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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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teashoptiramisu · 3 years

Text

Another fic rec list

This started as a rec list for “well-written fics with feral characters”. It kinda got out of control, and I started questioning “what even counts as feral in a characterization sense”, but hopefully some of these hit the mark. They are all fics that I love a lot and recommend more generally! All of these are gen and mostly rated T, unless noted otherwise:

A Dark Night in Ba Sing Se: ATLA, 20k words, first arc complete, on hiatus. Zuko gets arrested for taking the guard’s swords when he fought Jet at the tea shop, but he will not stay arrested, and further shenanigans ensue. Sweet, funny, excellent characterization, many delightful OC’s that really fill out the world of Ba Sing Se.

Towards the Sun – ATLA, 57k words, first arc complete, on hiatus. Same author as the previous (muffinlance). Zuko becomes firelord in rather worse circumstances than canon. TBH the “feral” part doesn’t really come in until near the end, when it turns out that trying his hardest isn’t enough, so he tries something else. Same author as the above, with really excellent characterization, a humorous kind of narration that will keep you laughing through the tension and heartbreak. Beware the angst in the middle but it gets better!

There May Be Some Collateral Damage – Bleach & HP, 60k words, complete. Ichigo is sent to bodyguard Harry for the 5th year, everything is delightfully chaotic and hilarious.

“I don’t take things from people,” Ichigo corrects her indignantly. “I mean, sometimes I chop them up and set them on fire, but I don’t take them. Stealing is wrong.”

Trust Me, I’m an Alchemist – FMA & YOI, 55k words, complete. Also by metisket. What if everyone in Yuri!!! On Ice had to deal with Elrics instead of Yuri Plisetsky? The answer is mafia connections and secondhand trauma but also more friendship and general shenanigans! Incredibly crack-y premise and the beginning to set it up is a bit weird and confusing but I promise the rest of the fic is 100% worth it. So funny, so wonderful, I re-read my favorite bits of this at least once a week. Technically lots of shipping (this is YoI after all) but it’s all played for laughs/characterization, not particularly romantic. I would post a favorite quote like for the above but I couldn’t choose just one.

Play it again – Teen Wolf (but no familiarity required), 63k words, complete. Same author as the previous two (metisket). Dimension-Travel fix it, Stiles is 200% chaotic but he has a plan and it’s gonna work. The Hale family is alive and so much fun, especially Laura. Also very funny, some romance at the very end but it’s pretty low-key.

What Goes Around – Teen Wolf, 71k words, complete. Kate kills Sheriff Stilinksy as well as the Hales, so Stiles and Peter team up to take out hunters like her in revenge. Unlike most of my other recs, this one is not funny, but it is interesting, and while they’re very methodical about it I think the way it handles “serial killers hunting serial killers” definitely counts as feral. Also this one is rated M rather than T and has Stiles/Derek at some point but I forgot the details.

Subject: A Comprehensive Report – BNHA, 83k words, updates very sporadically. Izuku remains quirkless but becomes the scariest damn researcher. I would call this “feral about investigating.” I love the multi-media formatting of this work and the expansive, in-depth worldbuilding the author contributes to explain how the hero system of canon came to be.

Something Borrowed – BNHA, 130k words, abandoned (for now at least). AFO!Izuku, who personality-wise is pretty nice, but when he goes all-out with his quirk he goes all out. I REALLY love the creativity the author brings to exploring and combining quirks, and how the characters work together to figure these things out.

Mr. and Mrs. Todoroki’s Excellent Day at Hero-Con – BNHA, 5k words, complete. I love “hero cosplays at fancon, trolls fans” as a story genre, and for some reason I haven’t really seen that outside of BNHA? Anyways this is one of the most chaotic and fun versions of this. Features Izuku and Uraraka trolling the entire world and especially Todoroki with utter panache. It’s Izuku/Ochako/Shotou but the shipping is pretty low-key.

Looping Back to the Beginning – BNHA, 10k words, complete. Class 1-A is caught in a time loop so they have fun with it. Featuring pranks, taunting villains, general shenanigans. Probably more “chaotic” than “feral”, but it’s a lot of fun!

Yesterday Upon the Stairs – BNHA, 424k words, complete. Look if you read BNHA fics you don’t need me to tell you about this fic, but suffice to say I think it’s status as the most-read English language work on AO3 is entirely deserved. Izuku is particularly feral in Ch. 7-9 (USJ attack), Ch. 26-27 (final exam), Ch. 34-40 (Kamino Ward), Ch. 50-end (Nighteye internship – esp. 57-59 for the showdown with Overhaul).

Twin Swap – BNHA, 55k words, two complete arcs. Fuyumi and Touya get body-swapped, shenanigans ensue. This is funny and cracky and endearing and more towards “found family feels” than feral escalation, but I’m putting it on here b/c Fuyumi is so done with everyone’s shit, and Dabi is, well, Dabi. Background Dabi/Hawks and Fuyumi/Miruko.

Abolish Private Property - Naruto, 27k words, sporadic updates. “The raging communist SI/OC that no one asked for, or really, deserves.” It’s, uh, very cracky but pretty funny. TBH I much more enjoy the sister fic Sanitize but that is the opposite of feral. Yui suffers no fools but she’s here to bring the wonders of modern medicine (what she can of it) to a preindustrial society wracked by war.

Several Yelp! Reviews of the Bridge~Port Brew Pub – Leverage, 900 words, complete. Parker is just always feral but this is my favorite Leverage fic, it’s fun!!

…and I didn’t end up with any FMA recs on here did I? woops. Uh, I recommend going through metisket’s and silentwalrus’ author pages, they both write great ridiculous Elrics. Mind the tags.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fic rec #fic recs #long post #not atla #favorite #note for later #tbh debated putting this here vs on my main blog but i already have some fic rec lists on here so i thought to keep them together #if tumblr messes up the formatting of this post i'm gonna throw hands

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beneathstarryskies · 3 years

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Izuna anon here(aka Uchiha anon). Those last headcanons were 🔥🔥🔥🔥 you are an amazing writer! I was just wondering if you'd indulge me and write Izuna Uchiha NSFW alphabet? 🔥 thank you

Thank you so much for the request!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Izuna is a little bit clueless about what aftercare even is. He knows he shouldn’t just pull out then immediately roll over and go to sleep. So, he just kind of wings it most of the time. He’ll bring you a glass of water and offer to cook you something if you’re hungry. He will discover he really enjoys cuddling and pillow talk. It’s so nice to have you pulled against his chest while you both babble nonsense.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Izuna takes great pride in his eyes. His visual prowess is very strong, and makes him a formidable opponent. They also allow him to commit key moments with you to his memory, so in a way he’s always carrying you with him when has to leave.

