#literally could not care about him at all when he’s possessing some poor kids

[lavenderjewels]

unapologetically becoming interested in sukuna only when he’s in his original form

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

If you’re still doing these asks, do you mind maybe adding a part 5 to Passion for Fashion?

I would love to see how Danny and Red Robin’s impromptu date goes and Constantine’s reaction to all this.

And poor Killer Croc is so confused and uncomfortable around the twins, oh and not to forget Dan’s inner turmoil over losing a love interest because his body no longer matches his mental and spiritual age😂

I’d also love to see the reactions of the rest of the Batfam to Tim going on a date and their reaction to Dan’s flirting with Croc.

Your request came in after I had already written most of Part 5, but I hope I can include most of what you asked for in it and make it up with another Part of the Au for you.

Danny strutted down the runway, fighting to keep his gaze straight ahead as various flashes from cameras went off.

He mentally went through his checklist of proper catwalk tips that he watched the other day—or, more accurately, Dan forced him to watch from some free video website—ensuring his hands were relaxed, long strides were made, and his shoulders were firm but not stiff.

This was the contest's second round, with Tim Drake proposing the "Gotham Aesthetic" as the theme and challenge. Apparently, the teenage CEO spent most of his childhood taking photos of the city and wanted others to appreciate the architecture of the aged town.

There was no kidnapping attempt this time, and the contest was back on schedule. However, there was a delay because some of the models had dropped out after they were nearly sold (Dan called them cowards, but Danny personally thought they were wise to do so). Hence, fashion designers had to scramble for someone new or forfeit their position in the contest, allowing some eliminated to take their place.

It took nearly four weeks to confirm that the same designers were staying but would need to remake or adjust their outfits. Thankfully, Wayne Amature Fashion Show was more than willing to offer them time.

Dan had already made Danny's outfit but figured he would remake it anyway. Once completed, new designs were crafted, adjusted, and flung into an idea box. He created so many it was as if Dan were a man possessed (Pun intended).

Danny needed to figure out how much fabric he was going through, but sometimes, he had to remind the other to sleep, eat, and shower. It seemed the other kept forgetting he was human now and needed to do these things for his health and Danny's poor nose.

Dan also seemed obsessed with exploring new parts of Gotham just to take pictures of buildings to get "inspiration." Danny went with him as he had nothing better to do, and the pair made an unlikely duo.

Both got stares in the streets—Danny for strutting around Gotham wearing some of Dan's regretted challenge outfits in an effort to learn to catwalk in them and Dan for dressing as close to the homeless as he could. For all that Dan could make amazing pieces of fashion, the man only filled his own closet with mismatched joggers and pajamas.

Danny had to force him back to change at one point since Dan had intended to walk around in a bathrobe- with shorts and stained short sleeves underneath it. He drew the line on bathrobes.

It was so embarrassing to be gawked at all the time that Danny could not help but wish Dan would try just a little. This was somewhat worse than when he was alone because at least then he knew it was just how stupid and awkward he looked in the outfits.

Now, he just felt subconscious about trying too hard compared to Dan.

"Relax, kid," The other scoffed, snapping a picture of the Brown Bridge. "By the time you're my age, you honestly stop caring about what other people think, so long as you like how you look."

"Can't you at least comb your hair?"

"I forgot how to do that."

Danny snaps his head in his direction, blinking owlishly "What?"

Dan shrugs. "My hair was fire for a literal decade, brat. How was I supposed to comb it?"

"Oh," Danny supposes, that makes sense. After all, Dan was more ghost than human at that point, driven mad by his grief and a colossal monster. He sort of forgot that. "Do you want me to show you how?"

"Ew. No. Too much work. Humans are so high maintenance." Dan rolled his eyes and shifted his tone into a mocking one. Comb your hair, change your clothes, take a bath."

"You smell like shit, Dan."

"You look like shit!"

"We have the same face!"

"It's better on me!"

Their public arguments also attract lots of stares. Danny would feel embarrassed by them if he wasn't so busy bickering with Dan as they moved about.

Ultimately, Dan had made his outfits formal steampunk during the break. Danny wished he had stayed with the Dark Academia idea because he felt he was walking around in a costume instead of clothes.

Dan told him that it felt too basic to go with Dark Academia since, now that he saw more of Gotham, he thought it better represent the city as a whole instead of the elites of Gotham. Danny debated with him until he agreed to make two of the four outfits- meant to represent all four seasons of Gotham's beauty or something stupid like that- to be dark academia.

Danny nears the end of the runway, stopping right before the judges to strike his pose. His eyes never leave the center decorative flower in the far back, but he makes sure to slowly turn his head as if he is gazing at the crowd.

There are gasps as he pulls off his tophat in a twirl to hide the way he presses the button on his hip. At once, his pants and sleeves light up in the gentle glow of the Brown Bridge's famous historic lampost show. It's no brighter than his ghost glow, but it makes him look like a vision, especially when he puts the hat back on with a mysterious curl of his lips.

Danny practiced that move for weeks—even when it made him cringe—and he is happy to have pulled it off successfully as he twists around and struts away. The Brown Bridge only lights its lanterns in the winter, so this hits a true Gotham native here for the seasonal challenge portion.

With his superhearing, he manages to catch Tim Drake-Wayne's dreamy sigh. Danny fights the urge to fist bump. If they impressed the special judge so much, then they just guaranteed their spot in the next round.

Each round meant they were closer to completing the mission. Since it's been practically impossible to find Batman—even when the man was running around dressed like a giant bat—this was their best bet.

Once he's backstage, he rushes to Dan's area, already ripping off most of his outfit for the last piece. Spring dark academia vaguely reminded him of rich school uniforms, but at least they didn't have ridiculous amounts of belts and metal on them.

Dan already has the outfit set out and quickly helps him change. He adjusts the vest and collar for Danny, glancing angrily at the model walking up the line. "Come on, we only have a few minutes before the last two models finish their walk for the Winter portion."

Danny nods, throwing on the gargoyle ear cuffs, only to pause when he sees a strange card on Dan's station. He pushes aside the black rings to grab a tiny green card with a giant question mark. "What's this?"

"Some guy saw my work and wanted to commission him a suit. Apparently, he was tired of how no one could style the question marks." Dan answered, distracted while reapplying some powder to Danny's face.

"A question mark? Why?"

"It's his gimmick or something. I didn't bother to ask for too many details. He will be going to our house soon to get his measurements done," Dan says, twisting Danny's face with his chin to make sure everything looks good. Danny lets him, blindly slipping on his rings and bracelets. "Thought it be a fun little side project."

"How did he hear about you?"

"You remember how you took those boxes of clothes to the job search office to give to people? Apparently, one of his employees' younger brothers borrowed a suit for his prom, and he thought the photos were nice." Dan shrugs. Then he glances in alarm at the stage hand who signals for them. "Never mind that. It's almost our turn again. Get out there!"

Danny scurries away, but not before he sees a beautiful redhead woman in green- was that leaves and vines???- stride over to Dan as the clone puts away his makeup.

She gestures with a business card, and Dan blinks as she talks once before he eagerly takes out his design journal. She must be a performer asking Dan for a new forest design or something.

Danny wonders why Gotham has so many people with oddly specific gimmicks.

He turns his head away to stride back into the catwalk, head held high as he does so. Danny makes the mistake of locking eyes with one of the judges- Tim Drake-Wayne is gawking at him like the people of the street do- and he snaps his gaze away, fighting to keep his composure.

He thinks he does well since Team Fenton snatches first place in this round. Drake-Wayne catches him at the after-party, praising his final outfit so much that Danny offers to give it to him, knowing Dan wouldn't mind.

Drake-Wayne goes red, early agreeing, but since they are so different in size—the CEO's waist is slightly leaner but with far more muscular forearms—Danny tells him to come by his house that weekend to have Dan resize it for him.

It should be fine since the Question Mark man and Leaf Lady will also be there that day for their own measurements.

[carolmunson]

blood machine.

emperor geta x senator's daughter!reader songspiration: in keeping secrets of the silent earth 3 | coheed & cambria

did not once plan to write for this guy but here we are. also like, is it historically accurate? no. like, not even a little. (hell is mentioned and technically hell wasn't 'a place' until 400 BC but like WHATEVER.) am i making a semi effort? sorta kinda. have i been a little stoned every time i've worked on this? well, yes.

summary: when what was supposed to be a diplomatic dinner before a much bigger and lively feast becomes a marriage offer, all of the wine you drank turns to ash in your mouth. haters to haters, bay-bee. tw: 18+, drinking but like -- idk it's ancient rome, tension, fighting, some mild body shaming (??), a literal threat of domestic violence but again it's ancient rome so like i don't think they cared, two stupid little bitches who hate each other. mentions of war and ultimate distaste for the poor. reader kind of has lady macbeth vibes. my little evil queen.

Wine is poured, golden chalices exalted. You are a vision and he is a toad looking creature of a man that only his mother could love. Not quite his brother, never quite measuring up the same way -- always trying to puff his chest. It was easy to tease him, ego easy to bruise -- little brother. You’d spent time in your childhood tagging along with your brother and the other kids to taunt him, pathetic and whimpering. 'Tale teller!' you'd jeer, every time he'd run off to his mother to blubber over how mean you all were. And you were mean.

