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chanluster · 3 years

Text

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

oneshot | friends with benefits! au | 18.7k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hyunjin.”

Don’t say it, girl! Don’t you dare!

“It’s...it’s not you.”

You put your hand on your heart.

“It’s me.”

Oh, Jesus.

Your eyes raised to his own, wide and glistening.

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

Face it, ____. You’re done for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were almost delighted to let Hwang Hyunjin go.

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

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

It was partly you as well.

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

bitch have you done it?

CHRIS THE PISS :

helloooooo??

CHRIS THE PISS :

hoe answer the phone i’m dying!!

CHRIS THE PISS :

or prolly hyunjin at this moment lmaooo

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

unless this is hyunjin and u killed her FUCK

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

YOU :

chan i will kill u :)

CHRIS THE PISS :

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

CHRIS THE PISS :

that was ur girl putting words in my mouth

YOU:

omfg chan STFUUU i’m coming

CHRIS THE PISS :

PLS HYUNJIN I SWEAR UR SEXC

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

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

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

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

You cursed at the man who welcomed you.

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

“Sad it didn’t kill you off, then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, we’re getting Indian.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“____?”

“No, you’re not having any of mine.”

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

“Shoot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

Your mouth dropped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s do it, Chan.”

His hand went limp in your hold.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had all the time in the world for this.

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

You wanted this as much as he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like your best friend promised.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

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

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

You blinked.

Imagine what he could have done with his dick.

“____?”

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

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

Pride washed over his features. “Good.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He read your every plea.

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

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

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

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

Nodding, it was all the signal he needed.

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

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

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

Your best friend could see right through you anyway.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Hyuck.”

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

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

YOU WOKE UP WITH CHAN ALREADY GONE.

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

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

“Oh my God.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHRIS THE PISS:

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

CHRIS THE PISS:

cause im sure asf u can’t walk rn

You rolled your eyes until it hurt. Stupid prick.

YOU:

i haven’t gotten out of bed actually

CHRIS THE PISS:

oh damn

CHRIS THE PISS:

i PARALYSED u??

CHRIS THE PISS:

why am i so powerful

“This asshole,” you muttered.

YOU:

STFUU COCKY MF

CHRIS THE PISS:

It’s ok you’ll cute in a wheelchair

YOU:

?!?!?!?!!?!

CHRIS THE PISS:

but tell me

CHRIS THE PISS:

how good was it

This had you pausing.

CHRIS THE PISS:

outta ten

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

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

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

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

Again, the situation here was different.

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

YOU:

2/10 :)

You waited for his text.

However, you did not receive it.

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

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

“Now I know you’re lying!”

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

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

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

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

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

God, you could almost feel your nose growing.

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

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

“Shut up, Chan.”

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

“Try me, buddy,” you jeered.

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

“A Hyunjin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

He did change your life.

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

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

Hopefully tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jisung!”

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

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

“Boo!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The joy was not returned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He narrowed his eyes. “Share.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Permission to punch him in the face?”

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

“Fuck.”

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

You played with his curls. “How angry?”

He held onto you tighter. “9/10.”

That certainly made you do a double take.

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

Of course, because you were his closest friend.

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

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

Suddenly, a very pleasing idea came to mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, then,” he guttered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The image had you remembering your Lord and Saviour.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OF COURSE YOU WERE GOING TO THAT PARTY.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you even come here?

You instantly soured at the thought.

Still, you could not help pondering further.

You should have stayed home. With him.

You groaned out loud.

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

Then were you feeling miserable?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lust. Pure lust swirling in his eyes.

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

“Oh my God!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck,” you cursed out loud this time.

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

Were you really just friends?

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

But...to be more?

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

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

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

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

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

There was a reason he rated it 9/10.

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

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

Stop worrying. Chan is your best friend.

You turned the knob.

Your best friend.

Pushed the door open. Stepped inside.

Right?

“Back so soon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I know Chan practically adores you.

The memory brought chills all over you again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because maybe she liked Jisung all along.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like you!”

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

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

I like you too.

Well, shit. There it was.

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

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

You had finally told him of your feelings.

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

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

God, you were such a bitch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Cum for me, baby.”

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

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

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

All for him. All. For him.

Your best friend’s smile was positively wicked.

“I will completely ruin you, ____.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please, Chan. Please.”

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

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

“Donghyuck!”

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

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

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

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

But this man did not just give you any old advantages — he offered the whole world in his hands to you, knelt before you, fulfilled your every waking desire, held onto you before you could ever slip away into the chaos of your mind. Even now, with you getting lost into the galaxies of his eyes, it was solely his hands which were the anchor to reality, a reality he made better by his offer.

Bang Chan, your very best friend.

When he caught the tenderness radiating on your face, he could not help stealing a little for himself, moulding his lips upon yours as he pistoned you in the bed. It was perhaps this small warmth, along with his perfect rhythm of his cock that had you crying out, barely able to contain your second release.

You broke away from the kiss, and uttered his name like a prayer. “Chan,” you whimpered, not needing to say anything for him to realise that you were so very near.

He pressed his forehead against yours, unable to keep away from you. “Fine then,” he grumbled. “I’ll go easy on you.

“Cum for me, ____.”

The words weren’t fully out when you stained Chan’s bed with your release, pushing through the tiny spaces in your walls. He, too, let out an aggravated cry as he spilled into you, most mingling along with your cum upon the sheets.

A heavy silence fell upon the both of you, both of your breathing harmonising with each other in the cold midnight. Chan toppled on the side of the bed next to you, closing his eyes as he breathed from his mouth, chest rising unevenly.

For minutes none of you said anything to each other, simply basking in each other’s peace. You felt the eyes of your best friend, and locked them with yours.

You decided to break the silence first.

“I’m sorry for saying his name.”

Brilliant. Why would you mention that stupid idol once again?

Chan, surprisingly, burst into laughter. You were caught completely off guard, but seeing his smile lighten up his face had you reflecting his happiness.

“You are,” he rasped out, holding onto his stomach, “The most annoying bitch I’ve ever met.”

“Hey!” You exclaimed, smacking him on his arm, which he responded with threats of pushing you off the bed. “You wouldn’t dare!”

His hands were upon you in seconds, steering you at the edge of the mattress. He cackled at your shocked yelping, and you glared at him as he pushed you away from the edge, and into his arms. “Asshole,” you murmured, burying your face in his chest, which he gladly welcomed as he stroked your hair softly with his fingers.

You both found solace in each other’s embrace for a little while before Chan let go of you. “Hey, I completely forgot, but...I got you something while you were out.”

Your eyes perked up at the idea of a gift, which the man tutted when he noticed. “Greedy whore,” he crowed, getting out of the bed as he strolled to his desk, grabbing a brown paper bag. His marble-cut ass was out for you to see, and you took full advantage, watching it with no small amount of admiration.

“Enjoyed the view?” He asked innocently as he slithered right back into bed again, offering you the paper bag. Sticking your tongue out at him, you took the offer, opening it up to see what was so special inside.

Catching sight of the gift had you bursting into a smile.

“Chan!”

You whipped the goods out of the bag, hand on your mouth.

The man bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling too wide. “You like it?”

“You like it?” You parroted, already digging in. “Where did you even find these?”

“Oh, I visited my mom earlier in the day, and she got the cookies from the old shop,” he explained, taking one of the sweets for himself. “I instantly thought of you as she gave them to me, so I saved them for you.”

You widened your eyes in affection. These sweets may have been normal, bakery cookies, but they held a significance for the both of you: these cookies were what started the whole trend of you and Chan rating certain objects or situations for each other, and whenever you were on an academic break, you made sure to drag your friend back to our hometown, where you could always grab a dozen of your favourite snack.

“Thank you for these, bud,” you said, eating away the first cookie. “I think they’ve become better than an eight now.”

Chan hummed in agreement, finishing off his one too. Licking the crumbs off his fingers, he then turned to you, a question riddled all over his face. “Hey, ____?”

“Yeah?”

When he didn’t say anything, you focused your attention on him, propping your head on your elbow. You saw with slight surprise that his cheeks were reddening by the second.

“Chan?”

“It’s just…” he raised his hand, holding your own. “I’ve been thinking about…all of this.”

You raised your brows, refusing to reveal the dread rising in your gut. “Us?”

“Yeah, us,” he confirmed, stroking his thumb across your fingers. “Now, remember that you’ll always be my best friend, okay, like I don’t want you thinking that this would be the end of us or something—”

“Get to the point, buddy,” you hurried along, earning a glare from him.

Then, he licked his lips in anxiety, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Hand never leaving yours, he pinned you with a stare, making you even more nervous.

He parted his mouth.

“____, would you like to go on a date with me?”

You blinked.

Your delayed reaction had Chan groaning. “Fuck, nevermind, just forget I said anything!” He swiped his hand away from yours, holding his head in shame. “I should have kept my big mouth shut, your bad habits are really growing on me—”

“Yes.”

Your best friend paused.

Turned, ever so slowly, towards you.

“What?”

You could not contain your smile as you took his hand once more. “I’ll go on a date with you, you big oaf.”

For a second you truly believed you had killed off Chan with that declaration. Then, his face exploded into pure joy, and he tackled you in a massive hug, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

“Oh my fucking God!” he cursed, “Don’t do that to me again!”

You laughed heartily as you put him at arms’ length. “You were the one doing mental gymnastics!”

Refusing still to let go of you, he played with your hair as he clamped on his lips. “One more thing.”

“Shoot.”

“How good was I?” He looked at you, a vulnerable expression etched onto his beautiful features. “You know...with all of this.”

You stared at him, drinking in his face, his every detail, as if you had all the time in the world. Firstly, you had a right mind to pull his leg one more time, but you feared that if you made fun of him again, he might die of a heart attack.

And you still had many more years of tormenting your best friend.

So you brought him towards you, pressing your lips onto his. He seemed very much obliged to go deeper, but you pulled away just as quickly, offering him a ghost of a smile.

“I think you were a 10/10,” you whispered. “From start till finish.”

Hearing the score, and sensing your sincerity along with it, had him in near tears. He enveloped your mouth with his, backing you against the divan as he expressed his affection within the rhythm of his lips.

When he pulled away, still mere inches from you, he said the words he’d been meaning to say since the day he first laid eyes on you — since the day you two contacted this system, since the day he knew your rating as if he knew his own name.

“Well, baby, you’ve always been a 10/10 for me.”

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #stray kids oneshot #bang chan imagines #bang chan oneshot #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids dark hours #bang chan dark hours #bang chan hard hours #stray kids hard hours

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nahimjustfeelingit-writes · 4 years

Text

Imagine:

The reader having an office fling with Erik/Work Hubby

Warnings: SMUT

It’s gonna be two parts because it’s really long and detailed to start. LIKE & REBLOG

You wake up on a Monday morning after enjoying your short weekend to start another 9-5 workweek. Even though a part of you wished that you could work from home another part of you wanted to go into the office so you could see Erik. Your work boyfriend. On Saturday you got your hair done in some knotless box braids, went to the spa, and did a little bit of shopping for some new office attire. Today you decided to wear some of that office attire. Nude wrap skirt, a mauve colored wrap top with bell sleeves and some So Kate pumps in a nude color. Your boyfriend and Erik shared the same name but instead, your boyfriend’s name was spelled with a “C”, not a “K”. That boyfriend in question was a personal trainer and vlogger who traveled to try different restaurants mainly in Cali and NYC. He took a two week trip to NYC with a group of his guy friends. You were used to it and grew not to care so much about it. He was living his life to the fullest.

But were you living your life?

Working as a Secretary for an Environmental Technology company that makes billions of dollars gave excellent pay. The money is good but the only thing to look forward to is your gossiping friend Regina who sat in a cubicle directly next to you and Erik, the Lead Environmental Engineer who was also a Biomedical Engineer. He’s charming, witty, mesmerizing, attractive, hardworking, can be very headstrong at times, loves ramen, and has a cat named Paws. Erik with the “K” has you blushing whenever he locked eyes with you, stuttering while you both have random conversations during tea and coffee breaks, texted you funny memes during meetings when you were supposed to be taking notes, instant messages you from his cubicle computer to bug you saying things like:

-Wyd big head?

-Did Eric with the “C” see you leave the house today in that short ass skirt?

-Connie keeps talking to me with her funky ass breath. Help me 🥺.

-So, when are you going to boss up and get an office? I wanna be next to my work bae.

-You wanna get lunch together? My treat. It’s a surprise.

-I know you and Regina are gossiping about me 😌.

-I missed you after work yesterday.

He’s also the reason why you stayed later on Wednesday and Thursday nights. You would help him brainstorm ideas about improving pollution and what he should say in his speech about global issues such as climate change. He even asked you if you wanted to come with him to Alaska to test the water there but you hadn’t given him an answer yet. You really really wanted to but being alone with Erik wasn’t such a good idea. You were afraid to be in another location besides LA with him for reasons you’d rather not admit to.

After making Erik and yourself an egg white and veggie omelet with a Belgian waffle you headed out the door and to your Prius. Arriving at the office on time, you badge in and take the lobby elevators up to the fifth floor. Stepping off of the crowded elevator, you walk towards the newly decorated staff lounge to put away the food. It was 8:25 am and Erik wouldn’t be in for another ten to fifteen minutes. The lounge had Dunkin Donuts laid out and freshly brewed coffee. You fought the temptation of grabbing a chocolate glazed donut to go to your cubicle and boot your Mac desktop computer so you could check your company email. You said Goodmorning as you walked by. Regina was playing Candy Crush on her cell when you arrived.

“Goodmorning, Gina.” You placed your Chanel bag behind the desktop computer in your cubicle.

“Morning, sis,” Regina tapped away on her phone, “Did you sleep okay?”

“Better this time around, yes,” You flipped your box braids over your shoulder while leaning back in your office chair to talk to Regina, “I haven’t heard from Eric all weekend.”

“Which one?”

You pursed your lips, “You know which one.”

She laughs, “Erik with the C. What’s up with that?”

You shrug, “Don’t know and don’t care. He acts like he can’t answer my calls or texts so I can check up on him so I’ll act like he doesn’t exist.”

Regina gave you a knowing look, “I’m sure you and Erik with the K, aka Captain Planet, texted his work bae, Miss Y/N, all weekend long.”

You bite your bottom lip to fight a goofy smile.

“See,” Regina crosses her dark chocolate legs, “he’s not just your work bae. He’s Daddy.”

“Stop!” You throw a pen at her chest, before lowering your voice, “Erik and I are not having sex, Gina. We may flirt and text outside of work-“

“And during work hours,” Regina interjected.

“Like I said, we are not having sex-“

“Who’s not having sex?”

Regina and your head turned to stare up at Erik Stevens. He had his briefcase in one hand and a black coffee with extra brown sugar in his other hand. Tailored suit colored navy blue with gold cuff links. Burberry dress shoes on his feet. Vintage gold-plated oval eyeglasses over his onyx eyes. He gave Regina and you a teasing smile. The smile where he raised one corner of his mouth to reveal a single deep dimple.

“Y/N,” Regina answered with wide playful eyes.

“Oh?” Erik gave Y/N a mournful look, “Damn, ma. That’s too bad.”

You glare at them both, “I will ignore both of y’all the rest of the day if you keep fucking with me.”

You got up from your seat, pushing in your chair, and tried your best to ignore the snickering from them both. Walking away, Erik was right on your tail, his hand reaching out to grab your shoulder to stop you.

“Calm down, it’s all jokes,” he licks his full lips, “But seriously...no sex between you and your man?”

Groaning, you walk into the lounge to grab the food.

“Why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I’m concerned,” Erik turned his back to lean against the counter with his arms folded over his chest, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

You place his food inside the microwave to heat, “I know. It’s just embarrassing, Erik.”

Erik grabs your chin to make you stare at him instead of the microwave, “Don’t even give me that excuse. Remember, we shared a lot of embarrassing stories in this office after hours.”

How could you forget?

“Yeah...it’s boring, Erik. I’m sure you’re having the best sex of your life in your fancy penthouse. Probably having orgies with models and actresses. They love a sweet and caring guy,” Y/N said sarcastically.

Erik’s tongue grazes the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling, “Why orgies specifically?”

“Is that all you focused on?!!” You shove him before taking his food out, “gosh, I hate you.”

Erik takes a swig of his coffee, “which is girl code for gosh, I love you,”

You shook your head with a grin, “leave me alone.”

“Which means, give me attention,” Erik grabs both of your shoulders, before bringing his head around to plant a kiss on your cheek, “I know y’all female dictionary like the back of my hand.”

Your head turned to face him after his lips caressed your cheek. Now, that area was warm and ticklish. Erik grabs his food and walks over to one of the tables. That gave you some time to breathe and heat your food as a distraction. Why did he have to kiss you? It’s not like he’s never done it before but every time he did it, Erik made you melt and wish it were your lips instead.

“You make some bomb food, girl. I think I’m jealous of Eric with a C.”

“Says the guy who makes the best shrimp and grits I have ever tasted besides my grandma,” you take a seat in front of him. While you ate you watched him cut into his waffle covered in syrup. His long lashes curled each time he blinked and his lips were so pouty and kissable whenever he concentrates the way he does. You felt like a schoolgirl watching him eat.

“So,” Erik chews his food some more before talking, “Alaska.”

“What about it?” You play it off by cutting your omelet up.

“Y/N,” Erik raised his brow at you, “You know about Alaska this is my fourth time bringing it up.”

“When is it?”

“In a month,” Erik takes a swig of his coffee to wash down his food before leaning forward on his elbows to make you look at him, “it’s gonna be for a week, all paid for, a mini-vacay with skiing, Matanuska Glacier walk, and lunch, helicopter tour, cozy cabin...”

Erik tilted his head at you and smiled. You looked down at your food bashfully. It all sounded so tempting. You would love to go...

“I don’t know, Erik,” you shake your head, “Eric will be home and-“

“How many trips does he take leaving you home?”

“More than I can count,” you reply shamefully.

“Exactly. I ain’t tryna overstep but...” Erik left it at that and went back to his food. You slouch in your chair deep in thought. Erik has a point. Your boyfriend traveled whenever he pleased and didn’t even ask how you felt about it once. You respected that he wanted to drop his career as a teacher to travel, eat, and vlog. Not once did he suggest taking you on one of his food journeys. You honestly felt left out.

You deserve some fun too.

Moving your food around with your fork, you finally come to a decision.

“I’ll go.” You spoke softly as if you couldn’t believe you’d just agreed to it.

“Seriously?” Erik asked with his eyes unblinking and on yours.

“Yes,” you let out a breath, “I’ll go to Alaska and have some fun for once. I haven’t been out of town in so long it’ll feel good to go.”

Alaska with Erik Stevens. For an entire week. Just you and him. Your knees shook under the table.

“See,” he smirked while stabbing a piece of omelet with his fork, “It’s crazy how I had to ask your ass four times total to come with me.”

“Why is that crazy?” You asked with a laugh.

“Because it never takes a woman this long to say yes to me,” he says in a very boastful manner.

“I’m not your woman though,” you say before you could even stop yourself.

“You are my woman,” Erik rested his tongue on his upper lip before grinning, “just at work and without the sex, kissing, taking showers together-“

“Okay, you made your point, boyfriend.” You stop him before he continued.

“Does Eric know about me?”

“A little,” you look towards the ceiling, “ he’d probably cancel all his travel plans if he knew how you looked.”

Erik bit into his bottom lip, “how do I look, Y/N?”

“Fine as hell,” you giggle as if you were drunk, “He already thinks he’s the finest thing walking.”

“That’s your man though,” Erik chuckles, “You think he’s fine, right?”

“I mean, yeah, of course.”

Both of you laugh.

“I swear,” you wave him away, “you play too much.”

“Don’t make me steal you away from him.” Erik laughed. His laugh made your stomach do summer salts.

“Okay, Erik,” you speak in a dismissive tone.

“I mean, I could though.”

“Why do you insist on playing?! If I was single-“

“You would be mine,” Erik finished.

“You can have any woman you want. Why me?”

Erik scanned your body at that table, “Really? What you mean? Have you seen yourself, ma?”

“Stop,” you giggle. He can’t be serious. Erik is a flirt but why on earth would he play like this?

“You always think a nigga playing when I say that shit.” He sounded offended. You didn’t have a reply for that. Avoiding his intense eyes you finished your food while Erik closed his empty container and placed it on the counter next to the thermal lunch bag you brought the food in.

“Aight let me get to my desk,” he grabs his coffee and walked up towards you. Erik moves your box braids from your shoulder before grabbing the back of your neck gently. The feel of his smooth fingertips on your skin made the hairs on the back of your neck and arms rise.

“I’ll see you later, babe.”

You blush with a mouth full of food, “Okay, I’ll see you later too, baby.”

His fingers left your neck and combed through your box braids before he walked away and out of the lounge. You were so preoccupied with his fingers on the back of your neck and in your hair that you lost your appetite.

——

You stood at Regina’s cubicle halfway listening to her speak and the other half focusing on Erik in his office. He looked bored as hell. Your eyes watched him ball up random printer paper from his fax machine to shoot into his document waste basketball hoop that he had in the corner near the door. He made it perfectly every time. Erik had the coolest office out of all the other Environmental Engineers. Besides the typical Newton’s Cradle pendulum balls that’s a famous desk accessory, he had a tropical tabletop fountain, stress relief visual illusion toys, stainless steel pin art hand mold, darts, a Rubik’s cube, Nintendo switch, and many other cool and fun shit.

“Girl,” Regina said chewing on a granola bar, “You’re not even paying attention to me.”

“I am,” You allow your eyes to fall on her accusatory ones, “I’m just...looking around.”

“No,” Regina puts up a hand to stop you, “You’re looking at Erik.”

Both Regina and yourself look over at him, spotting Erik walking back and forth now with his suit jacket removed and the sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up. He was finger juggling a pen with his right hand while speaking into a Bluetooth in his ear.

“You might as well let him ruin you, Y/N,” Regina says with a whisper.

“Oh my God, Gina,” you stomp across the carpeted floor in your pumps before taking your seat again to finish organizing in Microsoft Excel.

“He could flirt with any other woman in here. Connie, Demetria, Anita, Nicole, any of those chicks, but he chooses you. Why is that, Y/N?”

“I don’t know, Gina, enlighten me,” You roll your eyes.

“No need. You already know. Erik is feeling you, heavy baby. Heavy like that ass in that skirt that we both know you purposefully wore today to make him look.”

“OKAY.” You stop her with an abrupt tone, “Fine. Yes, Gina. Yes, I know Erik is feeling me. But I am in a relationship and I can’t just-“

“Heffa, please,” Regina laughs, “don’t even try that shit with me. You are feeling him just the same. You and Eric with the C don’t even exist when you walk in here. It’s obvious you don’t want to be with that man anymore and I wouldn’t be surprised if he is fucking some chick in NYC and secretly taking her on his little food quests. You can look at me like that all you want but deep down you know I’m speaking facts.”

“Gina,” you speak with a warning, “I will throw this stapler at your head next.”

“Won’t. Change. The. Truth,” Regina flips her long ponytail.

A part of you did believe that Eric was cheating on you. It was so obvious at times but you didn’t want it to come to that. You and Eric have been together for about five years. But then again, that shit doesn’t matter. If it did, he would be worried about fixing the relationship instead of traveling for views.

Ping Ping

-Here comes Connie. Let me take a big gulp of air before she walks in here.

Erik instant messaged you. You snicker like a child doing some sneaky shit. He was so damn goofy.

-Damn. Why don’t you just offer her some gum?

-If I do that she’ll know I think her breath stink.

-Just play it cool. Have some sitting out, grab a piece, and offer her a stick. It’s that simple.

-she talks too damn much. Just talk to me about the Alaska job so I can be prepared. That’s why I’m glad you’re coming with me.

You looked up over your cubicle to watch Connie talking animatedly while Erik swivels in his chair from side to side.

Catch my eye.

Onyx met chestnut.

Erik covered his mouth with his fist to hold in his laughter before placing his hand up at Connie, from what it looked like, to reassure her that he wasn’t laughing at what she’d said.

-want me to drag her out of there by that takky blouse?

-Why are you such a gangsta, girl? LOL aight, come handle my light work, ma

-not before I get a hospital mask so I don’t breathe in her toxic fumes. Llab

-😂😂😂😂😂 straight stupid.

You snicker again.

“What is so damn funny?” Regina peered over at you with curious eyes.

“Just IM with Erik,” you bite the gel acrylic on your thumb nail to smother your giggles, “He can’t stand Connie.”

“Mhm,” Regina smiles, “y’all so damn cute just get married already.”

-she’s gone 😁

-let's celebrate lol.

Erik sends fireworks through the IM. You send balloons.

-enough about her. I see you 👀

-what’s that?

-you showing off. That attire is hella tight. What you doing with all of that?

-nothing. Lol, why do I have to be doing something?

-I know you wore that for my eyes only. I feel special.

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard. He was going down that lane. You weren’t prepared but still, you typed away.

-I figured you would appreciate it since my man wasn’t home to admire it before I left.

-Yo’ nigga got some screws loose because I wouldn’t be away letting my girl walk out the house like that.

-like what?

-with all that ass sitting in that skirt.

-can’t help that I have a lot to work with.

-ain’t no problem for me. If you were fucking with me Y/N I’d make you forget your name. Real talk.

You crossed your legs under the desk and rubbed the back of your neck. If he fucking bitches to make them forget their identities then that means his dick really ain’t nothing to play with.

-nothing to say huh?

-I’m just thinking.

-about what? Talk to me.