Izuna is weak for a nice, kind smile. Even more so, he loves a nice laugh. The kind where your eyes close and your cheeks get tinged pink with delight. He’d do anything to make you laugh.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He prefers to cum inside of you, if you’re comfortable with that. It’s not just because all Uchiha have a breeding kink (I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL) but he also just enjoys the intimacy of being close to you. You hold him so close, and he loves to kiss you harshly when he’s cumming. Cumming in your mouth is a pretty close second because he just loves having you on your knees so eager to please him.

Izuna will make you cum so much. Sometimes he can overstimulate you without even meaning to. He just loves getting you off and hearing you beg for him.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Izuna has definitely used his Sharingan to memorize how you look riding his cock, and always uses the image to get himself off when he’s jerking off.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s pretty experienced. Izuna is very charming and handsome, so it was never exactly difficult for him to have flings whenever he wanted. He knows how to please you with ease, and he takes direction very well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Izuna is very fond of positions where you’re on top of him, because it’s such a good view. He could watch you ride his cock for hours. Your tits bouncing in his face and your face contorted in pleasure is a wonderful sight for his eyes. He’s never lazy with it though. He’ll often be holding onto your hips and slamming into you.

His second favorite position is easily 69. It’s the best balance in his opinion of giving and taking. He’s so good with his mouth, you’ll cum all over his face. Izuna will always be eager to lick you clean.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Izuna tends to be pretty playful during sex. His life is filled with violence and extremely tense situations. Sex is his escape from all that. In those stolen moments with you, he feels so free and light he won’t be able to resist making a dirty joke here and there.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He has a thin line of dark hair leading into his pants. He keeps his dark pubic hair well groomed for you, but when he’s been gone to battle for a long time it gets a bit out of hand. Of course, he’ll clean up for you as soon as possible if you want him to.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Izuna tends to be more playful and lighthearted, never getting too serious. Sometimes though, he needs to feel comforted. He’ll hold you close to him and press soft kisses to you as he slowly rocks his hips against you. He’ll whisper how much he needs you, and he’ll be quietly pleading although you’re not always sure what he’s begging for.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Izuna masturbates pretty often, especially if he’s away from you for a while. It’s a very good way to relieve stress.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Breeding kink, blindfolds and bondage, lingerie, and definitely a praise kink. Cockwarming is a big thing for him too, especially when he’s feeling particularly needy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

His own bed is his favorite place, because it’s like you’re in your own little world together. However, he does enjoy the excitement of the occasional semi-public rendezvous.

Also, he’s definitely fucked you in Madara’s room when his older brother was getting on his nerves. It’s like his own little private revenge. Madara is very intuitive and knows something he doesn’t like happened in his bed, but he’s not able to put a finger on it.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It doesn’t take much to get Izuna going. Usually if you just put your hand on his thigh, and he sees that suggestive smirk on your face he’s ready to go. More innocently, if you praise him while watching him train or fight he’s ready to take you right then and there.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Izuna really wouldn’t want to do anything involving violence. He doesn’t want to hurt you in any way. He’d also not be into sharing you with anyone.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Izuna already is good with his mouth, and he’s excellent at taking direction. He will eat you out very eagerly, and is naturally a giver. He wants you to cum over and over.

Oh, he is a total mess when you go down on him. He’ll have his hands tangled in your hair, guiding you to take him deeper. He won’t be able to stop himself from thrusting his hips. If you pull away with a stern look and tell him he has to be good for you, he will be putty in your hands.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually he’s a bit fast and rough. He’s very eager to fuck you, and he lasts a while so he doesn’t have to pace himself to make it last longer. In his mind he’s always kind of competing with himself to see how many times he can make you cum before he cums as well.

There are times when he just wants to feel close to you. He’s been known to spend hours with his cock buried in you while holding you against him, kissing you all over your face. Then when he does finally fuck you, it’s just so slow and desperate.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Izuna likes quickies a lot, because he has a pretty high sex drive. He’ll engage in them pretty often if you’re down.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

It really depends on the risk.

You getting hurt or feeling uncomfortable? Absolutely not.

Both of you potentially discovering something fun? Absolutely.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Izuna lasts a while, really he can edge himself as long as he wants. He can also usually go for at least 2 or 3 rounds.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Izuna doesn’t own anything besides some silk scarves he uses as blindfolds and restraints. He is always down to try new things, and he would really enjoy it if you used toys on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Izuna loves teasing so much, but he doesn’t keep it up very long. When you begin begging him softly to fuck you, he just can’t resist you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Izuna isn’t very loud. He likes to talk a bit during sex, usually making a crude joke or saying something extremely naughty. He’s the loudest right when he’s cumming, because he always without fail will grunt and then cry out, “Oh fuck.”

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Izuna has definitely bragged to Madara about his sexual conquests. In his mind it’s the one area where he has surpassed his older brother, and he can’t help but gloat.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Izuna is long, about 11 inches. He’s a bit above average in girth, enough to be a slight stretch. His cock has a wonderful curve to it, that helps him hit all the right spots inside of you.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Izuna has a very high sex drive. He would just fuck you all the time if the world wasn’t so fucked up and constantly calling him away from you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tries not to fall asleep before you, but sometimes he fails. He wears himself out with sex.

#izuna uchiha x reader #izuna uchiha x you #izuna uchiha #headcanons #lovely anon #ask and you shall recieve

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grabthemhorns-old · 4 years

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Satan’s NSFW Alphabet - Obey Me!

I’ve had a few requests for Satan here and twitter, so here we are :3 Hope you enjoy! I always love to know what you think.

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A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- Satan is often one of two - the quiet observer, and affectionate need. He loves the intricacies of how pleasure and sex affect everyone’s bodies, minds, emotions, differently, and no matter how you react to the come down after, he’s there for you, observing how your body winds down from the release and reacting how you need him. A touch where it hurts to soothe, wiping away the streaks of blood; the curl of his tail around your back, pulling him against you softly as his hands wipe away your tears; he throws you your clothes if you’re up, about, laughing at the experimentation of your last position, drinking in your every word as you act so comfortably around him, despite what he is; he’ll make the tea afterwards, draw the bath - observing what you need, and giving.

