men's hands were groping and grasping at your body. in any other universe, you'd be dazed and confused from seeing double, but in this universe you're heated and dizzy from the two hard-ons rubbing into your body. one clothed cock was fitted and gently rutting into your hand, being johnny's. his needy groans and pants were swallowed by your own mouth as you made out with his plush lips. cage settled for your ass, grinding against it with equally needy grunts and breaths that haunted the back of your neck. when you pulled away from the kiss, you noticed johnny's already fucked out expression, his swollen lips parted as he tries pathetically to catch his breath.

"pl... please," he breaths out, voice barely audible over your gentle whimpers and cage's groans. "you don't know how long i've wanted your mouth on my... fuck." his head lolls back as you wrap your fingers around his cock, feeling it throb and twitch hungrily.

"make us feel good, baby," cage grumbles, slapping the side of your thigh. "on your knees, come on." obeying like a dog, you drop to your knees with a harsh bump, but you'll worry about the pain later. cage is already unleashing his cock from the constraints of his pants, palming himself through his boxers. johnny does the same, but couldn't bring himself to wait any more as his dick slings out of his slacks, nearly slapping your cheek when he twitches.

you decide to play the cruel game, denying johnny of what he's borderline begging for, his wet eyelashes fluttering at the sight of you on your knees for him, and... other him. speaking of which, you turn your head and wrap your lips around cage's cock, hollowing your cheeks and gently sucking down on his weeping tip. bobbing your head only a couple inches to tease, cage groans and watches johnny writhe for release.

"what's the matter?" cage taunts a slackjawed johnny. "jealous?" johnny bites down on his lower lip and nods wildly, cheeks flushed and averting eye contact. "hey, hey, ah-" cage tuts. he reaches over and grabs johnny by the neck, angling his face forward. "look at me while she sucks me off." and so johnny does, desperately whimpering and gasping as he watches cage's expression contort when you take his cock fully in your mouth, gagging as you reach the base. his other hand reaches down and holds your head in place, your lips burning from the stretch of the thickness. sure, they were both packing, but cage's was thick while johnny's was long.

your fingers found your cunt, swiping three available fingers across your folds and gathering the wetness before searching for johnny's cock and stroking as best as you can from this angle. his precum mixed with your slick allowed you to slide across easily. your head and torso were angled toward cage as you stretched your arm to jerk johnny off properly. both are now breathing heavily, and you only get to look up for a moment to notice cage's hand around johnny's neck, their intense eye contact having you wonder if you were even needed. clearly you were though, as they're both tensing and moaning at your pleasure.

fighting against cage's hand on the back of your head, you pull off of his cock with a pop and swap your attention, now jerking off cage while blowing johnny. the sudden onslaught of wet warmth makes johnny whine as he bucks into your throat, catching you off guard as you gag once again.

"ngh - sorry," he pathetically apologizes, only looking down at you for a moment. if he looked for any longer, he might just cum there and then. "m'sensitive."

"yeah you are," cage snarls, eyes clenching shut as he focuses on the pleasure. "god, you've got yourself a fuckin' whore in this timeline, don'tcha? you like sharin', johnny?" cage grabs your hair and tugs it lightly, and you hum an agreement against johnny's dick that makes him gasp as he nods along. johnny's warm, wet tip is seeping precum that places a salty taste on your tongue while it traces every vein.

cage's purring degrading comments and praises are lost to your hazy mind, too focused on pleasing the cocks in your face. you manage to pick up a few things about how good you look like this, and how cute they make them in this timeline. of course johnny would be attracted to himself, of course. this, thankfully, gives you an idea.

"hold on," you remove your lips from johnny and he involuntarily bucks into your face at the loss of pleasure. "can we try something?"

the two men exchange dubious glances, but their low lids and parted lips tell you they'd agree to anything you'd ask of them right about now. they nod simultaneously and you rise with a grin, wiping your mouth. each hand finds a dick and picks the stroking up again, trying to keep them heated and eager. one thing you pick up on quickly is that for as much smack as they talk, they're both desperately close from a few touches alone, bucking and whining into your hands. cage's cocky attitude has washed away and mirrored johnny's as they both submit to your touch. just as you feel them getting desperate, clawing at any part of your clothes or skin they could make contact with, you tug them together. cage leans against the wall, and johnny leans against a large equipment crate, gripping the corners.

you guide their dicks together until their undersides brush up on each other, making them both jolt in surprise. clasping your hands in a wide hoop, you resume your stroking, this time with both of their cocks trapped in your grasp. the messy mixture of fluid creates a wet noise as you glide up and down their touching cocks. johnny, as always, can't contain his desire and begins to rut into your hand, rubbing against cage's dick in the process. cage picks up on the idea, and the two men rub their cocks together as your hands stroke around them.

"holy-" cage slaps a hand over his eyes, groaning as his head tilts back. it's clear in all of his time, frotting was never something on his list. neither for johnny. "this... it's too much, doll."

"god - ffngh... it's supposed to feel like that," johnny interjects breathlessly, hips bucking up sloppily. his chin touches his chest as he hopelessly chases his high. "come on, no way you've - ahh - never done this. keep-keep moving-" a sharp hiss escapes his throat when you rub your thumb over his slit.

their thighs clench and their bucking becomes wild and it could be clear to anyone that they're extremely close. you also realize that they're entirely getting off on each other, whining every time their tips catch on each other. cage tightens his grip on johnny's neck and clenches his thigh with his other, while johnny is death gripping the box as he shakes and writhes.

"you can do it," you mutter encouragements to the men as their thrusts stutter. "talked so much before, where is it now, boys? you were doing so good..."

johnny couldn't take another second of the pleasure mixed with your praises, and with a final jolt, his thighs twitch as he cums, shooting ropes of his semen on both your hands and cage's cock. the cum coating his own cock got cage going just enough to finish shortly after, both of them spasming as semen drips down your hands. there was so much, and it felt so warm against your skin as they both whimpered and groaned curses and praises aimed at you and the other man. you lean down and place your lips around their tips, attempting to catch the final spurts as they dripped out. licking up their shafts to collect what you could, they simultaneously hiss at the overstimulation of their sensitive dicks, twitching and trying to pull away from your ruthless grip.

"alright, alright, fucking hell..." cage whines, pulling away with a harsh tug. his breath feels far away, impossible to recollect as he watches johnny shield his face with his arm, skin flushed and sweaty as his dick continues to throb in your hand.

they both reel seeing you lick your fingers, placing them in your mouth and sucking gently, lashes fluttering at how good - and similar - they tasted. johnny finally catches his breath and is the first one to properly speak up.

"someone's probably looking for us," he breathes, trying to fix his dress shirt with sweaty palms. "we... we should get back out there."

"right," you hum as your fingers are pulled from your mouth. "we were... in the middle of fixing all this."

"i dunno," cage smirks, crossing his arms. "i kind of like it here. i got two pretty things to keep me busy."

"don't make it weird," johnny groans, head lolling to the side as he stretches. "don't do that."

"how is that weird?" cage puts his hands on his hips.

oh lord, here they go ahead. maybe another round would shut them up.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #mk1 #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage smut #mortal kombat smut #mk11 #marley writes ☆

[cherryslyce]

Second Son (XIV) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: Y/N joins Contessa Zabini for tea. Luna and Y/N make way to Reine, Norway. Y/N remembers something important about Regulus.

Part XIII / Part XV / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: The Zabini's and Baroque architecture just makes sense to me. Also uhhh have fun <3.

The cranberry tinted cup that sat in front of you made your tea flush like diluted blood, the glass flared at the rims to resemble a blossom, imposing on the matching saucer that you couldn’t draw your eyes away from. 

Luna sat perfectly quaint to your left, eyes running across the opulent clusters of furniture that accessorized the already extravagant room. Intricate carvings lined cream pillars that pinched the rounded windows in front of you, each imposing structure veiled by heavy blush curtains. The wooden table in front of you was polished spotlessly, matching the ornate chair that sat sturdy underneath your rigid body. On the opposite wall, you’re suddenly aware of the colossal gold-trimmed mirror that was no doubt reflecting your squared shoulders. 

Blaise was living in a baroque daydream. Damn him. 

Your tongue was doing a funny thing, tipping between sensitivity and leathery roughness. That would be of your own doing, having immediately drawn your lips to the scalding tea in an effort to diffuse the tension in your shoulders. Despite the abrupt burn, you had held in the sputtering that twisted in your throat in order to maintain some semblance of decorum. 

The silence was becoming unnerving and you could tell that Blaise agreed, the usually composed slytherin was twitching to twist his rings for the nth time. Unexpectedly, when you all had arrived at the Zabini Manor, you were met with a rather unimpressed Theodore Nott. Blaise had quietly whispered that the boy was well-liked by his mother and was often a guest at their manor. 

It felt like you and Luna had become prey trapped in a den full of beguiling predators. The Contessa sat across from you with Blaise to her right, the woman not even batting an eye when Theodore chose to round the table and sit next to you instead. 

Easy access to attack you or was he also intimidated by the elegant woman?

“So you were at a wedding, dear?” The Contessa’s voice was smothered in a richness that complemented her unflinching gaze. 

Clearing your throat lightly, you lean forward to meet her keen eyes, “Yes.” Your tone was mellow–formal, and the lack of embellishing in your answer seemed to both amuse and vex her. 

Not giving up so easily, the woman stirs her tea without breaking eye contact, “I see, and you were both making a quick trip to Diagon Alley afterwards?” The question would have seemed innocent if it were coming from anybody else (perhaps with the exception of Voldemort), but you could practically see the gears in her head turning. 

“A little disruption ruined our appetite for celebration.”

The woman raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow at you, “Oh? What’s a wedding without a little family drama?” 

You felt like someone had taken a bludger and scrambled your brains with it, high society was truly not for the weak to stomach. You weren’t even sure if the Contessa was teasing you or trying to prod for information. 

It was likely the latter, and the thought made your stomach twist a little. Your exchange of letters had always been polite, borderlining strained pleasantries that involved Hogwarts classes, your research, and plans to meet up (that you were hoping to never attend). 

“Family drama would have been preferable, I’m afraid,” Your tone lifted ever so slightly, but the small smile pulling at your lips hid how irritated you were becoming with the tango of words. 

You shoot Blaise a small glance and see him watching you both with an unreadable expression, though his intense eyes unnerved you a bit. Like mother, like son.

The Contessa’s lips purse thinly and you get the impression that she is also becoming increasingly irate with your resolution, but then her face settles into a sharp grin.

Humming lowly, she tilts her head to assess you before speaking, “You impress me, my dear. It would seem that Blaise is getting better at picking his companions,” You see her shoot a small approving glance at Theodore, who merely sips his tea nonchalantly, “Theodore, Y/N – I hope you both will continue to look out for Blaise. We Zabini’s pride ourselves in our unflinching loyalty and we always return what is given to us threefold.” 

Chancing a peek at the boy next to you, you see Theodore meet your eyes evenly. Your move. 

Nodding at the dignified woman, you smile genuinely for the first time that evening, “It would be my honor, Contessa Zabini. However, my devotion to Blaise would have continued without question, he is quite-” you raise your eyebrow at the boy, “-fascinating, after all.” 

By fascinating, I mean half as scary as you and ten times more approachable. His wicked sense of humor is also a plus.  

Blaise narrows his eyes goodheartedly and drops a sugar cube into his cooled tea, “Thanks.” The dry response has Theodore hiding a small smirk in his tea cup, while the Contessa merely shoots an unimpressed look at her son’s sickly concoction. 

“Indeed, you are quite personable, Y/N. I can’t help but wonder though, what is your stance on the current political climate? It would be ever so insightful for me.” The woman smoothly questions, the calculative glint in her eyes flashing under the chandelier lights. 