But people grow, as they do. And so did you -- still mean, but in a different way. Listening to meetings, reading maps, keeping tabs on new republics, on potential uprising. The poor -- the fucking poor. Finding new ways to keep them occupied so that they'd stop trying to find ways to be powerful. Powerful like you. Powerful like the man at the head of the table with a plum to his lips. And as it has been said, a man in possession of a good fortune and power, must be in need of a wife. It became clear when you arrived that this was not a business dinner before a grand feast, your parents simply forgot to mention what this was really about. Your best linens, your hair coiffed, your best jewelry, you should have known it had been a ruse the moment you got there. His home on Palatine just sparkling the way the gold on your fingers did, candles in the halls and stairways glittering when they hit the rubies and pearls on your chest and ears. When your father veers the conversation from politics and business to marriage you both choke, stern eyes glued to your mother's painted face. A business dinner where you are currency -- more than worthy. Just a few months shy of being eligible when Caracalla was, regrettably, forced to marry Flavia at the last moment. It would've been nice to have the gang together again in some capacity. Could've bullied the toad to assasinating himself if you were lucky enough. Total power. Complete upheaval. The more you thought about it, the more of it your craved. The pit in your stomach grew, if it wasn't with his brother -- even though you bore no attraction -- there was not a point at all. Geta didn't think nearly as critically, didn't hit hard enough, didn't strategize correctly. You'd never even seen him pick up a sword -- but then again, that made sense. You very rarely spent time in his palace, much prefering the festivities of Caracalla's close by.

You listen while your mother goes on and on about his grace, tongue dipped in honey while she blabbers. She mentions how handsome he is, his valiance in leadership, how honorable he's become as he's taken the place of his late father -- you can't help yourself but laugh. The giggle echos and bounces through the high ceilings, floating against the archways, getting caught in the drapery by the open hall. His eyes flick to you over his goblet, catching in the candle light, an aggravated sneer plaguing his face. He looks like a pig when he does that, you think to yourself.

You know that business, for the most part, is a man's game. But it does not deter you from doing your best to try and wager yourself out of this. Ideas drip into your mind while the drone of the conversation turns to fuzz in the background. How can you sell that this is a bad idea? It will bring less publicity, less of a threat, less resposibility if married to someone with equal nobility. Certainly not an emperor. Especially not one like this. So petulant, so competitive, so eager for a war he does not know how to plan, so temperamental, so weak, so conniving, so consumed with the colosseum that he doesn't think of what should be done around him. It's his voice that brings you back to attention.

"And why is it she hasn't been taken for a wife then, at this age?" he asks, brow quirking in your direction. You let out of huff of offense while he sips his wine, metal clinking as he places it back down. A smirk flits across his features at the remark, "Is something wrong with her?"

Your father, sweating with embarrassment, looks over at you and back at the emperor, "Well she, she's of course beautiful." Geta winces, cocking his head to the side with a shrug. Your father sighs, desperate to try to find a better angle, "She um, she -- she has great wits, Ceasar, unmatched. She knows her duties as a wife, but -- a great thinker. She could -- she could be helpful!" "Wits," he mumbles sourly under his breath before leaning back leisurely in his chair, "Great thinker? Very surprising." "August--" your father starts. "Co--" you correct over a sip of wine, "Co-Augustus."

Geta tosses you another sour look, tongue running over his teeth before clicking it behind his lips. You shrug while swallowing. "Semantics, Publius," you wave a hand at him. A hush falls over the room as his gaze snaps up at you, blanching at the disrespect of being called by his first name. Your mother hides her face in her napkin with a groan. Your father leans his temple against his fingers, eyes closed in frustration. "Mind how you address me," Geta corrects with a stern pull to his lips, eyes glittering with rage. Your eyes catch over the mountains of food before you, holding your glass out as one of his servants pours you another glass of wine. "Is that not what your mother calls you?" your voice feathery, but certain. A vein begins to raise and pulse in his neck while his shoulders round forward.

"Please apologize, dear," your mother mutters, putting the napkin back on the table, "Tell -- tell the emperor what it would mean, to be -- to be wed to someone of such calibur."

Your eyes stay on his, challenging him while your mother begs you to say something to make amends. Another sip of wine passes your lips, "No, shan't."

Your mother scolds you, your full name escaping her with embarrassment tainting her tongue. Sweat beads at your father's forehead while he changes the subject, doing aything to try to keep his good favor with both sides of the imperatorship.

You grin into your goblet at the sight of Geta's face -- reddened with anger and frustration at the brazen disrespect. But it was fine to continue to be an enemy if it meant you would leave these regal walls and never have to step foot in them again. And if you did, it would be as another senator's wife, visiting his brother in another house where you'll laugh and drink wine and cheer when he's killed.

Even his posture is revolting, hunched over while he listens to your father speak. Now going on and on about paper work that doesn't interest you if it doesn't have a say on who is next on the list to conquer. Your eyes glaze over in boredom while pomergranate, honey pudding, and dates are placed on the table. Rose wine replaces the red to sweeten the tongue -- you're sure your parents wished it were true.

It's not very long after dessert is served that your parents start again.

"As you know, she does come from a family of very fertile women," your father encourages. You quickly swallow the bite of date you'd taken to interrupt, nearly choking, "Excuse me, I'm not sure this is appropriate dinner conversation."

Geta looks at you while you speak, scanning you and then lingering on the dessert in your hand, "Her hips are quite sizeable -- big enough to bear multiple childen, that's certain. Is that her only sell?"

Anger bubbles under your chest, but warning looks from both of your parents keeps your sharp tongue between your lips. The grip on your goblet tightens, jaw clenching while your pass another sip through gritted teeth. You let a seething breath out through your nose. "As I tried to explain before," your father continues, "She is very on the pulse in terms of the political climate and, and, and great with strategy." "I'm not looking for a wife who tries to strategize for me--" he responds coolly. "From how the empire has not expanded since your father's death I would guess that perhaps you should be," you snap back smartly. His posture straightens, chains and medallions across his chest glinting in the candle light. The room quiets itself again, only the sound of untensils and cups being put down or collected filling the dead air. The soft scrape of metal, the rustle of linens while servants and guards alike avert their gaze downward.

"Leave us," he states, voice pungent with authority. You stretch your neck on both sides while the servants depart, already bored with the back and forth. Already moved on from the eventual scolding and potential exile that won't get put into motion because you are simply too friendly with the rest of the upcoming generals and politicians. One rogue idiot who barely has the power his brother has, that his father never trained into him, could not dole a punishment that is worth your genuine fear.

You sigh, hearing the staff make their way down the long stone corridors into the grand halls to prepare for a more formal party with other higher status families. More likely a collection of offerings for him to choose from, other parents trying to arrange a marriage with the empire's most powerful and eligible bachelor. It would be one of the few times the brothers would have to engage with each other, which you're sure put Geta more on edge than normal.

"Senator, please take your wife to the grand hall to be seated," he commands, his voice lower, delving darker. The vein in his neck continues to pulse, forearms straining against the golden cuffs over his wrists, "The guards will accompany you."

You watch as your parents rise, bowing their heads before following the guards out of the room and through the blood red drapery hung from gilded valances. Geta's eyes stay hardened on you, and yours him, while you rise as well, taking a few steps around the large wooden table toward the exit. "Not you," he says, not turning to face you, "You will stay." "It is not appropriate for me to be unaccopanied in the pres--" "Do not speak," he huffs, hand coming up to silence you, "Your voice grates on me." "Then you can imagine what your own voice does, Augustus," you say without thinking, letting the insults flow out of you like the fountain water in the courtyards. He pushes away from the table, steadily walking towards you with enough vigor that the bottom of his cape starts to billow behind him. On his way, he pulls a sword from a guard's holster, dragging it so the tip grinds against the stone, making your jaw clench at the shrill sound.

"What happens to those who speak against me?" he asks, steps clicking against the floor from the studs on the bottom of his sandals. He begins to stalk around you, circling while he waits for an answer. "Execution," you respond, keeping your eyes on the drapery just twenty feet ahead of you. "What else?" he asks, you can feel his breath behind you, the whining grind of the sword against the stone making your shoulders tense. "Exile," you answer, a laugh bubbling out of you, "But I can't imagine your brother agreeing to either of those. You'd really banish me, Publius? Because I was a little mean to you?" When he appears in front of you again, your lips stretch into a sickeningly sweet smile, sarcasm staining your tone, "But we're such old friends."

He cocks his head to the side, taking a step closer with the sword between you, "Oh, I wouldn't do that to you."

He leans forward, enough that you can smell the rose wine on his breath. His voice quiet and menacing, "Though -- it could be that the senator said something to offend me tonight at dinner. It could be that perhaps he -- spoke poorly of my dear brother or my late father. Something just dastardly enough to sour my brother's respect for him." "And you expect Caracalla to believe that?" "In what way does it benefit me to lie about it?" he challenges, "And even more so -- with your father exiled, where does that leave you?"

You swallow thickly, not giving him the satisfaction of replying while your look into his now wild brown eyes. Flashing with mania and endless possibility.

"A peasant," he spits.

"If it keeps me out of these halls I should be lucky, no?" you fire back, looking at him from under furrow brows. He continues to circle you, dragging the sword again. The click, click, click of his shoes keeping time in your head. "I'm sure my brother would be happy to keep you as a pet in the meantime," he laughs to himself, "Or we could put you in the colosseum, you think you'd fare well?" "Better than you could, that's certain," you cross your arms over your chest, "Could never stand up and fight like a man, even as a kid. Your father would be embarrassed."