-The time his affection craves, he often just, curls into you, quietly, horns and tail away, making himself as small as possible. He still can’t quite believe that you - you - want him, flaws and all. And there are many flaws. Sometimes he’s really vulnerable during these times. Talking quietly about things he never usually would, exposing words to the pillow, to you, that he’s desperate for you to know. Intimacy has broken the barrier, away, down.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- Satan likes his hands, and what he can do with them. He keeps them well cared for, nails and claws pristine and painted and moisturised. He loves to see them pressed against your body, spread over your legs, wet and sticky from between your legs, wrapped firm around your cock - he’s imprinting on you. Touch, to touch. And each time he feels closer, like he knows you a little bit more. He loves to play with your hair, and feel it slip through his fingers. Bite his fingers, suck them, smother them with a moan.

-His favourite part of you is your back, spine and neck. I HC that the back and spine are highly desired in Devildom due to an ancient fable, and that it’s become fashion to emphasise the back with clothing and jewels - like the neck/chest for us. I wrote a bit about it in THIS drabble about Satan’s pact seal which I also mention here. He will lavish it in kisses, in touches - and he especially loves giving back rubs to you, watching the spread of his hands across your back, how your muscles move beneath his touch.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- Satan loves to cover his hands in cum - and yours. He loves seeing his hands sticky with yours, and to lick his fingers clean, hungrily. But he much prefers to watch you lick it off his hands, slowly, feeling your hot, wet tongue roll over each finger, in-between, and oh so careful against the slide of his sharp claws where it drips.

-Edge him. Edge him until he’s tearing down the walls of Hell with his gagged screams, until he’s begging you, desperate, tears in his eyes. He absolutely loves it. It ties in with his self control over his anger. And letting you have control over him in such a way, helps.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- He likes to touch himself in the library sometimes. During his young formative demon years, when he visited the human realms, he particularly sought out libraries and book stores to fuck his chosen humans in. And devour.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- Satan is one of the more experienced of the brothers. Maybe he doesn’t have the age span of the rest, having never being an angel, but he’s made up for it being a demon. Satan uses casual sex a lot as release - as a way to cope with the rage, the anger that broils beneath, desperate to get out in a plethora of ways. It’s a way to help keep it in check. He absolutely knows what he’s doing, and is not afraid to communicate with his partner about what they want and what he wants to from sex.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- Any position that he can lavish attention on your back, especially since that’s where he branded you with his pact seal. He can see the script colour change and react to your bond and joined emotions - it really does it for him. But he also loves to be able to finger/stimulate you at the same time as fucking you. -Holding you against a wall, your face pressed so hard at an angle it hurts so he can bite your neck, your hair caught in your lips, and you struggle to breathe. But you don’t care. You don’t care. It’s his favourite quickie position.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- There’s a dark, dangerous humour lingering beneath Satan that comes out a lot during your sex. Especially when he’s being rough and playful - he feels safe with you to really let himself be and let loose. The times he is serious, there’s an intensity to him that makes you feel like you’re not the only one in Devildom, but the only, one. It’s like the world just, falls away, crumbling around you, and if you blow, it’ll scatter to dust, and all that’s left is Satan, and you. He takes away your breath, and you sometimes wonder if he’ll take away your heart too and wrap it in his claws. And you think in that moment, you’d be happy if he did.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- He’s groomed well down there, with smooth blonde hair shaved to a small patch which surrounds a black birth mark, extended around from his back. There’s little room for negotiation if you like it otherwise, though.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- He will whisper your name against your skin, he will tell you he loves you, each word pressed closer along your neck until the last is etched against your ear with his lips. But it’s not in your language, it’s in demonic. The more intimate, more sensual your sex is, the more he slips into his own tongue, writing it all over your body. Satan is a very expressive person, although you’d never initially have known it. It’s only when he’s with you alone do you see it. His body talks for him, his tail acts as an extra limb, stroking your hair as he holds you impossibly close. It holds you steady as he fucks you hard, so hard, your knees are bleeding. The intimacy is intense, and often you can feel his underlying sin simmering beneath. But you’re not afraid.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- Satan enjoys masturbating. He does it regularly - and it increased when you arrived, before he made his move. He uses it a lot to release his frustration and anger - sex and orgasms being such a good release for him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- Bondage with chains - on him especially. Satan is definitely a switch, and in scenarios like this, he enjoys being the sub, wrapped in heavy, enchanted chains to dampen his demonic powers - or hurt him - when he tries to use them. He likes to feel the weight of them over ropes or ribbons - truly something he cannot escape. His rage and body contained and in your hands. He especially loves doing this for a long session, and not necessarily with lots of sexual stuff. But things like: -Pain. Use your heels. Use candles. Use blunt objects against his skin, marking him. He especially enjoys this as a distraction when his anger gets so much he doesn’t know what else to do. Bind him and gently hurt him. Then fuck him. -Edging. Edge the fuck out of this boy. Do it. Do it now.

Roleplay! This is one Satan likes to keep very quiet, but he loves to roleplay his favourite book/tv characters and scenarios with you. It’s really quite cute because he really enjoys keeping to the exact scripts and dialogue sometimes, and dressing up like the characters. Sometimes he’ll make up his own scenarios with fun tropes for you both to act out. It’s one of his absolute guilty pleasures. Please indulge the boy.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- The library is a natural favourite of course. The smell of books, old and new, is a favourite for him. Lucifer’s study :3 He’s slowly ticking off all the surfaces in there. Both of you find it hard to keep down your laughter during those ventures. His bedroom, over yours. He’s always felt your room is too impersonal - it hasn’t spent long enough as yours. It’s just going to be the next exchange student’s isn’t it? Satan is all about sentimentality.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- Particular smells are a turn on for Satan; the smell of books, the tea you drink; the moisturiser you use on your hands; the smell of the first meal you shared together; the flowers you keep in your room. It’s specific, and sometimes obscure, but you begin to understand what pushes his buttons, and you gently rub that moisturiser on your hands - slowly - some mornings at breakfast before class, catching his eye; you bring a pot of your favourite tea to the lounge while he’s reading, watching as he turns the pages slower. Satan won’t easily admit it, but he’s hugely turned on by short shorts and short skirts. He loves things being teased, while also just being covered. Entice him.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

- Don’t call him daddy when he’s the dom. It does not do it for him. Something something Lucifer issues. -Like many demons, there’s not much he won’t do if you are okay with it. They are demons after all :3

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- Satan loves to receive. He can run his hands through your hair, he can watch you take as much of him in as you can, and if you really want to treat him, put on some kitty ears and a tail butt plug, so he’s looking down at you on your knees dressed as such, and it’s a delight. He’ll never shy away from giving, and sixty-nine is really fun for him since it feels more involved.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- Satan has no shame in admitting his preference is fast and rough. It’s one of the best releases for his anger, and after admitting this to you, he tells you that sex has so often just been that - a release. Something to keep something else in check. But with you - he wants it to be different. He knows the need will always be there for that release of his wrath, but with you, he’s felt growth, and he doesn’t want to go back. Sometimes it’s so fast and rough you ache for days after. But he always, always tends to you after. And he won’t touch you again until you are absolutely ready. You both understand how rough it can get, and he needs to make sure you know that. There’s a safe word there, and an action, when your mouth is otherwise occupied. In honesty, it’s the best sex you’ve ever had.