Translation: Are you going to induct my son into Voldemort’s goonies or Dumbledore’s sycophants?

Stirring your tea absentmindedly, you decide to answer honestly, “I have my own motivations that don’t exactly align with the polarized ideologies of our sphere. Of course, I have a preference for who I wish to see come out on top, but either way, my own interests outweigh my desire to participate in politics.” 

Your answer seems to catch everybody off guard (except for Luna who smiles like she’s known all along), and you see consideration paint the Contessa’s face, “Interesting. Blaise has indicated that you are quite close with Harry Potter, yet you declare neutrality?” 

“Neutrality for as long as my interests continue to hold my attention, but I hold no ounce of admiration for the Dark Lord or his underlings.” You hesitate to continue, feeling shifty with how easily your words were spilling out. 

Blaise seems to grasp onto your words and leans forwards to prod you, “But?” 

“But, I do not think that certain knowledge and teachings should be tabooed.” 

Theodore speaks up for the first time to confirm what you were insinuating, “The Dark Arts.” 

You nod and lift up your tea cup, sipping carefully despite how tasteless it was due to your burns. 

“And these interests of yours, do they involve the Dark Arts?” The Contessa swipes a manicured nail around the handle of her cup, eyes no longer shrewd. 

Biting the inside of your cheek, you lean back before answering lightly, “They might. I cannot say for certainty that they do. However, it does involve unusual magic.” 

“I see. It makes sense now why you asked to see those Norwegian tomes.” The woman’s eyes are alight, a glow that made it seem as though an investment of hers bloomed to fruition beautifully. 

You shuddered imperceptibly. Was it an honor or an omen that she seemed so intrigued by you? 

Theodore perks up and he turns to you with wide eyes, “Norwegian tomes?” 

The boy’s eagerness for knowledge was palpable, and you couldn’t help but be amused by his antics. It was so familiar because you saw it often in Regulus. 

Regulus. You winced. You wouldn’t think about it anymore. 

“Yes,” Turning to face the Contessa, you weigh your options, “If I may, I was wondering if I could borrow an owl for a letter. I want to inform my other friends of my plans going forward.” 

Blaise raises his eyebrows and frowns, “Plans? Are you not meeting up with them soon?” 

“Actually, I-” Luna turns to you with determined eyes at your slip up, “-we are heading North.” 

“North?” Blaise looks exceedingly unimpressed and you knew you wouldn’t be going anywhere until you satiated his curiosity. 

“Yes, up North.” 

“Where up North, pray tell?” He drawls with crossed arms. 

“Norway. We’re going to Norway.” Your tone was flat, eyes conveying your exasperation. 

Blaise sputters indignantly and barely restrains himself from throwing his hands up, “Norway? We have school in two weeks! How long are you planning to be there for?” 

“Indefinitely. It’s for my personal research.” 

“Well, I’m coming with you.” Blaise’s declaration has you darting your eyes to the Contessa with bated breath, watching the woman cross her arms. 

“Absolutely not. You have school, caro.” Blaise frowns deeply at his mother’s refusal and sits back in his seat, shoulders sagging in defeat, unwilling to argue with her. Theodore looks at you like you’ve grown a second head, likely considering if he would be able to leave school early too with the excuse of sabbatical. 

The Contessa turns to you, ignoring her son’s fit, “Of course, I’ll have one of my house elfs fetch you some parchment and ink. I’m sure Blaise wouldn’t mind if you borrowed his owl,” The woman suddenly rises from her seat and shoots you all a pleasant smile before smoothing out her dress, “This evening has been quite insightful. I look forward to our next meeting, Y/N. Safe journeys, don’t be a stranger.” 

Without waiting for a response, the woman spins on her heel and struts towards the double doors, calling for an elf as she crosses the threshold, “Viren, bring some parchment and ink for my guests.” The door clicks shut behind her as her last words reach your ears, and you slump in your seat as exhaustion soars through your veins. 

Before a disgruntled Blaise or an eager Theodore – the bloody ravenclaw in snake skin, can get a word out, a light pop draws your attention towards a rather properly dressed house elf, parchment and writing supplies in tow. 

Luna is quick to gather the supplies and quietly thank the elf, smoothing out the parchment in front of you. 

“I still want to go with you.” Blaise’s voice is soft, and you’re unable to detect any irritation. 

Peering up from your writing, you smile lightly at the two boys, “Sorry. You two need to hold down the fort. I didn’t say anything earlier, but the Ministry has been infiltrated by Voldemort and his followers, that’s why we left the wedding in such a hurry. Scrimgeour is dead as well,” You heave a sigh and flick the quill casually, “I suspect Hogwarts is going to be overtaken next, and Harry and I wouldn’t be caught dead there this year, we’d be like little crup puppies in a ball pit.” 

Both slytherins look stumped by your straightforwardness, and Blaise huffs out a little ‘well shit’ that has you nodding. 

Theodore stares deeply into the translucent pool of tea in his cup, voice barely above a whisper, “The war is going to end soon.” 

“Yes, and Harry’s going to make sure Voldemort is damned all the way into the afterlife.” If either of the boys were unconvinced by your conviction, they didn’t let it show, opting to share a look of understanding with each other before turning to you and nodding lightly. 

Blaise rounds the table and drops his hands onto your shoulders, “You better not die. And I guess I can take care of our ward for the time being.” 

“Ward?” Theodore sounds (rightfully) perplexed by his best friend’s words. 

“Little Draconis,” you supply, much to Theodore’s bewilderment, “And Blaise, stop making it sound like we’ve adopted him!” 

You wave your friend off and finish up your letter, leaning back in satisfaction as you hear Blaise clamber away to fetch his owl. 

Prongslet (and co), 

Luna and I are going to redeem our meal tickets (not as bizarre of a gift as one may think). We may not be back before darkness falls. Tell the old menace I said hello, and that I will make good on my promise to him. Stay safe and stay together. 

- Someone’s beloved Birdie 

Norway was incomparably arctic to Britain, the frigid winds bit at the tips of your fingers with fervid rushes, and you were positive that your legs were now flesh icicles. Despite how ardently your body protested against the climate, you couldn’t help the serene smile that mapped the muscles of your face. The chill was not the only difference the region had over Britain, and its tranquility was almost foreign to you. 

Now more than ever, Wizarding Britain seemed to have a miasma of doom looming over the country and the change of pace was almost tangible. 

“Here we are,” Luna’s airy voice was a welcomed sound amidst your inner exultation. You couldn’t help but draw similarities between the mysticality of Luna’s magic and disposition, and the blankets of fog that permeated over the lake in the far distance. 

Both were curious in their own aspects, but you couldn’t help but want to melt deeper in the feeling they both surrounded you with. 

You pulled your overcoat tighter around your body, thanking Merlin and those above that Blaise practically tore his closet right to left to find suitable clothing for you and Luna before you both departed from Zabini Manor. 

Stepping closer to Luna, you hum as you observe the view in the distance, “It’s beautiful.” 

Reine was truly idyllic. The fishing village was cupped by snowy peaks that towered over the clots of buildings which mottled the shores of the lake – a place truly untouched by the withering fog of petulant human conflict. 

The apparition was quite tiring and you could feel fatigue coiling around your muscles, urging you to quickly seek refuge.

“Couldn’t have picked a better place really: picturesque, remote, and lauded for proficiency in multiple languages.” Your words are light and playful, spurning a grin to bloom on Luna’s face. 

Dumbledore practically handed you a bubble-wrapped opportunity served on a golden platter. 

The both of you begin to trek towards the village, not wanting to risk apparition in case you were seen by any locals. To your knowledge, this Anders Fiske was the only magical folk in Reine, holing himself away from densely populated regions for reasons only Merlin knows. 

As you approach the banks of the waters and the largest building amongst the cluster, you inhale shakily as you see a sinewy man exit the building. The man seems to pause and do a double take, fully turning when he realized that you weren’t a figment of his imagination. 

“Hello,” His voice is gruff and gratingly neutral, only weakening your resolve. 

Talking to people was hard. But you survived a – conversation? interrogation? with Contessa Zabini, this should be a piece of cake. 

“Hello, we’re looking for someone named Anders Fiske,” your tone is even and you try your best to look as friendly as possible. Luna simply stares off into a red house in the distance, seeming to look straight through the man in front of you. 

Immediately, you can see the man tense before he forcibly relaxes his stance, pinching his eyebrows together as he surveys you, “There is no one here by that name.” 

You would have believed him. If you were a dolt, of course. 

“Are you certain? It’s rather important, and he’s the only one that can help us.” The man doesn’t falter and you frown when you feel something inch towards you. 

Helga almighty. 

He had a magical signature. The man in front of you was clearly a wizard, whether he knew it or not. 

Before you can ruminate on your discovery, the man speaks up, “Yes. So you both should leave.” 

A subtle bone in his body, there was not.

Feeling your eye twitch, you decide to do some searching on your own terms. Releasing your magic, you slowly blanket the surrounding buildings in search for another magical signature. It was clear enough that the man in front of you was not who you were looking for – unless Dumbledore wanted you to have some grilled monkfish with the most conspicuous wizard ever to roam the earth since Godric Gryffindor himself. 

As you continue to scavenge the village with your magic, the man in front of you shifts from side to side, clearly becoming wary of your sudden silence and blank stare. 

Before you can continue, a thunderous slam has you flinching out of your concentration. Peering around the looming man, your eyes meet a guarded gaze. Tilting your head, you sidestep and assess the newcomer, smiling slowly as you realize that he was another wizard. 

The new man was much older and you could see the way he leaned on his right leg as if his left one was aching from the slightest pressure. He was hunched in the pathway of the red house Luna was observing, mouth set into a deep frown. 

“Bingo,” Without waiting for the younger man to say anything (or possibly toss you into the lake), you stroll over toward the older man who was slowly retreating back into his house. 

Luna follows after you and nods happily to herself, starting to skip by your side. 

Stopping a few yards away from the man, you roll your shoulders to ease your soreness before jumping into the golden question, “Are you Anders Fiske?” 

The man appears to be ready to vehemently deny your question, but Luna speaks up before he can even utter a mumble, “Dumbledore sent us!” 

“Dumbledore?” The man’s harsh wrinkles smooth over ever so slightly, and your former headmaster’s name seems to roll off his tongue instinctually. 

“Yes. In his will, he told me that I needed to seek you out for a…meal? I’m in need of your help,” The man seems nonplussed by your declaration, and you purse your lips before sweetening up your words, “Please.” 

You see the man’s eyes flicker behind you and back rapidly, seeming to mull over everything. 

Without a word, the man dips into the shadow of his house with one last glower. 

Excuse me, what?

“Come,” You’re startled out of your stupor by a familiar deep voice, and you can only trail forward, mouth hung open, as the younger man leads you and Luna inside. 

As the younger man closes the door shut behind you, an array of lamps flicker to life around the room, illuminating the perimeter much to your amazement. The room was cozy and frazzled in a similar fashion to the Weasley’s home, and your eyes couldn’t help but trail across a wall of tomes the size of your head. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” The older man – Anders, grumbles from the middle of the room, sat at the dining table with a demeanor you found synonymous with Moody during meetings at Grimmauld Place. 

Smiling coyly, you watch Luna as she wanders almost weightlessly towards the small corner kitchen, “You shouldn’t have revealed yourself, Anders.” 

The man lets out a low grunt and you almost have to physically restrain your eyebrows from floating off your face. This man was literally Moody in a different, older font. 

“You would have figured it out anyway. Could feel that magic of yours suffocating the whole place from in here.” His tone was rough, but you wanted to believe that there was an impressed shine in his eyes. 