-why you really want me to come to Alaska with you.

-😌

-well? You’re gonna tell me why?

-Because I want you to myself.

-So I can show you something you’ve been missing.

-Eric ain’t putting it down on my work bae like he should be.

You were so damn nervous. Day by day Erik would grow more frustrated with Eric and your situation. Like Regina said, just let Erik ruin you. It’s a shame to say that you haven’t had sex in about a month. It was just you, your fingers, and your favorite vibrator. It could be Erik, his fingers, his dick, his mouth, and multiple orgasms.

-He’s not. It’s been too long. ☹️

-You ain’t gotta tell me how long. I can see it in your body language.

You twirl a braid in your hand. Looking away from your computer, you try to be discreet, bringing your eyes to peer over the top of your cubicle into Erik’s office. He was drinking a bottle of water while his eyes concentrated on the computer screen with knitted brows. He placed his bottle on the desk and leaned in, typing again.

Ping ping

-Don’t ignore me before I walk over there.

-ooooo I’m scared.

-Aight, bet. I’m coming.

-I want you to think long and hard about that, Stevens.

You were flustered, wet, shaken up that he wanted to “show you” what you’ve been missing, and willing to risk it all if he left his office space to come to talk to you.

-that’s what she said. 😈

You chuckle. He could turn any topic into sex.

“Hey, Erik,”

You look up to find him standing next to your cubicle while Regina looked at the both of you with interest. You stand from your seat, ready to get yourself some water but Erik has your shoulders.

“Where you going?” His husky voice tickled your ear.

“For some water.”

Erik starts massaging your shoulders lightly.

“Can I come with you? I need to stretch my legs.”

“Whatever, I don’t care.” You lead the way.

But you did care. You wondered what he was up to. Now that you walked ahead of him with that very tight wrap skirt on you felt exposed like he has x-ray vision and can see your phat dimpled cheeks bounce and sway. Thank God for an empty lounge. You walk over to the fountain, grabbing a cup, and Erik was right on your side, holding the tap down for you. Your cheeks poke out to hide your blush.

“Thank you,” you speak softly. His eyes were intent on you. Not once did you give in and look his way while drinking that ice-cold water. Suddenly unable to breathe you back up a little to make some space between you two. Erik followed with his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

“Don’t you have a ton of work to do?” You ask to try and divert the attention away from you. Too late. Erik was determined to make you weak in front of him.

“I do but we have a long day, ma. I’ll get it done. I just couldn’t stand being away from my work bae.”

You rub your fingers along the wet cup, “I’m convinced now that you only come to work to be near me.”

“I’m cool with that,” He shrugs, “I could be a whole lot of things if it wasn’t for your man who’s supposed to be home with you.”

“He’ll be back-“

“And then he’ll be gone again,” Erik let’s out a sigh, “We’re playing too many games, Y/N. I’m tired of the flirting back and forth when I know you really want me. Stop coming in here to impress me with these bomb-ass outfits. I’ve been impressed for over a year now.”

Erik closed the space between you both, pressing his chest against your fuller one. You look over his shoulder to make sure no one was coming and when the coast was clear you focused your heated gaze on him.

“I’m tryna undress you with my fucking hands, not my eyes.” Erik takes his fingers to play with the bow of your wrap skirt, “You feel what I’m saying?”

You couldn’t speak. Your eyes were to busy admiring this gorgeous man who wanted to fuck you. His inviting eyes saw exactly what you wanted. A long, hard, fuck. Taking his fingers, Erik grabs your chin delicately to stroke. He made you feel so precious and desired.

“So, can I do that?” Erik asked with his lips kissing along your jawline. Your eyes landed on the door to check it and still, no one was there.

“Can I take care of you, ma?”

Yes.

You had this look in your eyes, this look that said, please, Daddy, come fuck me. He smelled so damn good. So invigorating and moisturizing. You could make out a hint of exotic arabica coffee and coconut oil on the skin of his neck.

“No,” you lick your upper lip, “No, you can’t.”

His lips found yours. He swallowed that no with his full lips and tongue. Both of you knew that your answer was disbelieving when your hands came up to wrap around his neck. That was a green light for Erik. His hands came around your waist, and then down to cup your ass. He would alternate between rubbing your spine and making your cheeks bounce in his hands. Erik rests his chin on your shoulder so he could peer behind you to watch his hands squeezing all that ass on you. He would let it go and watch it bounce before slapping it lightly so he wouldn’t make a lot of noise. You felt your heart in your throat. Now, his crotch was pressed into yours. Long and hard indeed. Let’s not forget thick.

“You free tonight?” He whispered in your ear.

“Yeah,” you could feel him lifting you from the floor to sit your bottom on the counter. He was between your legs while your hands reach for his tie to tug on. It distracted you from being so nervous. His hands rested on your exposed upper thighs rubbing your warm skin in slow circles to sooth you. All he was doing was killing you. His touch was so soft and gentle but under all of that was a rough dominating grasp that you yearned for

You weren’t sure which throbbing you wanted to quiet more—the throbbing between your legs or the throbbing from your heartbeat against your chest. All those daydreams about rubbing your swollen pussy lips all over Erik’s face until you came. Now that the both of you crossed yet another line——the touching and kissing line, there was no telling what would happen next. Sex after hours in the office on his desk? Walks to the parking lot only to fuck in the back seat of his car? Happy hour on Friday evenings only to get drunk and have sex at his penthouse?

“Can I come over to keep you company?”

“I don’t know, E. This office fling situation can fuck with both of our jobs.” You nibble on your bottom lip the second his lips came into contact with your throat.

“Nobody gotta know,” his plush lips sought out yours again, “It can be our little secret, baby.”

“But what if someone does find out?”

“It won’t happen like that, trust me,” Erik grabs your hand to rest against his crotch. Erik was swelled to cum-inspiring proportions, making you want to finger-fuck yourself with mounting enthusiasm.

“Damn, Erik.” Now you were thinking about this office fling as a carnal delight after hours.

“I know, right? Imagine me walking around all day, watching you with these big titties...shapely legs...and round ass…”

You had the body, beauty, and brains. That meant that you seldom went unnoticed; especially not by Erik, your work bae. Your slant eyes and supple body reminded him of a jungle cat that, when tamed, purred like a kitten. He wanted to hear you mewl and whimper in his ear while his dick that was currently twisted and curved in his briefs bounced off the walls of your pussy. He could see the lust in your feline eyes how quickly you noticed his arched appendage. You were probably fantasizing about what wonderful things it could do for your G-spot.

“Keep looking at me like that and watch I finger-fuck this pussy right here,” Erik’s eyes went down to look at the Apple watch on his wrist, “It’s almost that time to eat. I’m tryna eat something else though…”

“Eat me?” You couldn’t control that slipping from your mouth.

“Slob on this yummy pussy,” his hand was between your legs now, caressing the outside of your saturated panties, “You gonna feed me?”

“Where?” You whisper.

“Shit, we can go to my car for lunch. I got tinted windows.” Erik was desperate to slide his tongue inside you.

“Erik, this is crazy.” You laugh faintly before he took your face into his hands, gazed into your eyes, and kissed you so urgently it felt as if you were floating away. You could think of nothing else but how good he made you feel. Erik explores your mouth with his tongue, not wanting you to miss an inch of how skilled he was using his mouth.

“You’ll be begging me to make this pussy feel good in a minute.”

You were relentless with your hands squeezing the weight of Erik’s curved erection in his black slacks. You really wanted to untuck his dress shirt, get down on your knees, and suck him with a wide-open mouth. Keep your mouth as wide-open as was physically possible—anxiously awaiting your reward.

“Don’t worry babe,” Erik gently pulls your hand away from his crotch, “wait for lunch and you can have me all to yourself, okay?”

———

You waited and waited. As soon as Erik left that lounge to go back to his desk a last-minute meeting was called and of course, you had to attend as well. Everyone got up from their designated spots to head to the conference room. You squeezed into the same elevator cart as Erik, moving to the back so you could be near him. On purpose, you settle in front of him. Erik’s hand reached out to play with your thick ass while you focused on your phone. That only lasted for about ten seconds because now you were on the 6th floor. Hungry for his touch again you allow everyone else to leave so he could slap your ass.

During the hour-long meeting, both of your eyes would meet and knowing smiles would appear on both of your faces. You didn’t like the fact that Demetria was seated next to him with her cleavage hanging out from her black blazer. She tried her best to make Erik notice her but he didn’t give a fuck about her thirsty actions.

It was well past lunchtime and most of the office had gone to either the food court in the building or outside to find something different to eat for a change. Your stomach was rumbling waiting for Erik. Groaning, you put your computer to sleep before grabbing your Chanel bag to leave for lunch by yourself. It wasn’t Erik’s fault, you knew that, but you couldn’t help being upset and sexually frustrated. No pussy eating or dick sucking in his G Wagon 550 SUV in a desert silver metallic color.

Eating alone was boring and lonely. You played with your Caesar salad and hardly even toughed the veggie lasagna. How were you supposed to feed your appetite when it was salivating for dick? You were so excited to finally hook up with Erik. Checking the time on your phone, you had about two hours left in your shift. You pack away the food and decide to save it for dinner tonight. Standing up, you push in the silver chair at the food court table, walking away with a click-clack of your So Kate pumps. You thumb the elevator button before slipping a piece of gum into your mouth. The doors open up and you enter, turning to watch them shut as your reflection appeared.

Ping ping

Erik -where did you go?

-To lunch. I was hungry.

Erik- Really? Why didn’t you wait for me?

-Because I was STARVING. Plus, you were busy.

Erik- I’m not busy anymore. Where are you now?

-Heading back upstairs.

Erik- I’ll wait for you.

-Erik, I have to go back to work!

Erik- fuck that you know what I want.

DING. Fifth Floor.

“Told you I’ll wait for you,” He smiles at you dangerously.

You almost swallow your gum the way he approached you. You and him, alone in that elevator. Erik kisses your lips, savoring the minty taste from the gum. He pulled back, taking his thumb to wipe the spit from his bottom lip. He turns around to press the 4th-floor button since that’s were the garage entrance was. Suddenly you were shaking in your pumps. It was really going to happen. Finally, your pussy wouldn’t feel painfully neglected. Finally, you could have the touch of a man on your body after an entire month.

“Are you okay?” Erik asked while looking down at you.

“Yeah, I’m cool,” you give him a reassuring smile.

DING. Fourth Floor.

Down a hallway and through the garage door you both went with your hand in Erik’s. You walk along the concrete ground as your ears took in the sounds of sirens and car horns honking in the middle of traffic. His G-Wagon was parked in a private spot. Erik took his keys out of his suit jacket and unlocked it with a click of a button, even started it up as well. You could hear the engine rumble. The large SUV vibrates as the sound of his radio playing blasted through the speakers. Erik opened the back door, reclining the backseats to lay flat like a bed. He takes off his suit jacket, tossing it in the passenger seat before turning to you, lifting you up, and sitting you in the back.

Once there, you take off your heels and place them far enough away so Erik and you could have plenty of space. Erik sat down, leaning forward to remove his shoes. After that, he unbuttoned his dress shirt before pulling it off and balling it up to toss at the front with his suit jacket. He finally turns, crawling his large chiseled body towards you with playful eyes.

“Is that pussy still as wet as it was earlier today? Can I taste that kitty?”

Erik pulled your legs, laying you down on your back. He was on his knees between your legs, opening them wide causing your skirt to lift and bunch around your waist. He came face to face with that phat puss covered in wet fabric. Your voice was stuck in your throat. Erik takes both of his masculine hands to pull down your already saturated panties, spreading open your legs further, and staring at that pink pussy coated with cream. He could smell your scent. His car smelling like your wet pussy.

“Yeah, this pussy still sloppy,” Erik listened to you purr as he flicked your clit with his thumb. Erik continues to do this while slapping your pussy with his fingers. Each time he slapped your pussy, your juices would build and build to the point of making puddles beneath your ass in his car.

“Can I stuff this pussy with my fingers now,” Erik licked his thick fingers clean, “I wanna squeeze in there deep, baby girl.”

“Yes,” Your cunt was starving.

“Good, girl.”

He plunged first one, then two, then three fingers deep inside your pussy, flickering at your clit at the same time. He was directly over your G spot with the pads of his fingers repeatedly rubbing you there. Your legs went wider and wider. The sound of your succulent pussy increased in such severity that it was almost deafening. Your moans mixed with the sound of The palm of Erik’s hand slapping your cunt each time he finger-fucked you had him grunting and groaning.

“Faster, faster,” You called out while gyrating your hips to fuck his fingers.

“There you go, fuck my fingers, just like that, get it, baby,” Erik bites his lip, “look at you ready to bust a nut on my hand, mmm, get that shit, baby.”

A rush of juices flooded the back seat. Erik’s eyes grew wide as your fingers tightened around him. That liquid poured each time he moved his fingers inside of you. All you could do was moan and shake beneath him. Your ass was glued to that surface.

“Damn, Y/N.” Erik takes his fingers out slowly before licking them clean. He got up on his knees to reach into his trunk, bringing a Puma gym bag over towards him. He opened it with his wet hands, pulling out a thick black towel that was wrapped in a body wash. Erik places that towel beneath your ass to soak up your mess.

“Making a mess in my fucking car.”

“I’m sorry,” You cover your face with embarrassment, “I do that a lot.”

“Don’t apologize about that, ma, I don’t give a fuck. Keep doing it like that on these fingers. Better yet...do it like that on my tongue,” Erik laid flat on his stomach, “You can squirt in Daddy’s mouth too.”

Erik began lapping away at your pussy with such zeal that you were squirming and squealing within minutes. With the flat of his tongue, Erik assaulted your pussy with such a lashing that your legs turned to jello. Erik then probed ever so deeply inside your dripping wet pussy with his pointed tongue, tongue-fucking your slot until your eyes rolled up into your head. He found your throbbing, erect clit and tortured you sweetly with licks and nibbles that sent electric charges throughout your entire body. Grabbing your thighs to squeeze, feasting on that syrupy pussy, Erik’s dick dripped pre-cum in anticipation of your walls capturing his dick and holding tight, while he thrust himself deeper and deeper inside of you.

“Damn, ma, I’m literally drinking this pussy dry.”

“You make me feel so good! Make me feel good, Erik.”

Erik’s tongue circled around your pussy. Each time he did that your hips would jerk. He was fighting that pussy back with his lips and tongue each time you pumped your hips. You gazed into his dark, sexy eyes and increased the movement of your hips.

“Oh, fuck!” Erik wrapped his whole mouth around your pussy and started slurping. All Erik could think about was how good you tasted and the heat radiating from your pussy.

“Shit tastes so good, girl,” He licked his plate clean, “fuck, look at my dick.”

His shit was twisted and curved to the right in those pants. Erik got on his knees to undo his pants. He let out a long sigh of relief the minute his pants and briefs made it down his thighs, resting at his knees. He sat down and pulled the rest of his clothes off, now he was naked from the waist down. You watch his thick dick jerk in his hand. That dick looked like it could bench press a barbell with how hard he was as Erik slid his hand up and down his burgeoning erection. His dick skyrocketed to its highest capacity causing your mouth to drool. Erik pointed out that dick at your mouth. Doing that caused his slit to open and show you his pre-cum waiting to be sucked out.

“Come suck me, baby,” His grip was so tight on his dick.

You obeyed every word and sucked him up into your mouth. Damn, Erik was a big boy. So girthy and veiny. Intimidating for sure. His tip blossomed so thickly your lips had a hard time wrapping around it to suck. Erik with a C ain’t have nothing on this dick. A beautiful slab of tasty meat gliding across your tongue and poking the back of your throat.

“Damn, this is how you do it, ma? You should have warned a nigga first.”

He held the back of your head to guide your mouth lower. Each time he did that, he would grunt and whisper oh, my God, which made you super wet. All you wanted him to do was splatter your mouth with his cum. He was already so close to detonation so you opened up as wide as you could stretch to fill him all the way in.

“DAYUM!!!” Erik bellowed, “Good girl, don’t waste a fucking drop when I bust in this pretty mouth. Never.”

You graduated from plain old hungry to ravenous. That cum of his sputtering and spurting forth was your reward. The suctioning noise of your hand jerking him empty into your throat mixed with Erik’s deep moans made your pussy convulse around nothing even though you could feel it dripping. You slapped his ever-expanding dick against your tongue.

“Shit,” Erik looked from his wet dick to your face, “Baby girl, I ain’t cum this hard in a minute from getting head.”

You plant kisses all over his dick, working yourself up to more sucking, “I can give you more, Daddy.”

“Give me more of that mouth,” Erik played with your braids, “Swallow my shit and lick my balls.”

“Mmm, okay, Daddy.”

Erik’s eyes rolled back when your lips would suck and then pop off his sack. He had to control himself from cumming in your hair.

“Shit doesn’t make no sense,” Erik looked at you with disbelief before a strangled look filled with passion overtook his features.

“Fffuckkk!!!” He groaned as he blasted inside your mouth with his sweet, sticky offering. You ran your index finger over your bottom lip to retrieve a dollop of cum. That only left you more famished than before causing you to enthusiastically slurp on his rigid pipe again until it was damn near raw and your pussy was sopping wet.

“Y/N,” Erik’s fingers were tight in your hair. You tasted a bit of leftover cum from his slit with your hungry tongue.

Ring Ring

Erik’s cell was going off.

“Shit,” He reached into his pants pockets while you jerked his dick. He answered his phone with an annoyed expression.

“What’s going on, Greg,” Greg was a fellow Environmental Engineer, “What? Right now?” Erik closed his eyes before tossing his head back, “Okay, give me ten minutes.”

Erik hung up his phone.

“We gotta go, ma,” You could hear the disappointment in his voice, “Supposedly it’s something urgent about Alaska.”

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, “Should I be worried about the trip?”

Erik gave you a soft smile, “Nah, Alaska is happening regardless. Don’t worry, bae, we good.”

You pulled your skirt down and placed your wet panties in your bag. You watched Erik fasten his belt in place before he opened the back door to let some air in. You rose from the car, Erik helping you put on your pumps before placing you on your feet. Digging into your bag you sprayed yourself with a little of your Chanel No.5, hoping to camouflage the lingering scent of sex.

Looking in Erik’s rearview mirror, you fix your lipgloss and clothes, everything else good to go. Erik was currently spraying himself down with some Gucci cologne from his Puma gym bag and buttoning his suit jacket. He looked just as crisp as he did when he came in this morning.

“You still ain’t answer my question, beautiful.”

“What question,” Erik grabs your hand while the both of you walked back inside.

“Can I keep you company later?”

You chew on your bottom lip in thought. Eric with the C, your actual boyfriend, might call you later and you didn’t want Erik with the K to be around to raise suspicion. Still, no word from Eric and the longer that happened the more you didn’t give a fuck.

“Am I pressing too much?” Erik asks with soft eyes.

“No, no,” you reassured him, “I just think it would be better to come to your place instead. That’s all.”

“We can do that,” Erik walked towards you with his body pressed into yours, “Bring an overnight bag. You’re not going back home.”

His lips attacked your throat again, sucking and licking you there.

“I ain’t give my work bae some dick yet so you know I gotta take care of you,” His hands found their way back between your legs and on your sensitive pussy, “You gonna let me do that for you?” He asked huskily.

“Oh, Daddy, please do,” you responded.

————

You got home around 6:30 PM. You showered, finished the rest of your lunch since your appetite for dick was satisfied and drank a little bit of red wine.

Surprised, shocked, nervous, you decided to wear a black velour tracksuit with your Fenty slides to Erik’s place and packed away everything else you needed on a faux fur tote bag. Phone sitting on the charger, you go to check it since you received a few notifications since coming home.

Eric with the C.

Eric- I’m alright. Sorry for the lack of communication. Really busy.

-that’s okay. Be safe.

He didn’t respond back.

No I love you, I miss you, I’m thinking about you, nothing.

Luckily the picture Erik sent to you made up for that. It was a shower picture. From his broad shoulders down to his well-knit waist with that v cut covered in soap and water. You had the urge to satisfy the cries leaking from your pussy at the moment. You had half the mind to pull your pants down and finger-fuck your pussy into multiple orgasms leaving your slit covered in sticky cum for him to find. How dare he tease you like that? Since you were spending the night you can look forward to shower with him. This entire fling had your skin tingling. Your fingers scrolled down to read the texts he left you. You really wished you hadn’t because now you were whimpering.

Erik- Can’t wait for you to put that work in for Daddy.

Erik- where you at? I’m tryna put this thang in your gut.

Erik- want me to come to get you?

He was blowing you up. Eric with the C never did this.

-Hey, sorry, I was getting my things together. You don’t have to pick me up.

HONK HONK.

Erik- too late.

You walk to your living room to find Erik parked outside. He was typing away on his phone.

Ping Ping

Erik- Stop making me wait, girl.

You grab your bag, phone, and keys before locking up and leaving. Walking down your cobblestone trail, Erik hops out of his car, walking around to meet you. He was wearing a black Burberry ribbed beanie with a Pyer Moss color block Reebok windbreaker tracksuit on and the same brand of shoes on his feet. He tongued you down before taking your bag to place in the back seat that was now cleaned and placed normally. Erik opened your door to help you up inside before shutting it to return to the driver's side. You watched him walk all the way around and get inside with sultry eyes. With his hand on your upper thigh, he drove off and towards his Penthouse.

@tgigoldie @soufcakmistress @chefjessypooh @chaneajoyyy @pananegra @thehomierobbstark @thee-germanpeach @theblulife @becincere @blaqwidow91 @fish-outta-watah @eyeknowmywrites @crowngold @hearteyes-for-killmonger @goddessofthundathighs @njadakillthiscookie @blktinkerbell @luvanxi @sheisexcellent1 @chocolatedippedinhoney @brandithecrystalgem @dababydababydababydababy @soulfulbeauty19 @btitannaaa @blowmymbackout @sunkissedebony97 @youngblackndgifted @harleycativy @rbhp @thadelightfulone @bugngiz @palmstreesallday @skylahb @bakaris-shorty @nizzle-mo @truglori @queenflaws @ljstraightnochaser @nickidub718 @vikkidc @rent-emspoons @abluesforlyssa @abeautifulmindexposed

#Erik Killmonger #killmonger x reader #killmonger imagine #nahimjustfeelingit writes #killmonger smut

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aestheticaxolotl · 3 years

Text

Lets Talk About Mimebomb

I used two images here because both are priceless and I didn’t know which I wanted to use more. Let me start with Mimebomb, using the Carmen Sandiego Wiki to break them (mimebomb is non binary fight me) down as a whole, starting with appearance and personality (Excluding the comments around his action in the show, please bear with me once more as I do this).

Mime Bomb is a thin, red-haired young man (*Cough*) who looks like a stereotypical mime. He (*They*) wears a grey and black striped shirt, black beret, white gloves, black spandex and black shoes. His (*Their*) makeup consists of white face paint, black face paint around the eyes and on the brows, and a light red shade of lipstick.

So I wanna talk about Mimebomb without their makeup first. We see that they are not meant to be an attractive character, and I appreciate that Carmen Sandiego created characters like that. But I digress, red headed males are stereotypically either super hot or super not. And they really tried to go with super not. But failed because I love them anyway and so does most of the fandom. Now, the mime get up is a very strange choice to me, seeing as people are more scared of clowns than global warming, and mimes are very similar to clown, but I don’t think it’s a fear tactic. But more of a ‘hey even Mimes can be cool yall’.

For personality we do not have a lot to go on as some of the other but we still have SOMETHING, I was forced to reference the books for this so please, if you have no read “Clue by Clue”, check it out.

Mime Bomb has been described as quiet by El Topo and weird by Tigress. Mime Bomb is seen as an opportunist, immediately tattling to V.I.L.E Faculty when witnessing Carmen stowing away on the graduate mission during her holdover year, and secretly hiding a rare stamp in Detective Chase Devineaux's coat when he was on to him. In the Clue by Clue novel, Mime Bomb is said to be skilled in symbiology and cryptanalysis according to Professor Maelstrom. He is also prone to avoiding fights or physical contact when possible. When fighting Sheena in the Who in the World is Carmen Sandiego novel, she easily beats him while he is distracted. When offered a helping hand to his feet by Black Sheep, he declines with a shrug and silent nod. In Clue by Clue, when Le Chèvre and Tigress are fighting Carmen, he stands off in the sidelines and shadowboxes rather than assisting.

Now, let us begin on what I have brought to the table.

Mime Bomb is seen as an opportunist

I have to begin by defining the term ‘Opportunistic’ using the Webster's Dictionary, Opportunistic meaning “exploiting chances offered by immediate circumstances without reference to a general plan or moral principle”. And dumbing it down for myself “They take what is best for theirself rather than the people around them.” Right, so. Mimebomb being opportunistic is CANON and shown MANY times. I will draw your attention to every time Mimebomb has turned Carmen or who ever into the Faculty for not following the rules. I would have loved to stated that this is a ‘teacher pet’ thing but I was surprised when I realized it wasn’t. The Faculty really doesn’t like Mimebomb and are very sarcastic towards them, constantly underestimating them and using them as the butt of the joke! And yet we see them completing missions successfully and with finesse, other messing up the mission they set up so carefully and thoughtfully.