-When he’s slow and sensual though, he makes it count. It’s loving, it’s intensely intimate, and you feel like you’re being utterly adored, from head to toe.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- Quickies are one of Satan’s favourite things. Sometimes if he’s taken over by a bout of anger, or he’s just fucking horny, he’ll grab you for a quickie at RAD, or in the nearest room in Lamentation. He doesn’t mind who ends up taking charge. The riskier, the better.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- Satan enjoys the risk of being caught. So doing it in risky places or scenarios he enjoys a lot. Although being someone who has experimented a lot sexually and has a lot to bring to the table, you are initially the one to suggest a lot of things first because he holds so much of himself back with you. But when he starts to open up, and relax and trust, that changes.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

-Demons of course have a lot of stamina, and Satan is no different. As long as you need to go, he can go. Sometimes though, when Satan is driven by his wrath, it feels as though he can go even longer than normal, and you gently remind him that you are still human. He can cum a good few times in a long session. He prefers the build up and to make himself last.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- Satan has a gorgeous and impressive collection of cock rings. From normal human ones, to magical infused Devildom ones especially for his demon shaped cock. He enjoys them for their aesthetic as much as their effect. -Because he loves using his hands, Satan has a lot of unusual things that can be put on the fingers and inserted to increase stimulation. Or just things that he can use with his hands on you. And not always downstairs either. Stimulation for the nipples - and if you’re okay with it - temporary magical clamps and piercings for the back and spine for some foreplay. -Toys are quite a fun and integral part of your sexual relationship. Especially during foreplay. Satan enjoys the build up - more so on himself. He likes to see you succumb to as many orgasms as his hands can serve until you cannot move. And the toys extend out to bondage play gear - with softer things for your human body like rope and ribbons, rather than magic infused demon chains......unless you want to use them, of course. He has a set of custom chains that fit his horns, hands and tail all together in a beautiful arc. -He also has a delightful collection of gags to quieten his - and your - moans. But he especially enjoys them being used on him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- There is an urgency to Satan that sometimes eclipses his desire to tease. He wants, he wants and he just has to have. However, in his more calm moments, he likes to be teased. When you figure out his turn-ons, he enjoys the show you put on with them to entice him and draw him in, seeing how long he will last until you’re dragged off to the nearest room, or simply right where you are. -However, sometimes during sex, he enjoys being teased, especially if you’re in the position of the dom, and vice versa. One of his favourite things is seeing how long it takes for you to tease out his demon form when he’s purposely holding it back.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- Satan tries to make himself quiet - he wants to be - but he’s loud. You usually have to stuff his mouth with something - your hand, some clothing, sometimes he uses his tail. He makes quick, low, guttural noises, raw and menacing that match the demonic he often speaks during sex. Sometimes you let the gag slip, desperate to hear more of his feral, demonic sounds. They sound so unlike anything you know or have heard before, and they drive you wild.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- Satan likes to fuck you with his tail while he reads a book, making himself simply listen to you, and feel you through the touch of his tail while his eyes, his mind, are otherwise occupied. It somehow feels....dirty to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

-It’s coloured and textured the same as his tail. It takes a bit of getting used to, especially since it’s really thick. On the underside, there’s a large indent, about the depth to sit your finger, and you just love running your tongue along it. And you soon find out it’s very, very sensitive. There’s no defining shaped tip like a human cock.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- His drive is pretty high. He doesn’t mind one bit if you can’t - or don’t want to - keep up with it. You feel sometimes that his horny is in tandem with his rage, and that he tries to keep it pushed down or locked away until it just explodes. But it’s always, always there, simmering away, needing to be tended.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

- Satan doesn’t really fall asleep quickly after. He’s so used to casual sex and leaving after, that falling asleep next to someone takes some getting used to. He also struggles a lot with insomnia, so he worries about that, and worries about you sleeping next to someone like him. It’s sometimes why he likes to be the little spoon with you, to nestle in and at least pretend he’s asleep in your arms - sometimes he hopes he can fool you, until he actually starts to fall asleep there, and it’s the best sleep of his thousands of years.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me masters #obey me satan #satan/mc #obey me smut #desdi writes #my writing

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sourwolphs · 3 years

Text

Like an Animal - Bucky x Reader (5/8)

Read on Ao3 (for better interface + formatting)

Summary: Reader is an enhanced Omega kidnapped by Hydra and trapped in a cell with Alpha Bucky Barnes. Tags: A/B/O, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending Warnings: Rated M A/N: Angst ;) And Bucky being cute as all hell. Leave a comment on Ao3 if you’re enjoying!

The sound of Bucky’s door slamming down the hallway resounded like a thud in my chest. At the risk of sounding like a hopelessly romantic, dopey-eyed Omega, it felt like something cracked inside of me.

For the briefest moment in the lounge, I had caught his scent— that Alphacomforthomesafe scent I’d searched for for weeks. Just a hint of it had sent a jolt of electricity, hope and relief through my entire being. We’d locked eyes— his facial expression carefully blank, beard unshaven and growing long, hand gripping white-knuckled into the strap of his duffle bag, before he had fled to his room— leaving behind the confusing, raw scents of guilt and despair behind him.

Natasha and Steve both looked to me in concern, before engaging in a silent conversation through their facial expressions. Both smelled overwhelmingly of unease, but neither said anything to abate the awkward tension suffusing the room. Steve gave a lame excuse for Bucky, looking bewildered as he did so— something about the other Alpha having a rough few weeks, but I quickly bowed out of the lounge, retreating back to my apartment to process the heartbreaking fact that he’d been away, and now that he was back, he clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

Maybe he was just shy, I thought, self-comforting. But he hadn’t been shy in that cell. He’d been quick to introduce himself, to alleviate my fear by baring his throat to me.