The younger man who was (surprisingly) still behind you, decides to interrupt your conversation, “Father, who are these people?” 

Anders places his elbows on the table and gives you and Luna a once-over, “Magical folk.” 

“A threat?” Anders’ son carries an edge to his tone that has you nearly rolling your eyes. 

You were about to blast him through the window, but you couldn’t let this opportunity slip away because of unbridled temptations. 

“That remains to be seen.” 

Anders’ reply seems to placate his son for the time being, and he heads off towards Luna as the girl hunches over to study a chipped teapot on the counter. You shift and make your way to stand in across from Anders, not exactly sure what approach to take. 

The yellow lighting bounced off the man’s face and gave him a sickly complexion, emphasizing his stress lines and suspicious eyes as you drew closer. 

“So, Dumbledore is dead?” He sounded almost regretful. Either that or you knocked your head on the way in. 

“Unfortunately. War is not forgiving, especially to martyrs.” Your tone was not nearly as sad as it probably should have been, but it seemed to be of no trouble for the older wizard. 

Anders sighs and leans back in his seat, one hand coming to clutch his shoulder unconsciously, “The old fool knew what he was getting into,” He raises his eyes to look at you appraisingly, “Can’t imagine why he’d send you my way, anyway.” 

“I’m researching. Something that is unfortunately, extremely niche. Dumbledore said you might be able to enlighten me on the subject.” Your determined tone seems to draw in some interest from him, and you have to mask the victorious feeling that washes over you. 

That’s right, scholar to scholar. Hook, line, and sinker.  

The man waits for you to continue, so you slowly pull out the chair in front of you and sink down across from him, “It’s about magical essences. It seems that you are quite sensitive to magical signatures, seeing as you could sense me releasing my magic earlier,” Anders gives a brisk nod, and you clench your hands as you continue, “A few summers ago, I encountered something strange–special. I found a portrait that was imbued with magical essence, and this portrait, he was extremely sentient.” 

You feel a knot lodge in your throat at the reminder of Regulus, the wound of his destruction feeling painfully raw again. Seeing your sudden hesitance, Anders raises a scruffy white eyebrow, “And where is this portrait now?” 

Your gaze drops to the table, your eyes blazing right into the worn wood, so marred and aged, unlike the one at Zabini Manor. 

“Gone, then? I don’t know how I’m supposed to be of help in that case.” You raise your eyes and meet his cold gaze, clenching your jaw at his stoic expression, “You both can stay the night in the basement, for the sake of doing an old friend a favor. I expect you to be gone by daylight, tomorrow.” 

Without pause, Anders pushes himself off the chair and limps further into the house, leaving you to awkwardly stew in your rejection while his son and Luna linger behind you. 

Anders’ son breaks the tense silence first, “Sorry about him, he’s…” 

“Stubborn?” Luna offers. 

“Honest.” You reply at the same time. 

Whirling around in your seat, you will away the veil of exhaustion and hurt that clouded your mind and look up at Anders’ son, really seeing him for the first time. You see the resemblance between the both of them, from their narrowed eyes to their thin noses, and the unmistakable metallic chill engulfed in both of their magic. 

Slowly rising from your seat, you send a fleeting smile to the boy, “Don’t believe we know your name.” 

“Asger,” His tone is much less taut than before, from pity or understanding, you didn’t know. 

“Nice to meet you, and thanks.” 

The boy–Asger, waves off your thanks and simply juts his shoulder forward, silently telling you to follow him. Feeling all of your survival instincts switch off, you tread behind him with glassy eyes, barely aware of your surroundings even when Luna tucks her arm around your body, guiding you around the unfamiliar environment. 

It appeared that Anders utilized his magical prowess and performed a disappearing act by the time you reached the basement, the older man being nowhere in sight despite the fact that there was only one door in the back of the house–which led to the basement. 

You and Luna got settled in, not bothered by the loose threads of your blankets or the dusty boxes that rested against the walls. You were both given a (surprisingly) comfortable mattress to share, and you almost wanted to cry when Luna started to draw patterns on your palm as you both stared up at the spackled ceiling. 

“Our journey has not ended yet,” Luna’s voice is small, but still fueled with conviction. 

“Thanks, Luna. I don’t even know where I’d be without you.” 

A comfortable silence descends upon you two, and you shift to get comfortable in your spot, realizing that Blaise’s overcoat was making it difficult to turn over. Slowly sitting up, you shrug off the thick material, and fix your jacket, realizing it was slightly askew from your movements. As you smooth down the material, you freeze as your hand moves over a thick bulk in your inner pocket. 

Portrait…? 

No. Of course not.  

Ignoring the cold sinking of your stomach, you fish out the object and search blindly for your wand. 

“Lumos.” 

Your breath hitches. 

Regulus’ journal. The one you found stuffed between his mattresses. Swallowing harshly, you slowly run a hand over the wrinkled cover. 

How could you have forgotten?

As you try to maneuver your wand to allow both of your hands to be free, a gentle tug has you swiveling your head to the side. Luna merely smiles at you before looking back at the journal, nimbly holding your wand over the book so you could flip through it. 

“I can look away if you want,” Luna’s gentle voice slices through the air with a warmth that you viscerally feel in your chest, and you smile at the girl in gratitude. As she turns her gaze to the darkness, seemingly becoming entranced by nothingness, you slowly furl the first pages open. 

Property of Regulus Arcturus Black 

You turn the page, fingers twitching as you resist the temptation to trace the swirls of his name. 

3 November, 1976 

Today is Sirius’ birthday. The first year he will celebrate away from home, as a disappointment to the family name. Mother and Father were particularly cold today. I just have to try harder. Sirius has stopped replying to my letters, and he avoids me in the halls. 

I think I hate him. 

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest as you reread the entry, struck by the unfamiliar loathing coated in his tone. Sirius was sixteen when he left, so seventeen in 1976. Regulus was only fifteen when he wrote this, and already so tied down by his family and abandonment issues. 

The next few pages contain similar entries, all filled with abhorrence for Sirius and bitterness towards his parents. 

Then the year changes. 

8 September, 1978 

The Dark Lord is going to change the world, make it a better, purer place. Mother and Father were pleased when I announced that I would be taking the mark soon, already having made strides among his growing forces. 

Sirius would hate it. I know he would. But he would expect it. He should, anyway. 

He already hates me, what damage could this do to our already broken relationship? 

He should hate me. 

I hate myself. I hate him.

I hate him so much.  

17 December, 1978

Visiting my portrait was eventful. I can feel him growing stronger with every meeting. I think I’ll have to repaint it soon, looking at it and seeing a reflection of who I used to be never gets easier. 

The next repaint, I’m going to finally do it. Hopefully, all my research will have paid off. Uncle Alphard’s book on magical essences was more helpful than I could have ever imagined. 

The room is complete, and I can feel my magic all over it. If I can imbue it into my portrait as well, it will be perfect. 

Maybe then he can forgive me. If I explain. If I try. 

The Dark Lord is expecting me soon. 

3 January, 1979 

The repainting was a success. My hand will be sore for the next few days, but it was all worth it. I finally figured out how to key the room. The only person who will be able to access it now is Sirius. That is if he ever returns home. 

My portrait is so like me, it’s truly uncanny. Perhaps I can publish my findings after I graduate. 

My mark aches often. 

I miss Sirius. 

5 March, 1979

The Dark Lord tried to kill Kreacher. 

After everything I’ve done for him. After everything I’ve sacrificed. 

Sirius was right. 

Kreacher keeps talking about a potion and a locket. I need to understand. I have to. 

It is imperative that I impart everything I know to my portrait, so Sirius will know that I tried. That I finally understand. 

Is this my punishment? Must I suffer so for forgiveness? If he does not forgive me, will it all have been for nothing? 

I need to find out what the Dark Lord is hiding. It will be my repentance. 

19 May, 1979 

Horcruxes. 

Such vile creations, a defiling of one’s soul. The Dark Lord has a horcrux. I need to destroy it. 

My portrait grows restless with me. To think it was even possible. He only has the faintest ideas of my current ambitions, but I feel everyday that he is growing to be someone I never could be. Someone that Sirius would be able to forgive. 

I’ll destroy the horcrux and accept the conditions tied to it. 

There is no other way. 

8 June, 1979

Everyday I grow closer to executing my plan. 

I have given my portrait everything he needs to know. 

I wonder, is all soul magic as abominable as horcruxes? I begin to see parallels with magical essences and soul magic. Yet, they feel completely different. 

Or perhaps I have finally lost all sense. I have always been a hypocrite. 

I wait with bated breath. 

I will destroy it even if it kills me, and it will be glorious. 

28 July, 1979 

I fear that if I wait any longer I will go back on my conviction. 

Mother and Father are growing increasingly vexed with me. I think they want to marry me off by winter. 

It will be before then. 

I have stopped confiding in my portrait about my deeper feelings. I fear that my weakness will be obvious even to him. 

I have read more about magical essences to distract myself. Even the Dark Lord is not omniscient. Magical essences have ties to one’s soul, the bounds of such revelation I do not know. Yet, I have learned of something even the Dark Lord is ignorant to, and because of that, he has debased himself with horcruxes. 

A small victory, and an inkling of how it will feel when he’s gone. 

When he falls. 

14 August, 1979 

I will do it in autumn. 

I hope it will all be worth it. 

26 October, 1979 

My portrait can cast magic. 

I wonder if Sirius will be proud. 

29 October, 1979 

I wonder what being in love feels like. 

2 November, 1979 

I never really had aspirations outside of what was expected of me. 

Have I always been so pitiful? Was I the only one who couldn’t see it? 

15 November, 1979 

I hear that the Potters are expecting their first child. 

I wonder how Sirius will treat their baby. 

I think I’m going crazy. 

17 November, 1979 

Tomorrow. 

You flip through the journal hastily, and you feel your eyes sting in the darkness at the crushing realization. 

Blank pages. Empty and unfeeling, and so telling of his fate. 

You weren’t going to leave tomorrow. 

Anders would have to drag you kicking and screaming. You wouldn’t give up on Regulus, not after everything he sacrificed. 

You will do whatever it takes. 

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[trinitvii-r]

VP Squared - First Class Impressions

prologue | part i

(ffvii x reader

Genesis should’ve known anyone who got on well with Rufus Shinra would be a load of trouble. Sephiroth thinks it’s a funny turn of events that his friend is the one experiencing stress, rather than causing it.

Angeal’s just happy to be there, really.)

“Dibs,” is the first thing out of Genesis’ mouth as he walks into the conference room.

You know he was referring to you, but you don’t even spare him a glance before returning to your conversation with Rufus… to make it clear to everyone in the room that your VP is and will remain your main priority.

Behind the silly little red-coat-wearing-in-the-middle-of-damn-July man, Angeal looks rightfully embarrassed and is trying to drag the man away. Sephiroth chooses to ignore them both, and makes for his usual seat.

Undeterred, Genesis walks closer to you and stretches out his arm, pointer finger raised straight at you. “Dibs,” he repeats.

You and Rufus share a look for no longer than a second, and your VP immediately understands. He has an amused look on his face as he says, “Go ahead.”

You no longer mask the annoyance you feel as you spit out the words, “Piss off.”

Genesis squeaks out, “I— beg your pardon?!”

You turn away from him, and focus your attention to Rufus once more.

The blonde flicks you on the nose, and laughs at the pinched expression you make. “I would’ve thought you’d say the more colorful word.” Translation: I was hoping you’d say the more colorful word.

You fiddle with your cup of coffee, making a point to keep Genesis hanging, knowing damn well he’s still hovering. “I thought it may offend his delicate sensibilities.” Translation: You know what I mean.