Mime Bomb is said to be skilled in symbology and cryptanalysis

Cryptanalysis is the art or process of deciphering coded messages without being told the key. While Symbology is the study or use of symbols. This is very telling. Mimebomb studying codes and symbols can allude to selective mutism or even mutism. Personally, I prefer the former, Selective mutism is a childhood disorder in which a child does not speak in some social situations although he or she is able to talk normally at other times. And this can form in adults too. But the implications that they let if form how they preformed in school/college? Amazing, they made a choice and stuck to it for SUCH a LONG time. That commitment is amazing. This is also useful to more historical based mission or where it may lead into hieroglyph or other symbols. I’m willing to wager that these talents are why DOCTOR BELLUM brought Mimebomb on the hunt for an artifact. Because they would know some of the writing and symbols.

He is also prone to avoiding fights or physical contact when possible

Mimebomb being physically weak is not an accidental detail. Far from it! I think addressing that a male character who is more brains than brawn is a detail that needs to be pushed, and as off as Mimebomb is, they are the perfect example of this. They are not masculine and are easily taken down by Young Blacksheep, Chase, and other characters. Mind you it’s halariauous but PLEASE- You are KILLING their JOINTS. I have a feeling the avoiding physical contact is a very... Self protecting action that I feel would have to be more touched on in a headcanon post rather than an analysis post. The best I can come up with is the speculation that Mimebomb refuses to let people become close to them.

When offered a helping hand to his feet by Black Sheep, he declines with a shrug and silent nod

This, this the most telling thing EVER. Mimebomb refuses a helping hand. They do not work well with others and when they are offered help, the refuse it. They have a self serving bias. A self-serving bias is any cognitive or perceptual process that is distorted by the need to maintain and enhance self-esteem, or the tendency to perceive oneself in an overly favorable manner. It is the belief that individuals tend to ascribe success to their own abilities and efforts, but ascribe failure to external factors. When individuals reject the validity of negative feedback, focus on their strengths and achievements but overlook their faults and failures, or take more credit for their group's work than they give to other members, they are protecting their ego from threat and injury. Mimebomb protects themself at all cost, and that makes me wonder, why? Because they know that they can’t accept others help or their comforts. And they are fine with it. They are okay with being alone.

he stands off in the sidelines and shadowboxes rather than assisting.

I feel like this was originally supposed to be a one off joke rather than an actual trait or habit. But... If you know me by now, I can twist this on it’s head so fast, it’s not even funny. But I can’t here, I can’t except maybe they do this to encourage others? I think when they do work in a team, they do try their best to support who they are working with unless its an annoying slime ball like Neal the Eel (Not hating on Slimebomb, I just noticed they work better as comical enemies rather than a relationship, and i love that)

Now, there was no abilities category in the wiki, and I found this interesting, so i drew from the Trivia section of the page and found out... A lot really, that is interesting. But only one of them made and impression on me and it’s the one I want to focus on for a paragraph or two.

Mime Bomb is actually classified by A.C.M.E. as insane; given he is locked up with Maelstrom in a loony bin. considering he NEVER speaks (by choice), makes sense.

I’m going to take a second to define the term “Insane” using “Wikipedia” rather than a dictionary. “ Insanity, madness, and craziness are terms that describe a spectrum of individual and group behaviors that are characterized by certain abnormal mental or behavioral patterns.” Hmm....What abnormal pattern are we looking at here. Selective Mutism. The mime outfit doesn’t help. I’ll make note that the official wiki says it’s choice that Mimebomb doesn’t speak, but doesn’t give us a reason why, speculation and theories are in store here and I will reference my V.I.L.E Operative headcanons.

In the end, Mimebomb was and still is one of my favorite characters in the whole freaking show. I enjoyed ever second of them on screen, every caper and ever wacky highjinx. I’d watch the whole show again just to see them being the awesome character they are. As usual, requests are open and please! I love when requests come in! Stay tuned for the next one y’all!!

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renaxwrites · 4 years

Note

Hello! May I ask scenario about the Nekoma manager at the national training camp (where Miya, Kageyama, Hoshiumi etc.)? She was called there as the best manager. And Atsumu fall in love with her.

Nekoma Manager Pt. 2

- (Atsumu)

a/n: lol y’all probably thought this would be a short scenario but nope I like to write long stuff hehe so here ya go!! I hope you enjoy it 💘 pt. 1 pt. 3 pt. 4

Life as the Nekoma manager was steady. Hectic, and practically babysitting twelve hyper menaces, but steady. You had become the team’s backbone, the one they would turn to to make sure things were up to par.

At this point in time, it was pretty evident that your analytical talent had begun to shine through. It had gotten to where coaches from other teams would seek you out to ask for quick guidance, whether it be for a specific player, a play they used, or on the team’s connectivity overall. Many knew you by name.

On one particular day, came a couple of surprises.

“Alrighty boys, huddle up! There’s a couple of announcements to be made,” the coach boomed. The team quickly circled around you and the coach.

“As you know, the All-Japan Youth Training Camp is coming up. Luckily, we’ve been fortunate enough to have one of our members be extended an invitation!” the coach beamed. The players excitedly began to exchange looks, as if they already knew who it was. You were curious as well, with a few possibilities running through your mind as to who it could be.

“Now, this member hasn’t been with us too long, but they have definitely made their mark on the team, and I think I speak for all of us when I say that I am very proud that their talent is being recognized. So, without further ado, go ahead and give your congratulations to y/n!!”

It took you a second to process, and within that one second the whole team managed to suffocate you into a giant group hug.

“Congrats y/n-chan!!” “You’re the best, you deserve it!!” “We love you y/n!!” “Remember us when you’re famous!!”

Once they release you and allow you to finally breathe, there was one more surprise.

“Congratulations, kitten. The team is so fortunate to have you as a manager, and as both a thank you and congratulations, the team decided to pitch in and get you this,” Kuroo hands you a thin wrapped box.

The team is eager for you to open it, and inside you find a sleek, brand new iPad along with an Apple Pencil.

You tear up, “This is for me? You guys didn’t have to!”

Lev pipes up, “All of us felt bad about your hand cramps and paper cuts from hand-writing all your notes. You always care for us, so we wanted to do something for you.”

You’re speechless, a tear slipping in gratitude. Instead of thinking of what to say, you take the iPad out of the box and tell everyone to scooch in for a team selfie.

“Everyone say Nekoma!” “NEKOMAAA”

You made it your wallpaper.

A few days later, you’re on the train on your way to the training camp. Just as you worry about being alone in the sea of people, you spot a familiar face.

“Tobio-kun!”

The blueberry-haired boy turns toward the sound of your voice. “Oh, hello y/n-san. Where are you on your way to?”

You look down at your directions. “I’m on my way to the youth training camp! I actually got invited to help manage. They want me to analyze their players, kinda what I do now, but a little more intense. I hope I’m going the right way though,” you nervously laugh.

Kageyama reassures you. “Oh, I’m on my way there as well. Don’t worry, I’m pretty sure we’re going the right way...this should be interesting for the both of us then.”

Turns out, you did go the right way. You’re soon met with the coaches in charge and introduce yourself, eager to get started.

Once the formalities were out of the way, one coach began to introduce you. “This is y/n, who is not only Nekoma’s manager, but one of the best in volleyball analytics we’ve ever seen so far. She has the same level of authority of any of us coaches. She is here to benefit your growth, therefore, if she wants you to do something, you need to do it. Understood?”

Everyone in the line nodded. Soon, you were going down the line of players, having them state their name, year, school, and position. You had uploaded pictures of each player that the coaches provided, and jotted down the general info underneath. God, this new tablet was so convenient.

Things were running smoothly until you reach the last player in line, a confident one with a lazy smirk plastered on his face.

Atsumu Miya. Second year. Inarizaki High School. Setter.

You’re scribbling out a couple of footnotes when you hear, “So, you’re our personal cheerleader for the most part, right? Well, you don’t have to critique me too much, since I was number one high school setter and got ‘best server’ at the Inter-high. Just in case you wanted to write that down too,” you look up to meet a sly wink and grin.

You put your tablet down at your side and the other hand on your hip. Everyone had their eyes on you before, but they were definitely paying attention now.

“Atsumu Miya, is it? Listen. This not only goes for you, but for all the players here. I may know a couple of you personally, but the second drills start, I’m observing each of you as if I’m seeing you for the first time. So anything you’ve done before stepping foot in here, you need to leave at the door. I’m going to analyze every single one of you with the same level of intensity to be fair. So I’m more of a coach than a cheerleader, I think.” Your statement wiped the smirk off his face, but there was still a glint of amusement in his eyes.

You turn and walk back to the coaches, who now give the vibe that they take you even more seriously. The main coach turns to you and suggests, “On that note, I think we should start our warm ups. How should we start?”

You think for a moment, and propose, “I think we should do some across-the-floor serves just to get them warmed up, and so I can see them individually.”

“Alright, you heard her! Let’s line up and begin!”

The first day came to a close, so you began to help some of the boys pack up the equipment. You’re taking down the net with Kageyama and Chigaya, who had reunited. They’re careful with their words as they bring up the earlier incident. “You know, if he ever bothers you again, just let us know.” “Yeah, it won’t sit right with us knowing if you’re ever uncomfortable.”

You wave your hand in dismissal. “I’ll keep that in mind, but it’s okay. I can handle it.”

Out of nowhere you hear, “Just know if you ever want me to teach him, let me know. I’ll clean up that little filth. Only real scums disrespect women.” You turn around to find Sakusa tenderly looking at you, only to turn to Miya’s direction and stare daggers into his figure.

“It’s okay boys, I’m fine, really. If I ever feel uncomfortable with anyone here, I’ll be sure to report it to someone. Okay? I do appreciate you all,” you reassure them, just in time to have the coaches summon you to start their strategy meeting.

Later on at dinner, you’re sitting with the coaches, exchanging funny and wild stories of things you’ve seen at matches. Kageyama and Chigaya sit together, eating and making idle chit-chat, when Atsumu goes and pulls up a chair to join them.

“So, Kageyama. You know y/n, don’t you?” Miya inquires.

Kageyama finishes chewing. “Yeah, Like they said, she’s Nekoma’s manager. She’s a pretty good friend to both myself and Karasuno. Really nice. I’m not surprised she got invited here. Extremely accurate in what she does.”

Miya chuckles. “You seem to know her pretty well. Do ya know if she’s single, too?”

That catches Kageyama off guard. “Well...uh...I’m not sure. I think so, it might have been mentioned at the summer camp...I don’t think we should talk about her business like that, what’s it to you?”

Once again, Miya has a lazy grin on. “Relax, it’s just general curiosity. At what I said to her this morning, it was only to get a feel for her vibe. That’s the first time a girl genuinely challenged me, most girls usually flirt when I talk to them. Now that I know she wasn’t, I’m kind of interested. She’s got that spunk ya hardly find, ya know?” He looks at you thoughtfully.

Kageyama snorts. “Yeah, good luck at that,” Chigaya shakes his head.

The next couple of days go by. Miya may have seemed to be joking, but he was actually serious when he said he was interested.

At first, it was innocent. He apologized for what he said, and made sure to let you know that he takes you seriously in your position. He then began to take good note of your critiques, immediately correcting anything that you suggested needed to be improved.

At some point, his interest began to grow. The two of you began to converse a little more, starting to get to know each other a little more personally. It was then he would offer you sweet compliments and subtle flirtations. These would go over your head, thinking he was just being polite, but the rest of the players deemed it obvious, and began to be a little protective.

There were times when a slight spark was shared. When Atsumu would accidentally brush against you, or when you would adjust his hands to make sure they were in the correct position for the drill. You didn’t want to put too much thought into it, but you could feel yourself blush every time. You usually would counter it by saying something sarcastic. But if only you knew that your playful teasing was watering Atsumu’s growing feelings.

“Y/n-san, have you ever been on a date before?”

You’re caught off guard from Miya’s question, and look of from the plays you were studying.

“Nope.”

“Really? You mean to tell me that someone as feisty and exasperating as you has never gone out with anyone?” you can hear the teasing in his voice. And a hint of something else, too.

You roll your eyes and push his shoulder with yours. You fail to notice how he leaned in a little more than before.

“No, Miya-kun. As hard as it is to believe, no one has ever had the courage to ask me.”

He presses his shoulder to yours in return.

“Well, what if someone at this camp wanted to take you out? What would you say to them?”

You feel his intense gaze on you, so you turn and stare just as deeply back.

“I would tell them that they need to beat Nekoma in order to take me on a date.”

He smirks, his eyes lingering on your lips for a split second. But it was long enough for you to notice. “Sounds like a deal to me, then.”

You raise a brow, “Oh? And who’s asking?”

Atsumu gets up and begins to stretch. “Just curious, is all.”

The camp had come to a close, and you were all bidding your good-byes. Kageyama and Chigaya offer to walk along with you back to the train station. You begin to walk out the doors when you hear someone call out your name.

You look back to see Miya raising his hand to you in farewell.

“Just so you know, y/n-chan, I plan on beating Nekoma very soon. Start thinking of somewhere you’d want to eat!”

You giggle and wave your hand in return. “We’ll see, Atsumu Miya.”

#haikyu!!#haikyuu!! imagines #miya atsumu #atsumu miya x reader #nekoma #all-japan intensive training camp #rena imagines

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bubblyani · 4 years

Text

Overtime

(Flip Zimmerman x Reader)

A Flip Zimmerman One Shot

Rating: Mature

Request : May I make a request? If you say no that’s just fine! But maybe Flip Zimmerman and the new secretary at the station?@lemonypink

Author’s Note: I could picture this in the movie hahah. Anyways I hope y’all enjoy this.

Tagging: @meta-human-of-221b-ravenclaw

“Y/N! Need a copy of this report please!”

“Sure thing!”

“Hey! Is my handwriting sloppy ? I’ve always wanted to know”

“Well all I will say is ...maybe try writing slower”

“Argh! knew it”

You were full of soft giggles as you typed away in your typewriter. The phone rang with much gusto until you finally picked it up.

“Colorado Springs PD, how may I help you?...” you answered. With habit, you quickly took your notepad with one hand as you listened to the caller, “Uh huh...” you muttered, whilst writing down, “...sure. I will relay the message to him. Thank you for calling!” You said before you hung up.

Apart from the nonstop sounds of countless typewriters being utilized across the whole room, your ears were always brimming with requests, inquiries and complaints from all. Be it officers, detectives and civilians. Why wouldn’t it be? You were a secretary in the Intelligence Division.

Being mostly surrounded by the detectives in the precinct, you were in the company of quite an interesting bunch.

“Y/N?” Especially One person in particular. “Yes Flip?”

Cheerfully, you greeted. Wearing one of his signature flannel shirts, Detective Flip Zimmerman stood in front of your desk there with his partner Jimmy Creek. “...Could you help me draft a letter to the sergeant, please?”

“Sure thing Flip...” you said, flipping into a new page in the notepad, “I’m just gonna need some details” you continued, “What is this pertaining to?”

“It’s about my resignation”

The pen suddenly dropped out of your hand.

“Your WHAT??“ You yelled out. Never did you think you’d be this loud as you were just now.

Finally unable to contain himself, Jimmy burst into laughter, forcing Flip and the others to join him. Upon realizing their scheme, you scowled.

“Not funny gentlemen” you said sternly, getting up from your chair. “Awww...you should have seen the look on your face” “Well, good for you Jimmy!” You said sarcastically, with your arms folded, watching Jimmy reenact your reaction to the rest of the gang. Shaking your head, you smiled eventually, finding the humor in the situation as you sat down. These men may be detectives, but the inner child had never left their bodies. “Sorry about that” Flip said softly, making you realize he was still standing by your desk. He sounded remorseful, you could tell from his voice. “It’s alright” you replied with a chuckle , before you began to type again. “Didn’t think you’d be so surprised though” he said, watching you work while casually leaning against the desk. “No it’s just-” looking up, you quickly paused upon seeing his face, “....well you’re a good detective. And...it would be a mighty shame to see you go” you said.

“Thanks” With his eyes never leaving yours, he headed over to his own desk.

When it came to the matters of a criminal investigation, withholding information was a resounding no. But when it came to the matters of your heart, you knew it was best to withhold the most intimate details that lingered within. Especially when those details included your deep, affectionate feelings towards Flip Zimmerman.

It was obvious, You were drawn to him from the very first day. Being the first one you’ve encountered in Colorado Springs PD, he left a lasting impression. You could never forget that first day.

“Why are you staring like that?” He said that day, upon finding your eager eyes staring at the Colorado Springs PD signboard outside the building. Blushing with embarrassment, you struggled to answer. “It’s just that...I’ve never worked for Police before. It’s just unbelievable” You remembered yourself mutter shyly, looking at the tall figure next to you. “Well...believe it. You’re one of us now”He said, before walking away.

You remembered that small smile he gave. The way he made you feel inclusive with just one line. And the way he looked out for you in the precinct without making you feel you were a pity party.

The silent working hours allowed you to appreciate the handsome man he was. The flannel, the hair, the mustache certainly grew on you, to the point where maintaining eye contact was a difficult task. Possible but difficult.

Jimmy’s laughter did not seem to fade, causing Rookie detective Ron Stallworth to enter the room with curiosity.

“Morning Everyone” he said looking around.

“Ron...” Jimmy cried out, “...you just missed something hilarious” he said, still in the midst of sniggers. Ron looked quite confused.

“Really?” He asked with a chuckle, “And what is that?”

“My embarrassment...”You answered, shaking your head, inciting more laughter from everyone in the room.

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

“You always have it up”

“Huh?”

Confused, you looked at Flip from your desk. Running his fingers through his raven hair, his inquisitive expression remained unchanged.

“Your hair...” he said, “It’s always up. Why?”

Feeling your high hair bun on the back of your head, you understood what he meant.

“Well...It’s proper. Isn’t it?” You said.

Being in a workplace, you never intended to look like a distraction. For it was easier to be one as a woman. So you wanted to be far from one. Hair bun, white shirt tucked in a navy blue skirt, you were the definition of proper.

“Y/L/N...” Sergeant Trapp came out of his office. You liked Trapp. He was kind to you.

“I know this isn’t your usual rodeo but...do you mind staying back tonight for some overtime? Gotta hell a lot of paperwork to finish up”

“Of course sir...” you answered in an instant. You’d rather slave away and finish up the work than leave it hanging for later.

And so you did. Two hours into overtime, you noticed the detectives haven’t left office. Huddled around Stallworth’s desk, Zimmerman, Creek and Trapp were engaged in a serious conversation while Ron was on the phone. From the chatter collected in the room, you were well informed of the current investigation about the clan, the organization. You could not forget Ron’s daring attempt that started the case, and grouped the detectives together.

“Oh Mr. Duke I’m so glad you asked” Ron said out loud, as he played his redneck persona, “What happened that day, it just boils my blood just thinking about it. Who do those colored folk think they are? Am I right?” Watching the others laugh silently, you could not help but stifle a grin.

“My sister?”

Ron began, suddenly in the mist of thinking, “Pamela? Oh she’s doing great ...” he said, making you furrow your brows with confusion, “In fact, she is dying to talk to you, Sir!” Just like the others, you were very confused. Even more so when Ron was looking directly at you. “You would?” He said, “Aww that would be mighty kind of you sir, let me just grab her” Covering the phone, he sat up, forcing everyone to direct their attention to you.

“Get over here” he mouthed at you. Your eyes widened.

“What?” You mouthed back. Snapping his finger, Flip finally understood what Ron was trying to do. You finally got up as you watched him walk towards you.

“Do it!” Flip said softly.

“Do what?” You asked with genuine confusion while walking with him to Ron’s desk.

“Come on! We’ve seen you do that impression” Ron whispered. He was right. To kill boredom, you would occasionally do an impression of Pamela, Ron’s imaginary sister who claimed to have been accosted by coloreds. You only did it for fun. Never did you think for once it was an audition, and now you were offered the part.

“What? But that’s just crazy” you said.

“This...would be perfect for us. This is gonna help us a lot” Flip said, looking at you. His words did not pressure you. Instead they gently convinced you to see the logic behind all this. Ron’s eyes gleamed as you sighed and took the phone. “H-Hello?” You answered with a raised voice, “Oh my word...is this really Mr. Duke?” You feigned surprise, letting out an excited laughter. You played along in this game with an unexpected confidence. And Duke seemed to have bought it “Can I just say what an honor it is to hear your voice, Sir!”

Excitement was evident in Ron’s face, while the Sergeant looked surprised. But none of that mattered to you when you saw Flip’s look of admiration, hidden in his face in the form of a small smile.

Grabbing the phone from you, Ron gave you a thumbs up, as he continued the conversation.“Mr. Duke, this is Ron again...” he began, “As much as my sister would love to talk, she’s busy making dinner. Hehe...yes sir...” he said, his voice growing softer “... women sure do belong in the kitchen”

He added, shooting a teasing look at you, watching you roll your eyes and the others silently snigger. But halfway through, you saw Ron’s eyes widen.

“Oh! Really?” He said, “Wow I’d be honored sir. Thank you! Alright, You have a lovely evening too”

Hanging up, everyone held their breath until he finally spoke.

“Well...the big guy’s even more impressed, thanks to you” he said, pointing at you, “...Walter’s gonna give me a call with the meeting details for tonight...Flip, get ready for a Cross Burning” Ron said, setting his gaze over at Zimmerman, who merely nodded. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Y/N...what are you still doing here? Go home. I’ll drop you“

Jimmy may have teased you earlier, but he always had cared for you like a sibling. Hence he was surprised to still find you at the office around midnight.

“No Jim it’s okay...” you said, whilst stifling a yawn, “...got some reports to finish up anyway”

Truthfully, with your experience, finishing up paperwork was easy as pie. But the reason that kept you from leaving had no relation to any form of paperwork whatsoever.

With Flip and Ron out meeting the clan for the Cross Burning, you could not help but worry for Flip’s safety. Tonight especially, more than you ever did before.

Sure, Ron would be there to look out, for him. You knew he had his back. But worrying was never correlated with logic.

With Paperwork completed, You searched for petty excuses to hang around. Anything to keep yourself occupied until you could see him walk in through the door, alive and well.

With your eyelids getting heavy, you were tempted to close them, drifting into sleep. Maybe just 10 minutes, you thought. With your head on the table, you let the exhaustion take charge.

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

The subtle creaking noises of furniture woke you. Opening your eyes slowly, you sensed that morning had dawned already. The office was empty.

And Flip was standing before you.

Relief washing over you like cool water over one’s face, you quickly covered your mouth to wipe away any form of saliva you had. Embarrassingly, you greeted him with a sleepy smile. “The burning went well I’m guessing?”

“Yep...” he said, “although too much burning for my taste”

You sniffed the hot coffee in the air, which got stronger as he handed you a cup full of it.

“Figured You’d need a good wake up” he said, as you accepted it. “Yeah I do, with the accidental sleeping” you chuckled, taking a sip.

“Yeah, plus you...snore” Flip said, finally giving up to sniggers. You dropped your jaw in shock. “What? I do? Oh no...”You cried out frustratingly, laughing alongside him, “...was I loud ?” You asked in a whisper.

“No...” he said, sitting on your desk, “...of course not”

“Oh good” Shaking your head in disbelief, you casually took off the hairpins off your messy head, letting the cascade of hair flow over your shoulders.

“Wait...” Flip said, “...you got uh...” Reaching out, he casually brushed a strand of hair off your face, which did not alarm you. For all the times you’ve waited for him to do this, you were secretly ecstatic. The moment eyes locked in each other’s, his hand did not leave. Instead his thumb grazed over your left temple. The way he stopped by your cheek, seemed to be a physical way of seeking permission. And your unaffected silence was your consent.

His touch comforted you, and for a man of his stature he was as gentle as he could be. As much as you were silent and welcoming, you wanted to make your intentions clearer. You took a daring risk the moment thumb brushed over your mouth. Pressing your lips against his finger, you embraced it with adoration, making sure he could feel it to the inner core.

And within seconds, your risk was deemed worthy the moment he moved towards you, quickly kissing you on the lips.

A sense of unrealized fulfillment came over you as you kissed Flip Zimmerman. You were excited, invigorated and intoxicated at the same time.

Pulling away, deep breaths were exchanged as foreheads were placed together. “Pretty...” Flip blurted out shyly, “....you look pretty with your hair down” he said, with his fingers tangled in your loose hair. You chuckled. “Thanks...” you said, placing the coffee cup on the table, “....you should see me in my normal clothes..” you joked, “I look much better “ you added with a smile. Flip’s eyes grew warm.

“Yeah I should...” He smiled back, “...maybe when we grab a bite sometime...”

Overjoyed, you kissed him once again with even more enthusiasm, grateful for the overtime work shift that made all this possible. ——————————————————

https://bubblyani.tumblr.com/post/190893189313/driver-masterlist

Check my MASTERLIST for more :)

#adam driver #flip zimmerman imagines #flip zimmerman x reader #blackkklansman #flip zimmerman x woc reader #blackkklansman imagines #adam driver x reader #adam driver fanfics #adam sackler #kylo ren #star wars #ben solo

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ffamranxii · 3 years

Text

Sailor Stars thoughts:

1. The anime does its absolute best to make the Starlights unlikable. Taiki is a fucking asshole (he won’t even give a dying girl, who he explicitly was taken to visit, an autograph, and tells a bunch of children that their grandfather’s theory about souls becoming stars is dead wrong), Seiya is a Nice Guy who hits on Usagi constantly despite being told multiple times she has a boyfriend, and Yaten is a mildly sarcastic cardboard cutout. I know the manga doesn’t expand on them much but the anime is supposed to help make these people real. Counterexample is Chibi-Chibi, who hardly speaks in the manga and relies on her cuteness alone to be likable. They gave her a very cute voice because it was literally all they had to work with, given how often Chibi-Chibi actually appears

2. The dub cast for the Starlights is frankly awful. As civilians, Taiki alternates between a woman trying too hard to make her voice deep and having a bad cold, Seiya sounds like a prepubescent boy, and Yaten sounds like a woman (which they’re not, as civilians); as Starlights their voices are VERY high pitched, especially Yaten’s. Their sub voices just sound like woman talking a bit deeply and then normal women.