The grinding gets louder as he presses harder down, causing small sparks to fly from the edge of the sword.

"If you were to be chosen, would ever even attempt to learn respect?" he asks sharply, "Or would it have to be beaten into you?" You snort, "At least you're the funnier brother, you have that going for you." You can see him out of your periphery, the way he pulls his cheeks in, the roll of his shoulders -- he's losing patience. "What, would you prefer I called you Geta? Augustus? Ceasar?" your eyes roll. A soft cackle comes from his through, canines showing in a gleeful smile, "No, no -- from you? I'd much prefer something more respectful." Click, click, click. The grind of the sword. The rose on his breath. "Dominus," he nods with the threat, "Dominus et Deus."

"You disgust me," you respond quickly. "As a husband and as emperor is that not my title, already?" he shrugs, looking at you like it's obvious.

"You are nobodies Lord and God, you are a petulant -- sniveling -- repulsive little brother who is only where he is by being lucky to be born," you glower.

"You still see me as a child, femina," he tuts, "I promise you, what ever Caracalla has told you is a tapestry of made up stories. You could hang it on the tallest arch and it would hit the floor ten times over."

"I do see just a whining child before me," you hiss, "I'm sure you'll run to your mother after this, too."

His chuckle turns to a low, dark laugh from deep in his chest. It crawls up your spine and rings in your ears, mixing with the grating 'shhhhhhinnnngggg' of the sword on the ground.

"If it were fate that there was union between us," he asks from behind you, "What would you say to that?"

You look straight ahead, hearing the click of his shoes. The heat of the torches on the walls billowing onto your face while you keep your eyes on the drapery, still closed -- still keeping you here.

"It would be a fate worse than the hottest hell," you confess, your voice not wavering.

The whine of the sword stops, sheathed into his belt. The click of his shoes halts.

Quiet.

Rose wine on his breath, you feel it on your skin now, his chest against your back while he closes the space between you. A hand reaches up to push the hair from your neck, the other gripping the fat of your hip to pull you ruthlessly against him in a thud. Your eyes shut, bile crawling up your throat in disgust. His nose coasts against the shell of your ear, making you tilt your head away while goosebumps rise on your arms. Through a knowing grin he whispers, the words burrowing deep in your chest in loathing and a glimmer of fear: "I pray every moment of it burns you."

[gamerphobe]

i know we all love michael afton, and like i get it, i love him too, but sometimes it really feels like the fnaf fandom cares sooo much about sadboy michael being the saddest boy of all time that they pretend other characters had better lives just so michael seems sadder by comparison

objectively i think elizabeth and the crying child get the worst of this, but especially elizabeth. theres this persistent idea that elizabeth was williams favorite and beautiful angel and he loved and doted on her so much while poor poor mike got nothing. so often i see the dynamic put forward that william was physically abusive but only towards michael. which is ridiculous for a lot of reasons, but especially because we only see william get physical with any of his kids once, and its when he hits elizabeth in the silver eyes.

obviously, the silver eyes is a different continuity. whatever. its still canon, so the things it tells us about the general world and characters still applies. and it outright shows william as an abusive and neglectful father to His Daughter. and EVEN if you want to completely disregard the books, william obviously didnt “love” elizabeth enough in the games to not want to electrocute and experiment on her when he 100% knew she was possessing circus baby. elizabeth was a means to an end to him the same way michael was. he didnt even love her enough to properly keep an eye on her even though he knew she wanted to see a robot that would kill her. if william cared about elizabeth half as much as people pretend he does she would still be alive, because he wouldve put half a mind towards keeping her safe

+ cc is in a similar boat. william had a million chances to be a decent father and try to step in between cc and michael before things went too far. the bite happened at ccs birthday party, literally all william had to do was show up to his own sons birthday and he could have stepped in but he didnt. like, we all know william was using the fredbear plush to keep an eye on cc, so theres no doubt he knew the kid was being bullied. and not only does he do nothing about it, he also 1) actively feeds into ccs fears about the animatronics 2) still makes him go to the establishment housing the animatronics hes terrified of

and the way william talks about them. “you are broken” “i will put you back together” like william views his kids as objects. broken things he can fix. these are not words said by a loving parent

and its not even just the aftons! henry is no where near as horrible as william is—i Am Not suggesting henry was abusive—but he also wasnt a great dad! building a robot to watch your daughter instead of watching your daughter yourself does not make you a good parent! henry loves charlotte, but the emilys were not some perfect family with no issues.

obviouslyyy michael suffered a ton and was a victim no one is saying he wasnt but i promiseee that does not have to come at the cost of pretending no one else was a victim too. things are just as if not more interesting if you acknowlede other characters guys i promise i promise

[c0ld0utside]

May I request a yandere vampire mafia boss? I dunno you can ignore this if you want

Yandere Vampire Mafia Boss Dad

You got it!

Warnings: Inaccurate Mafia writing, Violence, Death, Kidnapping, Possessiveness

Years ago, before you were born, your father made a deal. In exchange for protection, loans, and medicine for his sick (and pregnant) spouse, they’d donate to another family in need. A family that the people in your downtown side of the city feared greatly, not just because the family was a literal Mafia.

They also weren’t human.

And, like most people in your downtown side of the city, they fell into debt a few years later when you were five.

Growing up, you were used to the man with pointy ears, clear skin, and piercing eyes visiting every three months. Your parents always made you hide out of sight when he was around, usually putting you in your room and telling you that it was nap time or something along those lines. Usually, something that involved you being quiet.

Sometimes, you’d peek through the gaps in the doorway, seeing the much taller stranger tower over your parents and speak with them for a few minutes before taking something and leaving. Sometimes he’d be nice, and sometimes he’d be rude. Sometimes he wouldn’t say much and go on his way. Sometimes someone else showed up.

That day was different though. It was the man you saw most of the time who showed up. You don’t remember the exact words, something about your parents falling far behind in their payments and how their time was up. Your mother had gasped and started begging, your father was trying to negotiate, and before the stranger could do anything you bolted out of your room and hugged your father’s leg.

The stranger paused immediately, eyes going wide. Your father quickly scooped you up and handed you to your mother, who started to back up. She froze when the man hissed at her. Hissed.

“You didn’t tell me your woman was pregnant.” The man said, a furious undertone in his voice. “The Boss isn’t a complete brute, you know.” He went silent, gaze drifting around your home as your father started up again. He wasn’t listening, taking in the worn and unclean scenery. Your home went from being well taken care of to a complete mess over the years.

And then his gaze landed on you.

Judging by the looks of it, you were your parent’s first priority. That gave him some relief, but the stranger knew your parents couldn’t balance you and their debt anymore.

“Y’know, my Godfather lost one of his fledglings recently.” He says. “You remember Matteo, right? Poor kid, only seventeen. May he rest in peace. Godfather’s really torn up about it.”

“No,” Your father says automatically. “Don’t be stupid. You can’t take care of them any longer,” The stranger says, gesturing to you. Instinctively, you cling to your mother and she starts to cry. “Now, now, it’ll be alright.” The man says, voice oddly gently. “If you hand them over, you and your lady will live. I’ll speak with the Boss and we’ll see how things go.”

“I don’t think your boss will be too happy about the idea of replacing Matteo,” Your father says firmly, earning a fist to the face shortly after. You can’t help but scream and the stranger cringes at the sound. “It’s not like that,” The man hisses, kicking your father in the stomach and watching him roll into the kitchen. “Now quit arguing with me and hand over the damn kid.”

You aren’t sure what happens next- it’s all a strange blur. Your father grabs something and tries to attack the stranger with it, and the next there’s red all over the walls and your mother is screaming while the man wipes and licks the red off of his face. He sighs in disappointment again. “It doesn’t have to be this way, lady. Just give them to me-”

She tries to run. Tries to run past him with you in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks. Her plan is simple- get outside and start screaming for help. People will notice. They always do-

You’re ripped from your mother’s embrace and are pulled into the stranger’s chest. The smell of cypress fills your nose, drowning out the smell of iron. Your mother screams your name and gets cut off. It’s only when the man starts to shush you that you realize you’ve been crying and calling out for your mom and dad.

“It’s okay, they’ll be okay.” The man says soothingly, but you know it’s a lie. “They couldn’t take care of you anymore, but the Boss will. He’ll be very happy to meet you.”

-

The Boss observed you the whole time the stranger explained what happened.

“…I know his passing was recent, but I thought-” The man spoke up, but the Boss held up a hand to silence him. “Thank you, Virgil. You may leave.”

“I need to get to know my youngling, after all.”

With a nod, the stranger- Virgil- left the room. The two of you sat there in silence for a while. The Boss was the first to speak.

“What’s your name, little one?”

“[Name],” You reply, voice hesitant and small. He notices immediately and his gaze softens. “Come here, tesoro.” He commands gently, motioning for you to come closer to him. It takes you a few seconds, but with shaky steps you walk over to him. Once close enough the Boss picks you up and places you on his lap.

“My name is Massimo,” He introduces with a small smile. You go cold when you see his fangs, starting to lean away from him. “Oh? It’s alright, tesoro, you’re safe. Now where was I…? Ah- yes, I am Massimo, and I will be your guardian from now on.”

-

Your new life starts out rough for everyone. You’re quiet, keeping to yourself and not engaging. Massimo tries his hardest, talking to you as you sit on his lap while he works. He even takes the time to try and play with you, bringing you dolls and making them do silly things. You smile softly, sometimes even laugh, but it always dies back down.