Rufus snorts. As you drink your coffee, Rufus looks up at Genesis, and explains, “They just called you a little bitch.”

You may not have SOLDIER senses, but you swear you hear Sephiroth choke on his spit.

With a mild tone, you reprimand Rufus. “I said I think he’s a wuss.”

“Creative license.”

In unison, the two of you couldn’t resist to snicker. A sight that oddly further aggravates Genesis.

The Commander bites, “That’s it! Newbie, I’m gonna have a lot of fun breaking you in.”

Excuse me?

As you rake your eyes over Genesis’s form, you hear a voice somewhere else in the room ask, “Should I call Human Resources?”

Genesis looks half-murderous, and half-flirtatious as he smirks down at you.

You give him a cheshire grin and say, “Do your worst, Carrot-top.”

Sephiroth absolutely loses it.

Or at least by Sephiroth standards. The man is chuckling, and you could see his shoulders shake as he tries to rein in his mirth.

You pop him a finger gun à la Reno, and cheekily say, “Excited to work with you, General.”

Both Genesis and Angeal drop their mouths open in shock when Sephiroth gives a lazy mock salute, and says, “The feeling is mutual, rookie.”

You turn to Angeal, and give him a wink. “Same goes for you, Commander Hewley.”

A flustered Angeal murmurs, “Thanks. I’ll do my best.”

Genesis should have known you’d have no nice sentiments to spare for him. And he’s proven right when all he gets is a lousy, “You can drop dead for all I care, Red.”

Sephiroth excuses himself, and you could vaguely hear a deep laughter resounding in the hallway.

This is the scene President Shinra walks into, and he looks completely defeated. A triumphant grin forms on Rufus’ face.

All your posturing from earlier morning seems to have faded away, and now Genesis finds himself the sole subject of your attention. He gulps as you stare up at him with wide eyes, an almost enamored expression just for him… or at least his fireballs.

“That was so sick.”

Turning his nose up at you, and in a pathetic effort to hide the red dusting his cheeks, he answers, “What a crude way to address my talent.”

He’s surprised when you don’t respond with some quip. Instead, you whine, “C’mon, man. I’ve never even said that about Rufus with his guns.”

Filing away that tidbit about the Shinra brat, Genesis couldn’t help the giddiness he feels at your words. Not the words he would have preferred, but the sentiment certainly was there. Close enough. If throwing fireballs at dummies was what earned him your respect and admiration, then that’s what he’d do.

A part of him is terrified at his outright sense of urgency to impress you. He brushes the thought away when you grab onto his coat sleeve, and beg, “Please teach me, dude.”

Again, not his choice of words, but for now, dude will have to do.

“Rhapsodos, move! You’re blocking the view.”

The mood is instantly killed by the Shinra brat.

It starts off like this.

News gets passed around that you were assigned the Rufus babysitting gig.

Hand in hand with that, news gets passed around that you somehow made it into the SOLDIER program.

Along with that, the fact you threatened Heidegger with a knife. (A velocity edit of the security feed of the moment is the top retweeted and liked tweet of the day. A bubbly filter AMV of Rufus lowering your knife for you is second.)

It only gets weirder from there.

Sephiroth’s, Angeal’s, and Genesis’s fanclubs have wildly varying takes on what happened in the meeting. Ranging from funny — You apparently had some top secret Turks-esque information that Genesis’ beautiful auburn hair was actually dyed from a bright orange that he had always been self-conscious of, and that you had called him by a mean nickname (Carrot-top) that kids in his village used to bully him with, and ended with Genesis bursting into tears. — to oddly conspiratorial — You were investigating reactors with the Turks when you fell into a vat of pure mako, and that President Shinra had decided to officially make you SOLDIER as a coverup for the fuck-up. You apparently became so powerful that you were named Sephiroth’s Lieutenant General, and that had made Genesis cry.

Genesis being reduced to tears seems to be the thread holding all these rumors together.

By lunchtime, everyone and their mother had their own theories on The Situation.

Which was why Cadet Cloud Strife had to do a double take when he saw you following after Genesis Rhapsodos, followed by Rufus Shinra following after you, and Sephiroth following after Rufus Shinra.

What.

Cloud nearly dropped his soup in surprise.

As you passed, he could barely make out the words, “again” and “just one more.”

And if Cloud knew anything about the Shinra rumor mill, it’s that they would take those words and lewdly misinterpret them. He could already hear Janice from Accounting typing loudly on her phone. Great. He wouldn’t need to open his inbox to know he’d see yet another wildly smutty Genesis fan fiction disguised as a newsletter.

Screw Zack for signing him up for those fanclubs.

Even before you leave the canteen, the winning theory is that you and Genesis enter into a whirlwind romance burning hot like the fireballs he flings onto unsuspecting targets, but alas you are a free spirit who refuses to be tied down. This theory also ends with Genesis in tears.

Cloud notes with a hint of amusement that the sight of you stacking up your and Rufus’s plates and neatly disposing of the trash is the most babysitter-like thing you’ve done all day. You even clean up for Sephiroth who reacts with a slack jaw and the most bewildered expression, and Genesis who stares at you as though you’ve just told him the secrets of the universe. The redhead could almost be described as swooning when he thanks you profusely.

You simply look at the man as if he had grown two heads. After a beat, you smirk. “Alright, hot stuff. Take it easy for the rest of the day, yeah?” You nod subtly at Rufus, who takes it as his cue to stand up, and says his farewells to the other two.

As the two of you make your way out the canteen, this bit of conversation once again throws everyone into a frenzy:

“Still think he’s a wuss?”

“Yeah, but not when he’s swinging that thing around.”

That thing in question was fireballs, but the rest of Shinra didn’t know that.

Definitely not it.

Anything but that.

When Lazard the Bastard told you you’d have to pay your dues as the newest SOLDIER, you did not expect it to be that.

“Well, what did you expect? The rest of them were cadets first. I can’t just hand everything to you.”

You tried the Rufus excuse, but Lazard brushes off your concerns. “I can assign a First on him for a couple hours.”

Like he heard you, Rufus looks up from his phone, and gives you a nod and a smile.

Gods. Right when you wanted Rufus to be a brat and demand his way, suddenly now he’s all goody.

With a scowl, you tell Lazard, “Let’s get this over with.”

Blood everywhere.

Gross.

Oh, and Angeal’s here too.

Nice.

“What’s up?”

Angeal had to admit. For someone who’s elbows deep into cleaning bloody blades, you sure had a draw to you as you hum some kind of melody. He wordlessly sits next to you, and wipes down the first weapon he could get his hands on.

A half hour later, he gets the feeling that you’ve got quite the mouth on you. Though, he’s seen you behave more casually with the other Turks plenty of times, and sometimes with Rufus himself, it’s a bit jarring to be on the receiving end of it.

“—Not gonna lie — but don’t you dare tell anyone else — if Rufus didn’t have those photos on him, and he had to get an actual SOLDIER babysitter, I would have preferred you.”

‘Wait. What.’ Clearly, Angeal was a bit distracted by how efficiently you can clean blood that he had neglected to hear some damning information on how you may have gotten this new gig. Oh well. He can try chatting with you another time. Besides, your new position would only make you more accessible to him.

Heaving a sigh, and resting your bloody knuckles on your hips, you give Angeal a grin. “Wanna hide these rags under Genesis’ bed?”

As if you even need to ask.

When Rufus drags you by the back of your collar like a cat out of Genesis’ private quarters, he can already tell this scene is only going to cause more chaos.

A wide grin fights its way to his face.

He had made the right call for his personal SOLDIER.

#final fantasy x reader #final fantasy vii #sephiroth x reader #genesis rhapsodos x reader #angeal hewley x reader #rufus shinra x reader #we are working our way thru the characters babes #as a sapphic i am distraught that i am still not able to write the women in just yet

[tesalicious2]

More Kortac:

König gets along really well with Askel and Klaus for obvious reasons. If any of them heads home, they’ll bring back the good beer and treats that they all know

Everyone will eat whatever is in the fridge, nothing is safe. Maybe if it has a not from a family member will some of them leave it alone. But that is no guarantee.

Horangi, in an attempt to ‘chill Oni out’, slipped marijuana drops into his tea and got him high as hell.

Oni laid on the common room couch for 6 hours without moving and said the weirdest shit.

Horangi was there the whole time and loved every moment, unfortunately, some others didn’t agree

Declan, Stilletto, Askel, Klaus, and Horangi openly laughed while Calisto and Zero were the only ones who didn’t find it funny at all

Oni quickly got Horangi back by replacing some of his nice kimchi with weird cheap stuff he found for online. He mixed it together to blend the flavors

At dinner that night, Horangi got half way through before leaving to throw up. Oni laughed the whole time

Horangi quickly returned to dinner and tackled him over the table, attempting my to shove some of the bad kimchi down his throat.

The yelling foreign languages at each other was funny. Mostly since it was Oni mocking Horangi and Horangi yelling rather than vice versa.

Horangi has seen everyone’s face, mostly because he doesn’t knock and has weird hours

This includes Ghost, even if they only worked together for a week

Fender is the only one who’s seen almost everyone’s face because they showed it to him willingly, König will wear a medical mask but won’t show his face

The medics know a lot of secrets about everyone, not important ones though, very stupid ones

Know Roze stole a loaf of bread from her family’s kitchen when she was 8 and felt bad so she tossed it in a lake

Know Zero once a had a crush on a middle school girl when he was in elementary and tried hard to get her attention but failed miserably

They won’t tell anyone because of Patient-Client Confidentiality and consequently become the secret keepers of the group

König only one who has seen Fender’s face.

KorTac tries to have dinner together and push the tables into a square, it’s really fun and they have game night (without gambling)

König has the highest tolerance and is has never gotten past drunk before.

He doesn’t really get drunk, he just gets wobbly and that’s all. No one knew the first time til he tried to get up and immediately tripped over his own feet, stayed on the floor and groaned, saying ‘damn, drank to much’

No one could remember how much he drank that night.

Everyone once saw him have like 14 beers (he has his own stash from home that’s strong and no one else likes) and said he felt tipsy and didn’t know his limit

Declan and Oni come in close second and Declan will brag about this to anyone who listens

Stilletto and Horangi are third but they don’t really care. Calisto, Zero, and Gromsko are the same way but have a lower tolerance

Zeus is really bad at drinking games and refuses to play, so they don’t really know his limit

He has admitted to being in the third place group, much to Declan’s amusement

Hutch has hacked into devices with weird search history’s. He doesn’t talk about it but if drunk enough he will tell some of the weirder non sexual ones.

Though, there are a few he will never speak of because thinking about them makes him shiver.

#headcanon #kortac #könig #Horangi #rozlin roze helms #calisto allard #cod hutch #declan o'conor #hiro oni watanabe #cod zeus #fender takacs #cod askel #cod Klaus #cod zero #I love them #crack #pry them from my cold dead hands #cod Stilletto #kortac operators

[mediocrevideopodcast]

My Cosmos is Mine

Request: Hello! Are you still doing ROTTMNT requests? If you are can you please do jealous headcanons for the turtles or mud dogs? Or both? I really like your style and stories btw ♡  

A/N: My god, I finally watched the movie after a year of it being out. I blame college & work. We do a little trolling ♡ Turtles in this one!

Includes: Raphael, Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo

Leonardo

7/10 at worst, 2/10 at best.

Leo is… complicated. He’s not possessive by any means, and he trusts you a lot! But he lives to be in the spotlight (ESPECIALLY when it comes to you). So when your attention is taken away from him, he gets a bit huffy. Like come on babe, they can’t be that funny.