3. Why the FUCK did Toei think literally changing sex was less controversial than crossdressing? The Starlights are women and have always been women. Plus, them being male civilians in the anime creates a paradox, because if they’re men with sailor crystals who can become senshi, why can’t Mamoru - who is confirmed multiple times throughout the series as carrying the earth’s star seed and thus being Sailor Earth - do the same? Naoko said Mamoru can’t be a sailor senshi because he’s a man, but the Starlights don’t abide by this rule, they change their fucking biological sex

4. Why is absolutely no one concerned that Chibi-Chibi, a THREE YEAR OLD, just goes off on her own and has her own little adventures? She wanders into some strange old man’s house and they’re all “oh that’s just Chibi-Chibi,” and no one is worried that a literal stranger invites a three year old into his house where he gives her toys and candy? The 90s were WILD, man

5. Why does Chibi-Chibi, again who is THREE YEARS OLD, have a thigh gap?

6. This one’s on Naoko because it’s like this in the manga, but the anime is supposed to expand on the universe so I blame them too: Why does literally nobody question Chibi-Chibi’s motives? Some strange pink haired child who fucking falls out of the sky one day up and brainwashes Usagi’s mom into thinking she’s her second daughter, and nobody bats an eye at this? That’s sus as fuck and literally the only question anyone has is “is she your kid or Chibiusa’s?” She doesn’t even have a NAME, “chibi” is just a random word she says!

7. I am DIGGING the mobster feel of the Animamates’ civilian forms. Especially Iron Mouse and Tin Nyanko, who clearly launder money through a shady car dealership.

8. The Starlights’ only redeeming qualities are their snazzy entrance music and Seiya’s red suit

9. Why is Aluminum Siren the only Animamate who understands that a senshi has a pure star seeds? Like, y’all killed the senshi of your home planets to take their star seeds so YOU could be senshi (which is presumably why Galaxia wants more seeds, to make more Animamates with them), shouldn’t you know that?

10. Aluminum Siren/Lead Crow are trying their damn hardest to give Harumichi a run for their money in the quest to become the Best Space Lesbians.

11. So the Moon Kingdom fosters loyalty through child soldiers. I’m assuming Queen Serenity has her own senshi in the form of our senshi’s mothers, etc. (Which begs the question of if the Asteroid Senshi are supposed to be the future kids of our senshi or if they too are child soldiers from the asteroids they’re named after.) Kinmoku seems to foster loyalty by having the Kakyuu’s senshi fall in unrequited love with her. (In the manga it’s stated Kakyuu has a husband who died when their planet was destroyed.) I mean, whatever works, right?

12. I LOVE Tin Nyanko’s dub voice. She’s only around Usagi’s age and she sounds it

13. The dub actress for Lead Crow seems like she’s half assing it. Her voice doesn’t raise properly when she yells, she never sounds really angry, and it’s just so odd. I find a lot of dub voices do this, while the original Japanese VAs will scream their lungs out into the mic

14. On the reverse, Galaxia’s voice actress is a badass. She’s supposed to have a deep menacing voice but I like the one they gave her in the dub. She’s quiet, and sounds almost kind, and that’s a fucking TERRIFYING sort of villain we don’t see a lot of. Even when she’s pissed she doesn’t raise her voice.

15. Why are Lead Crow and Tim Nyanko the same height? Lead Crow is like 5’10 and Tin Nyanko is 4’11 like Sailor Moon

16. As an aside, Tin Nyanko and Lead Crow don’t like each other, which reminds me of the cats vs crows trash can showdown in Haikyuu lol

17. Haruka’s hate boner for Seiya gives me life

18. FINALLY someone calls the Starlights out on being assholes but it’s only after Makoto sees them harassing a THREE YEAR OLD (Chibi-Chibi). Literally everyone BUT Usagi thinks they’re assholes. “They sing such beautiful songs!” Bro. You can sing pretty and still be a fucking dick.

19. Lead Crow goes after Sailor Moon only after reading Siren’s notebook. Ditzy SIREN is the smartest Animamate, lord help them

20. Kakyuu’s dub voice is SO GOOD. She’s my favorite minor character, I’m still bitter they didn’t show Sailor Kakyuu

21. Seiya’s crush on Usagi was so awkwardly shoehorned in. I hate it. Jesus fucking Christ Usagi is sobbing in the goddamn rain about how much she misses Mamoru and Seiya is STILL coming onto her.

22. It is literally so fucking funny to me that Mamoru spends all of Stars fucking dead. He’s just a perpetual damsel in distress.

23. Rei literally lectures Usagi about leading Seiya on and how “you need to do the right thing and tell him you already have someone,” AS IF USAGI HASN’T BEEN DOING THAT AT EVERY AVAILABLE OPPORTUNITY. THE FIRST TIME THEY MET SHE SAID SHE HAD A BOYFRIEND, SHE’S TOLD SEIYA OVER AND OVER THAT SHE ISN’T INTERESTED IN HIM, THAT SHE’S GOT A BOYFRIEND, THAT SHE LOVES HER BOYFRIEND. The fucking MISOGYNY here, like it’s Usagi leading Seiya on instead of Seiya being a fucking Nice Guy who can’t take no for a goddamn answer. Shut the fuck up, Rei.

24. Pretty sure under Kakyuu’s headdress is a pair of odango

25. The fact that Iron Mouse and Aluminum Siren both die when their bracelets are removed yet Tin Nyanko doesn’t implies that Tin Nyanko was the original Sailor Mau. Mouse and Siren dying implies that forcing senshi powers on a civilian is dangerous and that Galaxia’s bracelets are the only thing keeping them alive (albeit brainwashed). Yet Tin Nyanko seems to revert to “good” when one of her bracelets is destroyed. Galaxia has to intervene and kill her personally. Tin Nyanko may have offered her senshi powers to spare Mau (this applies only in the anime; in the manga she’s explicitly said to have killed Sailor Mau)

26. Oooh Galaxia’s angry voice is so commanding and sexy

27. Don’t gimme that “we love Usagi but we love you Starlights just as much.” No you fucking don’t. The whole death scene in the anime is just so... ugh. Bad.

28. The Outers fighting Galaxia is hilarious. They’re supposed to be stronger than the Inners yet Galaxia never even has to get out of her chair to kick their asses. The writers were trying real hard to make us fear the worst and back the senshi into a corner but literally they’ve made this an impossible battle to win that only becomes winnable due to plot armor.

29. Rewatching Stars and classic after Eternal and Crystal makes me miss the battle damage the fuku took. The new series always has them looking pristine, but in classic they actually get roughed up and battle scarred. It makes it more real.

30. Aww how come Uranus and Neptune got to keep their names when they joined Galaxia? I wanna know what whack ass Animamate name they would’ve gotten. (Also Galaxia literally just sent them out like Pokémon, wtf)

31. I feel like Saturn dying shouldn’t be possible since she’s literally a senshi of death but... whatever, go off I guess.

32. So.... Uranus and Neptune joining Galaxia to try and take her star seed is a cool idea that absolutely did not happen in the manga, and needed more than half an episode of development. Would’ve been a cool plot if it wasn’t so rushed.

33. So much of this season was rushed so they could tie the series up at a beat 200 episodes. If they really didn’t want to go over 200, they should’ve cut the Nehelennia arc (which isn’t in the manga anyway) and and focused on developing the Animamates, this sweet Harumichi betrayal plot, and explaining Chibi-Chibi??? Her existence makes no sense without Sailor Cosmos, and they just... didn’t include her??? Wtf

#sailor moon #ffamran watches anime

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fanfictrashdump · 3 years

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Universe in a Jar - Phase 4 fic

OK. I did something. A few days ago I reblogged this post about the magical trio. And then my brain went off on a monumental tangent and this happened. It’s not my fault, really– Loki is my all-time fave, Wanda could murder me and I’d thank her and Stephen is a smart, sassy bitch... all wins.

So, here, y’all can have it. I might leave it there or I might continue depending on my mood.

Characters: Stephen Strange, Loki, Wanda Maximoff, OC

Rating: T? Language!

Summary: Baby-sitting beings arguably more powerful than him goes awry for Doctor Strange. He knows one person who can possibly keep them isolated and out of trouble. Well, he knew someone who could... he hasn’t seen them in decades and for stupid reasons.

"Wait here. No funny business."

Doctor Stephen Strange half-dragged himself upright to deliver the warning. The portal-hopping and timeline clipping involved in the last twelve hours–if he could even call them that–of his life had really taken it out of him. Who knew fixing tears in the time-space continuum was so exhausting? Doctor Who made it look like a breeze!

Setting his companions with one last threatening glare, he walked up to a faded, run down apartment door with a crooked six hanging just above the knocker. In all honesty, the place looked even worse than what he had anticipated when the hospital directory gave him the address. Still, he knew he had made it here for a reason, despite the fact his stomach was roiling and begging him to reconsider. This was his Hail Mary. Tightening his jaw and frowning himself into another set of early wrinkles, he pounded the wooden entrance so hard the six righted itself.

A minute or so later, the door swung open, a woman filling the empty frame just long enough to lay eyes on the doctor.

"Nope."

The door slammed shut with a noisy shudder just as Stephen opened his mouth. He swallowed the dozen or so expletives that were threatening to wriggle themselves free from his throat. Instead, he straightened his hoodie, loosened his neck with an audible crack, and took a deep breath before the side of his fist struck the door four times.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

Silence.

Stillness.

His companions beginning to titter in the background because for all his pomp and attitude and the timelines are not to be meddled with–I am the Sorcerer Supreme, he could not get a single human to open the door.

Pound. Pound. Pound. Pound.

His teeth ground together harder in annoyance. "Seph! I have absolutely no problem in staying here all day. Making a fuss. Screaming at your door. Waking the neighbors. Being a nui–"

The door swung open, then. Stephen was met with a frown and eyes dark as storm clouds and for just a second he forgot why he was doing this. "What the fuck do you want?"

His expression softened under her glare, if only minimally. There was a reluctance in his frame that refused to give up even as he said the words. "I need help, Seph." His eyes flittered briefly over his shoulder and it was just long enough for the woman to notice that the sorcerer was not alone.

Standing on her tiptoes, she looked over his shoulder. Just down the harshly lit hallway, two figures–woman dressed in dark red and a man in an all black suit–stood watching the interaction and chattering among themselves. Her expression lightened just a fraction. "Who's the cutie?"

Stephen looked back, furrowing his brow and taking careful inspection of the other two before directing his attention back to the woman at the door. "Which one is the cutie?"

"Take your pick," she challenged back and even though his initial instinct was to roll his eyes and scoff, a little smirk tugged at his lips.

He whistled, gesturing the door with his head. His companions perked, if only due to sheer curiosity about this new person. "Wanda, Loki, meet Dr. Persephone Hale." He sighed, shoulders slumping in anticipation for what was to come out of his mouth. He gathered the most sincere look he could muster and held her gaze. "Please?"

A million expressions fluttered through her features, including a peculiar twitch of her nose he knew only happened when she was about to do something she really didn't want to. He tried not to celebrate the victory too soon. She was, after all, making him wait for it. After a moment of internal deliberation, she stepped aside and Strange signaled in no uncertain terms that the two needed to step inside.

"Thank you for having us. I'm sorry if we're intruding." Wanda looked tense as she spoke, like they had already had plenty of doors slammed in their face. Or perhaps she was just sensing the thoughts and emotions of their host and fearing the worst.

Seph waved her in. "It's not a problem. I am glad to help an Avenger and… an alien god." She offed them both a forced smile. "Where'd you leave the horns?"

Loki chuckled, straightening his suit. "They didn't go with the outfit. May I?"

"Of course. It's him I'm not crazy about."

The smile on Loki's face grew as he sidled past her, leaving Stephen to glare at them both. "Seph–"

"I don't care. I don't care about whatever excuse you're about to give me–"

"I'm sorry! I can't do anything else other than apologize."

"Yes, you're right. Why would the Sorcerer Supreme even bother with the lesser mortals?" With an icy glare, she turned on her heel and stomped into the apartment, though she left the door open in invitation.

Drawing a long sigh, Stephen reconsidered turning time back just ten minutes and foregoing this whole disaster before realizing he had no other choice, and so he followed her in and closed the door behind him.

The entrance hall of the tiny Bronx apartment melted away after a few steps, replacing stale summer air with a crisp country breeze. Faded blue flower-patterned wallpaper was familiar at first sight, as was the well-loved wooden stair banister, worn in places where the steps were squeaky from nights of trying to sneak in after curfew. Knick-knacks and pictures crammed into every possible space brought back memories that he had long since locked into the back of his mind and forgotten about. Everything within his line of sight brought with it a prickle and tingle of a life past but still haunting him, and he loved and hated it in equal measure.

"Who devised this portal? The work is rather formidable," Loki remarked, breaking the silence, in the closest thing to awe that any of the others had ever heard.

"Oh, i-it’s nothing impressive." Seph quipped, brushing away the compliment.

"So you studied alongside Strange, then?"

"No. Not magic, at least." Persephone gestured with her index around the room. "This is the only thing I can do."

"A feat like this without any of those silly rings that he needs? Impressive." He paced around, touching invisible seams and humming to himself. "With a little training you could do very well for yourself." Neither doctor could decide whether the tone he was using was encouraging or threatening.

"I don't think so," she replied, fidgeting in her oversized cardigan. "I was put off early on."

Despite the fact he was pointedly looking out the window, Stephen could tell Seph's gaze had fallen onto him. There were a million other things he would rather do than have that conversation–a root canal with no lidocaine, for example. He, instead, forced his focus on staring at the house sitting a couple of hundred meters away. The red trim of the roof was looking faded and the gutters were a little loose but it did not seem like the house was in total disrepair.

"I haven't been home in ages," he muttered, off-handedly.

"Oh! Weren't you born and raised in Manhattan? At least according to the Times, anyway." The sarcastic tone Persephone used made an uncomfortable weight press down into his stomach. He opted to count how many missing shingles there were on the roof.

"Ah, so there's history. That explains the dread at having to come to her door," Loki announced genially, clearly in need of some entertainment. "Wanda, you've lost our wager."

"Loki," Wanda warned, taking the time to fix him with a look before gesturing at the other two. They seemed to have been fighting a war entirely through stares.

"Which door leads outside?"

Seph rolled her eyes. "Which fucking door do you think leads outside, Stephen? I thought you were this hot shot genius doctor!"

"I am asking because that door," he gestured at the front door, "leads to the middle of nowhere in the Bronx."

"Then maybe don't take the door that leads to the Bronx, then, jackass. Or better yet, do. Until now, you've never had a problem finding a door away from me."

"That–" He killed the retort before it had a chance to meet the air and instead pivoted his questioning. "Is the key still under the mat?"

"I don't fucking know. Where did you leave the key twenty-whatever years ago you last graced your own doorstep?" With that last remark, she stormed off and up the stairs, cardigan billowing behind her, while Strange wrenched the back door open and threw himself into the field between the houses.

Wanda and Loki shared a look before making themselves scarce, elsewhere.

About an hour later, Wanda opened the door to what she presumed was the main bedroom and peeked inside. Persephone lay with her limbs splayed out, dark curls smushed on one side, blinking blankly at the ceiling. With a sigh, she opened the door a bit more and let herself in.

"I hope you don't mind. Loki and I made some tea. And he might have eaten a whole sleeve of Oreos."

Seph laughed despite her gloom and shuffled to sit up against the headboard. Wanda smiled, offering her an extra mug in her hand, steam billowing from the top invitingly. "Sorry. I've been a terrible hostess."

"You're more hostage than hostess at the moment. I don't blame you." Wanda sipped at her tea for a minute in tense silence. "So, when did you and Stephen date? And how did he fuck it up?"

The responding snort was heartfelt and led to a long laugh. "No. Stephen and I have never dated."

"But there is history."

She ruffled her curls back into shape, out of nervous habit more than concern, and sighed. "Hard not to have when you've known him all your life. He grew up in that house across the way."

"I assumed as much." She gave her an encouraging smile, like a mother coaxing her teen into conversation. It worked exceptionally well on Seph. "Come on. We were neighbors growing up does not cover the level of tension from earlier."

Seph shrugged. "We both wanted to be doctors. I followed him to the same schools, undergrad and med school. We were pretty much our own support system. His sister passed, and his parents, my mom. We always figured it out together–"

There was a bit of confusion in the witch's face. "OK. That sounds really sweet, though."

"–and then one day I told him a secret. I told him I could make doors go to other places and I showed him, and I haven't seen him since."

“Ah, right.” Wanda winced. "That… sucks."

"Yep." She popped the 'p' before sipping at her tea.

"But when he got into magic, surely he–?"

"Nope." She swallowed at a lump in her throat and pushed away the ball of emotions that thinking on that day was dredging up. "That day he said I was crazy, that I drugged him. I've never heard an apology but he somehow gets to be Sorcerer Supreme."

Wanda sighed, taking a long draw from her tea before adding. "Jeez, what a dick."

"I'm assuming this scrawny, little thing is him," Loki remarked from the door, startling both women. He held out a framed picture of four children. "I am assuming he was bullied on that haircut alone."

"No worse than being the only Black kid in school in a small town in rural Nebraska," Seph retorted with a wry grin. Loki considered and shrugged, sitting at the bottom of the bed with what appeared to be a pack of saltines. "That's his little brother, Victor. He's the taller kid. The girl is his sister, Donna. That's the last picture we took before Victor died."

"Didn't his sister die, as well?" Persephone nodded. "So, they've all died. Seems like he's a harbinger of bad luck. Maybe we'd do well to stay away," he quipped, tossing the picture onto the mattress.

"Yes, tell us about harbingers of bad luck, Mr. I've Died More Times Than I Can Remember," Wanda sassed back, much to the other two's amusement.

"I have a question, Lady Hale."

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Seph is fine, Loki."

"These portals, can you make them go anywhere?"

She shook her head. "Only places I've been to, sorry. Can't send you back to whatever planet you want to run off to."

He tsk'ed. "Well, it was worth a try."

"What did you two do to get stuck with the magic police?"

"Created a whole new reality by escaping my first arrest" "Held a whole town hostage in a fake TV show." They replied simultaneously.

"Fuck. No wonder he's desperate," Seph muttered to herself. "Why doesn't he just keep you in the fancy sorcerer place?"

"Too many artifacts to play with." "Too many books with dark magic."

"OK. He's clearly in over his head. No wonder he came here. There's no way he could keep you both controlled and contained without the..." She gestured around the room to signify the magic of her bubble.

"It's nice to let him pretend." Loki offered with a wink. "It's endearing."

Persephone laughed, sparing a passing thought to the idiot who didn't know what he got into. "Well, if you're stuck here, anyway, there's plenty of bedrooms. The bathroom is down the hall. Make yourself comfortable and relax. I'm going to go get dinner started."

Wanda smiled, stretching happily. "I'll take you up on that. I need a shower and some sleep."

Loki smirked. "I'll join you in the kitchen, if you don't mind."

When Stephen returned, a long while later, he was immediately drawn to the familiar smells permeating the house and warming him from the inside out as much as the soft, honeyed whispers being exchanged in the dim light of the kitchen. He found Loki and Persephone at the stove, speaking in hushed voices, closer to each other than he would have deemed appropriate–definitely flirty. Loki had changed out of the black suit into a pair of joggers and a dark green tshirt and seemed downright at home bantering with the human over the simmering pot. His ease made Stephen's left eye twitch immediately, some long-forgotten jealousy roiling in his chest and clenching his fists on their own accord. He cleared his throat loudly to pull their attention.

Seph rolled her eyes and turned back to the pot to stir, though Loki lingered close for a few extra moments before taking half a step back.

"I guess the fun police is back," she muttered under her breath and Loki chuckled.

"Loki, could you go check on Wanda, please?"

"Wanda is sleeping, so no." He turned back to his companion, whispered something into her ear that made her giggle and turn to face him, bottom lip caught between her teeth.

The way his eyes trailed from her lips to his gaze made something snap inside the sorcerer. "Just get lost, will you?"

Seph craned her neck, fixing him with a glare. "Leave him alone. This is my house." Loki grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek with a smug glint in his eye.

"I need to talk to you."

"Funnily enough, I heard all I needed to two decades ago, so…"

"Persephone, I am not playing here, I–" His demand was cut short by the flickering of the walls. Invisible curtains dividing this world from the little ratty apartment in the Bronx were faltering. Just beyond the constraints of the space, a whole new area, neither New York nor Nebraska, was reflected for just a second before it flashed back.

"It's alright, darling. He knows he has no authority here. Settle down, dove," Loki cooed cautiously, eyeing their surroundings with caution. "Do you want me to give you a moment with him?"

Seph sighed, studying Loki’s expression before nodding reluctantly. "Like I have a choice with this idiot."

"Very well. I will make myself scarce." He inclined his head at her, a gentle smile attached. Once he turned, he gave Strange a dirty look with a multitude of silent warnings and retreated to the living room.

Stephen snorted. "What did you do, bribe him?"

Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the stove. "Nope. He was hungry. I fed him. You'd be surprised how much less surly he is when he's full."

He frowned. "We ate before coming here."

"Hm… what's your excuse, then?" After a minute of silence, she glanced over her shoulder to check he was still there. He was. Unfortunately. "Besides, he eats three times as much as you do. Whatever you had wouldn't have made a dent."

"How do you know that?"

She let out a single laugh. "It's this revolutionary practice called talking. You wouldn't know about it, scalpel jock."

"Here’s a thought. How about you let your disdain for me go long enough for us to have a conversation."

The spoon in her hand slammed into the pot with a splash, driving bits of stew everywhere. Reality flickered within the portal and time dilated just long enough for him to notice before everything went smashing back into place. She was good at repressing these feelings, he knew. She must have spent their decades apart trying to control herself, unaided, and now it was his fault that she was losing control.

"How can you pretend that the single worst day of my life is just water under the bridge, Stephen?" She turned from the stove and he noticed her eyes glowed faintly in their intense hazel. "You accused me of drugging you, of deceiving you! I was grieving, my life was a mess, and I suddenly opened doors to places I hadn't been to in years, entirely by accident." She began to close the space between them, rounding the kitchen table. He felt like he should make a hasty retreat but found he lacked the ability. "I was terrified. I needed you! And you left me! I had no one!" Her voice cracked at the end, eyes filling with tears as she did all she could to retain the glare she was directing at him. "And after all that shit, you find magic and you–you didn't even have the decency to come and talk to me until you needed something."

"I didn't understand what had happened, OK? I opened your closet door and stepped into my childhood bedroom, Seph! How was that logical?"

"How did you think I felt, fucker? I was the one doing it!" Her voice rose to a shout and Stephen was quick to match it.

"I'm sorry! OK? I am sorry. I shouldn't have left. I should have reached out to you sooner. I should have helped. I am sorry. I'm s o r r y, but I was a dumb kid and the girl I was in love with could make distances shrink into nothing and I panicked!"

"You should've stayed gone, then," she replied, icily. "Because the boy I was in love with died when you left me alone in that room."

Cold filled his veins, and his spine quivered at her words. This was pure hatred, plain and simple. He couldn't find it within himself to blame her, to logic his way out of his role in her misery. Every excuse he could offer could be countered with 'yes, and it was happening to her, too'. She had been his one support through every bit of rotten luck he ever had. And he left her to her fate in a strange city without a lifeline. He never imagined he would be back to have this conversation, to pick at the scabbed-over wounds he had inflicted long ago.

"Persephone… Seph…" His hands tentatively grasped for her shoulders and gave a squeeze. She flinched, but did not pull away. "I am so sorry." With a little more coaxing, he had enveloped her in his arms, his nose pressed into her hair and inhaling the familiar scent of coconut. "I'm sorry. I am sorry," he chanted, feeling the front of his shirt dampening with her tears as her shoulders relaxed and molded into him. "I am going to make it up to you. I swear."

Persephone sniffled, pulling away from his frame. "I've waited a lifetime for you to come back for me." She blinked and tears streamed down her cheeks. "But I don't want that, anymore.” She made distance, wiping at her eyes and steeling her resolve. He wanted to pull her back to him. She needed to understand his point of view, though it suddenly occurred to him that he never bothered to understand hers. “You're welcome to stay as long as you need. But this isn't fixable, Stephen."

After a tense moment of staring at each other, she skirted past him, ignoring his protests and pleads to talk, opened the pantry door and disappeared through it with a ripple.

“Stellar job, Strange. Now we’re stuck until she gets back,” Loki commented as he slipped into the kitchen, grabbed a bowl of stew and sneaked back out.

For once, Stephen did not argue.

#Stephen Strange #loki mcu #wanda maximoff #original character #marvel phase 4 #we're making it up as we go #marvel #MCU #MCU fanfiction #mcu fanfic #doctor stephen strange #scarlet witch #multiverse

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

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Creep part 2 (Bakugou x Reader)

Pairing: Bakugou x fem!Reader

Genre: Spice!

Sequel to Creep (part 1)

Summary: Your roommate forces you to a dorm hangout with her boyfriend where you get hit on by a creep, only to have Bakugou come along and help you with the situation.