Maybe I’d made him uncomfortable. Had I made him uncomfortable? It’s not like I could stop myself from falling into a sympathy heat, especially under the influence of an Alpha purr.

Then there was the other creeping, dreadful thought that had been plaguing my thoughts for the past few weeks: Maybe he already has an Omega.

I hadn’t smelled one on him in that cell, hadn’t felt a bond mark on his neck, but both could have been hidden under the scents of rut and fear, and the filth of our surroundings.

I even briefly worried that he was Wanda’s mate, since I’d never met the Alpha she always spoke about with a soft and wistful smile. But when I tentatively asked after her mate later that night during our evening Full House marathon, she had given me a sad smile and told me he was working off-world.

I barely slept the night after Bucky came home. Knowing that he was just a floor away made the longing even harder, my Omega anxious and desperate for comfort. I shuffled through a hundred different explanations— each more frustrating and heartbreaking than the last— for why he’d been away for so long, why he’d reacted the way he did when he saw me, why his scent had reeked of guilt and sadness.

But above all— my Omega worried viciously whether he was okay. The connection I felt to him burnt bright and hot within me, tugging at my heart. Find Alpha. Comfort Alpha.

I tried my hardest to bury my thoughts deep down, feeling like a crazy person. Bucky barely knew me, and here I was lying in bed, staking a mental claim on him like some feral, unsocialized Omega. For all I knew, he was snuggled up with his bondmate, recovering from the turmoil of our kidnapping in his or her embrace, thoughts of me all but forgotten.

The next day, I moved tentatively around the compound, bracing myself for an interaction. I’d run through one hundred potential scenarios in my mind— one hundred introductions, one hundred apologies, one hundred questions I wanted answered. But one day stretched into two, stretched into a week, without anything more than a flash of his retreating form as he exited the gym before I entered one afternoon.

Despite his intentional or unintentional attempts to avoid me, he couldn’t erase his lingering scent, which tucked itself into every available corner of the compound, driving my Omega insane with want and worry.

Rationally, I knew that the compound smelled like everyone— like determined Steve after a boxing match, like Sam’s bubbly joy over breakfast, like Wanda’s gentle concern, like Natasha’s smug laughter, like Stark’s curiosity.

But even knowing that I could smell everyone didn’t stop my Omega from catching his scent in every room— musky, heady cedar, warm and inviting campfire. It was maddening.

On top of the Alpha scent that left my brain in a muddled haze, there was also the situation with the gifts.

They weren’t really gifts. But, I didn’t know what else to call them.

The first one appeared three days after Bucky returned to the compound.

When I shuffled out to the kitchen around six am for a coffee and some eggs with Sam, I found my favorite mug (a cute green ceramic one made to look like a tin camping cup) already set out on the countertop, along with a spoon, a pot of sugar and a folded napkin. Next to it, the coffee pot was spitting out the last few dregs of brew— fresh and hot.

At first, I thought it was Sam who’d prepped the coffee for me, and a warm smile spread across my face at the Beta’s sincere care and friendship. But then he appeared ten minutes later, still in his camo pajamas, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes, and I frowned. Sam and I were the only early risers around here, as far as I knew. But maybe he’d fallen back asleep after getting up to make coffee.

The next day, my yoga mat was missing from its usual spot tucked high into a cubby on the wall in the gym. Figuring I’d left it in Natasha’s training room, I headed in that direction, only to find it rolled up neatly right outside the door, along with a massive, full water bottle and a charged pair of StarkPods. Weird. These Avenger Betas sure do let the hero thing get to their head, I thought. Sure enough, Natasha was already inside, balancing in a graceful arabesque as I readied myself for yoga. I thanked her with a smile and nod, which she returned.

The day after that, Steve and I got way too riled up on our morning run with Sam, and I tried to outpace him (failing, spectacularly) one too many times, causing me to have to limp back home with blisters on the back of my heels from my running shoes. After a shower in my room, I nearly tripped over a little pile of blister bandages and antibiotic cream sitting outside my door, which I snatched up, eager not to have to poke around the medbay for something as simple as band-aids. Even Steve was getting in on this babying nonsense, I thought. Maybe I wasn’t hiding my distressed Omega scent as well as I’d thought, moping around after Bucky.

Later that week, I meandered down to the movie room for another previously scheduled watch party with Sam. I got there about 20 minutes early, planning to stake out my favorite spot before the others arrived, but I found Wanda already in the movie room, flicking through channels on the projector-TV. She was working her way through a bag of crispy Gozinaki— her favorite sweet snack from her childhood in Sokovia. Steve always made sure to keep bags of it stocked in the common kitchen, attentive Alpha provider as he was.

In my usual spot on the shaggy brown couch rested a fluffy, folded plaid blanket, with a pair of soft gloves on top.

“Aw, Wanda, you didn’t have to do this,” I said, scooping up the blanket to tug around my shoulders, my inner Omega shivering in delight at the cozy texture. Perfect for a nest, my mind unhelpfully supplied. The past couple of movie nights, I’d been complaining about my cold hands, especially after long afternoons training with Wanda left my limbs frigid and achy from the force of my abilities. Sometimes it took hours to get my skin back to a human-feeling temperature. I slipped the navy blue gloves on gratefully.

Wanda looked over at my snuggled up form and quirked a brow. “Those were there when I got here. I thought you left them for tonight,” she said curiously.

I looked down at the blanket as if it would give me an answer, then brought it up to my face for a curious sniff. The faintest scent of cedar wood hit my nose.

Alpha.

I felt a whoosh in my head and stomach, like I was floating away from my body, and knew I must have had a dazed expression on my face.

If Bucky had left the blanket and the gloves… Maybe it wasn’t Sam who’d prepped my coffee. Maybe it wasn’t Natasha with the yoga mat and the water, or Steve with the blister bandages.

But why would Bucky…

“I can hear the gears turning in your brain from over here,” Wanda interrupted. “I take it it wasn’t you who left that pile down here?”

I shook my head, biting my lip as I muddled through my thoughts. If I was going to talk about what I’d been feeling for Bucky with anyone, Wanda would be the least likely to judge. She was a fellow Omega, after all.

“Can I ask you something? About your mate?” I hedged.

Wanda nodded, brushing crumbs from her lap before standing to sit down next to me on the shaggy couch. “Anything.”

“I’ve been here for over a month, and I still haven’t met him. And I wonder— What does it… feel like. For you. When he’s away.”