But usually, that’s as far as it goes. He’ll usually just come up and throw an arm around your shoulders, make a few goofy, Leo-esque quips here and there. He’s a pretty friendly guy, and he’s honestly more likely to make friends with the other person… so long as they’re not crossing any boundaries.

But when someone’s actively hitting on you? That’s when he gets jealous. He doesn’t like to talk about it often, but he’s really insecure. I mean, that’s why he acts the way he does all the time: He doesn’t want to be forgotten, doesn’t want to be seen as useless, or incompetent. There’s a quiet part of him that thinks you deserve better, and that it's only a matter of time before you realize it. That voice gets damn-near deafening in moments like these. (Nevermind the whole mutant thing. What he wouldn’t give to take you out to your favorite restaurant top-side, or bask in the sunshine with you, or meet your friends-)

So yeah, people hitting on you freaks him the hell out. He tries not to show it, so instead he kicks up the PDA to 11.

Arm around the shoulders, obnoxious kisses to the cheek, etc. He tries to play it off nonchalantly, while still showing off that hey, you’re spoken for.

“Hey baby, been looking for you everywhere. So, what’re we talking about?”

Please kiss him later and talk it out. He trusts you so much, but he’s terrified that someday he’s not going to be enough anymore. A little bit of reassurance goes a long way though, and he’ll be back to his goofy self almost immediately afterwards.

(Jealousy with his brothers is different, but only by a little bit. That’s when he decides to show off his physical prowess and such, and dials the PDA up to a casual 14. The PDA dial is broken off the damn station, with him. He doesn’t hold any hard feelings over this regardless, he just likes to show off that you’re his. Dork.)

 Raphael

3/10

Raphael is big on communication, and he trusts you immeasurably. It’s honestly really hard to make him jealous! I mean, you’re the greatest person he’s ever met — it’s only natural that other people wanna be around you too, you know?

Although, it doesn’t help that he doesn’t always pick up on when people are actually hitting on you. He wants to believe in the best in people, and sometimes he doesn’t pick up on when people are being just a little too friendly.

But if someone points it out, or if you seem uncomfortable? Raph has entered Protective Boyfriend Mode.

If someone is making you uncomfortable… he knows he’s big, and he’s not above squaring his shoulders back a bit in a silent, knock-it-the-fuck-off threat. If they keep pushing boundaries, he’s not afraid to make a scene.

Now if they’re just flirting? There’s a very quiet voice of insecurity in the back of his mind (Raph hates being alone, after all), but he pushes it down in order to hang out near you, and hold your hand. He trusts you to shut down the advances yourself, but if you don’t feel comfortable with speaking up, he’s pretty okay at finding an exit for the situation.

By which I mean, stumbling over his words, screaming, or hustling out of there. Sometimes all at once.  

He’s not very subtle, unfortunately.

Any insecurities he’s got can be soothed over with a bit of love and communication, but in all honesty, it’s rarely ever a problem for you two.

(Jealousy with his brothers is different. Again, it’s a rare occurrence, but when it happens he gets very whiny. The couch, and your ribcage, have been crushed by a whining snapping turtle. RIP.)

 Donatello

8/10

Jealousy central. He would rather die than admit it, but he is the most insecure member of the family. He’s confident, sure, but that can come crashing down at the drop of a hat. He craves praise, and he always feels like he has to earn his keep, in a sense. If he isn’t the best, then he’s nothing. You’re one of the few people that indulge him in his interests fully, and see him as he is. And he can never express just how much he values that!

When someone else captures your attention, he’s pretty blaise about it. He’s confident, maybe to the point of not really caring about said person. Like okay, they’re kind of bland, but whatever. Nowhere near as cool as him, uh huh. Good on you for taking the time out of your day to entertain the masses, my love. The peons need to keep up hope, I suppose.

But when someone’s actually flirting with you? Oh, oh boy.

He’s not big on PDA. He just isn’t. But he’ll make an exception, loosely intertwining your fingers with his. It isn’t much to outsiders, but it's huge for him.

Usually, it ends there. But if it doesn’t?

He gets pouty, and passive aggressive. Not necessarily towards you, but sometimes that bleeds through a bit without him realizing it. Loudly typing on his phone until the other person gets the hint, rolling his eyes, the verbal scoff, etc.

If he’s really jealous, he’s not above removing the two of you from the situation entirely. Something about a project that really needs to be finished — the fate of New York depends on it!

He’s still a bit pouty when you get home, but he’ll deny any feelings of jealousy vehemently. Kiss along his shoulders, offer to play his guilty-pleasure game with him, and dedicate the night to him. When it gets late in the night, and the two of you are wrapped up in each other, he might confide in you that he’s just afraid that someday you’ll realize you don’t need him anymore. In hushed whispers, he’ll bear his heart to you. Listen to him, give him all the praise he’s been deprived of his whole life, and tell him that you love him.

He won’t mention it in the morning, but make no mistake — he’ll carry that memory with him until the sun burns out.

(Jealousy with his brothers is a completely different story. He is so above them in his mind that its hardly even worth the energy, but he’s not above a little showboating. Oh, who is he kidding? He loves showing off. And he’ll take any excuse to hit Leo over the head with his staff.)

 Michelangelo

1/10

Michelangelo, despite the occasional homicidal tendencies, is a very social guy. He really only gets jealous if you’re laughing with someone else — not because you’re not allowed to, but because he likes being the one to make you laugh.

He doesn’t take it too personally, though. Hell, 9 times out of 10 he ends up making friends with the other person!

On the rare occasion he actually starts feeling some genuine jealousy, it’s all smoothed over by communication later on. He might get a bit pouty in the moment, but once its all over, he’s got a powerpoint presentation loaded on how it made him feel, why he felt that way, etc. Communication is everything, baby.

(Jealousy with his brothers, though? He turns into a total brat. Flopping at your feet, whining, etc. There’s very little genuine emotion in it though, he just does it to get a laugh out of you.)

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt Donatello x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader #rottmnt michelangelo x reader #rottmnt raphael x reader #rottmnt imagines #don't question my spacetime!!! my cosmos is mine!!!! literally such a donatello song #oh christ i havent tagged things in forever #donatello hamato x reader #leonardo hamato x reader #tmnt x reader #raphael hamato x reader #michelangelo hamato x reader #tmnt donatello x reader #you know what i give up thats it. how in gods name did i utilize every tag ever back then. yall should have killed me for that fr

[breakbeatbun]

i did a lot of "boy things" as a kid and I've always felt less "girl" because of it, i never played with stuff that was considered feminine, partly because i was afraid of judgment, but also i found "boy stuff" more appealing. it's tough not relating to one's peers in a binary way. i would love to play cars

tags on this post for context

i was raised by a mechanic and carpenter so a lot of my early free time was spent in a barn full of tools, machines, welding masks, piles of cut-up BMX bikes we'd find in the garbage, stripped-bare sandrails and their engines, couple rifles or compound bows here or there, probably listening to whatever crusty old rock music my dad put on. hell, i was rowing through the gears of my mom's old square body S10 while she drove us to the store before i was barely tall enough to see over the dash. "hanging out with friends" was playing Guitar Hero or Racing & Skateboarding Video Games, or riding our bikes and skinning our knees. "hanging out with dad" was often target shooting in the backyard or building something; I rarely ever held the flashlight, i had the tools in my hands and grease under my fingernails.

that's a lot of exposition but i'm trying to paint the most specific picture i can! TL;DR, a lot of arguably "boy things" in my upbringing, and i fit right into it, lot of fondness in my heart for it still!

around the time i had my big Gender Awakening at the tail-end of high school i had already been Online for a bit - hell i learned what it meant to feel non-binary from this very website circa 2013 - but it wouldn't be until maybe 2019 or so when i moved out that i really started making other queer and trans friends, and it was pretty immediately obvious that i was extremely different from the rest of my community, both online and offline. of course, nobody was rude about it, everybody was VERY respectful of my name and my pronouns and my identity, but it was still really easy for me to feel "othered" because our shared experiences didn't line up at all; At most maybe i got made fun of for having long hair. it made it really easy to feel like i wasn't doing enough work to justify my queerness.

at the other end of that spectrum, i recently tried on she/her pronouns at the front of my bio, just to see if i was missing something, and i was quickly met with an IMMEDIATE outpour of support from friends and community alike. SO many people were loud about being So Proud of me, Knew i Had It In Me, i had multiple friends message me privately to offer information and easy routes to HRT "just in case ;)" i was thinking about it! and, yeah, it's nice to have that kinda support, i'll admit! but it was hard not to feel a little invalidated in not wanting to change. it really felt like a lot of people, close friends even, just kinda saw me as a trans woman waiting to have a bigger realization, as though being non-binary was just a meaningless stepping-stone to something greater. and i mean, i can't blame them, they just wanted to help!!

today i'm pretty firmly Queer/non-binary (with a little bit of Girl on the side when it's either Appropriate or Funny), and my body and voice are very much unaltered from the ones i was born with. virtually indistinguishable from a cishet version of myself, just with the he/him lopped off and they/she sloppily appended in its place; simply because i don't have the energy or don't care to put much effort into change, and that's very much fine for me. I know damn well i don't owe it to anybody but myself anyway, granted none of it tends to matter much when you present as a rabbit girl on the internet LOL. I'm thankful to have built myself a little space where i can engage with others like me, or where other queers feel welcome to express interest in the things that I'M all about! even if it's a little few and far between. still struggle with feeling like i fit in with The Girls tho LMAO.

IDK! this post is my half-baked love letter to my fellow AMAB NB folks who get treated like Cis Men, Trans Women who don't "put the effort in," or Anyone who can Otherwise Relate in the same, or even an opposite sort of way. we are playing cars together

[acheronist]

ok here's my player fansign event gossip

🐙

i was running a teensy bit late so i didn't get to say hi to rasmussen but he did look VERY handsome and looked a bit afraid LMAO. my sweet moose was probably out of his depth.. socially awkward darling

debrincat came out second and he was so so so so kind to fans. he was taking a ton of time to stop and sign something for EVERYONE who wanted something signed. about 8 or 9 guys passed him and went inside before he was nearly done walking thru the crowd to sign stuff... :'-) welcome home kitty we love u + it was so nice to see him recognize how excited we are for him too rahhh

i honestly dont remember seeing andrew copp at all but he must have walked by lol

berggren was sooo 🤏🏻🤏🏻 and cute and polite. he signed things very neatly and small and carefully (literally just JB48 in like a 1" square. its ok baby u can take up more space) + we congratulated him on getting called up again because we all love to see him skate and he seemed really genuinely surprised/pleased to hear it

it seemed like ville was bouncing back and forth between both sides of the walk a ton... also just trying to sign everything for everyone who wanted it... he was so 🙂 shaped though.. and he really is pale as fuck i think my guy was refracting sunlight as he walked by. i liked his signature a lot though it was very tight + angular + neatly written. big emphasis on the double Ls in his name. I dont even remember if he spoke though i'll be real.

ben chiarot looked sharp as FUCK. he had a turtleneck on under his suit jacket and his hair all slicked back..... he was serving sexy team dilf without children realness. so my bestie asked him if he just got done at a GQ model shoot while he was signing her shirt and he smirked and laughed under his breath a bit. whore <3

fischer was really fun to look at irl. his face is crazy i want 2 draw him. thats all i got LMAO. i dont remember anything else sorry to the christian fischer stans of tumblr dot com

compher was very polite too but he was moving thru the crowd really quick.. again i think he was just awkward and a little out of his depth w the crowd in the same way ras was? but he was very polite + nice + softspoken tho and i took a selfie w him for @comphy-and-cozy because she's violently in love with him but couldn't be there LOL

ghost looked SAUR sexy.. dark green suit well tailored very kind and polite.. i like that boy ! he was really softspoken too which surprised me because he's been such a freaky bitch on the ice lately

i also dont remember sprong at all but i do remember thinking it was kind of a #serve to match the toque to be the same burgundy color as his suit (also extremely well tailored. everyone looked very handsome). creative ways to make early male pattern baldness be kind of cunty + well dressed for the weather.