Word count: 2,835

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog

a/n: More spice than the first part ;) This one took a different turn from the first part, so I hope you all like it! The ending might be a little rushed because I’m really exhausted and I wanted to finish this before I pass out on my keyboard.

This part was inspired by a Tiktok that was going to be a completely different scenario, but it ended up fitting perfectly as a sequel, so I used it!

Also I hit 100 followers!? In 2 weeks?! What are y’all following me for, I’m trash!? Nonetheless thank you for supporting my tiny blog out of the vast world of Tumblr, I really appreciate it. 100 followers may not seem like a lot for some of you, but I never expected this to happen and I’m so grateful for each of you 😘😘 Ok enough of the mushy stuff, onward to the sequel!

Maybe I was hit by cupid's arrow. Or the devil's, considering the type of thoughts I'm having.

I'm not usually the kind of person who lusts over people or their appearances. I'll at least acknowledge them as hot and then move on, but I don't dwell on them. Until I went back to our shared dorm still wearing Bakugou's hoodie and started having flashbacks of our few moments together. His scent coupled with the memory of his smirk and those intense crimson eyes left me with a lingering high. We had left things unfinished, and that little nagging in the back of my head drove me to do something I wouldn't normally do.

And that was stalking him. I ended up scrolling through Ochaco's following list for his profile, and finding it was akin to discovering a hidden treasure. From the outline of his build in that long-sleeve shirt I last saw him in, I knew there was something there. While his profile displayed mostly pictures of his friends hanging out, there were also clips of him training in the gym. Only when I chose those to watch those and scrolled to the end of the set would I be gifted with a beautiful mirror selfie of him in a black tank top. Even just standing there, hands in his pockets or arms crossed across his chest, the curve of his arms and veins straining underneath entice me.

But that wasn't what stands out to me the most. It's actually his neck. In the small amount of time I'd spoken to him, the moment that he removed his hood and exposed it to me is the image that replays the most. The structure of his muscles and his collarbone melding together into a perfect sculpture of a man. That's what mostly haunted me. To think it's one of the more sensitive parts of him makes my heart pound a little harder. In every picture, it was the first thing I looked for.

"You planning on taking that off anytime soon?"

I jolted when Ochaco's sly comment awoke me from my reverie. "Yeah, I just needed to check something first," I tried to play it off before - reluctantly - ripping the hoodie off of me.

And now, the day after that, I have to give it back to him. This morning, a rogue though flashed into my mind: instead of simply handing it to him, I could wear it to class and have him watch me peel it off my body. Such a thought never occurred to me before, startling me for being brash.

I did wear it though. I told myself it was cold in the classroom and I would need it.

When I walked into the classroom, I didn't dare to glance at the back for him since my thoughts haven't been the purest and I think I might've choked if I didn't mentally prepare myself. If he was nice enough, he would have respected that sign, but he wasn't.

As soon as I turned around from getting a pen from my bag, there he was leaning on my desk, earning an embarrassing squeal from me.

His head tilts against his arm. "That's a lovely shade on you."

My breath stops for a millisecond. Huh?

Bakugou twirls one of the strings on the hoodie around his finger. "The black matches your nails."

Oh. Duh. "Yeah? I might keep it then." Just to make my point, I pull the hood up on my head. "You're probably not getting this back."

"Hording my clothes now?" He clicks his tongue, "Sounds like you're the creep now. Or just a thief."

Haaa, you don't know the half of it. From the position he's in, leaning down on the desk and resting his head on his arm, there's a very perfect view of his neck and collarbone right in front of my eyes from under his black shirt and denim jacket. I try not to linger on it and force myself to concentrate on his face instead. "I'll give it back after class, this room is always too cold for me." But today it feels just a bit hotter.

We agree to get lunch and head to the library after class until the professor arrives and he returns to his seat, but not before sending a wink my way. I clutch the neck of the hoodie, stunned as the gesture spirals be back to us almost kissing, before the fire alarm rudely interrupted everything. For the rest of class, I'm more concerned with how to take off an oversized hoodie in a sexy way than any kind of modern British prose.

We decide on staying on one of the library floors where a moderate level of talking is allowed, taking over a small, private study room where the door is transparent and there's a rectangular glass window to see inside. I'm partially thankful for the extra insurance keeping me from possibly jumping on him, but that doesn't keep me from staring and letting my mind run wild.

Bakugou chose the seat at the head of the table and I chose the seat adjacent to him. "I can't get over how the old hag typed out an entire 7 page guideline on how to write this paper. Does she expect us to write a dissertation or something?!"

I slurp my udon. "She needs to chill. I thought her sarcastic humor was funny the first week of class, but she's getting on my nerves now."

"Then why do you keep laughing at all her jokes?"

"Because I need to kiss up to her so she can at least remember me to give me a good grade for one." I put a piece of chicken in my mouth. "And also, I'm low key scared of her killing my first born child."

Bakugou almost chokes on his Mapo Tofu laughing at that, throwing his head back and slamming the table. The image of me kissing his neck flashes through me and cuts my laugh short. Calm yourself! I clear my throat. "Speaking of scary people, if I had met you at the party, I would've had a very different impression of you, since you were much more...aggressive there."

He has a confused expression before he looks down at his food. "You mean how I was screaming playing that game?"

"Yeah." I note how uncomfortable he looks on the subject. "I guess people usually think that of you?"

"Something like that. I was kind of a loudmouth in high school, I think I've gotten better." He turns to me, twirling his chopsticks in his hand curiously. "What was your first impression of me?"

I shrug. "You're quiet, you have a brain in your head, and you like to sleep in class sometimes."

The blond snorts, "People don't usually associate me with 'quiet,' you'd be the first."

Should I be flattered by that? I wonder.

We finish our meals without another word. I pull out my laptop and start looking through the guidelines for our paper again. "I don't even know what book I want to write about, they're all so boring."

Bakugou shrugs, still peering into his laptop screen. "I would just pick the one with a theme you can bullshit the most about."

"I guess," I slump down onto my arm. I always liked reading growing up so I didn't think I would have a tough time in this class, but the professor really drains the energy out of me.

I feel a bit hot in his hoodie, perking up at the opportunity to pique his interest. Maybe I can lift it up so my shirt underneath slides up and shows my stomach a little? Would that be sexy? How do I remove it casually enough in one swift movement without fucking it up? Maybe he'll find any way I do it attractive, because hopefully that's how guys think.

I decide to just try it an see how it goes. Lifting it with both hands from the bottom, I drag the hoodie up and almost get it over my head, feeling my shirt underneath lifting below it. I try straightening my back to make my posture look a little more curvy than I probably already am. The problem I face is getting it off my head, which immediately dampers my effortlessly-sexy act into an awkward one. I have to slip my arms out from the sleeves and push it up from underneath, messing my hair up slightly in the process.

I sneak a glance out of the corner of my eye to gauge his reaction in case he saw it. There is none, his eyes are still glued to the screen.

Well, that was kind of a fail, I think, throwing the hoodie onto the space between us. I'm just a bit disappointed that I can't channel my inner flirt around boys I like, but it's not the end of the world.

"Too bad, I thought you look pretty good in my hoodie," he spares me a smug grin.

I freeze up at the statement, heat rushing to my cheeks. "I think so too," I murmur, "Maybe I should steal your jacket too."

He stops tapping on his keyboard and stares at me with an unfamiliar emotion. I'm about to ask what he's thinking before he removes his jacket and hands it to me. "I'd like to see that."

I almost think it's a joke, but I take it from him anyway, draping it around my shoulders without putting my arms through the sleeves. I get the sense that it might be too big on me if I put it on. A fresh bout of his scent comes with it, sending me into another spiral of unhealthy thoughts.

"I think the universe is trying to tell me something, because you look good in all my clothes," Bakugou leans back in the seat, looking down his nose at me.

The implication makes my heart flutter. "Yeah, they're actually mine and you'd stolen them from me before. Or you just have a really girlish figure." Like hell I believe that, you were probably sculpted from stone by the gods.

"Pfft, whatever you say," he rolls his eyes and looks back his laptop, scanning over the notes he wrote down. "So, this is the list of themes for each of the books we read for class, wanna hear it just in case it triggers something for you?"

My mind is still hung on the sculpted from the gods thought, so I absently nod while staring at him to make him think I'm paying attention. In reality, my thoughts wander to the pictures I'd seen of him a few nights ago, the gym mirror selfies in his tank tops. His arms are definitely just a teaser for what he probably has underneath that shirt, and I'm betting on there being a washboard waiting for me to run my hands over, judging by the brief glance I had down his shirt earlier.

Unconsciously, my eyes trace down to his black button down. It practically teases me, his top 2 buttons undone to expose all of his collarbone and the top of his defined chest. I don't have to go by the low quality mirror posts on his profile or the fuzzy memories from the party, it's right there for me to see. Flashes of me running my fingers over his neck as I nibble on his ear, rogue noises of his hypothetical sighs of bliss, my hands spreading his shirt open to allow for more space to kiss down his muscular neck. Each new image quickens my heart rate and sends a new tremor down my body.

I'd love to just devour him.

"Hey!"

Both his voice and the rational one in my head snap me back to reality. Did I really just-

Annoyance creases in his brow as I recompose myself and sit up straight. "Sorry, I didn't catch the last thing," my voice comes out noticeably strained.

"What's wrong with you-" Just like that, his face crosses with an awareness that only morphs into a smirk. "I guess you're letting your mind wander."

My eyes widen. Shit, he knows, I'm caught! "No, I'm just-"

"We've only known each other for a day and you're already obsessed with me, aren't you?" He leans forward, only to have me lean back, but he pulls the collar of his jacket on me to keep me in place. "That might be a little unhealthy, don't you think?"

I'm staring at his descending lips, part of me holding a desire for them to quell the feeling I've locked up.

Bakugou hums low, breath caressing my face. "I think we have some unfinished business from the other night. You must've been thinking about that." His gaze flickers down to my slightly agape lips before slamming his down on them. Though it's not delicate by any means, it still feels like a tester. Electricity shudders through me at our long-awaited reunion, and when he pulls away for a moment to look down at me with half-lidded eyes, I know he feels the same thing.

And something breaks free inside me. I hurriedly press my lips back against his, catching him by surprise. I take the lead, quickening the tempo of our kisses as one of my hands tangle in his soft hair, not giving either of us time to breathe. Leaning forward into him, my stomach presses into the table corner between us, and I break away from him. Allowing only a few pants, I jolt from my seat and round the corner to take the place of his lap and join our lips again forcibly, my knees on either side of him, pressing our bodies together against the back of the chair and swiveling into the table for stability. He was caught off guard before, but he melts into me and allows his hands to grab my waist.

I trail my tongue onto his lower lip before tracing my lips across his jaw. "You weren't expecting this, were you?" I breathe against the shell of his ear, his natural musk filling my nostrils.

A low groan escape him. "I didn't think you wanted me this much. Must've driven you a little crazy somehow."

My hand tangled in his hair drags down his neck, my nails grazing it ever so slightly, eliciting another growl from him and his grip me tighter. "I'll show you some of what I was just thinking about." Starting at the base of his ear, I pepper more open-mouthed kisses down the same neck that's haunted me, sometimes tickling my tongue over the spots he stiffens up at.

Once I reach the base of his neck, barely caressing that taunting collarbone, I move the opening in his shirt away to expose more of his chest to me, continuing up to where his shoulder and neck conjoin, remaining there to massage it with my lips and lightly graze my teeth on it. "This little creeper wanted to taste this neck you love to flaunt." I pull away and meet his wanton gaze. "I wonder if I should mark it."

Calloused hands dig under my shirt as he catches his breath. "Depends. What kind of relationship do you want from me?" He's holding himself back.

I never stopped to think about it. He's a pretty great guy, we have pretty strong chemistry, and we bounce off each other really well, not to mention he's the only guy to have awakened such new feelings from me. Looping my arms around his neck and joining our foreheads together, I mutter against his lips, "Let's go on a few dates maybe?"

He smirks and gives me another slow kiss before pulling away. "Deal. But let's take this slow. I can very easily do something like this to you too, but then how will I get to know you?"

I sit back on his thighs. "Fair point. And, just an aside," my face gets warmer at my admittance, "I don't normally do this. I'm usually more reserved, but you're different, I guess."

"I think you were just really thirsty for a real man," he winks, earning a shove in the chest from me. "That was an impressive show though, I'll give you credit. Maybe later, I can show you what goes on in my head. Except, it's a lot more than just a few neck kisses."

I almost choke on that, my cheeks growing even hotter.

Bakugou's expression softens, the teasing disappearing. "But before that, we can enjoy ourselves in calmer things. Like dinner? Or bowling?"

My chest swells with something lighter than desire. "Sounds like a plan."

He plants a kiss on my nose. "Okay, now get off before someone walks in on us. It's a study room, not a make out room, creep."

I get off him and settle back into my seat. "I think I prefer the term 'perv,' thank you very much."

#Bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #college!AU #bakugou imagine #bakugou scenario #bakugou spice #female reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

Text

pinky and the brain: s1e7 - tv or not tv

y’all do NOT understand how many times i have tried to post this. tumblr just will not stop eating it. this was supposed to be out last wednesday LMAO i am doing my best.

episode summary: brain engineers a pair of Mouse Dentures that give him a charming smile. anyone hypnotised by these dentures Suddenly Adores Him For No Good Reason. unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a shut in, so nobody is actually going to see his charming smile-- unless he gets himself a sitcom.

....or something.

the rundown:

we open on brain talking about the “weird and magical power” of celebrity. he has defaced several women, and is sticking his ass out. as you do. what is he doing to CINDY! and her ilk?? he must be stopped.

“those who have it weild tremendous influence. few can avoid the enchantment of its’ spell.”

“do you know what gives them this power?”

holy shit. he just stabbed CINDY!.

pinky absolutely does not care for CINDY!’s fate. “haha. narf. hey, paddlefoot, do you know what they call a quarter pounder in france?”

of course, sirius black was not in pulp fiction, and neither, as far as i can tell, was he in france. brain silences him with “enough gay banter”, like he wasn’t just sticking his ass out in his general direction, like, two minutes ago.

(this was the 90s, y’all. gay definitely meant gay back then. this is not the faraway tree.)

“pinky! behold the key to the power of attraction!”

“pushpins!”

“hurraaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“no, pinky.”

apparently the key to attraction is a

“winning smile”, as brain points out, tapping on CINDY!’s poor mutilated face for emphasis.

“and a nice healthy gum!”

“and... a nice healthy gum.”

it turns out that brain has “taken this idea of the influential smile to a new level - a level no less than world domination“, which is bold words for Mr Tumble Dryer. to achieve this, he has invented

teeth.

(okay. so it’s a bit bigger than that. he shows pinky the plans for,

and then a prototype of, a whole machine built specifically to engineer him little mousie dentures. a lot of work went into this one. shame, really.

“when did you have time to build that?”

“while you were engrossed in your mr belvedere reruns.”

“oh, i miss him. ):” )

anyway so. brain puts his teeth in.

there he is.

pinky describes this as

“enchanting (’:”

and brain affirms that it’s supposed to be. apparently the “reflective vibrations” (okay) of his smile stimulates the medula oblongata,

“causing the viewer to adore me for no good reason!”

“zort! i’m adoring you for no good reason!”

(he does point out, while brain is admiring his reflection in a nearby bunsen burner, “what if they’re wearing sunglasses?”

brain’s response is “we’ll work nights.”)

still, brain can’t just sit around in the lab twiddling his thumbs and expect the general public to Adore Him For No Reason. he needs exposure! and as pinky ponders “what would mr belvedere do,” brain asserts that he would “eat some butter”.

“i’m afraid, my friend, that you’ve seen far too much of mr belvede--”

more like mr belvIDEA lol. sorry i’ll see myself out.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain, bur it’s a miracle that this one grew back. ):”

.....okay.

thankfully, the plan is not, in fact, to amputate pinky’s leg. again???? instead, brain intends to use a weapon of “great stealth, power, and corruption.”

OUR OWN SITCOM.

✨

meanwhile, at the wb studio, we meet jerry kilmer. mr kilmer is currently being harassed by some dudes who also really, really want their own sitcom. for far less nefarious purposes, presumably.

“so there’s this guy, right?”

“and get this! he designs--”

“BIKINIS.”

“TINY LITTLE BIKINIS. OKAY okay okay okay so here’s the hook.”

“HE’S PRETENDING--”

“TO BE BLIND.”

it does not appear to be what mr kilmer is looking for.

(meanwhile, the mice are spying on the acme labs janitor. he seems like a cool dude! but the mice are not here for friendship.

they sneak into his jacket pocket!

and...... steal his.... car keys? “YES. to the television station!”

✨

this isn’t even the first vehicle he’s stolen. hopefully he’ll have this one back by curfew as well.)

they do get pulled over by the police, but i don’t want to go into that. unless you guys reaaaallly want me to. instead, they park outside the studio and harass some poor receptionist.

“excuse me. we’re here to-- pitch. as they say. a sitcóm. my dear.”

i don’t know why brain says words like that.

“appointment?”

“oh, i’m sure you can--”

“work us in.” says brain. he is sticking his ass out for no reason. all the appeal is in his sparkly dentures, so.... there’s really no need for that, my dude.

✨

“you’re next! for no good reason!”

these dudes are still here. “wait!” yells our budding comedian, “wait! check out this idea. it’s about a guy!”

original.

“who always sticks his foot in his mouth!!”

clever. unfortunately, his demonstration goes wrong, and he ends up kicking mr kilmer in the face.

bonk.

gives him a nasty black eye to boot. ouch.

“ugh. can’t i ever just see someone normal?”

good thing these very normal individuals have just shown up, huh? nothing shady about these guys. “ugh, thank goodness,” says mr kilmer. they introduce themselves politely as jonathan michael charles (left) and jamal spelling (right).

“you guys have quite a look.”

“thank you.”

✨

“alright then. what do you got for me?”

“egad, brain.”

“he’s not adoring you for no good reason!!”

“drat.”

“well. we’re young hip adults--”

“and hijinks ensue!”

“who sit on a big fat couch and whine--”

“with disaaaasterous results!!”

“and have lots of generation x friends who trade zippy, sarcastic banter.”

“and i have a monkey.”

a very original concept.

at least, mr kilmer sems to think so. “hmmm. fresh. but tell me! what really brings you here. what are jamal and jonathan all about.”

“actually, we are two lab mice involved in a broad and sweeping plan to take over the world.”

mr kilmer thinks this is hilarious, apparently.

these guys do not. but they’re not important, for the moment.

the long and short of it, anyway, is that kilmer can’t give them a sitcom because nobody knows who they are, quote unquote. “the day i see your face on the cover of peeple magazine is the day you get a sitcom.”

irritated, jamal and jonathan make their exit.

and mr kilmer laughs so hard at the idea of lab mice trying to take over the world, that he falls out of his chair.

this will become relevant later.

meanwhile -- i just had to screencap this, okay, because of brain’s face. pinky suggests that he get on the cover of peeple by marrying prince charles. and brain thinks this is a horrible idea.

he’s much more interested in princess diana. but no, pinky, the path he must follow is “the same one followed by the leading sitcom stars of the day.”

“i must become a SUCCESSFUL STANDUP COMEDIAN.”

“so hey, how about those mitochondria? do they have enough cilia or what?”

“hey, why don’t you tell a joke you know!”

this may be harder than brain thought. undeterred, though, he presses on.

“do you ever notice how when you’re looking in the mirror of a quadrant electrometre, your forehead seems large?? why is that??”

“i just flew in from cleveland! and boy are my upper extremeties fatigued by a buildup of lactic acid!”

“booooooooooooooo!” says our guy on the left.

“go back to your troll village, squirt!” says his friend on the right. “what do you say to that?”

“i find you repugnant.”

(well. that made them laugh, at least.)

“your stupidity is matched only by the ill-slipped caterpillar, that chews off its’ own wings after emerging from its’ cucoon!!!”

“in fact! all of you! are just a gaggle of pathetically misguided root diggers!!”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

“you’re all repugnant i say!!! repugnant!!!”

and with that little mousie tantrum out of his system, brain trundles off to sulk.

pinky claps him on the way out.

“egad brain! narf! they love you!”

“yes.”

so then he goes on tv, i guess.

“our comedy challenger is the master of insults! the prince of putdowns! jamal spelling!”

“you’re all a bunch of crevulating nitwits with peat moss for a cortex. repugnant!”

i don’t envy that guy third from the right. he doesn’t look like he’s having a very good time. he’s sensitive about his peat moss cranium, okay? don’t make fun of him.

NEXT ON G, HOWIE TURN HOSTS COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING.

“so, uh, jamal spelling. what kind of stupid name is that? cmon? what’s your real name?”

this would be racist if jamal spelling was a human man comedian and not like, a lab mouse. thankfully, this is not the case.

“my real name is the brain.” says brain, helpfully enunciating the “the”. “and you, my unwashed friend, are repugnant.”

HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA.

“oh, you’re hot, baby.”

okay.

but we’re, uh. we’re not going to think about that, and we’re going to go look at the david letterman show instead.

“uh, my next guest-- paul, do you know who our next guest is?”

“daaaaave, i know he’s a beautiful kind of-- nutty cat who just got us all a-wow.”

“here he is, ladies and gentlemen! for your comedy dollar, jamal spelling!!”

jamal spelling appears to be naked.

but he’s funny, so nobody minds.

“somebody here smells like a coagulated agar slant growing in a petri dish. repugnant!”

see! he’s just too comedy for clothes.

(meanwhile, we take a short trip to the office of janet mekko. “welcome, mr kilmer,” she says.

“my... secretary sent me here-- actually, i feel kind of stupid.”

“oh, honey. that’s a good thing! if there weren’t any stupid people, i wouldn’t have any business.”

“now. ya got some paaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.”

(in the distance, dan reynolds - at the tender age of eight - mumbles “you made me a, you made me a believer” in his sleep.)

“yeah.” says mr kilmer, completely unaware of this. “i fell out of my chair.”

“i’m gonna hypnotise you, so relax.”

okay.

“this’ll make you sleepy.”

“what is it?”

“a kenny g album.”

“okay. you’re in a trance. i’m gonna give you a random word. if you feel pain, say that word, you’ll feel good.”

“but careful! cause if you say it when you’re feeling good, the pain will come back! bad.”

spooky.

“and your random word is--”

“repugnant.”

there is, of course, absolutely no way this can go wrong.)

let us turn our view to happier pastures. namely, the mice are watching tv.

TONIGHT ON CIRCUS OF THE STARS

HARRY DEAN ANDERSON GETS SHOT OUT OF A GIANT PASTA MAKER

COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING FLIES THE TRAPEZE

AND BOB SAGET GETS TRAMPLED BY A BEAR. we hope.

pinky is elated! “egad, brain! circus of the stars! narf! you’ve really made it!”

pinky wants to be on circus of the stars, don’t you know. unfortunately, as he dutifully informs brain in pretty much the same breath, he hasn’t quite made it into peeple magazine yet.

“hm. it’s time to use plan b, pinky.”

“there was an a?? poit.”

ouch. jesus, pinky.

undeterred, brain marches his merry little ass over to the old timey corded phone.

beep.

“yes, connect me with buckinham palace, please.”

“egad! you did it brain! the cover of peeple!”

rule britannia is playing in the background of this scene. let’s... not think too hard about how this works, and agree that, yes, pauly shore, enough.

no more pauly shore, please.

conclusion:

jerry keeps his word, and, upon learning that jamal spelling is now legally married to princess diana (a fact which would certainly not lead to a warrant for his arrest in a couple of years) he asks him for a demo tape.

for such small hands, jamal sure does have very neat handwriting.

“make me laugh, jamal, and you got yourself a sitcom.”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

he seems to like it! kilmer makes a little hee hee noise, unprepared for where this is undoubtedly going.

“you’re repungnant!”

“AAUGHGHGHHH.”

there it is.

“repugnant!”

“i say repugnant!”

repugnant repugnant repugnant repugnant

repugnant!

and with that, jerry kilmer falls out of the window.

as he does, he yells “i’ll get you, jamal spelling” which personally i think is unfair. jamal couldn’t have known, surely? don’t be mean to jamal. he’s got a lot on his mind, what with that restraining order against howie turn.

meanwhile, in the lab, the mice debate a good pitch for a pilot (i’ve got it, brain! it’s a show about nothing!) when jamal spelling gets a call.

“hi jamal! this is nina from the tv station. could you come down for a meeting?”

“mm hmmm.”

✨

it’s the WB.

as nina types away, jamal and jonathan enter casually, like this is their house, or something. “are you pleased to see us?” asks jamal, in a cocky, egomaniac labmouse sort of way.”

“yes i am!”

(nina somehow doesn’t notice.)

anyway then these guys find the dentures and pitch the first idea that comes into their heads.

“hey cortex! what do you wanna do tonight?”

don’t ask why mouse dentures fit a human man. we suspend our disbelief here.

(also there was no way this was brain’s fault. he couldn’t have known. outside influence it is. a shame, really.)

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 14

thanks for the fun meme, @shuunthenonbeliever !

#patb #pinky and the brain #WHEEZE #if this refuses to post ONE MORE TIME #i am going to go FERAL #i have typed this all out THREE TIMES #I HAVE HAD ENOUGH #some explodey boys for y'all on saturday!#i hope.#if this episode EVER POSTS.

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

The Other Half - Part 2

badboy!Jimin x richgirl!reader ft. bts, nct 127, twice, red velvet, got7, blackpink and exo

Word Count: 15.1k+

THIS STARTS WHERE PART ONE FINISHED SO GO REFRESH YOURSELF ON HOW IT ENDS !!!