He sits with you when you eat your meals, taking note of the ones you seem to enjoy and dislike. Massimo tries using desserts to get you to be more talkative, but it doesn't really work. He doesn't give up, though. He'll keep trying no matter what.

When you’re not quiet, you’re crying. You ask for your mom and dad, wanting to go back home. Wanting to see if they’re okay. Wanting to watch TV with your dad and hear stories from your mom. Massimo can’t blame you for not understanding fully just yet. He shushes you, wrapping you up in a hug and rocking you back and forth.

“Your Mama and Papa are gone, tesoro mio, but it’s okay. They’re okay. I’m your parent now, you just need to get used to it.” Massimo whispers, patting your back gently. “But I want my real parents,” You hiccuped, making him frown. “Your real parents couldn’t take care of you anymore, caro/a. So they gave you to me. Virgil had to hurt them because they changed their mind at the last minute and tried to hurt him.”

“You have to understand gioia, if they kept you, you would’ve gotten hurt. Your Mama and Papa were already hurting you. They were selfish. But it’s all okay now, because I’m here. And I won’t ever hurt you. Now shhh, go to bed. I know sleeping during the day is hard, but we need to prepare you for when you officially become my fledgling.”

…

Hey it’s me! The end of the post! I feel like making a part two. Still new to this whole “writing and sharing” thing, hoping it’s been good so far. Let me know if I missed any warnings and do give me criticism. You look lovely today! Take care of yourself and drink water. Go have a snack, too.

[xxsp3llb0undxx]

The Pack With A Gen-Z!Reader // HC

Sam:

Dude would be so confused.

You're just yapping on about some random tiktok you saw.

Sam just looking at you like you've lost your mind.

Don't get me started on him trying to understand slang.

Sam would literally have a heart attack trying to figure out what you are saying.

Gives me the vibes of trying to be down with kids but fails miserably.

Definitely thinks he's cool because he found out about the dab and won't stop doing it.

He once locked you out by accident and all he was met with was “open the noooor”.

He thought you were having a stroke.

Paul:

My sweet baby Paul would be utterly confused at first.

Might think you're possessed.

He finally figures it out and he's all for tiktoks

Helping you prank the pack and getting it on video.

Definitely bullies you if you're trying a new tiktok trend.

Is the type to obnoxiously start screaming "Yaaaass gorrrl"

Jared:

Don't get me started on this boy.

Major younger brother vibes.

Sees you trying a new recipe? Will literally scream in your ear and run away.

Will join in with making tiktok videos.

Starts reciting random shit he's seen on Instagram reels 100%

The most in tune with the Gen-Z kids, giving feral energy.

Jacob:

Judging you all the time.

Why do you keep saying girl boss?

He would honestly hate you if you constantly kept saying random tiktok sounds.

"Hi I'm Shelley Duvall" is now stuck in this poor boys head.

Will personally ask Edward to suck you dry

Would be absolutely mortified if you said you might like it.

Embry:

Partner in crime.

1000% up to piss anyone off.

Everyone knows the Gen-z kids always do something really fucking random.

Wanna steal a car? Embry is already grabbing a crowbar.

Wanna take pictures of Sam asleep and stick them all around the house? Fuck he's already got the camera.

Wanna tie-dye random clothes? Already getting the bleach ready.

Quil:

Terrified.

In a constant state of fear when he's around you.

Like, he doesn't know what you're gonna do.

Bark at him? Definite no.

Set the house on fire because of a spider? He's outta here.

Crying because you couldn't renew your spotify/apple music? Doesn't know how to react.

Quil.exe has stopped working.

Seth:

Seth is a little puppy.

Will literally do anything you ask.

Go up to Sam and start reciting the lyrics to I'm A Survivor? He is already marching over there.

You ask him to make bread from 1930 with you? Sure, he doesn't care that it has random ingredients in it.

Would definitely let you do the "p for papas, it's a papas party" on him while in wolf form.

Leah:

Questioning everything.

She asks where your shirt is from? The only response she gets is "Gaslight, gatekeep, girl boss"

Utterly confused.

Wishes she could travel back in time and kidnap the maker of tiktok so she wouldn't have to hear "Attenzione pickpocket" for the 100th time.

Will cry if you start trauma dumping out of nowhere.

Give my girl Leah a rest

[p-perkeys]

Hey Perkeys, Hope you are doing well ✨

I wanted your opinion about something.

I don't know how long the Hellverine comic will last, but I hope it will serve to show Akihiro's character development. We both know all the things he's been through, everything he's endured since birth. The boy didn't even have a normal birth. But I suppose that's a common thing with children in the Snikt family...

Anyway, what I hope is that Hellverine shows that Aki is no longer alone. He has a family, he has friends and, most importantly, he has a girlfriend who loves him more than anything (Aurora was so devastated after his death). They all care about Akihiro, and this is the best time to prove it with Hellverine.

I didn't read the Wolverine comics when Logan was possessed by Bagra-ghul. Thanks to the Marvel comics Wiki, I just know that it took Wolverine the help of his own memories, Melita, the X-Men, a subconscious projection of Nightcrawler and what seemed to be a vivid memory of Jean Grey as White Phoenix to burn the demons from his mind and send Hellverine back to hell. According to the wiki, anyway.

So what if the same thing was going to happen to Aki ? A team made up of Logan, Laura, Gabby, Kid Omega, Aurora, Northstar, Carl Valentino, Phoebe Cuckoos, and other people important to Fang.

All united to get the demon out of Aki. All united to bring him back. All united to prove to Fang that he is no longer alone. It would be incredible. And more interesting than just another fight between Logan and Aki. Or another death just to harm Logan.

Then Aki would left with Aurora and Northstar to get some rest. And, I don't know, maybe he will join a new Wolverines team with Laura and Gabby ? And sometimes with Logan and Kid Omega as guests ?

What do you think ?

Hey littlewildfeathersworld! I’m doing well, I hope you are too 🥰

I agree on Hellverine! At this point I have no idea where it’s going, but I want nothing more than to see something good for Aki 😔 poor boy’s been through the wringer his whole life and right time things start looking up, all this chaos happens. It’s madness!

I adore the idea of this being a turning point for him! For the last couple years we’ve seen how he’s changed, but we haven’t really seen other people respond to his change. It’d be amazing to have them all show it! I feel like it even started a little bit in Sabertooth War when Aurora went off on Logan for not loving Akihiro and protecting him like he should have. To see that come full circle would be the best!

And I LOVE this concept!! I could see that happening and it would be so perfect! It’d be a beautiful turn of events from 8 months of devastation and thinking they’d lost him to realizing that together they can bring him back with their love and support 😭❤️‍🩹 UGH. YES.

I’d love to see that! I want to see something like that for him and Aurora since we haven’t really gotten to see the depths of their relationship that much. We know he adores his sisters, and they adore him, but I’d love to see them involved too. And what I’d REALLY love to see is Logan making some kind of *selfless effort* for the son he took for granted and pushed to the side all those years.

Marvel can go one of two ways with this and I’m really, really hoping they take a route like this. For one, I don’t want Aki to be dead. And two, we’re really due for a story like this. Logan needs to heal and grow and his kids do too. Especially Akihiro. He literally did a full 180 with his life and we’ve never gotten any huge reaction from it. Of course, I’m all about reactions, but I think they’re important. Especially with things like this.

But I love this idea!! It’s brilliant! Marvel needs to hire you! ❤️🫶🏻

[thebisexualdogdad]

bottom!Landon x top!male Reader. Landon being oblivious, but also a pining idiot, to the Readers obvious feelings about him. The Reader getting jealous and possessive, when he see's one of the Salvatore students or a rival school student, flirting shamelessly with Landon. The Reader going over their, declaring Landon is already taken, and drags Landon away from the scene, to some where private, and heatedly makeout?? idk

Landon Kirby x Male!reader

Everyone knew Landon was yours.

Everyone except Landon that is.

Landon had been pining after you since the day he came to the Salvatore school and you felt the exact same way about him but he was painfully unaware of it.

So it became a game for you, seeing how far you could push Landon before he finally realized; letting your hand linger a little too long on his back, dancing up on him at parties in the woods, showing up to his room without a shirt on for absolutely no reason other than to make him blush.

This went on for an entire year, all of your friends making bets on how long it would take Landon to figure it out but a wrench was thrown in your plans when a new werewolf named Jonah came to school.

He also took a liking to Landon which Jed warned him about but he clearly didn't care.

"Who the hell is that," you growl when you see him hitting on Landon in the hallway between classes.

"His name's Jonah, I tried to tell him that your boy Landon wasn't on the market, guess he didn't get the message," Jed chuckles.

You see Jonah put his hand on Landon's arm and whisper something in his ear and you're fuming.

"He's a dead man, poor kid didn't even last a week," Kaleb laughs at the way you're glaring at him.

You make your way to Landon and Jonah, practically shoving him off Landon.

"I know you're new here and all but I'll only give you one warning, Landon is already spoken for," you huff.

"That's funny, cause Landon was just telling me how he isn't seeing anyone," Jonah grins.

"He's mine so back off," you spit back.

"I am?" Landon says with a smile because of your words.

"Yeah you are," you assure him, taking his hand and storming off, guiding Landon to the nearest empty class room leaving Jed and Kaleb laughing at Jonah who has a dumbfounded look on his face.