DYLAN.... DYYLAAANNNNNNNNNN

he was so so lovely.. definitely doing the same move as debrincat where he was just taking his damn time to sign smth for everyone who wanted smth. he was kind of in Good Captain Autopilot Mode it really reminded me of clips of stevie from the 90s... hockeytown loves our captains so much its unreal. but he signed my jersey and said hi to our little group and i sooo shaky lmao. but i handed him the art & he started to sign the plastic sleeve it was in? and I went no it's for you! and he kind of checked back into real life and went oh OH!!!!! and smiled when he actually looked at it and carried it w him thru the rest of the line :'-) idk i feel like he must get a lot of gifts from fans? but he definitely looked at it inside the doors of the LCA and he definitely carried it w him and didn't throw it away immediately so. big win for people who are me.

lucas and mo were funny asf they made it about 75% of the way thru the line and then the sun came out and was in their eyes and they both said ok i'm done now thank u and left. #respect

joey was so cute.. my bestie made a sign calling him a himbo last year and (then) he asked what a himbo was so we said Lmao google it, and this year he was signing stuff and talking to us and we were like "did you ever google what a himbo was" and he went huh. ohhh yeah lol like he was somehow both Pleased and Very embarrassed about it . cutesie.

newsy came out too!! and his daughter was with him and it was so cute they had matching friendship bracelets and newsy was like (to us the crowd) omg guys can we take a selfie ? can we do that?? and we were like Dawg you're head coach you can do anything you want..... so we all got a selfie w him LMAOOOO and he was so sweet and gently spoken and kind to fans. which still is crazy. i get whiplash every time how different he is to blash (the old coach who was a bitch and looked like he wanted to call people slurs but knew better) its unreallll

i think all the interviews where walman's said how much he likes detroit + feels wanted here weren't lies or exaggerations at all.... he stuck around so long to sign things for everyone (like dylan and debrincat did) and I think he was the last guy on the walk? and he was so funny and smiley and happy to be there.. my fucking GUY!!!!

#drw #also everyone was walked out alongside younger kids who play for the little caesars team and that was so cool too #esp because there were so many ~10 y/o girls who looked like they could kick your ass just hanging out w nhlers as they walked

[dia-souls]

🥀 Subayui fanfic 🥀

Pairing: Subaru🗡️ and Yui🌸

Author: Admin Ava

Genre: Funny, Sweet themes, Happy ending

Chapter : 1

‘’Damn is it that time of year again!? I could’ve sworn that it would be canceled after what happened last time.’’ Ayato said as he laid his cheek on his head and rubbed it roughly as if he was trying to warm his face.

🥀 Gothic Soirée 🥀

"I hope you are all ready for Friday. Remember that this is of utmost importance." Reiji said as he pushed his glasses up and didn't look away from the novel he was reading. Yui and the brothers were already in the limo on their way to school, and Reiji's sudden announcement made everyone, except Yui and Subaru, groan in annoyance.

Laito looked over at his younger brother and couldn’t help but give his signature chuckle. “ Fufu~ I don’t see what the problem is Ayato-kun~ this is one of the school gatherings that I look forward to. Essentially since this year, Bitch-can gets to join too~ Ahh~ just thinking about it makes my fang tingle.’’ Laito said while wrapping his arms around the very confused and now uncomfortable Yui.

Suddenly, Kanato shoved the horny vampire away while sneering at him dangerously. “Ugh! Can’t you go one minute without touching my food? I never permitted you Laito! If you ever touch her again, I’ll..I’ll’’ Kanato sniffed before grabbing a teacup off of the small trays and chucking it directly at Laito's head, I” LL NEVER FORGIVE YOU!” Laito dodge the cup with ease, but as it zoomed past him. It hit Reiji square in the face. Thanks to the force of Kanato's throw, the impact was so strong that it broke Reiji's glasses clean in half.

Silences. The whole car went quiet as everyone witness Reiji's glasses break. Blood trickling down his face. A drop staining his freshly cleaned and pressed uniform blazer. The second oldest brother didn’t make a sound. All he did, was put down his book, took off his blazer, and examine his glasses.

Despite Reiji's lack of emotion, everyone couldn’t tell which was scarier. The fact that he didn’t react, or the fact that his aura became darker with the lack of words coming out his mouth. Although everyone stayed rarely quiet as Reiji somehow put himself back together.

One of them, Ayato to exact, couldn’t help himself and bellow out with laughter. “ HAHA! Damn Kanato your aim is piss poor! You were supposed to hit Laito! Not Reiji! Well, at least he’s stopped nagging in his favorite thing. Oi Table cloth! How does that tea taste? I always thought it would look better on your head-‘’

‘’Ayato…Kanato … It would behoove you to keep your insufferable mouth shut. One more one and I’ll make sure you two regret your actions. Painfully.’’ Ayato's eyes widen as he gritted his fangs.’’ Oi! Why am I getting accused?! Kanato was the one who threw the cup at you! Yell at him, not me!”

Now it was Kanato's turn to look in bewilderment. “Why are you throwing me under the bus?! YOU'RE the one who’s laughing so if anyone should be getting punished it should be you! I should strangle you for speaking ill of me!Once we get out of this car I’M GOING TO-‘’ Kanato immediately ceased his speech as Reiji's maroon eyes glared deeply at the two of them. Like a parent giving their child the look when they have gotten in trouble.” I thought I told you two to shush yourselves. Unless you prefer I shut them for you, permanently…

The two of the triplets immediately ceased their arguing and were as quiet as the dead. Laito held in his chuckle while the others tried to look past this very, uncomfortable, situation. Shu, who opened up one of his eyes looked at Reiji before shutting it once again.’’ Now that those two have finally quit talking. Reiji is it necessary for us to go to this thing or are you taking orders from father again like a little lap dog.’’

Reiji who was already annoyed, grimaced at his older brother as he tried to use magic to repair his glasses. ‘’Yes. Father strictly advises all of us to participate. And no, you have no say in the matter. But by all means, I urge you to stay home and sleep around the house uselessly like you always do. It will be one less person who has to deal with father’s wrath.’’ The eldest and second eldest quietly scowl at one another. Until the youngest finally spoke up .

’’ Alright! Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?! You keep saying that we're going to do something but you're not saying what the hell it is! Some of us would like to geez I don’t know, not be left in the fucking dark! Quit being ominous and speak up already!’’ Subaru barked at his brothers and then shoved his fist in his pockets.

As Reiji scoffed at his brother's rudeness, Yui who had somehow, gotten out of Laito's grasp, was also curious about what Reiji was talking about,’’ I would like to know too Reiji-San. The others seem like their opposed to what you have said.’’ Reiji turn his attention away from Subaru then quickly scowled at Yui's sudden rudeness as well. She nervously looked away.

“Well, it makes since why you two wouldn’t know. In any case, what I am referring to is the,’’Gothic Soirée”.’ Reiji went quiet for a second to make sure the two of them were paying attention. Then, he continued,’’ It is a ball of the sort. Since Ryoutei Academy main student body is made up of offspring from affluent and prosperous families. It is where student’s and their parents come to donate to the school and for students to mingle with scholars from other school district. It’s an event to help boost up the academy image and to get more students to attend. Our father has much more important matters to attend to in the demon realm so, we go to represent the Sakamaki Household. However I’m a little apprehensive about this year. Not only was last year a complete disaster but this year we have Yui with us and I already have a bad omen for what is to come.’’

Yui looked at Reiji with acknowledgment. She had a feeling she knew how things would turn out this year. After all, trouble likes to follow her around like a lost puppy. Or at least that’s what Reiji had told her once. ‘’So this is basically a school funding raiser I’m I right? If that’s the case then why don’t you just go to represent the old man if he wants to make a good impression or whatever. You would think he would’ve known how chaotic we all are when we’re put together by now. Especially those three dumbasses over there.’’ Subaru received hate glares from his older brothers who couldn’t speak at the moment since the fear Reiji had put in them was still fresh at the moment.

‘’Fufu~ It’s because he wants us to suffer. I thought you would have known that by now Subaru-Kun~ As long as we're distressed, that longed hair bastard is happy. But it's not all bad, after all since it is a gathering that means that many lovely ladies from all over Japan will be coming~ Then it will be a real party. Although, none of them are as lovely and naughty as my Bitch-Chan is~ Mm I can see it now. Bitch-Chan and I dance the night away as everyone looks in envy. Our bodies rubbing up seductively against each other~ Our hands going up and down our bodies over, and over, and over again. Then while everyone’s eyes are on us, I’ll push her hair back slightly while licking her neck as she moans in pleasure~ I’ll sink my teeth deeply into her soft, wet, pale neck as her moans become more erotic~ Hmmm, why should I just tell you when I can demonstrate it ~’’

Laito grabbed Yui by the waist and closely put his face in front of hers. Before he could sink his fangs into her supple neck, the car went under a dark tunnel. In the darkness a hard “SMACK” echoed throughout the car and when the light finally shined through. Yui was safely wrapped in Subaru's arms and Latio had a lavender bruise on the side of his left eye. The car stopped in front of the school building. Subaru hastily grabbed Yui, her bag, and then hurriedly remove themselves from the car before Latio had the time to react.

When they were far away from the others, Subaru set Yui down while he examine her face to her neck. “That fedora-wearing perv…who the hell does he think he is putting his hands on you after describing that disgusting fantasy of his! I should’ve decked him in both eyes when I had the chance! Anyway, are you hurt? He didn’t touch you anywhere? If he did, let me know so I can disinfect you.’’ As Subaru checked Yui was like an anxious mother hen.

She couldn’t help but chuckle at his abrasiveness. ‘’Yes, Subaru-kun I’m alright. Laito didn’t get a chance to touch me before you stepped in and saved me. I appreciate that so thank you very much!’’ The wide smile from the platinum blonde, made Subaru's cheeks flush with a red brighter than the tomatoes Yuma gave them last week.

He looked over to the side to avoid eye contact, the hair in his face making it harder to see how flustered was,’’ Tch. It’s not Like I enjoy helping you or anything. Just…next time don’t sit with them ok! From now on you are required to sit next to me at all times! Understand?’’ Instead of flinching at Suabru's sudden order like she would’ve in the past , Yui couldn’t help but giggle at his shyness.

She remembered how she’s technically older than him. She walked closer to him and placed her hand on top of his hand.’’Hehe. ok, I’ll make sure to sit next to Subaru-kun from now on. I promise.’’ She gave him a gentle head pat before picking up her bag and saying bye as she headed towards class. Subaru snapped out of his gaze and angrily yelled,’’ O-OI! DON’T PAT MY HEAD LIKE SOME PUPPY YOU HEAR ME!’’ Yui hit him with one last smile before continuing to her destination. Subaru stood there for a second, then slowly rubbed his head where she patted him.’’ Idiot…..a kiss would’ve been better…’’

“Awww! You and M-Neko-Chan are so cute together!’’ Subaru instantly turned around to the voice that was behind him.”Kou?! What the hell are you doing here?!’ Subaru growled while pointing his finger at his ‘’best friend’’. Forgetting that his cheeks were still flushed from earlier.

“Now that doesn’t matter now, does it? Anywho I saw you and M-Nero-Chan talking and a question popped into my head,’’ Kou chuckled before smirking at Subaru. ‘’Who are you going to invite to the dance on Friday~?’’