Summary - In Winchester, y/n has it all. Gorgeous and glamorous. A friendship group just as gorgeous and glamorous. Fantastic grades. A handsome boyfriend with a family just as successful as hers. A doting dad and a brother just as beautiful as she is. An amazing school, and an even more amazing house. As many cars and clothes and bags and shoes, and as much makeup and money she could ever ask for. But when Winchester Academy puts on an exchange programme with Burnley Tech School, a high school in an underprivileged area, two completely different worlds collide, and y/n has her hands full, practically overflowing, dealing with her exchange partner, bad boy Jimin with a whole lot of baggage…

DISCLAIMER - I do not know some of these idols very well and so the portrayal of their personalities and behaviour are not 100% accurate. They are also dramatised and changed for the purpose of this story. Please do not consider my portrayal of these idols as my opinions on them.

Warnings - TRIGGERING CONTENT !! talk of weight and dieting, toxic relationship, bad language, classism, discussion of rape, I guess kind of abuse within a relationship, discussion of death, discussion of sex, I think that’s it

a/n: part two is finally here ! lmk what y’all think and hmu if you wanna be on the taglist ! you can also ask my muse if you’d like !!

au masterlist

silverlightqueen masterlist

taglist💕: @sakurauchiha2018 @jesuislalune @haileykurayami @mayumioutloud @jiminsreads @rjsmochii @generousrunawaylove @jennafromhome @locharnathebanana @pjmcth @silverlightprincess

When we re-join the group outside, they all stare at us amusedly. ‘You both left your bags. Oh, and your exchange partners,’ Dahyun says sarcastically, and I flip her off. ‘They aren’t little kids, they can look after themselves,’ Taeyong says as he goes to sit between Seulgi and Irene. ‘Sorry, Jimin,’ I say, perching on the arm of the bench he sits on. ‘It’s alright. Where did you go?’ he asks with a small grin, already knowing the answer. ‘He just wanted to talk to me about something,’ I reply, and his grin widens as he nods. ‘Hmm, okay. I’m surprised, princess. Wouldn’t have taken you for the type of girl to suck dick, especially not at school,’ he says under his breath, his crude language making me choke on air. ‘Because I’m not,’ I reply, and he nods indulgently. ‘Tell that to the marks on your knees,’ he says and, sure enough, my knees slightly scuffed and sore. I opt to not say anything, feeling heat rush to my face, and Jimin only smiles wider, immensely amused at the entire thing. At least one of us is.

‘What do you think, y/n?’ Chaeyoung asks, and my attention is turned back to the group. ‘What’s this?’ I ask, pulling my skirt over my knees, Taeyong watching me do so with a cocky smirk. ‘I was thinking we should go on a night out this weekend, all of us, just to break the ice a bit, you know? We could invite Jen, Lisa, Rosie, Jisoo, Jinyoung and Chanyeol and their partners as well?’ Chaeyoung suggests, and I nod. ‘That sounds like a good idea. But if we definitely are, let me know far in advance. I’ll need to get an outfit,’ I say, the other girls nodding in agreement. ‘What kind of things do you guys wear on a night out? Where do you shop?’ Wendy asks, and we all exchange a look. ‘We don’t, um, really go shopping for a night out. We get our outfits made to make sure no one will be wearing the same as us. But we could all go shopping together, if you want?’ Mina says, the BTS students looking at us wide-eyed. ‘Wait, so every time you need a new outfit, you get someone in to make it?’ Jungkook asks. ‘Not every time. Usually just for a night out,’ Tzuyu says, almost sheepishly. ‘Wow, you guys are rich rich, huh?’ Xiumin says, all of us laughing.

‘Right, is everyone free on Saturday night?’ Chaeyoung asks, looking down at her phone as she taps away. We all give various forms of confirmations. ‘Good. I’m making a new group chat with all of us in it now. And none of you put it on mute, because we have to make sure no one misses out on any plans,’ she says. We all exchanged numbers and social medias earlier, so this group chat is gonna have all of the Winchester and BTS students in it. I wonder if it’ll die straight after the night out or actually last like our Winchester one has. I can’t remember the last time a day went by without someone sending something to the group chat. ‘Okay, I’ll send the restaurant, the bar and the club into the group chat then. And I get to choose because I’m the one who suggested it,’ Chaeyoung says, the boys groaning. We have different tastes in establishments, you could say. The boys say we choose boring places, but we just prefer to go somewhere classy. ‘Wait, you guys go to a restaurant, bar and club? Isn’t that really… never mind,’ Jin says, trailing off, and Sana prompts him to continue, ‘go on. What were you gonna say?’ ‘I was gonna ask if it was really expensive, but obviously, it doesn’t matter about the expense,’ he says.

‘Wait, so what do you guys do for a night out?’ Jihyo asks. ‘We usually have pre-drinks at a pub or someone’s house and then go straight to a club at, like, 11, or we have a party and then go out afterwards,’ Yoongi says. ‘Well, we could do that if you guys would prefer it,’ Mark says, and my heart melts at the way the boys seem to be trying to make the exchange students feel comfortable. I had been worried about the boys being insensitive, but obviously my concerns were unnecessary. ‘No, no, we wanna do a night out the way you guys do. We’re here to live like you do, right?’ the other Mark says, Nayeon grinning widely. ‘Trust me, you’ll all love our nights out. And Mark, I’ll get the tailor in tomorrow and we’ll get you a new outfit made too. You know, if you wanna live like we do,’ she says, her and her partner sharing a grin. ‘That sounds good, yeah,’ he says, Johnny watching the exchange with an unreadable expression. ‘Jae, what nights are you home this week? I’ll message Chaerin now,’ I say, referring to our stylist. ‘Um, we’re at home on Wednesday. We’re busy the other nights,’ Jaehyun replies. ‘We?’ I ask, my brother looking slightly sheepish. ‘Oh, well, we’ve got football on Tuesday and Friday, and the BTS boys are coming too. And then Thursday, I’m taking Jimin and Jungkook to the golf club with a few of the others,’ he says. ‘When was this decided?’ I ask, slightly annoyed that he’s making plans with my exchange partner without consulting me. ‘When you and Taeyong disappeared for your chat,’ Jaehyun says drily, and I have the grace to look slightly embarrassed.

‘Well, whatever. I’ll be crashing your trip to the golf club; you know I love it there. Oh, and father goes away on Friday morning, so that means I’ll have the house to myself on Friday night. Shall we have a girls’ night? Ooh, we could all get manicures, pedicures, facials and massages!’ I say, getting excited. I want more than anything to spoil the BTS kids while they’re here, knowing we’re privileged to be able to do what we do and wanting them to live that lifestyle, even if only for a while. ‘That sounds fun, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to afford that and the night out on Saturday,’ Joy says, almost sheepishly. ‘No, no, you don’t have to pay, for either. I’ll just hire the people for the night, and we’ll pay for Saturday. Don’t worry about it,’ I say. ‘No, I feel bad about you guys paying for everything,’ Namjoon says, and we all give protests.

‘At the end of the day, the fact is that our parents are loaded. This money has to go somewhere because it can’t go to the grave with us. We may as well spend it where we can, and there’s no point you guys wasting your money on something that our parents could fund with no trouble,’ Taeil says, carefully and tactfully, avoiding any words that might offend one of the BTS students. ‘Well, I guess when you put it like that,’ Taehyung says with a cheeky smile, all of us laughing. ‘I’ll make another group chat, just for the girls’, so we can plan this girls’ night,’ I say, the BTS girls smiling at me. ‘That’s not fair,’ Jungkook complains, ‘I wanna be on the girls’ group chat.’ ‘Why?’ Yeri asks. ‘This girls’ night sounds fun,’ he says, ‘I wanna come.’ ‘Well, we’re going to football, remember?’ Jaehyun reminds him, and he nods. When Jaehyun looks away, Jungkook makes eye contact with me and mouths the words, ‘help me’. I burst out laughing, everyone looking at me quizzically. ‘Oh, sorry,’ I say as Jungkook grins at me, ‘just thought of something funny.’

‘And then she said that I was too…’ Jaehyun trails off when he sees me approaching and I raise an eyebrow at him, an amused smile on my face. ‘Don’t let me interrupt you,’ I say, the other boys around him all laughing. ‘No, I’ll finish my story once you’re gone,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Whatever. I just came to ask if you were ready to go, Jimin,’ I say, the boy nodding and rising up from the bench. ‘What’s the rush? Let him stay a while, we’re getting to know each other,’ Taeyong says with a smile. ‘I would, but I’ve made plans for us. Surprise plans,’ I say when they all shoot me questioning looks. ‘Okay, well, have fun,’ Taeyong says, grinning as he taps his cheek. I press a gentle kiss to his soft skin, the boy not as tense as he was earlier, before he staked his claim on me in front of all the new kids. ‘Come on, Jimin. See you tomorrow, guys,’ I say. ‘See you,’ Jimin says, the rest of the group bidding us goodbye. ‘We’ll be home soon,’ Jaehyun says about him and Jungkook, and I nod. ‘Alright,’ I say, leading Jimin away and towards where the girls wait for us.

‘Jimin, I love this colour on you. I’ve been thinking of getting purple done soon,’ Dahyun says as we walk to the car park. ‘Thanks. I used a box dye,’ he says, all of us looking at him in surprise. ‘And it turned out that good?’ Sana asks. ‘Yeah, it took a couple boxes to get the right colour, but this is the end result,’ he says. ‘I always get it done by a stylist, but maybe I’ll have to try box dye next,’ Dahyun says, Jimin grinning. ‘It’s the way forward,’ he says. ‘You’ll have to let me know which brand you use,’ Dahyun says, Jimin nodding. ‘Yeah, of course, I’ll text it you later,’ he says as we reach the car park. I bid all the girls goodbye and Jimin and I get into the car, both of us throwing our bags into the back. I put the RnB playlist on again and pull out of the car park as quickly as I can, not wanting to get stuck behind the other girls. ‘How come the boys stay after school?’ Jimin asks, and I shrug. ‘I don’t really know. They treat it like a social club. They don’t usually head home ‘til an hour after school’s finished. Why they want to stay at school even longer, I don’t know,’ I say, Jimin nodding in agreement.

‘I don’t know if I should tell you this, but I don’t owe the guy any loyalty so I will, because I have a sense of decency,’ Jimin says, and I look over at him, intrigued. ‘Taeyong was talking about you, a little while before you came over. He was being a bit… vulgar,’ Jimin says, the word sounding unnatural from his mouth. ‘What do you mean?’ I ask. ‘He was, like, talking about what happened when you two disappeared, and he was speaking about you like you were an object, not his girlfriend, or whatever it is you are to him,’ he says, and I don’t say anything. ‘Obviously, I get that I’m a newcomer, so I don’t know what your guys’ relationship is like, but I know that if I heard any guy back home talking about his girl the way Taeyong was just talking about you, I’d throw hands,’ he says. I’ve never heard the expression ‘throw hands’ but I’m pretty sure I can infer. ‘Truth be told, I’m not surprised. The culture here is different. We might be a lot more modernised in some senses, but we’re also a lot more old-fashioned. Boys always talk about their girls like that; it’s standard. I appreciate you letting me know, but it’s nothing out of the norm,’ I say, Jimin raising an eyebrow at me. ‘Seriously? You don’t have an issue with him degrading you?’ Jimin asks. ‘I do, Jimin, but it doesn’t work like that. It doesn’t matter if I have an issue with it or not. I can’t pull him up on it, because he’ll get angry, and if he gets angry, our parents will get involved. It’ll cause tensions in our relationship, and we’ll end up getting married when we don’t get along. If I just leave it, then we stay in this honeymoon period forever,’ I say, and Jimin scoffs. ‘You should be able to pull him up on it, and he’d change his ways if he loved you,’ Jimin says, the subliminal message in his words obvious; ‘he doesn’t love you’. ‘Well, thank you for your concern, Jimin, but you’re new here, so you don’t get how it works, and I’d appreciate it if you kept your nose out of it,’ I say, my voice tense, and he lets out a humourless laugh. ‘Whatever,’ he says, both of us falling silent as I pull up to a Starbucks.

‘What drink do you get?’ I ask. ‘I don’t have any money on me,’ he says. ‘That’s not what I asked,’ I reply. ‘A caramel frappe,’ he says. ‘Cream or coffee?’ I ask. ‘Cream,’ he replies. ‘With or without whipped cream?’ ‘With.’ I pull up to the drive-through and wait for the worker to ask me for my order, leaning out of the window slightly. ‘Can I get two grande caramel frapps, one cream based with whipped cream and the other skinny, coffee based with almond milk, no whipped cream and only two pumps of caramel,’ I say, and when the barista’s finished taking my order, I drive towards the first window. ‘God, it’s like the ‘popular American high school girl’ is based on you,’ he says lightly, obviously trying to clear the air, and I laugh in response. ‘They wish they were me,’ I reply, getting a laugh from him in return. ‘Listen, y/n, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried like that, and I’ll keep my nose out of your business,’ he says. ‘No, it’s okay, I understand where you were coming from. It’s just that-’ I begin to say, but the barista holds the card machine out and I’m distracted. I quickly grab my bag from the back, pulling out my purse and getting out my card. I hold it to the card machine and pull it away when it beeps. ‘Thank you,’ I say with a smile, the barista giving me a big smile in return.

I drive up to the next window, feeling Jimin’s eyes on me. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘Was that… is that a black card?’ he asks, and I hold up my card. ‘This? Yeah, it’s connected to my dad’s bank account,’ I say. ‘What does your dad do?’ he asks incredulously. ‘He, um, owns his own law firm,’ I say. ‘That’s so cool. I wanted to be a lawyer,’ he says, and I smile at him. ‘I could see you as a lawyer. Why not anymore?’ I ask. ‘You have to go to uni to be a lawyer, and I can’t exactly… afford it. And I gotta take over the bakery and stuff so… it’s whatever,’ he says, and my heart breaks. ‘That sucks, Jimin, I’m really sorry. If it makes it any better, I wanted to be a lawyer too, but I… I’m not really allowed,’ I say. ‘What do you mean?’ he asks. ‘Taeyong will be the one who goes out and gets a job, probably in law, and earns, and I’ll be at home, looking after the house and kids,’ I say, just before the barista leans out of the window, handing us a small paper bag along with our drinks. I hand Jimin his drink before peering into the bag, seeing a caramel shortcake and a number scrawled onto the packaging of it. I roll my eyes, offering him the bag, and he takes it. ‘Don’t you want it?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘Diet,’ I reply. ‘I meant the phone number, princess,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘No. A) I have a man – remember? – and B) it’s only because they saw the black card. Guaranteed,’ I say, putting my drink into the cup holder and driving off. ‘Do you always get free stuff?’ he asks. ‘Yeah, and it doesn’t make sense to me. Why give rich people stuff for free?’ I say, heading out of the Starbucks and onto the road.

‘Can we rewind just a bit? Did you say that you have to be a housewife while Taeyong earns?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘That’s the way it works around here,’ I say, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘That’s ridiculous,’ he says, and I shrug. ‘It’s also the reason why I can’t pull Taeyong up on anything. If he decides he doesn’t want to marry me, I’ll be screwed because it’s unlikely I’ll be able to get a job and provide for myself. That’s why I have to keep him sweet and pander to his every whim,’ I say, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘Why don’t you just be independent? Your dad seems supportive; he’d support you, emotionally and financially, if you went to uni after school, right? You should just live by yourself and become a lawyer,’ he says, and I smile sadly. ‘I’d become a social outcast, and I thrive on social interaction. Trust me, Jimin, I’ve thought of every possibility but what I’m doing now is what’s best for me. I’ll be Mrs Lee Taeyong for the rest of my life if it means I can be financially secure and safe and… content,’ I say, and Jimin sighs. ‘I might have it tough, but I guess you do too. I’m sorry you’re in this situation, y/n,’ he says. ‘Don’t be silly, my problems are nothing compared to yours. You can’t even go to uni to follow your dreams,’ I say, and Jimin laughs. ‘Not like you can either though,’ he says, and I shrug. ‘C'est la vie, mon ami,’ I reply, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘That’s life, my love,’ I translate, and he nods in understanding.

He opens his mouth to speak but before he can, a phone starts ringing. ‘Is that your phone?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘My phone’s connected to the car, so it would ring through the speakers,’ I say. ‘Well, it’s not mine,’ he says, holding his up in his hand, and I frown. ‘Have I picked up Tae’s or something by accident?’ I think aloud. ‘Oh, my God!’ Jimin suddenly exclaims, unintelligibly muttering to himself as he reaches into the back and grabs his bag, the ringing coming from inside it. He pulls out the phone, an old iPhone from years ago, and rejects the call, putting it away. ‘Who’s is that?’ I ask. ‘It’s, um… it’s mine,’ he says, and I give him a confused look. ‘You have… two phones?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘This one’s my main phone, and the other one… it’s my old one; it has all my pictures on it,’ he says, and I give him a confused look. ‘So who was calling it?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘Probably just a call centre,’ he says, and I nod. I’m still confused, and I don’t quite believe him, but I won’t pry. I don’t understand why he’d have another phone and I can’t come up with another reasonable explanation other than his pictures, so I leave the matter.

‘What were you gonna say?’ I ask. ‘I was gonna say that I don’t agree with things like that. ‘That’s life’ and ‘life’s not fair’. I see life as being what you make it. I know I can’t achieve what I want to, but there’s no point being bitter about it. So I make life better for myself, try to have a positive outlook on the life that I will have to lead. One day, I’ll get married and have kids and run the bakery. Yes, that’s a simple life, but I’ll be… what’s the word you used again? Um… content. Not exactly happy, but content,’ he says, and I nod. ‘And I guess I’m the same. I am positive about my future. Me and Taeyong may have our issues, but I still love him, and he loves me. We’ll move in to a beautiful house together when we finish school, probably get married while he’s still at university or law school or whatever and have an amazing wedding, and then we’ll have kids and I’ll be the ‘lady of the house’ while he goes out and earns. Don’t you think there’s something fun about your life being a permanent weekend? I’ll take the kids out all the time, have the girls and their kids over, or all go out on day trips together, and then have date nights or family nights when Tae gets home. Again, it’s a simple life, but I’ll be content,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘You’re right. Our lives will be simple but we’ll both be content,’ he says, and I smile back at him as we pull up to the house.

As I pull up on the driveway, Changwoo appears to put the car away. We both climb out, drinks in hand, and Changwoo takes the keys from me. ‘Good day at school, miss, sir?’ he asks us both. ‘Yeah, it was good, thank you,’ Jimin replies, seemingly surprised at being called sir. ‘Amazing, Changwoo. I got my English results back from that test last week; I got an A!’ I exclaim, and Changwoo grins. ‘As expected from someone as smart as yourself, miss. Well done,’ he says. ‘Thank you. How was your day, Changwoo?’ I ask. ‘Great, thank you, miss. Your father had to make a few trips, so I got to drive him around in the Bentley,’ he says, and I grin. ‘You do love the Bentley. Is father home now?’ I ask, and he shakes his head. ‘He’s at the firm, miss, there was some sort of emergency. I expect it’ll be another late night,’ he says, and I sigh. ‘As usual. Well, thank you, anyway. I’ll see you later, Changwoo,’ I say, the man bowing his head before Jimin and I head up to the house. ‘You’ve got a good relationship with your staff, huh?’ he asks as I push open the double doors, and I nod. ‘They basically raised me,’ I begin, but get distracted with the new flower display in the foyer.

‘Oh, my God, they brought in white orchids this week!’ I exclaim, deeply inhaling the floral scent. ‘New flowers every week?’ Jimin asks with a raised eyebrow, and I nod sheepishly. ‘I get them ordered in,’ I say, and he pulls a fake shocked face. ‘No way! I’d have thought Jaehyun was the one who has them ordered in if you hadn’t cleared that up,’ he says, and I stick my tongue out at him, walking over to the centre table where a display sits proudly. ‘I love flowers. Mum does as well. Well, she did. She took me, every week, to the flower shop to pick out a new arrangement. After she died, I used to carry on the tradition and pick out new flowers, but I started to get too busy, so I got the staff to order it in. Mum always smells like flowers too. And then the whole house smelled like flowers when she died. I like to think her spirit spread out into the house and she still wanders here, making the place smell like flowers,’ I say, talking without even thinking, and then look over at Jimin embarrassedly. ‘Obviously, I know it’s not really her spirit-’ ‘No, don’t. I think that’s really nice. And you’re right. If her spirit is gonna be anywhere, it’d be here. In the house she lived in with her husband, her son and her daughter who still fills the house up with flowers for her. Of course she’s here,’ he says softly, and I tear up. ‘I never thought of it like that,’ I say, and he smiles at me gently. ‘Well, there you go. She stays here because you make it smell like flowers, and you fill it up with flowers because it smells like her. It’s beautiful,’ he says, and I nod, agreeing. A tear spills out onto my cheek and, seemingly on reflex, he lifts his hand to wipe it away, my eyes locked with his chocolate brown ones. Almost as though his mind catches up with his actions, he jerks his hand away from my face suddenly, both of us flinching, and he looks away from me.

‘Anyway,’ I say, looking away from him, ‘let’s go get changed and then I’ll give you a tour of the place.’ We head up the staircase, and head towards where our rooms are. ‘I’m gonna just change into my comfies, you do the same if you want? Just knock on my door when you’re done,’ I say, and he nods, heading into his room. I practically run into my room, knowing he’ll end up getting changed so much quicker than I will. I strip off my uniform, going into my wardrobe and looking for what to wear. I decide on a pair of black cycling shorts (they’re my guilty pleasure; I’d never wear them in public – where a gossip magazine can take a picture of me – or around my judgy friends, but I practically live in them when I’m at home) and a black Balenciaga t-shirt that I tie into a knot, exposing a little strip of my stomach. I worked hard for this body, might as well show it off, you know? Jimin knocks at the door then, and I go to open it. He’s dressed in his Puma sweatpants again, this time with a black Nike hoodie, and he’s wearing white Nike socks on his feet (thankfully a little strip of his leg is visible as he hasn’t pulled them up; it’s literally a crime if people pull up their socks underneath sweatpants). ‘I’ve just gotta put socks on, come in for a second,’ I say, moving to the side. He looks around at my room, and I know what he’s thinking, slightly embarrassed. My room is ridiculously lavish; grey, white, black and pink, (faux) fur and velvet everywhere, a walk-in wardrobe that’s bursting at the seams with clothes, makeup spilling out of the drawers of my vanity with its light-up mirror. I go into my wardrobe, looking for my favourite black fluffy socks, custom designed by Rob Kardashian for my 18th birthday.

When I finally find them and go back into my room, Jimin’s stood at the wall that’s covered edge to edge with photos. Me with my friends, various celebrities I’ve met over the years, my family, our staff, Taeyong, dad, Jaehyun, mum. At parties, nights out, nights in, school, the golf club, the beach, the shopping centre, on birthdays and anniversaries and Christmas and Halloween and New Years and Valentine’s Day. I see Jimin lift up a hand, and expect him to point out the picture of me with the Kardashian children, Anna Wintour maybe, or Sasha Obama, possibly with Oprah, or the one with Kris Jenner. But he points at my favourite one on the wall. The picture that was taken a few days before mum died; we were just having a family day in. Dad was behind the camera and we were sat on the sofa with mum, seven-year-old Jaehyun and I on either side of her. We’re all smiling widely at the camera, all of us in matching Christmas pyjamas, something I remember Jaehyun not being too happy about. I remember everything from inside that picture, the way mum smelt, the way we’d had to beg Jaehyun to wear the pyjamas, the way dad had taken so many photos to get one without someone’s eyes closed or one that wasn’t blurry, the way mum had gripped onto Jaehyun and I so hard, as though she was desperate not to let us go.

‘That’s your mum?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘You look like her. A lot, actually. She’s a beautiful woman,’ he says, and I smile at him. ‘Thank you. She is beautiful, isn’t she? Or she was, anyway,’ I say. ‘No, talk about her in the present tense. She’s still here. As long as you and your brother and your dad live, she lives on with you. And I’m sure your kids will know about her, right? So she’ll live on through them too. As long as you remember someone, you never really lose them. They’re never really dead,’ he says, and again, my eyes have teared up at how touching his words are. I turn to look at him, but he doesn’t look back at me, eyes still fixed on the photo. ‘Have you ever lost anyone?’ I ask him, and he sighs, still not looking at me. ‘I… I nearly lost my mum. She had cancer, and it wasn’t terminal, but it did nearly kill her. I really thought I lost her. I used to be… not a bad son, but not a great one either. I was never really grateful for my parents and everything they did for me, I hated having to work in the bakery, I hated having to look after my brother, and I used to get in a lot of trouble. At school, and outside of school. Now, not a day goes by that I don’t tell mum I love her, that I don’t tell my dad and my brother the same too. I changed my life. I worked at the bakery all the time and I started to love it, because I could spend time with my parents. I loved looking after my brother, because it wasn’t long until we were spending time together rather than me looking after him; we were, like, best friends. I get in trouble a lot less, but old habits die hard, so I can’t help but get in a little trouble from time to time. But after nearly losing her, it put everything into perspective. You realise there’s more to life, you know? I remember saying to my dad that I was scared of losing her and – this was when we thought she was definitely going to die – he said to me what I said to you; as long as you remember someone, you never really lose them,’ he says, and without even thinking about it, I clasp one of his hands in mine. It’s warm and soft, and his fingers curl around mine in response, my heart jumping slightly.