Once inside the classroom you push Landon up against the wall, kissing him roughly.

He can't help but let out a low moan as your hands on his waist bring him as close to you as humanly possible.

He grasps at your shoulders, desperately holding onto you as you passionately make out with him.

"So you really like me?" He says pulling away when he runs out of air in his lungs.

"Of course I fucking like you Landon," you say kissing down his neck which makes him moan again.

"Does this mean I'm your boyfriend?" He teases.

"I've been trying to make you my boyfriend for the last year," you grunt, lowering your hands down to his ass.

"And all this time I thought you didn't feel the same way about me," Landon groans, rolling his hips into your thigh.

"Landon, literally everyone except you knows how I feel about you," you sigh, kissing his lips again.

"Huh, now it makes a lot more sense why Rafael keeps calling me an oblivious idiot," Landon chuckles into the kiss.

[stxrmylxve]

request by @takemichisslut: what about a yuuji itadori x reader? like, some kind of hc?

i think when he is tired, he would literally fall over on you. I mean come on, training is intense, and after a while of it, even Gojo gets tired. He literally falls over like a brick, smothering you with cuddles because he has no energy for anything else in life then

Can’t cook to save his life- legit cries for you to cook him something to eat because he is starving and likes your cooking better anyways

I think he would have met you through animals, idk why. Like if you both saw a stray cat, you would run to care for it and like meet there. baji? and he wouldn’t fall in love with you there so much because you were taking time to care for the cat, but rather because he could just tell that you were different. More calm, understanding, and certainly reliable.

if you’re sad, expect him to buy not just your favorite snacks, drinks, no, he’s buying the whole damn store for you

ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ (ᴀʏʏ, ʀʜʏᴍᴇ?)

-———————————ʚ♡ɞ———————————

sukuna is coming out during a good old fuck, don’t tell me otherwise

literally Yuji is there being gentle and all and then Sukuna shows up and abuses your poor body

Yuji I think could be feral?? Like not possessive and like all that but more of you-like-it-like-that-and-he-is-a-man-whore-and-wants-to-please-you sorta thing, yk?

idolizes your body. sukuna not so much always asking for consent, checking in after bites and such, just a sweetie

aftercare is AMAZING cause he gets you everything to clean up, eat and drink if needed, and he ran the laundry before hand so you have warm clothes to put on <3

(EXTRA) His side-part, sukuna

he has a hard time with comfort and stuff, being all big and mighty in his domain and all

will comfort you but only if he HAS to cause he has a reputation?

he does spend time with you though! just not up on you with cuddles like yuji so much

can cook a little better, but mostly because he can have hands anywhere he needs to clean up, fry stuff, etc

idk i feel like he is a oddly good dad? whether you have a kid or adopt, he takes them in as his own and coddles them. Will get anything for them or he can just.. forcefully get it.

ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴛ (ᴀʏʏ, ʀʜʏᴍᴇ?)

--———————————ʚ♡ɞ———————————

RUTHLESS, nothing more nothing less

doesn’t really care if you cry cause.. it turns him on even more.

will pin your arms behind you back with an arm while he snakes a hand to your throat

sugar coats most words when he is in the mood to get his way, but then bites back by drilling you

if he really hurts you, ofc he will stop cause he is a gentleman at heart and hates his s/o hurt rather than a victim

aftercare? … lets you rest and doesn’t care from there on really

gives the best nights though

no he isn’t heartless persay, just getting used to love and all since he had been alone/fighting before you had met him

Sooo??? good? hope so, give me requests pls i need something good to write 😭

I hope this doesn’t happen but please don’t reuse my works/translate them to other platforms! They’re mine and mine only, but you can use them for inspiration and credit me!!

[amphiptere-art]

I'm going to make a post about my theory honest Golden Freddy has one or two souls.

I think he has one.

Now first of all. I'm not following dual processes way of explaining that away. I have my own thoughts on how it all worked. But I will bring up something that dual process kind of pointed out.

How did the crying child possess Golden Freddy?

This is mostly what this whole little mini theory is about. Because if we're really thinking about it. How did the crying child possess Golden Freddy? You might say that it's because He got bit by Golden Freddy and that's how he possessed him. But as far as I've been able to learn. You don't possess a animatronic unless your guts are literally inside the machine and stay there.

The crying child presumably went to a hospital. The crying child presumably had a machine connected to him that could insinuate the flatline noise effect. I will agree it's a bit ridiculous to say that somehow the crying child was carted off into Golden Freddy. Even if he was receiving at home care. Which I will note you can do that. You can have all the machines and tables and stuff in at home care. But usually there's a nurse or a whole goddamn family. It is very hard to somehow get this kid over to Golden Freddy.

So I ask. How did the crying child end up in Golden Freddy? He was presumably in a bed with a flatline machine connected to him. The only time this poor child was even near a Golden Freddy. At least enough for his viscera to be inside of the suit. Was when he got his fucking brain bit off. And as far as all the cutscenes insinuate. They insinuate that he lived long enough to die outside of that suit.

If the kid is inside of Golden Freddy somehow. It is more so in the aspect of agony, or perhaps a shattered spirit. The big point is that it doesn't make sense. The crying child has no reason to possess the bear. If you are going to tell me. That is spirit for some reason. Decided to marryander around back to the Plex and place himself inside of the suit on purpose. That I have to ask what type of child do you think this kid is? He's terrified of the bear. I don't think the kid would want to be inside the bear. And I don't think unless your body is inside of a suit. You are going to be possessing that suit.

And if you're going to say it's possible because the puppet was somehow possessed without being stuffed. First of all. That child presumably died next to the puppet. Even if technically you don't have to be inside the suit to possess it. You at least have to be fairly close. In my interpretation of the cutscene that puppet was laying on top of them. Some people will say they were laying beside them. Either way you have to be close possess a robot. Or fabric string thing. Whatever the puppet is.

Honestly if we're going off of the idea that this kid died in his bedroom or at least in a medical bed. The only object he could possess possibly other than the goddamn bed itself. Is perhaps his plushies. And given that the pluses don't do anything past the crying child's own game. I'm going to say that's a big no.

Now here's another argument to throw down barrel. That it's me words. These have always been tied to Golden Freddy. And some kid is saying it's me to Michael. So it must be the crying child right? He's the only type of kid that would say that's sort of stuff right? Because he knows Michael?

First of all this is a very very big stretch. The it's me words. While over time they have gotten closer and closer to Golden Freddy. Weren't ever specifically for Golden Freddy. These words can pop up in a jump scare with normal Freddy. These words can pop up anywhere with any character on screen. It's only in later games when they start to get more specific.

Also. You have to remember a thing. The whole thing that a lot of people say why Michael was even getting attacked. He looks like his dad. Michael is presumably even in his fleshy form. A copycat of his dad. It's me suggests recognition. And as far as a lot of war people have been going. The characters are attacking Michael because he looks like his dad. They think it's the guy who killed them. Hey it's me. The kids you killed.

This sentence doesn't have to be used specifically between Golden Freddy and the character. This sentence doesn't have to be used specifically from the crying child to Michael. This sentence is to be used between any sort of recognition between two characters. Which depending on how all those kids died could be that these kids are saying hey it's me to their killer. Or at least who they presume is their killer.

Golden Freddy and whatever spirit is inside of them. Doesn't have to recognize that Michael is their brother. They could just recognize that it's their killer. And going off the theory of the crying child having nothing to do with the bear. This would be the vengeful spirit. Crying out to a probably far too confused Michael. Saying it's me. It's me the person you shouldn't have killed.

Time for the third explanation. The birthday party. That lovely scene in FNAF 3 that shows that some spirit of Golden Freddy's left. And that some spirit still lingers. First of all. Other than pizzeria simulator. FNAF 3 was supposed to be a final of some sort. FNAF 4 is presumably either a dream, or something that happened in the past. And pizzeria simulator It's supposed to be gathering the remnants, The puppet, baby, and Afton all together. Other than the remnants in molten Freddy. There is no speak or word of the original spirits.

Sure they might be fractured and parts of them still stuck in this molten mess. But as far as we know the more living part of their spirits has attempted to move on. So while there might be a part of Golden Freddy lingering and the molten mess. Whatever spirit is in Golden Freddy has ascended somewhere.

It is not exactly unbelievable that once the spirit was fully put together. And also hey my killer's dead finally too. You can kind of imagine the spirit has kind of been waiting around ready to attack Afton as soon as he popped up. I mean technically this is probably already Canon. But I just pointing it out in case people say that Golden Freddy must have still been alive somehow.

But on to the wonderful crutch. Those damn glowing heads. This has been the backbone for the double Golden Freddy spirit thing for a long time. Technically this wasn't even questioned when it first came out. It was just one spirit in there and he went home. But then we had the whole double spirit theory and oh no it's two. You can see another light in the other eye!

This is bullshit. Every single head in that goddamn scene has some extra light in the other eye. This can be seen more obviously in Bonnie and Freddy's heads. Where there is this sort of afterglow coming out the other side. Golden Freddy's head is fucking yellow. Is it really that unbelievable That is similar sort of light reflection is happening? And you might say but no. Chica's other eyes and glowing. And yes it is. You can actually see the reflection. It's cut off awkwardly by something. But it is there.