Wanda smiled, soft and wistful. “My mate is the Vision. He is not really human, but he was programmed as an Alpha, and when we mated, he gave me his mark,” she explained, reaching up to the back of her neck to press her hand to her mating gland. I had seen the shiny silver scars before, when Wanda had swept her hair up into a ponytail off the back of her neck during a training sesh.

“Even though he is not human— he does not have a scent as you or I do— I still struggled with what we Sokovians call gajovi. It means “heart-rending,” the feeling when you are separated from your bondmate. The longer we have been bonded, the easier it is to be apart. But I still sometimes feel the ache. Like a physical pain, inside,” she offered, moving her hand to the center of her chest, the same place where I had felt the same unbearable ache for weeks.

I took a deep breath, willing my scent to stay calm as anxiety, uncertainty and confusion warred in my mind. I feel the same thing.

“Do you ever feel like you need him… to fall asleep?” I asked, cheeks flushing. Even though we had grown close, I still felt uncomfortable asking Wanda about my craving for Bucky’s purr, as it was such an intimate act between mates.

“I have a feeling we are no longer talking about Vision,” she murmured, no judgement on her face. She placed a comforting hand on my knee, and I felt some of the tension in my body release slowly. “Sometimes it feels impossible to sleep. To eat. To even get out of bed. A bond is the most beautiful and powerful connection you can have, but it also makes you vulnerable. When things are bad, I can… feel him. Through the bond. We support each other,” she explained. Wanda closed her eyes momentarily, and I knew she was reaching through her bond to feel her mate, thousands of miles away. A warm smile crept across her face as whatever she was projecting through the universe was returned in kind.

While I was undeniably happy for Wanda and her mate, my heart ached at the realization that I was experiencing the same or similar withdrawal symptoms after my time with Bucky. But without a bondmark on my neck, without the connection she used to draw soothing strength from her mate, I was drifting— alone in a sea of longing and pain.

Wanda scented my sour sadness, giving me an empathetic look. “Do you? Have a bondmate?”

I saw her eyes flick towards my neck, where a bond mark would be, knowing that she had already seen my gland void of any bite scars.

I shook my head, looking down at my still-gloved hands in my lap.

Wanda opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. Instead, she placed one hand in mine.

I wondered, then, if she knew more than she was letting on.

“When will Vision be home?” I asked, changing the subject and forcefully shaking off my sadness.

“This month,” she said, unable to hide the smile that crept across her face.

“What’s got the lovely ladies down?” Sam teased, interrupting our moment as he stepped into the movie room with a massive, unopened bag of Cajun-spiced Lays tucked under his arm.

Steve was right behind him, looking cozy in what was probably an XXXL hooded red sweatshirt. He came up behind my couch wordlessly, wrapping me up in a huge bear hug. I laughed, leaning into him and allowing his comforting Alpha scent to wipe away the remaining tendrils of my unease drifting in the air. I’d learned quickly that Steve was generous with his affection, and extremely protective— the type of Alpha an Omega could only dream of finding. Not an aggressive and possessive knothead, but a supportive provider and protector— always there when you needed him, but never overbearing.

Just like Bucky, my brain unhelpfully supplied. I shook away the thought. You barely know him.

I could hardly focus on the movie Sam selected, some Russell Crowe action flick set in Ancient Rome. I was too lost in my thoughts, curled up in the blanket Bucky had inexplicably left for me, squished between Steve and Wanda on the couch.

If I didn’t know better, it would seem like Bucky was trying to court me with these weird offerings, like some old-fashioned, 1940s Alpha would woo an Omega with flowers and chocolates. But even if he was, that didn’t explain his flightiness, or the bond withdrawal-like symptoms I was experiencing, or the frightening possibility that it was just me suffering from them. Faulty Omega.

Either way, after my conversation with Wanda, my resolve had hardened. I had to confront Bucky, even though my inner Omega withered at the thought. I needed to know if he was feeling the same way I was. And if not? Well, then— I’d cleared the air. That was that. I’d give him his space, leaving the compound and the pack behind if I had to. Go back to being on my own.

The thought made my hands tremble.

I clasped them resolutely in my lap, leaning closer into Steve’s absurdly thick bicep for comfort. At least for now, I could enjoy this.

————

Bucky has officially gone insane. After over 70 years of world war, Hydra torture, memory loss, coerced assassinations, cry0 chambers, getting dusted by a purple space god and fighting a war of disgusting aliens, it was one cute but deadly Omega that pushed his ancient Alpha ass over the edge.

After their disastrous reunion in the lounge, Bucky made it his personal mission to evade Y/N at all costs. He knew he was leaving the stink of shame all over the compound— both Steve and Sam called him out on it after they’d watched him flee the gym upon Y/N’s arrival one day— but even his snarling inner Alpha couldn’t get him to soften his resolve. There’s a reason he and Steve were thick as thieves from the jump— they were both infuriatingly stubborn people.

Y/N was happy here. That much was obvious. She left behind that peppermint-and-snow scent wherever she went— sweet with her joy, sharp with her determination— and he caught himself taking deep, pathetic inhales when she’d recently left a room that he’d entered.

In the mornings, he could hear her in the common room kitchen with Sam, laughing and bickering over the smell of eggs and bacon. In the movie room at night, right underneath his apartment, his super-soldier hearing clued him in to the team’s laughs and murmurs, the musical sound of her voice— unintelligible through the floor but soothing to his Alpha ears nonetheless.

He’d watched from a distance through the bulletproof glass a few times as she’d trained in the reinforced rooms with Wanda. Each time he spotted her she looked more and more powerful, more in control of the abilities that Hydra had kept locked away in restraints when they’d met in the cell. Wanda would watch patiently nearby, her red magic coiling along her fingers in anticipation as Y/N breathed in deeply, drawing her hands up in an elegant swoop along her midline before forcing them outwards in a jab, sending a spray of deadly ice shards at the steel wall, where they left hundreds of minuscule puncture wounds. Some days, the two Omegas would spill out a gallon of water on the floor, and Y/N would lift and arc it up into frozen creations, an intricate, jagged weapon or a delicate, curving flower, leafs of ice ivy crawling up the walls or pillars of impenetrable cold built from ceiling to floor.

What tore at him the most, though, even more than her delicious scent, which lingered on everything— and enticed more than a few embarrassing hard-ons he had to flee to his room to hide— was her scent mingled with another Alpha’s.

One Alpha in particular that hurt more than any other.