Chapter 1 Ended

To be continued…

#yui komori #komori yui #subaru sakamaki #sakamaki subaru #subaru x yui #yui x subaru #subayui #subayui fanfic #diabolik lovers #dialovers #diabolik lovers fanfic #diabolik lovers fanfiction #diabolik lovers fandom

[zimithrus1]

Hades AU: Zagreus and Thanatos swap jobs temporarily

Send me an AU and I'll give you 5+ headcanons about it

1 It started as a simple question: "How hard is it taking souls?" And it ended up with Queen Persephone bringing the job swap to life, much to the headache of Lord Hades, who allowed it anyway as it was nearly impossible for him to deny his wife anything. Thanatos found himself giving scythe-wielding lessons to Zagreus, (Achilles did not have the right set of knowledge for scythes, he's afraid) and Zagreus found himself giving Thanatos the best tips and tricks to finish off an encounter quickly and how to best deal with the bosses at the end of each region.

2 Reaping souls was hard for Zagreus. Especially when the mortals would beg and plead not to die, that they still had so much they wanted to do before their time. The hardest part was reaping those whose times had come far too soon, tears in his own eyes and heart breaking as he claimed their souls. For Thanatos, taking on droves and droves of Lord Hades' legion was not without difficulty, (as the Olympeans didn't really give him any boons, except for Zeus to get a good jab at his brother, and Dionysus but because he thought it was funny), but he had a much easier time with the occupational swap. Dealing with Megaera proved to be quite challenging, as they had never needed to fight each other to the death before. He feels bad whenever he sends her down in red, much to her dismay, but she's still a good-sport about the exchange.

3 Charon and Hermes were shocked when they found Zagreus helping square away souls with them rather than Thanatos. Hermes couldn't resist giving Zagreus a hard time at his big, watery eyes for every soul he would load onto Charon's boat. Telling him 'Not to worry, because one day you'll learn how to do that on the inside' and patting his cheek while saying it. Charon gave him an understanding 'hrrngghhrahhh' and a small hug to make up for Hermes jest.

4 the worst part of the occupation switch for Thanatos was not the endless droves, or battling with the Furies or Lernie, no. The worst part was having to fight Theseus in the coliseum. When he walked in with Stygius molded to an aspect of his own, Theseus became physically incapable of shutting his pie-hole: "THANATOS? DEATH HIMSELF COMES TO CLAIM ME AGAIN? WHY TO THAT I SAY NO SIR! YOU ALREADY TOOK ME ONCE YOU BLACKGUARD AND I'LL BE DAMNED IF I GO DOWN TO YOU AGAIN! COME ASTERIUS LET US PUT DEATH IN HIS PLACE AND SHOW HIM JUST WHO RULES THE COLISEUM! NOW HAVE AT THEE YOU--" "Let us have a good fair fight, Death." Asterius simply says. Thanatos likes the bull-man way more than Theseus. He vaporizes Theseus first every time.

5 Thanatos puts up a good fight, but in the end is taken down by Lord Hades at the very end. Death finally experiences the thing he brings and he learns first-hand how and why mortals fear it. When he materializes back into the House of Hades, he finds a puffy-eyed Zagreus waiting for him, who grapples onto him immediately and says he doesn't have it in him to take souls, its too hard. Thanatos asks if Hermes told him that he'd learn to cry about it on the inside. Zagreus nods fervently and asks how he knows. He responds that 'Hermes told me the same thing when I took my first soul.' It's his way of saying 'you're doing a good job and it's good that you actually care'. Queen Persephone applauds them both at a job well done and how it was a very interesting experience and she would love to see another swap sometime soon. Lord Hades says they already wasted enough time on this and they should all get back to their original jobs. Both Zagreus and Thanatos gain even more understanding and respect for the others' jobs.

#ohmigosh this one was an aboslute blast as well!! #So much fun thinking about that role swap!! #hades game #hades #hades zagreus #hades thanatos #swap au #au headcanons #hades charon #hades hermes #hades megaera #hades persephone #hades theseus #hades asterius #I used a lot of characters for this one lmao #thank you again!!! #💚💛

[jacquesthepigeon]

I take script leaks with a grain of salt, but according to a recent one, it looks like Zoé is over her crush on Marinette at the end of Adoration?? She's moved onto some girl named Eguantiline or something and is going to be all blushy while she tells Marinette about her. On one hand, I'm glad Zoé won't have to suffer from unrequited love for ages like Marinette did, but also, canon single-handedly killed Zoénette. Also- why does everyone who isn't a main character get over their crushes on Marinette so easily?? Nathaniel, Nino, and Adrien have all briefly crushed on/thought about whether they were, and those feelings were all gone by the end of the episode. (Considering how Nathaniel and Zoé both like/liked Marinette, she really attracts the gays lol) Luka's the only non-Adrien character who's remained in love with her, and didn't immediately lose feelings after they broke up.

Probably cuz I wasn’t “true love” or some shiz like

Just let them fizzle out over time after the episode instead of immediately turning them away from it in favor of shipping the damn square

Funny how we never see ppl’s crushes on Adrien treated that way lmao like Chloé is off the golden boy boat one sec and back the next

#ml leaks #anon #ask

[triflesandparsnips]

So, like, if we're really going to go Full On Xena here and decide that historical accuracy is for squares--

About like a hundred years after OFMD is set there's this whole... thing. With men and their stockings. Which, as we know, are form fitting, and can therefore show off calves to their utmost advantage-- or lack thereof.

So some dudes at the time apparently felt the need to... supplement their calves. With falsies.

Calf falsies.

So it would, to me, be very funny if Ed sort of, like, notes early on that Stede has surprisingly defined calves for somebody who's swanning around dressed (and presumably as well-exercised) as the most uppercrust of indolent dandies.

And he doesn't say anything to Stede because, well-- listen, he's ransacked enough rich men's underwear drawers to know that falsies exist, and if Stede feels the need for enhancements then it's no skin off Ed's nose one way or the other. And anyway, they're spending most of their days in one another's company, so it'll become obvious sooner or later, right?

Right.

So no need to ask Stede about it. No need to, say, seat himself just below Stede during the evening storytelling at an angle that might let him check for the telltale bump of knotted ties beneath his stockings. No need to wonder at all, really, at any time, about Stede's calves, and knees, and the expensive knitted silk rolled up and over them, tucked every single day just as tight as you please under the band of his damn-near painted-on satin breeches.

There's absolutely no call for it because, eventually, Stede will slip. He'll forget himself, just for a moment, and then Ed will know and that'll be that. Accidents happen all the time on shipboard, that's just the way of it. No need to rush things along at all.

For instance, maybe one day Stede'll step into something foul and feel the need to strip off his stocking. Could happen to anybody. Practically a daily occurrence. But Stede, he probably wouldn't want to wait around in the muck, he'd probably have to take it off immediately, right where he's standing, just unbutton the band at his knee and get his fingers under it so he can find the stocking's welt, feel it out all careful as can be so he doesn't catch against the delicate silk and snag it beyond repair-- but it'd be easy enough for Stede, what with all the practice he's had dressing and undressing on his own now, easy for him to hook his fingers into the stocking and ease it out, roll it down, finally flash his plumpers and show where they ended and he began and--

Or maybe, Ed thinks with some feverishness, maybe like, maybe he'll ask Ed to stay after breakfast, to keep talking while Stede just changes for the day, and he'll keep the door to the closet open, not to tease but just to let their voices through, all normal, all fine, but god knows Stede loves his mirrors, and there's one that Ed is absolutely positive would-- if only Stede would stand just so and leave the door open just enough-- would in fact yield the reflection of Stede setting his clean, bare heel on one of the closet's little embroidered footstools, finally unclothed but for pale hair and pale skin and the dips and faint hollows where the bone would show shadowed in morning candlelight and half miraged in mirror view-- and then Ed would finally see, he'd finally have fucking proof that Stede didn't have that cut of muscle curving firm and palm-sized at his calf, that it was all cotton pads and careful knots and a rich man's brand of fuckery to capture a strength he didn't have, didn't really need to be honest, Stede was strong enough, alive enough in these hellish waters that he didn't need to prove anything to anyone, alive or dead, and so if Stede would just tell him, just slip one damned time so Ed could finally decide whether he wanted to burn the damn things or tie them on as sweetly as Stede needed or, or-- or--

...Which is how, about a month into their voyage together, when Stede does, in fact, invite Ed to stay after breakfast, and to keep talking while he changes, and he asks Ed if he minds him leaving the door open a little but, heh, not to worry, he moved the mirror into the bed nook just that morning, so no need to fear any "stark revelations," heh, d'ya get it Ed, like that time, and of course "starkers," classic punnery--

--only to hear the abrupt sounds of what seem to be, in order:

Stede's quite expensive dining table: flipped

his delightfully matched morning dishware: shattered

a non-zero number of his cleverly carpentered cabinet drawers: yanked from their moorings, dashed to the floor

what he now suspects to be, embarrassingly enough, his unmentionables: tossed, thrown, riffled through, and probably wrinkling

and one extremely irate pirate: thumping through it all while swearing very, very loudly that he intends to "find the buggery fucking fucks so help me fucking Christ--"

And Stede decides that Ed needs a moment, so he'll just go ahead and close the door and get finished dressing on his own before he ventures out to see just how accurate his guesses were.

#our flag means death #ofmd #free plot bunnies #if you write it link it #do the thing #but also I should say that I don't even LIKE DUDE'S LEGS wtf #like that is NOT MY DEAL #but apparently THE GHOST OF EDWARD FUCKING TEACH decided I needed to be witness to his fucking sartorial tragedy #edward teach #ed teach #stede bonnet #also while I'm at it #it becomes obvious over the span of several interviews that rhys darby is really very vain about his legs and so #I am having perhaps #Too Much Fun

[jollythunderstorms]

anyway, here's my the mysterious benedict society s2e2 — 🧵

"pirates are just doing their jobs" sticky i love you

captain noland's speech just called my english skills a bitch, i legit got every other word T.T

love how constance's go-to cover story is ghosts, i legit have used this joke multiple times

the scene where the society first runs into the girls is so funny like? i'm not a sports girly by any means but the girls are wearing tracksuits that kate mistakes for cricket ones but sticky points out they have 'waterpolo' written on them but also their arm patches have a tetherball??? what sport are we playing? i also just noticed i've never actually seen a modern cricket uniform. i thought we all still dressed like we were in the early 20th century

constance being fulled to do work by the reward of food is so me

virgin canonball asking for permission to speak freely vs chad number two just going for it

me holding canonball: my baby my baby you are my baby

"my job is already in jeopardy. I feel the walls closing in on me" <- me at any minor inconvenience

me looking at the cloud classification (cumulus humilis) in the opening credits: oh sick ghost reference

i finally noticed number two's sequence has a map of luxembourg, place of birth maybe? but then again reynie's has portugal so maybe it's about language proficiency?? if i get number two speaking german or french i will get weak at the knees i swear to god

ms perumal being versed in the sciences but also the humanities is something than can be so special to me <3

is the blueberry the emergency? vote now on your phones

i can't believe they took number two's square! IT'S CLOTH WHAT IS SHE GONNA DO WITH A SQUARE OF FUCKING?! dark craig zeisk release the forbidden extended cut where number two strangles curtain with a 10x10 square of green plaid

how does he know she likes woodworking??? gay recognizes gay? regardless get away from her get a job

curtain talking about the subtlety of the kidnapping just makes me laugh because all i can think about is number two kicking and screaming her little heart out in the back of the taxi

number two, exploding curtain with her mind: "I. don't. want. your. tea."