Golden Freddy's head is no different. It is simply reflecting the light off. Honestly if you really want to see how many "lights" are in the heads. You should be looking for the glare. Each one of the heads has a glare around the glowing eyeball. Golden Freddy's head. Only has one glare. Never once is there a glare coming out of that second glowing eye. It is simply the afterglow from the actual light that is on.

If there is supposed to be some sort of representation of a spirit being there. It is weak. It's not all the way there. It's not a full light. So at least for all of you that are grumbling. You can at least hold on to the theory that the crying child's spirit got somewhat stuck. Fragmented and probably not there really. More like the remnant's in molten Freddy. But at least he's kind of there. If we're going that route.

But anyways. You might be asking. Well what about the vengeful spirit. Are you telling me the vengeful Spirit doesn't exist. Well no. I haven't said anything about the vengeful spirit because I honestly don't care if it's there. In this theory isn't disproving the vengeful spirit. Like I said I'm not doing dual process. I'm saying that the second spirit of the crying child isn't there. Eventual spirit can be all up and angry in that suit as much as they want.

And before someone asks me if I think the crying child is Cassidy affton. It doesn't really matter which really? Cassidy could either be the vengeful spirit or the crying child. Whichever one is writing in that book. It could be both or either. I don't think it really matters where the name goes. What matters is if the vengeful spirit and the crying child are inhabiting the same body. And I'm saying the crying child never even had a chance.

Now for who is writing in the book alongside with the altered text. Look. In all honesty I haven't rewatched a full read through the book. Or even watched a recent theory video about the book. Altered text gives you the name Cassidy. Faded text seems to be either encouraging the other to give their name. Or wondering who the hell they are. This faded text could really be any sort of extra spirit. And while I believe the crying child isn't in the yellow bear. I'm not saying he couldn't be lingering around talking back. Given that the puppet stays. Apparently spirits can just choose to remain. So it's not completely far-fetched that the crying child could be wandering around.

But otherwise I'm probably going to say it's the puppet? Supposably they were still lingering around. And other than the crying child lingering around for some reason. The puppet is the next best choice really. Plus Henry questions if his child even knows who they are anymore. So it's not exactly out of the ball game that faded text could be just as confused as altered. All they know is that they want to help.

Oh and I just remembered something else. Happiest day mini game. The one that supposedly has a birthday party for the crying child completed or something. First of all. While the crying child does definitely deserve a birthday. Who is saying the other children that died weren't there for their birthdays? Vengeful spirits death could be a birthday death. There's absolutely nothing saying that this couldn't happen. And while I will say the crying child representation is probably strong at that point. There has been so many reckons in recent lore, That is not completely unexpected got the crying child's birthday has kind of been forgotten to time.

I mean I nearly forgot about that fact. I nearly forgot about the fact that everybody thought this was the crying child's lost birthday. But obviously no one's been using that evidence in years. Vengeful spirit is being given a birthday cake by the puppet. At least if we are inclined to believe that any sort of girl with black hair is the ventral spirit. There can be other birthdays. Vengeful spirit clearly had a birthday of their own. And while it's kind of sad to think about the fact that the crying child never really had a birthday. He had a birthday at a place he was completely terrified of. I don't think he would necessarily want another fazbear birthday even after death. I surely wouldn't.

But yeah those are the main crutches of my theory.

The crying child didn't die near Golden Freddy so his spirit couldn't possess Golden Freddy.

It's me could be coming from any sort of child when calling out to who they presume is their killer.

The glowing eyes is terrible evidence. As it is simply a reflection in the suit head, And the glare of the actual light disproves it.

Crying child could have had a birthday. With the vengeful spirit having their own separate birthday. Meaning the happiest day mini game can still function.

Those are all my arguments clear as day. I feel like they slot in with each other really nicely. Now this might be a comfort theory. This might be just theory for me so I don't have to deal with the whole double spirit thing. If I'm being honest I hate the double spirit thing. It feels like we're taking too much from the books and not actually looking at the game lore. Vengeful spirit became a thing way way way way way after. In reality we never knew who was the child inside of Golden Freddy. Other than the fact that there was a child. Crying child was simply associated with Golden Freddy at the time because he was the only one to be associated.

While I do not agree with how dual process explained away their theory. They pointed out something very very important. We are stuck in a world long gone. We as theorists have had to go backwards and reconculize so much evidence. We as theorists though are still holding on to theories that might have either been retconned, disproven, or simply held on to because we didn't have the time to rethink it.

I'm fairly happy that we're getting a variety nowadays. And we need more variety. We need more theories other than what we have been spitting out of our mouths for years. As much as we all might hate it. The lawyer has been reckoned, changed, or fiddled with in some way. You can hold on to that past life for your own comfort theories if you want. But we got to go somewhere else nowadays.

[metanarrates]

dumb question: could you elaborate on what you meant when you mentioned the character relationships regressing in princess tutu?

honestly, maybe "regressed" wasn't exactly the right word. the progression gained in s1 still exists - ahiru has gotten to know a bit more about rue and believes that rue is still somewhere in the kraehe persona, fakir no longer wishes to deny mytho his heart, and most critically, fakir and ahiru are now allies. none of those major developments have been set back.

however, literally all these relationships have flattened by virtue of the show simply not choosing to focus on them. rue appears to no longer feel ambivalent about princess tutu (which is sort of gestured at as being part of her retreat into the kraehe role/the raven's daughter, but there's no actual attention drawn to it.) we get next to nothing about how fakir feels about mytho other than "well we gotta get his heart to him and solve the raven's blood problem." I DO think fakir and ahiru have gotten closer, but their relationship is a rather straightforward friendship. it's still a little complex, but it lacks the drive and relative complexity of s1.

this would not be a problem if fakir/ahiru was a background dynamic to all the other ongoing dynamics, btw. they don't need to always be in a fraught ideological struggle. I think their dynamic is cute! but given that there's just very little complexity in any relationship in the show at this point, it does feel like a regression. ptutu has always been a kid's show, and so I never expected a crazy level of complex characterization, but there was a sense of forward momentum and struggle between clashing personalities and motives in s1 😭 compared to that, s2 has felt so empty.

well, except for one dynamic. and that's between rue and raven's blood mytho.

i will say straight up that this dynamic is WEIRD. not for any actual reason of the dynamic itself (in a vacuum it's a fascinating dynamic) but for the writing surrounding it. ive talked EXTENSIVELY about how much I hate the choice to make mytho be possessed by an Evil Self, and this is another extension of that. we know raven's blood mytho is just meant to disappear like a puff of smoke by the end of the plot. in essence, this undercuts literally any and all screentime he gets. we know that, because he is a plot obstacle, he is just not supposed to be taken seriously. his scenes with rue are meant to establish HER as a poor little meow meow, and not to establish him as a genuine character with motivations and feelings of his own.

and of course rue, come season 2, has been established as being pretty much entirely princess kraehe. her motive to possess mytho has been further fleshed out as being part of her backstory as an emotionally abused girl who wishes to free her father and gain a happy ending with mytho.

I do feel this comes out of nowhere and undercuts some earlier stuff with her character. however, it's not a horrible change. even if it's not what I wanted or liked about her, it DOES say stuff about her and lend texture to how she views mytho. however, some of this was unintentional by the writers. rather than being only tragic, she just seems pathetic and sad. I'm wishing for her to both break free of her father AND break free of her idealization of mytho. both her father and raven's blood mytho treat her like shit, and she doesn't care if regular mytho loves her so long as she can possess him. i want so badly for that mindset to go away for her, but from what I know, it doesn't.

all that aside, that brings us to the one dynamic relationship in s2 so far, and that's between rue and raven's blood mytho. as discussed, he is basically a new character. he doesn't feel like he is at all related to regular mytho, even inversely. the only other character he Could be related to is the raven, but given that he's not literally the raven possessing mytho's body, his characterization tells us very little about either character. so... not great for the idea of Existing dynamics progressing. they had to invent a new guy for rue to have character development with!

I do like it. they're mutually using each other, which is interesting. I like their little plotting sessions, and I like rue's continual wish that he will at least love her a little, even though she's mostly concerned with actual mytho rather than him. they feel like fun, toxic allies, and you get a great sense of how they view each other. they're both characterized quite interestingly in their moments together. their mutual ruthlessness is put on great display.

but well... we get a good sense of how rue feels about regular mytho. we know exactly what she sees in him. mytho himself? we don't get his viewpoint on hardly anything.

now, this is justifiable from a watsonian standpoint because of his heart situation. he isn't himself, and is spending most of his time fighting against his evil alter ego. but s1 mytho also had an incomplete heart, and we got a good sense of how he viewed other people! he went from unquestionably allowing fakir and rue to overrule him to asserting his own emotions against them. we see that he was drawn by princess tutu. it seemed like he liked fakir and ahiru at least somewhat. and even before he had his heart back, he still pretty obviously had interests and had his own viewpoint on fakir and rue.

now? nothing. we know he wishes to see tutu, isn't interested in rue's attempts to control him, and that he dislikes his raven's blood persona. that's it. we don't know how his views on anyone else have shifted. a lot has happened - it would be really natural for his perspectives on everyone to change! but we don't see evidence of it. the only time we see the Real Mytho is when he is desperately struggling against the raven's blood.

so yeah. theres just less dynamism between any of the four main characters. it's really not great.

[via-rant]

THE OWL HOUSE RANT!! SPOILERS FOR FTF!!!