It hadn’t escaped Bucky’s notice that Y/N and Steve were spending lots of time together. Steve accompanied her on her morning runs— sometimes with Sam, sometimes without— but they always returned to the common areas flushed, sweaty and smiling, pumping out happy, sated pheromones. He’d passed the movie room and the lounge more than a few times to find her curled particularly close to him, his arm around the back of the couch behind her or her head resting against his bicep.

He’d even seen her and Steve sparring in the gym, Natasha and Sam cheering and whooping from the sidelines as she held her own against his restrained moves— a punch here, a kick there, which she dodged and delivered right back. They were comfortable in each other’s space. Comfortable enough that he’d even spotted her sleeping on the red lounge couch next to Steve one day, a book open in her lap while he sketched away in his notebook, using her hand draped off the side as an anatomy study. Her red socked feet were pillowed in his lap.

That mental image had kept Bucky up for a few nights, his Alpha flushed with an instinctual, possessive rage that he shoved shamefully down into the darkest recesses of his brain.

He couldn’t be mad. Even if his Alpha was roaring at him to step forward, to stake his claim, to pick her up and drown her in his scent, to crawl into her nest and cover her completely with his body.

He couldn’t be mad because she had sized up both Alphas and made what even he knew was the correct decision. Of course she had.

Why choose Bucky— broken, red-ledgered, half-vibranium, nightmare-riddled Bucky— when you could have the human embodiment of a golden retriever? Steve. The model Alpha. A gentle, caring provider— never aggressive or out of control, always protective, supportive and calm.

Plus, super-serum aside, Steve had always been handsome. Y/N wasn’t blind.

All of that is to say that Bucky hadn’t meant to start offering her gifts. It was his Alpha instinct, is all. Some feral, competitive nature still ingrained in his hindbrain. An instinct left over from a more primitive civilization, one where he would have had to prove to his Omega that he could be the best provider.

And if nothing else, leaving her the gifts soothed the terrible ache in his chest, helped him sleep another hour at night as he lay there agonizing about her smell, remembering how her face had felt cradled in his neck.

Wondering if she was sleeping in her room alone or curled up in her nest with Steve.

He knew that what he was feeling, what he was doing, was beyond wrong. If she knew why he was leaving her these gifts, she’d feel threatened, or stalked. He would be the creepy Alpha desperate for her attention.

But his hindbrain didn’t care. Alpha will provide.

It first started when he noticed that she always left the same green cup in the sink after breakfast. So one day, he got up early to leave it out for her— alongside a napkin, a spoon and the pot of sugar— though he didn’t yet know how she took her coffee. He also started the coffee pot just in case, slipping back to his room before she woke up, machine still whirring behind him.

Then, he noticed that she always ran out of water halfway through her yoga sessions with Natasha after she almost stumbled upon him in the kitchen the few times she’d come up to refill it. So Bucky topped up a 36 ounce bottle he found in the kitchen instead and left it outside the training room. Just so she won’t get thirsty, he reasoned. He couldn’t resist leaving her the yoga mat and earbuds as well. It was nothing. Not an exorbitant expense. Just something she needed, and would have gotten for herself anyway. What does it matter that he bought them for her first?

Then, he heard Sam ribbing her about her bleeding heels after their morning run, so he scrambled to the medbay to ask Dr. Cho for bandages and antiseptic— much to her confusion, as he didn’t ever need either. He dropped the supplies outside her door before she could finish showering off her run.

Then, he overheard her complaining about her cold hands one night as he passed the movie room. Bucky had to fight to repress the growl in his throat as he watched Steve take her hands into his own, rubbing them together for warmth while she laughed. He went back to his room and asked FRIDAY to help him order a pair of top-rated, insulated gloves in navy blue— he liked that color, but didn’t know if she did— as well as a blanket marketed as “perfect for nesting,” because he has officially lost all self-control. While the rest of the pack was out, he snuck into the movie room to leave the soft bundle on the couch that smelled the most like peppermint.

After a full week of secretive little offerings, Bucky was curled up on his own couch with a book, rubbing absentmindedly at his chest where the constant ache felt sharpest, when he heard someone start to turn the knob on his door.

It had taken him a few years, but he’d stopped jumping at unexpected noises like this, though he still often caught himself subconsciously scenting for threats, unable to shake the conditioned hyper vigilance. His Alpha instinct to constantly be prepared for a fight, made infinitely worse by Hydra’s torture, had gradually mellowed out with the safe reassurance of living with a pack. Knowing he had people close by who would protect him and people he would fiercely protect in return had served as a balm for his PTSD symptoms.

Bucky scented him before he saw him, but Steve slipped through the door upon finding it unlocked, giving Bucky his signature golden boy smile, before plopping into the armchair across from him.

“Hey, jerk. Are you avoiding me? Are you okay?”

Bucky felt his hackles raise as he caught a lingering whiff of Y/N on Steve and willed his expression into nonchalance. “No,” he said, before returning his gaze pointedly to the pages of the novel that he wasn’t really reading. “What makes you think I’m not okay?”

“Well, for one, you’ve barely left your room since I dragged you back here from Brooklyn, your apartment reeks like your dog just died and you’ve almost rubbed a hole through your shirt.”

Bucky quickly snatched his hand away from his chest where he’d continued rubbing circles without even noticing he was doing it. “I don’t have a dog,” he replied snidely.

His words came out a bit more venomously than he intended, and Steve’s easygoing expression faltered. Shit. He hadn’t meant to take his Alpha bullshit out on his best friend. It’s not like Steve was doing anything wrong. The problem was that he always did everything right.

“Sorry,” Bucky sighed, putting down his book and scraping a hand across his jaw, where his stubble was starting to border on a full-grown beard. Ugh. “I’m still just… processing.”

Steve gave him a concerned look, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You’re not still feeling guilty, are you?” Steve said. Bucky broke eye contact, studying the logo on the other Alpha’s oversized red sweatshirt instead. (“American University Est. 1918”— a gag gift from Tony last Christmas.)

“Buck— Come on, Y/N’s fine! Everyone loves her, and she’s doing great here. She doesn’t even talk about yo—“ Steve cut himself off, catching the grimace that flashed across Bucky’s face before he could reign it in. “I didn’t mean it like— She hasn’t even seen you, man, you’re always hiding away here or in the library.”

Bucky sighed again, tired yet begrudgingly appreciative of Steve’s attempts at soothing the issue. The other Alpha might not always know the right thing to say, but he was always earnest and honest about things.