JACKSON AND JILLSON MY GAY CHILDREN ARE HERE

"thank you for your trust :D" "oh, we don't trust you :|"

i love how kate never thought to knock on the rooms BEFORE trying to pick the lock. proof braincells go to bed sometimes

I AM CONSTANCE AND CONSTANCE IS ME

"healthy distance" i say as i ignore everyone around me

psychic children and now cannibalistic clowns?! this show has everything

the inverness is beautiful

god milligan is in full dad mode i love him he's so stressed

mr benedict immediate noticing the kid and stepping back, i'm fine

simultaneously laughing and retching after jackson and jillson speak in unison everytime

is that how 'devotes' is pronounced? or is it a separated word from 'devotees'?

jillson keeping her highsocks is so cute

"sebastian is from brazil" "brazil"

this actor's eyes and smile are so unsettling, he's so well casted

the houses remind me of eleanor's from the good place, not good

curtain bought actual bookshelves! with actual real books!! sucess!!!

love how, while number two worries about rhonda and milligan, mr benedict worries about the children and instantly knows they will try to come rescue them! none of the adults clocked them that fast. ugh i love him

"sweet suite" love

oh man nine books for nine occupants? wonder if it's symbolic or if i'm just reading (hehe) too much into it

i'm actually kind of scared of ceiling fans, fun fact

oh damn the sugar

as someone with anxiety, i'm formally diagnosing captain noland right now

true friendship illuminates? gay

"you feel too much. it will get us killed" i know she's joking but shut up constance i'm so scared right now! you shut up!

if you ever wondered how i speak english (second language) this scene with the team is exactly it

the way mr benedict rolls his eyes as number two starts on her healthy food talk is so funny. man's hear it a thousand times before

mr benedict's smile dropping so fast after the fit comment is a masterclass in acting. kristen's facial expressions continue to be the best. also find it interesting they changed it to "almost as sweet" in the latam sub

why is number two looking at mr benedict when there's a strange man all up in his face? wrong person number two!

love mr benedict blurting out spanish (half of 'hasta luego') instead of portuguese ('até logo') as sebastian says goodbye

*walter white vo* NOOO KATE NO DON'T LISTEN TO THEM NOOOO YOUR TECHNIQUE IS GONNA BE SHIT THEY ARE NOT REAL POLO PLAYERS KATEEEEE LISTEN TO ME KATEEE THEY DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE TALKING ABOUT

"we don't love labels" WE WHO YOU AREEEE FOR YOUR PRIDEEEEE

i like to think rhonda and ms perumal took shifts hearing milligan talk about fatherhood, girly in the back is dead to the world and ms perumal looks on her way to join her

"your faith in me is inspiring, number two, but I'm not an accomplished climber" "just do what i do. pretend you're an angry howler monkey and at the top of the fence is the person who stole your jackfruit" you are so weird and off putting, babygirl

THE WAY NUMBER TWO DOESN'T EVEN LOOK CONCERNED JUST DISAPPOINTED IM LOSING MY MIND ALSKJFHSHGS

SQ!!! MY SON! WHERE IS HE?!

"it's a defensive fence. we're protecting the vibe" ALKSHDGGHAJSDH

"i've tried to acknowledge my part in your pain" NOO NICHOLAS YOU DID NOTHING WRONG

"you are holding onto an outdated view of me" hate to say it but he's right. also what is he speaking like that?

so THAT'S what the tiktok girlies are doing

i'm going to beat the shit out of curtain

constance contrarie i love your brain

"cannonball, what do you know about home equity lines of credit?" save my man

"the greeks were terrible artists." SAY IT

this is censorship! let my girl bully reynie

well rip that married couple

#*throws* here take this #tmbs spoilers #tmbslb #the mysterious benedict society

[adelheidvonschicksal]

I could do a scenario where reader loves to mess with megumi's hair, but suddenly she stops because she thinks she's bothering him.

The first time you notice how soft his hair is was when you were returning to school after a long mission.

You were riding in a car with the entire first-year gang. Nobara sat in the front seat next to Ijichi while you were placed in the back between Yuji and Megumi. The ride back was a long one. After an exhausting day of exorcising curses, you were all tired. Nobara and Yuji ended up falling asleep minutes into the ride, leaving Megumi to watch the sights passing through the window and you shyly trying to make conversation with him.

It's hard considering the strong crush you have on your fellow classmate. He was intelligent, kinder than he really let on, and fairly mature (at least compared to the people you’re usually around). His good looks were the cherry on top of the entire package. Everyone knew Megumi was a pretty boy and often teased him about it. He had fair skin, long, thick eyelashes, and your favorite being his dark hair. It looked so soft whenever your teacher would pat his head, flattening out the black tresses and ruffling them, much to Megumi’s chagrin. But you really wished you could feel as well.

You were the type of person to show your fondness for others through touch. Some people liked it, and some didn’t. For example, Yuji normally had no problem with you touching him, even welcomed it. You weren’t brave enough to ask someone like Megumi for the same sort of relationship, so you kept your hand to yourself when it came to him. At least until Megumi fell asleep, leaning against the car door for support. It’s then you saw your chance and carefully reached to touch one of the longer spikes.

The little black point wavered at your poking, lightly curling around your index finger as you swirled it around. You giggled to yourself about it. It’s thicker and fluffier than you imagined and also incredibly soft, proving Kugisaki’s theory about a ton of hairspray wrong.

Suddenly, a bump in the road cut your touching short, and you quickly jumped away when Megumi’s eyes began to flutter open.

Suspicious, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” you said calmly despite your heart thumping under his gaze, but he dropped his interrogation as you all pulled into the school’s parking lot.

That was three months ago.

Now, the two of you were dating, and you saw that as permission to continue your physical intimacy with your more introverted boyfriend.

“Good morning, guys,” you greet your classmates and teacher with a wave, saving your happier actions for Megumi as your hand immediately goes towards his head to ruffle his hair. You pull your hand away but not before letting your fingers clasp your favorite cowlick. Giving a gentle tug, you let it bounce back into place with a smile.

Megumi groans softly, his mouth pursed into a slight frown as he goes to fix his hair back into its normal disarray.

Gojo claps, bringing your attention towards him. “Well now that everyone’s here, let’s go shopping.”

With that, the five of you head to the shopping district despite the heat bearing down on the city. You spend about an hour walking around before deciding to take a break so Nobara and Gojo can catch their breath in the shade while you return some clothes you bought a few weeks earlier across the street. Megumi and Yuji go to buy all five of you drinks, but it isn’t long before you hear Yuji yelling from outside the store.

“Sensei! Kugisaki! Fushiguro is getting hit on! We have to protect (L/Name)’s relationship!”

Before you could even stop them, they’re already up and running in Fushiguro’s direction. Sighing, you grab your card from the store owner and run to catch up with your group.

When you arrive, Kugisaki and Itadori are already clinging to him and ranting something about being in love with him before Gojo saunters up in his best casual wear to challenge them. You have to stifle back a laugh as he goes on about music practice and homewrecking before the event ends with Megumi smacking Yuji in the head as Nobara and Gojo stalk off, defeated.

Hearing your laughter, Yuji cowers behind you with tearful chibi eyes. “Do you see that, (Name)? Fushiguro is so mean. I was only trying to help him and that's the treatment I get .”

“You didn’t help at all. You were nothing short of embarrassing.”

You giggle at the two before reaching out to your silently fuming boyfriend. “No need to be so grumpy, Megumi-kun, or did Gojo give you too much violin homework,” you sing out teasingly, earning a growl about how it isn’t funny as you playfully scramble his hairstyle.

“And that! Will you stop with that?” Megumi demands and forcefully shoves your hand away. “It’s so annoying. You don’t see me petting you all day like some damn pet.”

“Oh,” you say, stepping back from him in your shock. This is the first time Megumi has brought up how you chose to dote on him. Yes, he’d quietly grumble about it from time to time like most things, but he never yelled at you about how you chose to display your affection. You guess you never really realized how much it truly bothered him. Biting back the hurt in your voice, you apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

Megumi grunts softly in response, and Yuji decides it’s probably best to ask Gojo to take you all home for today.

It isn’t long after that Megumi begins to notice your interactions with him starting to change. He apologized for yelling at you soon after the event, but you were still much less touchy with him even after accepting his apology.

Normally, you’d grab onto his hand without so much as asking or surprise him with kisses on his cheek. Now, you only hold his pinky from time to time and only if he asks. You also stop your go-to of rubbing his head when you’d greet him or playing with the ends of his hair when you were bored.

Megumi thought maybe something was bothering you, but then he noticed how you’d still laugh and joke around with Yuji and Nobara, your hand gripping onto their shoulder when they’d tell an extra funny joke or affectionately patting them on the back. That wasn’t the worst though. The worst was when you’d absentmindedly sweep Yuji’s hair back into place when it got messy from training. The jealousy it sparked in Megumi was the last straw that makes him decide to ask you what was wrong.

You’re surprised when he tugs on your sleeve, interrupting your conversation with Itadori and Kugisaki. “Hey, can we talk?”

“Sure,” you say, nodding off to Itadori and Kugisaki before following Megumi to the waterspouts outside. You both sat together on the brick square surrounding the structure. It’s a few quiet seconds of you staring at Megumi as he folds his hands in front of him and lazily taps his foot. Dark blue eyes stare at you before dropping back to the ground.

“Are you still mad at me for yelling at you the other week?”

You shake your head. “I told you it’s fine. I’m not mad at you about that.”

“Then, it’s something else,” he decides, and he desperately tries to rack his brain for what else he could have possibly done wrong, “I’m sure I didn’t forget your birthday or anything. Do you not like me anymore or something?”

Gasping, you deny his claim, “Of course I like you, why would you think I don’t?”

“Because you’re not so friendly with me anymore like the way you are with the others, so either you’re upset with me, or you don’t have the same feelings for me as you do with them.”

“It’s neither of those things. With Yuji and Nobara, they’re both sociable people, but you aren’t like them. You don’t like all that kind of stuff, and I don’t want to annoy you by doing things you don’t like.”

Megumi scowls at your confession, sighing because he remembers exactly why you must be talking like this so suddenly. He specifically called your touches annoying, and he inwardly curses at himself for it. “You’re wrong. It’s not that I don’t like it…” he begins unsurely then pauses.

“Then, what?”

Megumi groans softly, an embarrassed heat starting to build in his cheeks as he quietly croaks out, “Feels good.”

“What’s that?” you ask, scooting closer so you can hear him better.

Megumi blushes lightly and cranks his head to look away from your cutely confused blinking. “It feels good when you do it,” he repeats robotically.

“When I do what?”

“When you play with my hair,” he hesitantly explains in more detail, “When Gojo does it, it’s aggravating, but I don't mind so much with you.”

Hesitantly, you ask, “So is it okay if I do it now?”

Megumi nods. “If you want.”

Cautiously, you lift your hand, pulling back in doubt a few times before ultimately sliding your fingers through his hair and rubbing. Megumi groans softly at your touch, and you realize that all those rushed noises of aggravation were actually him moaning from how light and comforting your touch was. You move your hand forward and backward some more, massaging his head until his head starts nodding and his eyes flutter a bit.

You giggle at him. “Are you falling asleep? You’re such a kid.”

“This is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you.”

You laugh louder as he scoffs to hide his embarrassment.

“In that case, you can sleepover with me tonight, and we can do this if you want,” you offer sweetly, and Megumi glances at you, thinking it over. As your smile grows and your hand hits that sweet spot right at the nape of his neck, he couldn’t deny that he liked the idea of falling asleep with you playing with his hair.

“I’d like that.”

#megumi x you #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fluff #jjk megumi #look at me finally writing something sfw for him #i have like 5 wips that all revolve around this boy

[chanluster]

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

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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.”

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