Okay so these are things I really want to happen in the last episode!! Obviously Eda and Camilla meeting!! Just imagine Camilla thanking her for taking care of her daughter!!Honestly I just want her to meet one of the other adults!! Speaking of the other adults, where's Alador?!?! Where's Gus' dad?!?! WHERE'S WILLOWS PAPA?!?! WHERE'S OWLBERT?!?!

Another thing is something we're obviously gonna get but I wanted to talk about some of my theories about that mysterious person Luz saw in The In Between (courtesy of Morgan Terry). Okay so Not So Average Fangirl said that it looked like King a little bit and maybe it's him from the future? Waving to Luz and trying to warn her about something? But the theory that I came up with is that it might be Terrok. Yes, I know "But he tried to kill King." Yeah but he was under the influence that Titans are evil. And Bill confirmed that he's been lying about that. Sort of. I mean, with what we heard in For The Future the fact that The Collectors wiped out all of the Titans besides King because Titans could use their magic to lock them up like they did this Kid Collector isn't really a lie. The only thing he lied about was them gaining great power. Also they weren't worshiping just the Kid Collector, they were worshipping literally every other Collector in the universe!! Anyway, but I was thinking maybe Terrok didn't like the fact that Bill "lied" and turned against him so he tried to find a way to comunicate with Luz and found out about The In Between and that's how he got there. Also, Titans don't have wings. Terrok does. Just saying.

Obviously more of STRINGBEAN!! EXCUSE ME WHILE I FANGIRL OVER HOW CUTE SHE IS!! AAAAAAAAAHHHH I LOVE HER SO MUCH *SOBS* *SCREAMS* *THROWS UP*

Anyway, the fact that Kid Collector (This is what I'm calling them now because he doesn't have an actual name.) and King are supposed to be mortal enemies but became friends is just... It's great. Well it was until BELOS!!! FUCKING!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

ALSO SOMEONE MENTIONED, I FORGET WHO, THAT RAINE MIGHT DIE?!?! BECAUSE THE ONLY REASON HUNTER SURVIVED THE POSSESSION WAS BECAUSE OF FLAPJACK?!?! SO LIKE... I'M SCARED?!?!

THE ADULTS!! BEATING!! BELOS'!! SEAWEED ASS!! PLEASE FOR GODS SAKE!!

WILLOW PUNCHING BOSCHA!! JUST ONE GOOD PUNCH IN THE FACE WOULD BE SO FUCKING SATISFYING!!

REUNIONS!!!! I LOVE REUNIONS!!! I CRIED WHEN ANNE GOT BACK HOME AND HER PARENTS HUGGED HER, I CRIED WHEN ANNE AND MARCY SAW EACH OTHER FOR THE FIRST TIME IN FOREVER IT WAS SO SWEET AND CRIED AGAIN WHEN LUZ GOT HOME TO HER MOM AND THEY HUGGED AND WHEN LILITH AND HOOTY SAW EACH OTHER AGAIN!! I LOVE REUNIONS SO MUCH!! LUZ, KING, AND EDA NEED ONE, AND WILLOW AND HER DADS NEED ONE, AND GUS AND HIS DAD, AND THE BLIGHT SIBLINGS WITH THEIR DAD!! GOD!!

I!! WANT!! KING!! TO!! CRY!! HE IS EIGHT!! AND LITERALLY HAS THE WHOLE WORLD ON HIS SHOULDERS!! LIKE WHEN EVERYTHING IS OVER I JUST WANT HIM TO BREAK DOWN AND HAVE HIS FAMILY COMFORTING HIM, OH GOD YOU POOR THING!!

We already kind of got this but Caleb and Belos!! I want Caleb to tell Belos off before he dies!! OR LIKE A CALEB AND HUNTER INTERACTION!!

[glowyjellyfish]

OUAT Rewatch Report Part 2: The Shepherd through Fruit of the Poisonous Tree

1. I always expect Snow/Charming episodes to be boring, but the two of them are too precious to be boring. I think it would get old real fast with different actors. Of course, I haven’t gotten up to the “constant relationship drama” phase really, so we’ll see.

2. I’m excited to see more Dr. Whale, and think it’s cute how proud he is of David waking up, all “no way he wakes up on someone else’s watch”. Aw, Victor, did you have a little urge to yell “HE’S ALIVE!”? I’m also convinced that his little mini-success there helped change him, the way the major characters who got episodes to themselves changed when trauma from their previous lives was resolved in the present day. Nudged him from behaving like a womanizer with a wandering eye to more of a Gentleman. (Although I am half convinced he was more distracted by the color red than anything else. It is the first color he ever saw, if I recall correctly. And I am now totally convinced that Regina designed his cursed personality based on her experience of him. “He will be CONSUMED BY HIS WORK and DESPERATELY LONELY, CRAVING ANY CONNECTION, but he will only ever manage to break hearts THE WAY HE BROKE MINE.” or something.)

3. hilarious that Regina was like “I need someone without a heart” looked at Graham with tears falling down his face “PERFECT”. Pretty sure Regina made her decision based mainly on his hotness.

4. ugh poor Graham. Gaslit sex slave with what is functionally heavy depression (that’s the effect I deduced being heartless generally has, because it’s clearly not literally “can’t feel anything at all” but it definitely feels that way and leaves emotions very numb). It’s difficult to reconcile Regina keeping Graham as her mind-controlled sex slave with her eventual redemption. I just have to acknowledge it as one of the worst things she’s done, and I believe she considers him her possession more than her slave (which probably isn’t any better), and I think she thinks she cares about him. And she blames Emma for making her kill him, too. Not cool Regina.

5. If I remember correctly, the main reason kissing Emma broke the curse on Graham is because she’s the product of true love and therefore magic. I like to think it helped that he was developing feelings for her—nowhere near true love yet, but much closer than anything he’s ever experienced—and probably also it helped that his wolf brother was hanging around town clearly knowing what was going on. I mean, I headcanon Graham as being basically like FitzChivalry Farseer in terms of his relationship with the wolf, so it stands to reason if his wolf didn’t get properly cursed with new memories, it would be able to nudge him out.

6. Tiny baby Baelfire! Oh my god what a tragic life this kid has to look forward to. I wish we got about 100% more from his perspective. show what it was like for a kid from a medieval fantasy world to stumble into the real world with no parents and no support! (The pit stop in Victorian England with the Darlings did a bit of that, I think.)

7. I enjoy August so much, knowing who he is and what he’s about. He’s obnoxious when you don’t know what his deal is, but when you do? Chef’s kiss. He’s skilled at Not Lying without being even slightly honest. Also, I guess he needed the book to understand the situation and also restore his pages, but I’m not sure how he knew about it in the first place. If the book appeared with him and Emma, how did it end up in town? If the book manifested in town, how did he know about it? It feels like they were trying to imply he came to town at some point in the past, but like. Regina would remember him, surely? I feel fairly confident that the writers didn’t have any origin story for the book in mind and were writing by the seats of their pants about it.

8. Fruit of the Poisonous Tree is not bad but pretty boring. Sydney really could have used a better backstory. Off the top of my head, I feel like it would have been more interesting if he was a spell that gained sentience and was never a person until the curse.

9. I have a whole theory about how genies work and I’m not sure whether it works for all OUAT genies; it basically goes that the enslavement of a genie is intended to be the prepaid price of magic for the wisher, but it takes into account both the wisher’s intentions and the genie’s subconscious perception and judgment on the matter. So if the genie thinks a wish is too big, or impossible, or dumb, the magic will attempt to correct this by coming as close as possible or extracting a separate price or whatever. Which is how most wishes go wrong.

10. I forgot just how damn enjoyable it is to watch shiny crazy Rumple stick his glittery hands in EVERYTHING. I know it eventually got tiresome when no characters other than Rumple and Regina seemed allowed to have backstory with newly introduced fairytales anymore, but in s1 it’s fantastic. Especially knowing that he’s creating elaborate chains of deals for the express purposes of getting the curse made and cast, making Emma exist to break the curse, and putting himself in a position where he’ll be able to make sure she breaks the curse and he can bring in magic and find his son without losing his power. What fun!

I think at think point I can confidently say I still enjoy this show as much as I used to, and expect that to remain literally true as I get further in and get up to the increasing levels of dumb. We’ll see how much dumb I can handle nowadays; for example I deliberately chose to save Skin Deep for a different viewing session so that I would not be faced with starting a session with the incredible cheesiness of Dreamy. But I’m still having tons of fun, and expect to continue at least through Manhattan.

This time I am trying to select a Simpsons gif to go with each episode I watched (but then it really didn’t want to post 6 gifs, so I stopped at 5 episodes/gifs):

[sukunasbabymama]

Sweet thing.

⌗ Summary: Their s/o is the sweetest thing and sometimes they get jealous because of that.

⌗ Pairing: Ken Ryuguji (Draken), Manjiro Sano (Mikey), Baji Keisuke, Hanma Shuji.

⌗ Warnings: light cursing.

⌗ A/N: I don’t know if I did it right bc of my poor understanding of being sweet and cute but here we go. also look at me trying this banners thing uh.

Request.

Ken Ryuguji Draken.

He has to remind himself that you’re his girl. He has to remind himself that being too jealous or too possessive is not healthy at all and that you would beat his ass if you find out he’s getting jealous of Mikey.

But sometimes he can’t help it.

You’re always so sweet with all his members, having a big smile for them at all times, being always so polite to the point that even fucking Baji doesn’t like to curse in your presence.