‘I’m sorry that you had to go through that; I hope I can meet your mum one day,’ I say, and he finally turns to look at me, a small smile on his face and a tear in his eye, threatening to spill down his cheek. ‘I hope so too. And I’m sorry your mum died. I just know she’s an amazing person, and it would’ve been nice to meet her,’ he says, and I grin. ‘She is an amazing person. I’ll tell you all about her. But another time. Let me show you around the house,’ I say, and he nods with a smile. ‘Let’s do it.’

I let go of his hand and pick up my phone from the bed, both of us heading out of my room. ‘Okay, we’ll go this way,’ I say, leading him down the corridor, away from the staircase. I show him the home cinema, the music room (that nobody uses and is pretty much there for decoration), and my other wardrobe where the rest of my clothes and accessories are (this one’s two stories and about the size of an Olympic swimming pool). Then I take him downstairs and show him where the staff quarters are, before I show him the games room, the indoor pool, the library (one of my favourite rooms in the house) and the panic room. Then I take him outside, behind the house, and show him the outdoor pool, the football pitch, the basketball court, the tennis courts, the golf course, the greenhouse and the patio where I host garden parties during the summer. Then I bring him back inside and show him the three living rooms, the ballroom, the dining room and the various bathrooms around our house. ‘There we go. That is our house,’ I say as we reach the foyer, stopping by the table where the bouquet of flowers sits. ‘It’s amazing. I mean, who even has a ballroom?’ he asks, and I wince. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. I don’t think we’ve ever actually used it for its purpose. Maybe I should throw a big ball one day. On your guys’ last day!’ I exclaim, and Jimin laughs. ‘I’m not sure if we’re the right crowd for you to host a ball in honour of us,’ he says, and I frown. ‘Balls are for everyone, regardless of where they’re from, and how wealthy their parents are,’ I say pointedly, and he grins. ‘If you say so,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘Okay, so what’s this big surprise you have planned?’ he asks, and I grin. ‘It’s not really that big of a deal, so don’t get your hopes up, okay?’ I say, and he nods. ‘Come on, then,’ I say, gently holding onto his wrist and leading him through into the kitchen. It’s been set up for us by Eunha, different ingredients and apparatus practically covering the island, and Jimin’s eyes widen.

‘What’s all this for?’ he asks, and I grin, picking up the two aprons sat on the counter, throwing one to him. ‘You are going to teach me how to bake something, because you have baking experience,’ I say, and he smiles at me, both of us putting our aprons on. I try to tie mine myself and he laughs. ‘Let me do it, princess,’ he says, and I turn to face away from him. I feel him take the straps into his hands and knot them, pulling them tight, before he skilfully ties it into a bow, his fingers gently grazing the strip of my exposed back, and I try not to shudder as a little shock runs through me. ‘Tight enough?’ he asks, and I nod, turning back to face him. ‘Shall I do yours?’ I ask, and he nods, turning away from me. I tie it for him and then he turns back to face me, grinning. ‘What shall we bake?’ he asks, and I shrug. ‘You tell me, baker boy, you’re the expert here. What’s your bakery’s speciality?’ I ask him, and he thinks for a moment. ‘Um, the hotteok is pretty popular. And the bungeoppang,’ he says, and I nod. ‘Shall we make both? They won’t take too long, right?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘It should take like an hour max,’ he says, and I smile. ‘Perfect! Let’s get baking!’

We start by Jimin picking out the ingredients and kitchenware we need, moving everything else to the side and out of our way, whilst I choose a playlist, ultimately settling on a hip-hop and RnB one. Then we begin making separate doughs for the hotteok, Jimin talking me through step-by-step. His seems to look better than mine, which I’m slightly jealous about, but I guess the years of experience he has have paid off, making him a great baker. We then put it to ‘ferment’ (which sounds gross but apparently, it’s just means that it’ll double in size – who knew?) and start on the bungeoppang. We mix the batter and then pour it into the mould. Jimin says to make some with the usual red bean paste, and some with Nutella because they taste really nice, so we do so, working as a team; he pours in the batter, I put the filling, and then he puts the rest of the batter onto the top, our method quite successful. Our bungeoppang turns out really well, and we set them to cool before getting out the ‘fermented’ hotteok dough. We split up the dough into pancake sized pieces before cooking them in a pan until they’re golden brown. We set those to cool too, the final results looking amazing, and the room smells great too.

Jimin sighs contentedly, and I look at him as he leans against the counter. ‘You’ve got flour on your nose. And cheek. And forehead,’ he says amusedly, reaching over to brush it off. ‘Thanks,’ I say, laughing, once he’s done, and he smiles. ‘It’s fine. My mum’s the same; whenever she bakes, more of the ingredients end up on her than they do in the food,’ he says, a wistful smile on his face, and my heart goes out to him; he must miss his mum, his family, his home a lot. He takes a deep breath in, eyes closed, before slowly breathing out, a soft smile on his face. ‘It smells like home,’ he says gently, and I grin. ‘I thought it might,’ I say, glad that my idea worked, and he looks at me, surprised. ‘Wait… don’t tell me you thought we should bake so that it would smell like my home?’ he says, and I nod. ‘I know you must be missing home already – I know that I would be – so I thought it’d be a nice way to bring your home to you,’ I say shyly, and he smiles a wide, genuine smile, eyes disappearing behind their lids. ‘Thank you, y/n, that’s really thoughtful. I appreciate it a lot,’ he says, and I smile, feeling blood rushing to my cheeks. ‘It’s the least I could do. And anyway, your surprise isn’t over yet. I’ve got something else planned… but I wanna try these first,’ I say, looking over at our baking, and he laughs.

‘We’ll wait a little while then, yeah?’ he suggests, and I nod, watching as he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. ‘You want something to drink?’ I ask him, and he nods. ‘Just water, please,’ he says, and I nod, getting out two glasses and filling them up with water from the fridge. I hand him one of the glasses, getting a straw out for myself, and offer him one. He shakes his head amusedly as I sip from my water with the straw, not wanting to ruin my lipstick. We both go on our phones for a little while, scrolling through social media, and then a message from Chaeyoung comes through on a new group chat. ‘Ooh, she made it,’ I say, both of us opening the message straight away. It’s a long message, including the bookings she’s made for the restaurant, bar and club, and what times the bookings are for, bullet points and all. She’s booked an Italian restaurant called Bella Vita for 8 until 10, then a bar that I love called Midnight Violet (they serve all these really cool drinks – some of them are on fire, or have smoke coming out of them, or they’re glow-in-the-dark) from 10.15 until 11.30, and then a booth in the RnB room at our favourite club, Nova, from 12 until closing time, 5.

‘We’re gonna be out from 8 ‘til 5?’ Jimin asks, and I nod with a grin. ‘That’s nothing. Sometimes we go for a night out a little further away, about forty minutes from here, and there’s club there called Sunrise that opens at 4am and closes at 10am. Sometimes we’ll go there after the first club and stay out ‘til the late hours of the morning,’ I say, and his mouth drops open. ‘Wow, you guys really are… hardcore,’ he says, and I nod. ‘You don’t know the half of it. But it’ll be a great night out. Nova’s a really good club too; there’s loads of different rooms for every music taste; there’s a pop one, a RnB one, a hip-hop one, a techno one. You guys will love it, trust me,’ I say, and he grins. ‘Sounds good. But, in Chaeyoung’s… itinerary, she hasn’t put anything about home pre-drinks and post-club-kebabs. Please don’t tell me you guys don’t do either of those things,’ he says, and I bite my lip. ‘Um, we don’t. But we can introduce them! We can do home pre-drinks all together, get taxis to the restaurant, and then stop for kebabs on the way home from the club! Dad’s away this weekend, so I’m sure we could host pre-drinks here. Oh, my God, everyone could stay over at ours for the night!’ I say, starting to get excited. ‘Okay, okay, princess, before you get too excited, why don’t you put it on the group chat and see what everyone says?’ Jimin suggests, just as Jaehyun and Jungkook enter the room.

‘Put what on the group chat?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘Mmm, it smells so good in here. It smells like… like…’ Jungkook says, sniffing the air intently to try and work out why he recognises the smell. ‘Like my house?’ Jimin prompts, and Jungkook takes another sniff before nodding. ‘Yeah, yeah it does. What did you guys bake?’ he asks, spotting the racks covered in tea towels on the other side of the room. ‘Hotteok and bungeoppang,’ Jimin grins, and Jungkook’s mouth falls open. ‘Your mum’s recipe?’ he asks, and Jimin nods. ‘Oh, my God, can I have some? Please, y/n, pretty please?’ he begs me, and I’m taken aback at him asking me. ‘Yeah, of course, they should be cool enough now, right, Jimin?’ I ask, and Jimin nods, Jungkook taking that as a cue to pounce and stuff an entire hotteok in his mouth. ‘Ew,’ I say before I’m able to stop myself, all three of the boys laughing, Jungkook having to hold a hand over his mouth to stop the food from coming out, and I can’t stop myself from laughing with them. We all try some of the food, both the hotteok and bungeoppang, and it tastes amazing. ‘Mmm, this tastes amazing, Jimin,’ I say for the sixth time, and Jimin laughs. ‘You made it too, y/n,’ he says, and I shake my head. ‘It’s your recipe and expertise and so, the credit goes to you,’ I say, and he shakes his head. ‘Both of us,’ he says, and I roll my eyes with an amused smile.

‘Anyway, what were you telling y/n to put on the group chat, Jimin?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘Oh, she had an idea to have everyone sleep over here this weekend after the night out, and she was making all these different plans, and I said to put it on the group chat and see what they all say before getting carried away,’ Jimin explains. ‘She has a habit of that,’ Jaehyun says, and I scowl. ‘No, I don’t.’ ‘You do. But it’s fine. It’s cute. The flowers are nice this week, aren’t they?’ Jaehyun says, changing the subject, and I nod. ‘They smell amazing. I wanna find a perfume like it,’ I say. ‘Get one made. Ooh, that can be your next birthday present from me, so I’ll get it done,’ he says, and I pout. ‘No, birthday presents are supposed to be surprises, Jae, think of something else,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Well, whatever. That’s a good idea about having everyone over, you should put it on the group chat. We could use the bigger living room, get loads of mattresses and airbeds put down so we can all sleep in the same room,’ he says, and I nod. ‘Oh, but…’ I begin, but trail off, Jaehyun raising an eyebrow. ‘Me and Mina will be in the living room with everyone else, so you and Taeyong should be too. You know dad doesn’t like it when you two share a room,’ Jaehyun says, and I feel blood rushing to my cheeks again. ‘No, I… well, you’ll have to have that conversation with Taeyong then,’ I sigh, and Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

‘I have to tell your man that you two can’t share a room?’ Jaehyun says. ‘Jae, you know it’s not that simple,’ I say, not wanting to get into it in front of Jimin and Jungkook. ‘I think it’s pretty simple, y/n, and I also think it’s pretty shitty that you’re scared to tell your man that you’re not gonna have sex with him,’ Jaehyun says. ‘Jae, shut up!’ I exclaim, knowing any of the staff or even our father could walk in at any moment. ‘Well, it’s true! What do you guys think?’ Jaehyun says, turning to Jimin and Jungkook, who both looking slightly awkward and embarrassed. ‘Jaehyun, you know it’s not like that,’ I say before they can answer, and he scoffs. ‘y/n, what I know is that it is exactly like that! You want me to tell him because you’re scared to refuse him, which literally means that he is having non-consensual sex with you, which is rape! But you won’t tell me, and you won’t tell dad, and you won’t tell anyone, because you’re scared of something and I don’t know what it is because you don’t speak to me! I bet you didn’t wanna suck him off at school today, but he was angry at you because of Jimin, and you don’t like it when he’s angry with you, so you did it. I can’t even imagine how many times something like that has happened to you!’ he says. ‘It’s not rape! I’m in a relationship with him!’ I exclaim, tears coming to my eyes, and Jaehyun scoffs. ‘Of course it’s rape. If you didn’t want to have sex but you do anyway, then it’s rape, you moron! But I can’t even say anything to him, because if I do, you’ll stick up for him like always, and I don’t know why! You don’t have to marry him, y/n!’ Jaehyun says. ‘I want to marry him! I love him! You’re making him sound like an abuser, and he’s not!’ I shout, the tears spilling down my cheeks, and Jaehyun laughs humourlessly. ‘When will you understand that I’m not saying this for no reason? I’m saying it because it’s what I see, because I’m worried about you, because you’re my sister and I love you, y/n!’ he shouts back. ‘I know that, but you don’t need to worry,’ I say defeatedly, another tear falling with every blink, and Jaehyun lets out another humourless laugh. ‘I don’t know if you’re just in denial, or completely delusional, but when you realise that what you and Taeyong have is not love and you’re better off without him, I’ll be waiting to help you. But until you realise that, y/n, until you realise that you and me are on the same side, and it’s not the side with him on it, there’s nothing I can do,’ he says, leaving the room without another word.

Jimin hands me a tissue and I take it embarrassedly, blotting away my tears gently. ‘Sorry… about all of that,’ I begin to say, but Jimin and Jungkook both wave it off. ‘It’s fine, don’t apologise. Are you okay?’ Jungkook says, and I nod. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine. Jaehyun’s just being dramatic,’ I say, both of them silent. ‘Do you agree with him?’ I ask them, and Jungkook looks to Jimin, the latter sighing. ‘Well, it depends, y/n. Did you want to do what happened earlier at school, or did you do it because you were scared to say no?’ Jimin asks. ‘He didn’t force me! And he repaid the favour, so it’s not like I didn’t get anything out of it,’ I say. ‘That’s not the question I asked you. Just because he didn’t force you, it doesn’t mean it was consensual, or you wanted it. Did you want it?’ he asks, and I hesitate. ‘Well, no, but I didn’t mind,’ I reply, and Jimin shakes his head. ‘It’s not about whether or not you mind. It’s that you didn’t want to do it, but you did it anyway because… well, I don’t know why. Whether it’s because you want to keep him happy, or whether it’s because you’re scared of him. How often do you… indulge him when you don’t really want to?’ he asks me. ‘I don’t know, like… 8 times out of 10,’ I say, both of their mouths falling open. ‘Oh, my God, y/n,’ Jungkook says, and I shake my head. ‘No, it sounds bad, but it’s really not,’ I say defensively, and they exchange a glance. ‘All I’m saying, y/n, is that if I had a girlfriend and I found out that 8 out of every 10 times we have sex, she doesn’t want to, my heart would be broken,’ Jimin says, and I fall silent.

‘Are you scared of him, y/n?’ Jungkook asks gently, and I don’t reply for a moment. ‘I’m not scared of him. I’m scared of what falling out with him would mean,’ I say, looking at Jimin, who nods, remembering our earlier conversation. I explain to Jungkook what I explained to Jimin earlier, the boy shaking his head in disgust at everything I say. ‘y/n, Jaehyun said it; you don’t have to marry him. Why are you forcing yourself to?’ Jungkook asks. ‘It’s more complicated than that. I do love him, and I do want to marry him, and he’s all I’ve ever known. If I left him… it’d be leaving everything comfortable, everything familiar. He is my home, as much as my family and friends are, as much as this house is,’ I say. ‘So, because you’re scared of the unknown, you give in to him to keep him sweet?’ Jungkook asks, and I nod. ‘I feel sorry for you, y/n, I really do. And I hope it gets to a point when the two of you love each other enough for you to refuse him without it affecting your relationship,’ Jungkook says, and I smile sadly. ‘Thank you, Jungkook, I appreciate that. One day, maybe,’ I say, both of them nodding.

‘Anyway, moving on from all that depressing sad stuff, I’ve still got another surprise for you, Jimin! And you and Jaehyun should come too, JK!’ I say excitedly. ‘Shall I go get Jaehyun then?’ he asks as I write on a little post-it note for father and the staff to help themselves to the food we made. ‘We’ll come up too. You can get changed into something more comfortable if you want,’ I say, wrapping some of the food up in a tissue and heading towards the door, the two of them following behind me. We go back up the stairs, chatting idly about school, and I knock on Jaehyun’s door when we reach it. He answers it a few moments later, still annoyed. ‘I’m sorry. I know you worry about me, and I promise to talk to you more and explain it all to you. And I brought you food,’ I say, handing him the tissue. ‘Whatever, idiot, you don’t need to apologise,’ he says gruffly, taking the food from me. ‘You know that surprise I planned for Jimin? Do you and JK wanna come too?’ I ask, Jaehyun looking to Jungkook who nods. ‘Yeah, we’ll come. You’re not dressing up, are you?’ he asks. ‘Nope, I’m wearing this. Casual,’ I say, and Jaehyun nods. ‘We’ll meet by the front door in 5?’ I suggest, Jaehyun nodding before retreating into his room, Jungkook doing the same. ‘Jimin, come with me. I’ve just gotta get a couple things,’ I say, the boy following me into my room.

‘Sit down, if you want,’ I say, the boy gently sitting on my bed as I head over to my vanity table, pressing the buttons in the wall to put some music on. I pull the hairslides out of my hair and brush through it before putting it up into a sleek ponytail, pulling out a few baby hairs or I’ll look like an egg. I put on some lip balm and change from my fluffy socks into a pair of black ankle socks, sliding on my black fluffy sliders. I quickly put some body lotion on my elbows and knees, before getting out a little backpack, a custom black Gucci one, and put in my lip balm, a brush, my phone and a portable charger, and my purse. ‘Let’s go,’ I say, heading to the door. ‘Don’t you need a jumper or jacket? It might be a bit colder now, right?’ he asks. ‘Um, I should be fine. I keep a hoodie of Taeyong’s in my car anyway, so I’ll just put that on,’ I say, Jimin nodding. We leave my room, and he grabs a pair of black and white Nike trainers from his room before we head down to the front door, Jungkook already there and waiting, playing some sort of game on his phone. His all black attire, a black Fila t-shirt and a pair of Puma sweatpants, black socks (thankfully showing a strip of his leg) and black Fenty creepers (of which I have a pair myself), accentuates his slim and muscly figure nicely. ‘Hmm, now, we’re just waiting for Jaehyun,’ I say, just as I hear footsteps coming down the stairs. ‘For once. Usually I’m waiting for you,’ Jaehyun says, coming to join us, dressed in a practically identical outfit to Jungkook’s, the brands slightly different. ‘Shall we all go in the same car?’ Jaehyun suggests, and I nod. ‘You drive,’ I say, and Jaehyun nods. We go out to his car, and I slide into the back. ‘I’ll sit in the back,’ Jungkook says, joining me as Jimin and Jaehyun get into the front.

‘Can I connect my phone, Jae?’ I ask, the boy just nodding as he zooms off the drive, and I do so, instantly putting on the playlist Jimin and I were listening to in the kitchen. ‘All you ever listen to is RnB, don’t you get bored?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘What else is there to listen to?’ I ask. ‘Loads. Pop. Rap. Hip-hop. Blues. Funk. Country. Electro. Techno,’ Jaehyun lists, and I laugh. ‘Or UK music’s good. Like bashment and grime and drill and afrobeats and stuff,’ Jungkook laughs, Jimin laughing along with him. Obviously there’s some kind of joke here, but it goes over mine and Jaehyun’s heads. ‘Grime? Drill? What?’ Jaehyun asks, Jungkook and Jimin looking at us incredulously. ‘It’s like… I don’t know. Like a mix of hip-hop, rap and urban. I was just joking, really. But it’s actually not that bad. You should put some on,’ Jungkook says, and I hold my phone out to him. He types something into Spotify, and then puts on a playlist, presumably one full of said ‘UK music’. A bass heavy beat begins, practically blasting out of the speakers, and both Jimin and Jungkook rap every word, the lyrics talking explicitly about money, drugs, and women’s bodies. Once the song finishes, Jungkook pauses the playlist, looking for our feedback. ‘It was good. I liked the beat and the flow. Not sure about the lyrics but… we move,’ I say, Jimin shooting me a grin. ‘I liked it too. Play some more,’ Jaehyun says, Jungkook playing the playlist, another song playing. The beat is similar, and so are the lyrics, but the song’s still good. We bop to the playlist, Jungkook and Jimin singing and rapping along as Jaehyun and I just listen.

‘Do you wanna stop for food? There’s a McDonalds up here on the left,’ Jaehyun says. ‘I don’t mind, whatever you guys wanna do,’ I say. ‘Um, I could eat,’ Jungkook says, Jimin agreeing, and Jaehyun pulls into the McDonalds drive thru. ‘What do you want?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘I’ll have a large 5 chicken select meal, with a coke please,’ Jimin says. ‘I’ll have a large Big Mac meal with a Sprite,’ Jungkook says. ‘Um, I’ll have a spicy chicken wrap,’ I say, all three of them turning to look at me. ‘y/n, cut it out. If you’re having a wrap, I’m getting you nuggets or fries too. What do you want?’ Jaehyun asks, and I sigh. ‘Jae, I’m fine with ju-’ ‘What do you want, y/n?’ ‘I’ll have the wrap with 6 nuggets,’ I say, and Jaehyun raises an eyebrow at me. ‘And a Diet Coke. No ice,’ I say, my brother grinning at me. He orders all the food, getting himself a large Chicken Legend meal with a Fanta, and pays with his black card, the conversation I had with Jimin earlier happening again with Jungkook now. We get our food through the second window, and they try to give us four free McFlurrys too, a number written on one of them.

‘The one with the number is for the girl, from my colleague,’ the server says. ‘Well, the girl is my sister, and she has a man, so tell your colleague thanks, but she’s good,’ Jaehyun says, as kindly as possible. ‘Oh, um, well, take the ice creams anyway,’ the server says. ‘We’re alright, thanks,’ Jaehyun says, giving them a tip before speeding off. ‘Damn, I thought it was a one-off earlier, but obviously not. Is this a regular thing for you, y/n?’ Jimin asks, and I nod tiredly, rolling my eyes. ‘It’s so annoying. It’s only because we’re rich,’ I say. ‘And because you’re pretty,’ Jaehyun says, and I scoff. ‘No,’ I reply. ‘Yes,’ all three of them say, and my eyes widen slightly, taken aback. ‘Wait, really?’ I ask, and Jungkook laughs. ‘Why else, y/n? If you were ugly and rich, they wouldn’t give you their numbers, but if you were poor and pretty, they still would. What’s the common denominator?’ Jungkook says. ‘I’m not sure that’s accurate,’ I say, and they all shake their heads. ‘Shut up and eat your nuggets,’ Jaehyun says, all of us laughing.

We arrive at the shopping centre around ten minutes later. The others have already finished eating, and I’m still on my nuggets as Jaehyun pulls up to the delivery entrance. The guy waves us through, recognising the car, and Jimin and Jungkook look around in confusion. ‘What are we doing? Where are we going?’ Jimin asks. ‘You’ll see in a minute,’ I say excitedly. We park up by the entrance where security stands, and we all get out of the car, drinks cups in hands. ‘Jaehyun, y/n, nice to see you again,’ one of the security guards says, shaking our hands. ‘Nice to see you too, Sihyuk. This is Jimin and this is Jungkook,’ Jaehyun says, the security guard shaking their hands too. ‘Let me take you up,’ Sihyuk says, leading us through the door. He takes us through cold corridors, almost like tunnels, with industrial wires and tubes everywhere, bright fluorescent hospital lighting in strips above us. ‘Are you taking us to be murdered?’ Jungkook jokes, all of us laughing. ‘We’re nearly there,’ I say, just as we near a door on the left of us. Sihyuk opens it for us, letting us through, and we step into a clean and classy room, crystal chandeliers streaming with mellow lights, marble pillars, cream sofas and fluffy cushions. The staff in there practically rush over, shaking all of our hands. ‘Ah, you brought guests,’ I hear a voice from behind me, turning to see Chaerin. She embraces Jaehyun and me before shaking hands with Jimin and Jungkook as my brother introduces them. ‘It’s nice to meet you both. Shall I do the speech?’ she asks, and I nod excitedly. ‘You’ve gotta make it authentic for them,’ I say, and she grins affectionately, rolling her eyes at me.

‘Welcome to our personal shopping experience. We’ll take your measurements and then we’ll bring clothes out for you, one-by-one. The models will be wearing them first, and then you can try them on if you like them. Jaehyun will go first, followed by Jimin, then Jungkook, and finally y/n. Do we have any questions, or can we begin?’ Chaerin says, and Jaehyun and I turn to look at the other two, both of them looking slightly overwhelmed as they nod. ‘Brilliant. y/n, Jaehyun, take your seats, and Jimin, Jungkook, we’ll take your measurements if you don’t mind,’ Chaerin says, four staff members with tape measures appearing behind her. I take a seat on one sofa, tucking my legs beneath me, as Jaehyun sprawls across the other, kicking his shoes off and putting his feet up on the armrest. I watch amusedly as the stylists take Jimin and Jungkook’s measurements, the two looking like deer caught in headlights. Jimin has to take off his jumper so they can take his chest and waist measurements accurately, and his t-shirt gets caught with his jumper as he pulls it over his head, exposing a flash of hard abs and a prominent v-line, the sight making my stomach turn. I look away almost instantly, meeting Jaehyun’s eyes, sparkling with amusement, and then look down at my lap, embarrassed at being caught.