And you know when he’s starting to feel like that. Every. Single. Time.

“Kenny~” You hug him and put your chin on his chest, looking up at him. He takes your face in his hands. “Stop, yeah?”

“I’m not doing anything,”

“You are starting to get too quiet, I don’t like it,” You murmur, and he nods.

“It’s just that you’re so perfect to me,” He whispers, without stopping looking at your face.

“And yours too,” He bites his lips to stop a smile from taking over all his face.

“Yes you are,” He kisses your forehead. “And that’s all that matters.”

Manjiro Sano Mikey.

He’s not that mature when it comes to you, aside from his sister or Draken, he doesn’t like anybody having your attention. It doesn’t help the fact that you’re literally perfect in his eyes. You take care of him, put him in his place, teach him about new things. So when he sees that same caring persona for his friends he can’t help it, he gets jealous.

He goes to you and hugs you from behind tightly, resting his cheek on your back with a pout.

“Manjiro, what did we say about getting jealous over your own friends?” You say with a smile while still writing on a note something for Smiley to buy for you.

“You’re mine, mine, mine,” Mikey says like a kid behind you, you chuckle and turn around in his arms.

“I am, I am, I am,” You tell him in the same tone. He shows you an expressionless face. Then he smiles.

“Yes, that’s right!” He laughs, giving you a closed eye smile, you chucke.

“This kid…” You say to yourself.

“Hey! You could be taken away from me from practicing sewing with Mitsuya!” He explains, you look at him at the verge of bursting into laughters. “Uh, or maybe no.”

“Yeah, maybe no, keep hugging me and stop with those silly thoughts.”

“Yes ma’am,” He groans.

Baji Keisuke.

For him it’s not that he gets all jealous like Mikey, but just like Draken, he has to remind himself that it’s just your personality that is so attractive for everybody and that’s how you end up being taken care of by them. But, he wants to be the one taking care of you, he’s your boyfriend!!!

You were currently hanging out with him and his members, and while you were literally under his arm, all your attention was on Mitsuya that was explaining something about the new uniforms he had in mind for Toman.

At some point, Baji started to repeatedly let short kisses on your temple, making you look at him confused.

“Kei?” You say softly and he groans.

“Now, why do you have to be so perfect? You are so sweet,” He say it like it hurts him and you look at him deadpan. “And why do all my members like to hang out with you? That’s because you are perfect!”

“B-but— you want me to treat them badly?” You ask him while laughing and get serious when he smiles.

“Maybe.”

“Now you’re doing too much.” You roll your eyes, hugging him tightly. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you more,” He murmurs, satisfied with the words.

Hanma Shuji.

He’s jealous. He’s possessive. He’s everything. And how can he not when you have your life put together and he’s just some gang member that finds joy in beating people up? You’re so smart and well mannered that when you interact with someone just as smart he can’t help it, he’s gonna get jealous.

“Y/N, what would happen if I hit someone here?” Kisaki asks you, pointing somewhere in his body, your eyes light up, happy to explain.

“Oh, that’s the epigastric region, look, here,” You get closer and touch exactly where you mentioned. “If you punch someone here they probably gonna fall on their knees from the pain, it hurts so much because the lungs—”

“Yeah, gimme a second with my woman,” Hanma says out of nowhere throwing you over his shoulder, you giggle despite feeling like you’re hanging from a third floor from his height. “She’s mine.”

“I thought that was already established, you freak,” Kisaki says in a bored tone.

“Then why you, who hate everybody, are okay with her?” He asks.

“Cause she’s not annoying, unlike you,” You giggle and caress your boyfriend’s back from your weird position.

“Shuji, baby, put me down, I—,”

“No.”

“Shuji!” He huff, putting you down slowly.

“You are my girl, mine,” He says pointing at you, you smile sweetly and he groans, don’t you know how to be fucking bad? Goddamn.

“Yes, yes I am~” You sing.

He smiles, that’s right.

🔖: @saturnmitsuya @melaninnntae @milliumizoomi @keimisan @izvana @haitanigigi @welkinmoongrab @yunho-leeknow @dai-tsukki-desu

[demonlamb666]

‘Kay, so I got this idea from Austin and Ally, my FAVE shows of all time, my childhood lol. So how would yanderes TodoBakuDeku (poly) react to the reader having a friend who’s a singer like Austin and they both spend time with each other coming up with songs, and singing together. Reader can be a songwriter, and I hope this wasn’t too confusing

Singer reader has a friend who they write songs with (yandere TodoBakuDeku)

Warnings: yandere themes, mentions of stalking, jealousy, possessive behaviour, clingy behaviour, mentions of violence, mentions of death, guilt tripping, manipulation, delusional behaviour.

•They might have found out about you being a singer song writer through Izuku’s stalking or you mentioned it when they were getting to know you. They all react positively, even though Bakugo is a little shy about admitting how beautiful he thinks your voice is. They love the songs you wrote, or at least they do until you start gushing about how amazing and talented your friend who you wrote them with is. Bakugo is already silently fuming. Shoto is sad and trying to resist the urge to bury his face in the crook of you neck and hug you and Izuku is worrying about all the different ways this guy could be manipulating his poor bunny.

•You have a possessive boi and two clingy boi’s who all desperately crave time with you. Luckily for your friend they are all pro hero’s and none of them are very comfortable with the idea of killing someone, especially if it’s someone you care about, and who doesn’t pose a threat to you. But they all definitively decide they don’t like this guy and will try to get you to spend less time with him. Shoto will just cling to you and not let go, Izuku will tear up and guilt trip you and Bakugo will straight up make up “important” things you have to do to distract you. They probably won’t try to completely remove him from your life unless something changes (more about this later.)

•Bakugo is possessive over you even a little bit with his own boyfriends so when he finds out there’s some extra who takes up a bunch of your time he’s pissed. Whenever he sees the guy he’ll hold you by the waist and scowls at the guy every time he gets a little to friendly. He’s like a possessive guard dog and almost growls if your friend tries to hug you goodbye or make physical contact with you. Bakugo is less expressive about how much he loves your music and voice, he can be a little embarrassed and his cheeks will burn if you ask him if he likes your song or dedicate a song to him. Most of the time he just listens to you sing without saying anything but if you don’t sing around him for a while he will start to really miss it and demand you sing something. If you play an instrument then Katsuki will get a high quality one, he might even get a drum kit for himself and see what he remembers from the lessons he took as a kid and join you.

•Shoto wants to be around you constantly and feels so happy when he’s around you and his boyfriends so he is very reluctant to let you go. He can get a little clingy when you’re around your friend and will be holding your hand and trying to subtly pull you away from him. He will literally get in between you two if you try to hug the guy and will literally drag you away from him if he starts getting too friendly. Shoto is honestly fascinated with whatever you like doing and it’s the same with music. He loves listening to you singing and always sticks to your side incase you start humming or singing. His all time favourite thing is when you let him lay his head on your lap and sing to him while you stroke his hair, it never fails to make him tired and he’ll sleep like a baby. (Sleepy Shoto is the cutest thing.) He really wants to be able to join in the things you do so if you play an instrument he wants to play one too. Even if he doesn’t play an instrument he doesn’t need a big part, he can just play one note on the triangle at the very end of the song and he will give the most adorable smile.

•Izuku actually hates dislikes your friend the most because he’s delusional and thinks everyone who isn’t him or his boyfriends are trying to take advantage of your kind and trusting nature (you can literally be the most paranoid person in the world and he will still think you’re naive.) He can be simultaneously passive aggressive to your friend while being affectionate to you. He says seemingly innocent things to your friend that prod at his insecurities, Izuku will keep doing it until they get the message and leave if you don’t stop him. Your friend probably won’t get the chance to be physically affectionate with you because when that guy is around Izuku will wrap his arms around you and whisper affectionate words in your ear. He doesn’t trust your friend at all and believes he’s trying to take you away from your soulmates. Izuku adores your singing and the songs you write and is the most obvious with how much he enjoys it, he’s also the most likely to ask you to sing for him (and does…constantly.) It increases his delusional side, if you ever sing a love song or sweet song he’ll take it as a sign you love them and will happily gush to his boyfriends about how cute you are and how much you love them. Same goes for if you sing something sad except he’ll think they haven’t been giving you enough attention and coddle you. If you play an instrument Izuku will be determined to learn one as well, he’ll practise like crazy and will honestly get really good so you might want him to play with you. He might decide to play the same instrument as you and ask you to teach him. If you compliment him about music he will be on cloud nine.

•TodoBakuDeku are not a super violent trio so your friend should be safe and they can deal with him being a part of your life because he makes you happy. But every yandere does have a breaking point. They only really decide to completely stop you from seeing him if he tries to take you away from them somehow, it could be be that he has romantic feelings for you and wants to confess, or he tries to break you up. Izuku always distrusted your friend and thought he would try to manipulate you so he encourages his boyfriends that this friend is bad for you. They will try to seperate you both more naturally before starting to threaten the guy. If nothing works they might get more violent. It has to be really bad for them to decide to “take care of him permanently.”

•Having a darling who sings or writes songs is a positive for all of them and they will all enjoy being able to hear you and will support you doing what you love. None of them like your friend but as long as you don’t spend to much time with them they can all handle their jealousy (even if they don’t want to) and will just be extra needy afterwards. They all honestly think your voice is the most beautiful thing, whether you’re just talking or singing they can’t imagine not being able to hear it everyday.

[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.”