Jimin and Jungkook come and join us a few moments later, Jimin coming to sit on the sofa with me as Jungkook sits on the other sofa with Jaehyun. ‘This is so cool. Is that how you guys always shop?’ Jungkook asks. ‘Yeah, it’s so that we can buy our clothes in peace without people approaching us because they recognise us, and also so we can get a look at the newest releases before they’re put out on shop floors,’ I explain. ‘I bet it costs a bomb,’ Jimin says drily. ‘Yeah, but trust me, it’s so worth it. Wait ‘til you guys see some of the stuff they bring out for us,’ Jaehyun says excitedly as I sip on my drink. ‘Is it all designer stuff?’ Jungkook asks almost embarrassedly. ‘Some of it. But it’s cool, we’ll cover the cost. Don’t even worry about it,’ I say, both of them looking like they want to argue, but they opt not to. The models start to come out wearing clothes for Jaehyun and we all point out items we think would suit him, ranging from tops, trousers and coats, to shoes, jewellery and bags, even socks and underwear. He then goes to try them on, and we choose what we like him in, and what we don’t. Jaehyun’s always been a guy with expensive taste, and so he ends up choosing many of the same brands he’s always worn; Prada, Supreme, Fendi, Givenchy, Balenciaga, Gucci and Alexander McQueen.

Then it’s Jimin’s turn, and he ends up mainly taking a liking to Chanel, Gucci, Saint Laurent, Louis Vuitton, Dior and Celine, his clothing choices tasteful and classy, lots of Chelsea boots, slim fit trousers, plain tops, and distinct jackets. He also chooses a lot Chanel, Louis Vuitton and Saint Laurent jewellery; earrings, necklaces, rings and bracelets that are delicate and feminine. I love the fact that he doesn’t care about which gender the pieces are aimed at, choosing clothes and accessories from both the male and female collections. When he tries them on, I have to actively keep my mouth shut, opting to just nod and smile, because I’m speechless. His figure is amazing, slim shoulders, even slimmer waist, mile long lean legs, hard muscle built up everywhere except for his face and ass (which is deliciously round and pert - it gives my ass a run for its money). He’s beautiful, the clothes making him look like a supermodel, his purple hair giving him such a unique look. Jaehyun and Jungkook both give me amused looks every time Jimin goes into the back to change, and I try to ignore them, just sipping on the complimentary glass of wine they’ve given me.

Then it’s Jungkook’s turn, and it’s clear to see that his style is definitely comfort first; mainly black, oversized and cosy clothes, occasionally opting for some tighter, more form-fitting pieces. The designers he chooses include Acne Studios, Fila, Nike, Adidas and Balenciaga, with a few Saint Laurent, Ralph Lauren and Gucci pieces too, amongst many others. When he tries them on, he either comes out looking like an e-boy – with cargo trousers and military boots, chains and harnesses galore – a college boy – with oversized sweaters and loose sweatpants, hats and trainers – or a supermodel – with skin-tight trousers, form-fitting tees and tops, and fashionable jackets. He also has several ear piercings, and chooses several pairs of earrings, studs, hoops and dangly, all of them silver.

And then it’s my turn. I choose practically every piece they bring out for me, not discriminating against a single designer. I choose dresses, tops, trousers, jeans, skirts, jackets, coats, co-ords, heels, boots, trainers, flats, sandals, all different kinds of bags, necklaces, bracelets, rings, earrings, arm bracelets, anklets, hairslides, headbands, scarves, hats, socks, underwear (not gonna lie, I felt my face heat up when the underwear models came out and I picked nearly every pair, all of them lacy, strappy and slightly risqué. Jaehyun, used to my hoe antics, doesn’t bat an eyelid, helping me to pick some out, but I don’t even dare to look at the other two, slightly embarrassed). It takes an age for me to try them all on, Jaehyun and Jungkook hyping me up and even choosing which outfit I should wear this Saturday (a Balmain velvet little black dress with silver embellishments on it), but Jimin does nothing more than what I did, smiling and nodding with a random cough thrown in every now and then. Either he couldn’t care less about which clothes I choose, or I’ve got more of an effect on him than I thought (which makes me awfully proud of myself).

Once I’ve changed back into my original clothes and re-joined the boys, Chaerin reappears after disappearing all night. I know from previous times that she’s in the back, processing which clothes we choose and getting them bagged up to be sent to our house before we get back. ‘Thank you, Chaerin, we loved it,’ I say, the boys murmuring their ‘thank you’s behind me. ‘You’re most welcome, my loves. Now, get on home, and don’t be strangers. Remember, if you need styling, I’m always available for my favourite twins, and any of their friends,’ she says warmly, hugging us all, the BTS boys included. We say another ‘thank you’ before we’re led back through the draughty industrial corridors out onto the car park. We all climb into Jaehyun’s car, and it isn’t until Jaehyun starts driving that conversation starts up. ‘I wanna just say, guys, that that was the most boujee thing I’ve ever done in my life, and I’m really grateful for it. Like, thank you so much for all those amazing new clothes,’ Jungkook says, my heart warming. ‘Oh, JK, it was nothing. Trust me, we’ll have you doing loads of different boujee things while you’re with us. But you’re welcome,’ I grin at the boy. ‘Yeah, guys, I wanna say thank you too. I’ve always… I’ve always wanted to change my style, but I’ve never been able to afford much more than the standard teen boy fashion. Being able to get all those clothes that I’ve been into for years is such a privilege. I’m really thankful,’ Jimin says sincerely, nearly bringing a tear to my eye. ‘It’s nothing, bro, we got you. Anything you want, let us know, we’ll get it for you. We’re spoiled brats, let us spoil you guys now,’ Jaehyun says, slapping Jimin’s thigh, a brotherly gesture, and Jimin grins at him. They’ve only been with us a day, and yet I feel like our bonds with them are already strong.

After around ten minutes of just listening to chill RnB (we’re too tired for grime right now), Jaehyun speaks; ‘hey, y/n, you remember that diner we used to go to all the time? Mum used to take us.’ ‘Yeah, I remember,’ I say, wondering where he’s going with this. ‘It’s about a minute from here. Do you guys wanna go? They do the best desserts there, and the milkshakes are beautiful,’ Jaehyun says. ‘Yeah, sure,’ Jimin says, Jungkook agreeing. ‘It’s so cool in there. Like an authentic American diner. It’s been a while since we went, to be fair, but from what I can remember, it’s amazing, so cute and retro,’ I say, just as we turn onto a familiar road, and I know that it’s near. Half a minute later, Jaehyun pulls into the car park of The Golden Spoon, and I practically leap out of the car, eager to go get my favourite strawberry milkshake. ‘Aren’t you cold, y/n?’ Jungkook asks me, and I realise then that yes, I am cold. ‘I’m fine,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me as we head towards the entrance. ‘You so should’ve worn a jumper,’ Jimin says. ‘Yeah, but I told you I had one of Taeyong’s in my car. It’s just a shame that we went in Jae’s car,’ I say, Jimin shaking his head. He starts to pull off his sweater, exposing his muscles again, and hands it to me, leaving him in just a thin white t-shirt. ‘Are you sure? I bet you’re cold now,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘I don’t have my legs out as well,’ he says, and I take it embarrassedly, pulling it over my head. It smells amazing, like the same smell that was on the air when he first got into my car yesterday; a nice cologne, baked goods and something distinct I’ve never smelt before, something that must just be Jimin. We step into the diner, the smell of greasy food and baked goods hitting us like a tidal wave. The walls are painted baby blue, the floor checked black and white, and the booths and seats are all red, pictures of old cars and big groups of white people in the 50s hung up everywhere, making it seem authentic.

We slide into a booth, scanning the menus and a server instantly comes over to take our order. ‘I’ll have a chocolate milkshake please,’ Jaehyun says. ‘I’ll have a chocolate too please,’ Jimin says. ‘Can I have strawberry please?’ Jungkook asks, and then they all turn to me. ‘Um, how many calories are in the strawberry milkshakes?’ I ask, Jaehyun groaning, Jungkook and Jimin shaking their heads and the server looking taken aback. ‘I don’t know from the top of my head, but I can check for you,’ she begins, but Jaehyun waves her off. ‘It’s fine, she’ll have a strawberry as well please. Do we want any food?’ Jaehyun asks. ‘Can I have a slice of the, um, Sandy’s Chocolate Cake please?’ Jungkook says, the server writing it down. ‘I’ll have a chocolate fudge brownie with custard. And can I have that with an extra serving of custard please?’ Jaehyun asks, the server nodding with a blush, obviously finding my brother attractive (you’d have to be stupid not to). ‘I don’t want anything,’ I say, and Jimin looks at me. ‘I’m not really that hungry either, I was gonna ask if you wanted to go halves?’ Jimin suggests, and I nod. ‘Yeah, good idea, let’s do that. Do you like lemon? Because they do the most amazing lemon meringue pie here,’ I say, and Jimin grins. ‘We’ll have a slice of the lemon meringue pie please,’ he says, and I smile at the server who notes it down. ‘That’s it, thank you,’ Jaehyun says, the server smiling before going to the back to put our order through.

Gentle retro music plays through the restaurant, only two other booths occupied; one by a young lovestruck couple and the other by an old lady by herself. She’s sat by the jukebox, choosing the songs, and I watch as she roots around in her purse, obviously looking for money to put into the jukebox. ‘Jimin, come with me to choose a song?’ I ask, and he nods instantly, both of us sliding out of our side of the booth. We walk shoulder to shoulder over to the jukebox, and I put in a coin from my purse. ‘Hmm, I can’t choose a song, I’m too indecisive. Will you choose one for me?’ I say, directing the question to the lady, who smiles at me. She picks an Elvis song, and then I put more money in, and she chooses another song. We carry on going until an hour’s worth of music is queued up, and as we head back to the table, Jimin grins at me. ‘That was cute,’ he says. ‘What?’ I ask. ‘You putting money in for that old lady to choose her songs. It was cute,’ he says, and I smile shyly to myself, looking down at my feet. ‘Whatever,’ I mumble, Jimin laughing under his breath. ‘You’re cute, princess,’ he says, and I feel myself getting even more embarrassed, trying to hide it as I slide into the booth, sitting up against the window.

Our milkshakes come then, topped with mounds of whipped cream, strawberries on mine and Jungkook’s, and a chocolate wafer on Jaehyun and Jimin’s. I take a long sip, savouring the taste, before offering it to Jimin. ‘Wanna try some?’ I say, and he nods, taking the straw into his mouth and taking a small sip. ‘Oh, my God, that tastes amazing,’ he says, and I grin. ‘Right? Way better than chocolate,’ I tease, and he rolls his eyes with a small smile. My phone pings then, and I look down at it, quickly replying to a text from Nayeon, and when I look back up, Jimin’s offering me his. ‘I’ll try a bit. Just to prove that strawberry’s better,’ I say, leaning forward to take a sip. And he pushes the glass towards me, covering my nose and left cheek in cream. ‘Jimin!’ I shriek, the boys bursting into laughter, and I can’t hold back my giggles as I blot the cream away with a tissue. ‘Idiot,’ I mutter, hitting him gently, which makes them laugh even more. And then I notice that Jaehyun has his phone up in his hands, recording us. He stops the recording when I look, and I hold a hand to block his phone. ‘Please don’t put that on your story,’ I say. ‘I was gonna put it on my private,’ he says. ‘Still.’ ‘Why not? Don’t worry, you look nice,’ he says. ‘That’s not it,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘I’m sorry, but if your man can’t deal with you having male friends, then that’s his problem, not yours or mine or Jimin’s or anyone’s. Okay?’ Jaehyun says, and I fall silent, not even bothering to say anything. ‘Put it on, then,’ I say, and all three of the boys grin victoriously.

Jaehyun starts to show Jungkook a funny video on his phone, and so I turn to Jimin. ‘So, how was your first day?’ I ask. ‘It was great. Thank you, for everything,’ he says, and I grin. ‘You are most welcome, Jimin. I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it. Trust me, we’ll have loads more days like this,’ I say, and he smiles. ‘I hope so.’ ‘Well, tomorrow, you guys are at football, and you won’t get back ‘til like 8.30, so I’ll have dinner ready for when you all get home. Then Wednesday, we’re free, so we can do something then. Maybe we could go out for a meal somewhere. If you guys wear your new clothes, you’ll end up in some kind of gossip magazine, guaranteed. Then Thursday, we’re at the golf club. And then Friday, you guys are at football, and you’ll probably end up going for food and stuff after, and I’ll be at home with the girls for a girls’ night. Then we can kill some time on Saturday, and then tell everyone to come over around 6ish. And Sunday will be for recovering,’ I say, Jimin laughing. ‘Are your guys’ schedules always this packed? Because I don’t know how you can hack it,’ he says. ‘Hack it?’ I ask. ‘Um, it means like… manage it, deal with it, cope with it,’ he says, and I nod in understanding. ‘This week is actually quite laidback compared to my usual. Honestly, there is always something going on around here. And then nobody does anything on a Sunday, because you’ve gotta spend Sundays resting. The most I’ll ever do is meet Taeyong or Nayeon for food,’ I say, Jimin shaking his head incredulously. ‘I definitely wouldn’t be able to hack it,’ he says, and I laugh, a little grin playing at his lips.

Our dessert arrives then, and Jimin and I take alternating bites of the pie whilst Jaehyun and Jungkook scoff their desserts down. I have a few spoonful’s of Jaehyun’s custard (considering he got another helping because he knew I’d have some), and it all tastes amazing, just like it did all the previous times we’ve come here. When we’re finished, the server takes our plates away and Jaehyun pays. We all rise up from the booth, and I leave a very generous tip on the table for the server. As soon as we get into the car and Jaehyun starts driving, my phone starts ringing. I get it out and see that it’s Taeyong. ‘Great,’ I mutter before answering it. ‘Hey, babe,’ I say as cheerfully as I can, knowing what I’m in for, as Jaehyun turns down the music. ‘Either you’re purposely trying to annoy me, or you’re that oblivious as to what you’re doing,’ he practically spits down the phone, and I sigh. ‘Tae, what are you talking about?’ ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. Whose jumper were you wearing in that video on Jae’s story?’ he asks, Jaehyun watching me in the mirror, both Jimin and Jungkook turning to look at me. Obviously, they can hear Taeyong’s words too, because he’s talking that loud. ‘Jimin’s,’ I say, seeing no point in lying.

‘What makes you think that that’s okay, y/n?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘I was cold.’ ‘Why couldn’t you wear a jumper of your own?’ ‘It was still warm when we left the house, and we ended up taking Jaehyun’s car, so I couldn’t put on the jumper of yours that’s in my car,’ I explain. ‘That’s not good enough, y/n.’ ‘Tae, I’m sorry, but I don’t think there was anything wrong with that. I was cold, Jimin wasn’t, he offered me his jumper, and I said yes. That is it,’ I say. ‘But don’t you see what it looks like, y/n? First of all, that video looks like you’re flirting, and then to make it worse, you’re wearing his jumper. You’re making me look like an idiot,’ he says. ‘Tae, no one thinks that. For all anyone else knows, that jumper I’m wearing is yours, or Jaehyun’s,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, y/n, neither of us wear Nike,’ he says, and I see Jimin let out a humourless laugh, turning back to face the front. ‘Oh, get real, Tae, no one knows or cares what you or Jaehyun or I wear. No one will think deeply enough into that video. They will laugh and then skip to the next story. It’s not that big of a deal, and you need to get a grip,’ I say bitterly, surprised with myself. ‘y/n, people will notice. I don’t want people to think my girlfriend is going around with other boys,’ he says, voice shaking with anger, and I scoff. ‘I think it’s pretty obvious I’m yours, I had your dick in my mouth at school a few hours ago,’ I spit out, all three boys in the car pulling faces, but I pay no attention, shaking as I speak. I’ve never spoken to him like this before, and it feels good. Scary, but good. He stays silent for a few seconds, and all I can think is that this is it. He’s gonna dump me, and I’ll be left single and alone. And then he speaks; ‘I’m coming over to your house. I’ll be there in twenty.’

The line clicks off, and I put my phone back into my bag. ‘I’m proud of you for standing up to him like that, y/n,’ Jaehyun says, and I smile, feeling nervous. ‘Why’s he coming over?’ Jungkook asks, and Jaehyun laughs. ‘Either because he knows that y/n will struggle to speak to him the way she just did in real life and so he thinks she’ll apologise and he’ll win, or he’s coming to stay the night… if you get what I mean,’ Jaehyun says. ‘Oh,’ Jungkook says. ‘What if he hits me or something? He seemed angry, Jae, I’m kinda scared,’ I say as we near the house. ‘y/n, relax. He wouldn’t, he wouldn’t dare to lay a hand on you. I’ll kill him before he hits you. You’ll kill him before he hits you,’ Jaehyun says. ‘I’ll kill him before he hits you,’ Jungkook says, all of us laughing. ‘God, he’s such a pompous moron. He really annoys me sometimes,’ I say. ‘I’ve known him for less than one day, and he annoys me sometimes too,’ Jimin says, coaxing more laughter from us as Jaehyun pulls up on the driveway. All of us climb out of the car, Changwoo greeting us. ‘Is father home yet, Changwoo?’ I ask, and Changwoo shakes his head. ‘I’m afraid not, miss,’ he replies, and I sigh. ‘Okay, thank you anyway. Goodnight,’ I say, and he bids us goodnight in return. ‘Oh, Changwoo, by the way, Taeyong’s coming over, he’ll be here soon,’ I say. ‘Okay, miss, I’ll make sure the gate’s open for him,’ he says, and I thank him before heading into the house with the boys.

We head into the smallest living room, the one beside the kitchen, and Jaehyun practically throws himself down onto the biggest sofa. Jimin and Jungkook sit on another sofa, and I perch on an armchair as Jaehyun turns the on the TV, some kind of sports match beginning to blare out into the room. The clock on the wall reads 10.51, and I know that Taeyong will be here in the next nine minutes, the thought making my stomach turn. I stare unseeingly at the TV as the boys get comfortable, watching the match whilst scrolling through their phones. ‘y/n, stop stressing, it’s gonna be fine,’ Jaehyun says, breaking me out of my reverie, and I nod, trying to ease my nerves. I look up at the clock again, the time now reading 10.57, and then I hear the front door, my heart jumping in my chest. All three of the boys look at me, giving me encouraging smiles, and I nod, hearing footsteps nearing us. The living room door opens, and Taeyong stands there, in a pair of slim-fit trousers and a plain t-shirt, a jacket in his hand. ‘Hey, Jae, JK, Jimin,’ Taeyong says, going around to the room to shake their hands, all of them greeting him in return, before he turns to look at me. ‘Can I speak to you, baby? In the kitchen?’ he asks, and I nod, feeling slightly more relaxed at hearing the pet name.

He gently grabs one of my hands and we go next door into the kitchen. ‘What’s this?’ he asks, spotting the food on the counter. ‘We did some baking earlier. Try some if you want, it’s really nice,’ I say, and he does so, breaking off small pieces of both food items and trying them, nodding at me afterwards. ‘They taste nice. Have you had any?’ he asks, obviously wondering how much I’ve been eating, and now that I think about it, I’m mortified. I’ve had a Starbucks, a McDonalds, wine, a milkshake, and dessert, as well as the baking. But it’s about time he stopped monitoring my diet, right? That’s something I should do myself; he doesn’t need to. ‘I tried a bit of each. I’ve actually had a lot to eat today, more than I have in a long time,’ I say, and he nods. ‘Well, that’s okay. It’s good that you have cheat days. It’s not good to eat as little as you do every day. I don’t want you withering away into nothing,’ he says gently, and I have to stop my mouth from falling open in shock. Where has this new attitude come from?

‘So what did you want to talk about?’ I ask, and he takes a seat at the breakfast bar. ‘I wanted to apologise, and I wanted to do it face to face. I’m sorry for speaking to you the way I did on the phone, and I’m sorry for getting so jealous and possessive all the time, and I’m sorry for watching your diet, and I’m sorry for treating you the way I’ve been treating you the past few months. It’s not… it’s not right, and I’m sorry. I was just thinking that I missed the way we used to be, remember? We used to be so in love and romantic and annoyingly sickly, and I miss that. Now, I just feel like we’re an old married couple, and I realised it’s because of me. I’m trying to keep you close, keep you mine and keep you as you are, but I’m only pushing you away. I miss us, baby, and I’m sorry,’ he says sincerely. I can’t believe my ears; I never expected him to say this. ‘What… where is this coming from, Tae?’ I ask. ‘Seeing you with Jimin, it scared me. It hit me, y/n, that even though we’re promised to each other, nothing is guaranteed, nothing is certain. There’s nothing stopping you from leaving me, and I never realised that before, which is something I should’ve been aware of. I can’t just treat you however, because I could lose you to someone else. And my treatment of you, it wasn’t right. I was treating you like my property, but that’s not the case,’ he says, sounding slightly more hysterical with every word. When I don’t reply instantly, he runs a hand through his hair, his eyes looking teary and bright. ‘I’m sorry, y/n, I really am. I love you, baby, and I don’t wanna lose you. I’ll sort myself out and I’ll fix things, I’ll make it right, just please, don’t leave me,’ he says, and for the first time in years, I see Taeyong cry. I take a hesitant step towards where he’s sat, before moving to stand between his legs, and I pull him into my arms. He buries his head in my chest and I hold him tight, gently scraping my nails across his scalp to soothe him, knowing that he likes the feeling.

After a couple minutes, I move away, and he takes a deep breath, composing himself. ‘Taeyong, I’m not gonna leave you. Yes, for pretty much all of this school year, your behaviour towards me hasn’t been great, but that doesn’t mean I’ll leave you. Every couple goes through rough patches, not just us, and I still love you, just as much as I always have. I could never leave you, baby,’ I say. ‘Promise me, y/n. I know it’s silly and immature, but pinky promise me,’ he says, holding out his pinky. ‘I promise to never leave you. As long as you treat me well,’ I say, locking my pinky with him. ‘Always, always. I love you, y/n, I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘Stop apologising. It’s okay,’ I say, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips. I pull away after a few seconds, and he smiles at me. ‘I wanna start over with you. I want us to fall in love all over again,’ he says, and I smile shyly. ‘What, so we’re gonna start dating from the start?’ I ask, and he nods with a grin. ‘I’m gonna court you,’ he says, and I laugh. ‘Court me?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Like in the 50s,’ he says, and I laugh, putting my arms around his neck and toying with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. ‘Well, I’ll telling you now, don’t throw rocks at my window or anything stupid like that,’ I say, and he bursts out laughing, resting his head against my chest. ‘What about our… agreement?’ I ask. ‘Well, that can stay the same, right? It doesn’t have to change,’ he says, and my heart sinks slightly. ‘Yeah. Yeah, you’re right,’ I say as he sits up, and I have to put on a smile to hide my disappointment. He can’t really love me as much as he claims if he doesn’t want to stay monogamous to me. ‘Are you gonna stay the night?’ I ask him, and he shakes his head, standing up. ‘If I’m courting you, I’m doing it properly,’ he says, and I can’t help but pout at him. ‘Don’t give me that face. We’re gonna start over, like it was when we first started dating when we were, like, 16,’ he says. ‘Fine,’ I sulk, and he laughs. ‘I love you. Come on, let me go say bye, and then I’ll go back home. Seulgi’s alone,’ he says, wiggling his eyebrows, and when I frown, he laughs. ‘I’m kidding, I’m kidding,’ he says, leading me back into the living room where the boys seem suspiciously focused on the TV.

‘I’m heading back, I’ll see you guys tomorrow,’ Taeyong says, all of them bidding each other goodbye with fist bumps and handshakes. ‘Shall I walk you to the door?’ I ask. ‘It’s fine, baby, stay in here. I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he says, pulling me into his arms and pressing a very PG kiss to my lips. ‘I love you. Goodnight,’ he says, blowing me a kiss before he leaves. I turn back to face the boys who all look up at me. ‘That… was not what I was expecting,’ Jaehyun says as I throw myself onto the sofa beside Jungkook. ‘Me neither,’ I sigh, my head spinning. ‘Did he… did he cry?’ Jungkook asks, and I nod. ‘He did. Took me slightly by surprise,’ I say, and I spot an amused smile on Jimin’s face. ‘What’s funny?’ I ask, genuinely intrigued. ‘I don’t know if it’s my place, y/n,’ he says. ‘Tell me. I wanna know your take on it,’ I say, and he shrugs. ‘I don’t buy it, personally. We’ve been here one day, and he’s crying because he doesn’t want to lose you to me? I think it’s because of the way you spoke to him on the phone. It took him by surprise, so he spouted all that crap, squeezed out some fake tears, told you he loves you a couple times, to butter you up, to get you to comply with him, to pipe down. I don’t see how me being here for literally a day can have such an effect on him. That’s just my opinion, anyway,’ he says, and I digest his words. There’s no way he would fake all of that, surely? ‘I disagree, but thank you for the new outlook. I’ll keep that in mind for the next couple weeks, and see if your theory becomes more plausible depending on his behaviour,’ I say tactfully, and he grins. ‘Not gonna lie, y/n, I think he’s right. I don’t think Tae’s being genuine with you. I completely agree with Jimin; he did that to keep you sweet,’ Jaehyun says, and I feel tears coming to my eyes. How many times have I cried today? ‘So you don’t think he cares?’ I ask, voice wavering, and they all look slightly panicked. ‘No, y/n, he cares, of course he cares. It’s just that he probably doesn’t like the way you spoke to him on the phone and instead of going at you, he pulled the guilt trip,’ Jungkook says gently, patting my shoulder, and I nod, sniffling. ‘I think you need to go to bed, y/n. Get a good night’s rest,’ Jaehyun says carefully, not wanting to set me off again, ‘you’ll feel better in the morning.’

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