“It’s okay, Steve, really. I just need some time, is all,” Bucky said, making a concerted effort to push out a less depressing version of his scent to mollify his best friend.

Steve gave him a tentative smile. “I talked to Fury about Y/N, by the way. Wanda told me she’s progressed a ton over the past month or so, you should really see her use her abilities in combat, it’s incredible! And Nat trusts her completely— you know she’s always the hardest to win over,” he said, his grin broadening. “I’m going to ask Y/N to join the team, officially, this week.”

The ache in Bucky’s chest ramped up, throbbing like a bass drum, but he forced out what he hoped was a convincing smile, knowing it didn’t meet his eyes. “I’m glad she’s fitting in,” he said. And he was glad. He was thrilled to know that his Omega was safe, loved and happy, that she had grown her powers with Wanda, that Steve was asking her to join the Avengers.

Even though it meant that if he couldn’t get his own urges under control, he’d need to find a new pack.

“Why don’t you come join us downstairs? Sam’s putting on Gladiator in a few,” Steve added.

For a second, Bucky really considered it. He could sit through one movie with her, after all, without falling apart at the seams. He was a freaking super soldier Alpha. He’d survived Hydra.

Then he remembered the bundle of blanket and gloves he’d left sitting on the couch a few hours ago in anticipation of their movie night and decided against it. If she put two and two together in front of the pack, Bucky didn’t think he could explain his way out of that one.

“Maybe later,” Bucky said, lifting his book up in a half-hearted attempt to look occupied. Steve could see right through him, he knew, but the other Alpha just gave him a smile and a reassuring shoulder squeeze, before slipping out of the door.

It was better this way, Bucky thought. Better for everyone if he rode this out on his own.

His Omega was okay. That’s what mattered.

#my fic #like an animal #bucky x reader #bucky reader fic #bucky reader insert #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #marvel fic #bucky fic #bucky barnes fic

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aghostlybao · 3 years

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🏳️‍🌈 boggie

anon, thank you so much for responding to my post!! i give you bobby's first ever pride, boggie style!

multicolored steps to bravery

warnings: none. however, if you do find anything you think are triggering then pls send me a msg and tag the reblogs accordingly. thank you!

navigating through one’s gender/sexuality is confusing and overwhelming, especially when you’re at an age where society expects you to have an established sense of self. it is absolutely okay to remain uncertain of what label, if any, suits you best. and it is also okay to change the label you’ve chosen to identify yourself as somewhere down the line or to forgo labels altogether.

or bobby watches his friends grow && celebrate their gender/sexuality with pride while he ends up even more confused && thinks that he's running out of time to figure out where he belongs.

writing below the cut. excuse my grammar, english is difficult af but i hope you enjoy it

multicolored steps to bravery

There were times Bobby felt like an outsider, an audience witnessing the growth of his friends rather than growing with them. While Alex found out about his sexuality at 12, Luke following right after, and Reggie two years later, but Bobby at 18, still didn’t know where he belonged in the gender and sexuality spectrum. And every year, as his friends went through heartbreaks, his own experience never went past an awkward peck on the lips during a spin-the-bottle game when he was 13. While they grew confident and proud, showcasing their gender and sexuality, and becoming supportive figures to the younger students at their high school since sophomore year; Bobby reeled back and firmly smiled as others labeled him as the token straight friend of the group.

But at 23, Bobby finally found the courage to join his friends at the annual pride festivities, while still being 100% unsure of his identity. Bobby lounged on the living room sofa, feet nonchalantly propped up on the coffee table, and munched on sliced green apples dipped in sriracha sauce as they put the finishing touches to their outfits.

Reggie stole the fruit out of his hand, “you okay?”

“Yeah, Reg.” He happily fed the bassist another slice, “just sleepy.” Bobby was grateful that Reggie remained quiet about the obvious lie that came out of his mouth.

Reggie did a 360-degree turn on the spot and wiggled his fingers when he came to a stop. “What do you think? Willie painted the back panel,” he turned away and showcased the very artwork he was talking about, a bass guitar in the colors of the bisexual flag. “Julie added the studs!”

His own outfit, dull and monotone, wasn’t even worth comparing against their elaborate looks.

Bobby tried, really tried not to entertain him not belonging, or that it affected him every time a stranger screamed in delight, gave them high fives, and with some going as far as giving hugs because of the colors that adorned their bodies. But it was difficult not to when they were bouncing with so much excitement that it made his head spin. Reggie’s presence didn’t even register until his hand received a comforting squeeze. “You okay, Bee?”

When had he stopped walking? Bobby mechanically smiled, forcibly making the outer corner of his eyes crinkle. “yeah dude, just got lost in my thoughts. We should catch up with them.” Neither of them moved from the spot.

Right before them were rows of pride flags varying in sizes and colors to represent the entire LGBTQIA+ community. The growing crowd turned into a blur of multicolored identities, from Alex and his partner, Willie in their rainbow splattered dungarees with the demisexual flag painted on one of Willie’s pant leg to Luke’s arms covered in swirls of pink, yellow, and cyan. And Reg, Reggie’s leather jacket customized with magenta, lavender, and royal blue studs, and the hand-painted bass guitar in the same colors was a stark contrast to his full black outfit.

“Reg?” Bobby still didn’t have the answer to the question he’s been asking himself since Alex came out to them at 12, “I don’t think I’m straight... or gay, or bi, or pan…” He continued when Reggie took hold of both his hands, a silent encouragement to keep going. “Actually, I have no clue what to identify as, not the way all of you do. I-I thought I was asexual but then I found out about its sub-identities, then people started referring to me as the token straight.”

Bobby rolled his shoulders back, lifting his head to return Reggie’s gaze. “I was hoping I’d have it all figured out by now but I’m thinking that it may never happen.” He briefly searched for any sign that he should stop talking but Reggie met uncertainty with a soft smile. “I like you.” He dropped to a squat, groaning in frustration. Talk about finesse. He swore under his breath, “I had this entire confession planned out, and I fu-And you’re laughing at me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I’ve never heard you speak for long or look so scared. Remember that rottweiler living across the school and Luke dared me to go pet it?”

“Yeah, you cried and fainted.”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t get it…”

“That’s how I feel towards you!”

“You’re... scared of me?”

Reggie crouched down in front of him, beaming, “yeah! Wait. No! I was in the beginning, you were super cool and I told the guys that it was unfair how you owned the ‘haven’t slept but still hot’ look while I looked like a turtle every morning!” Halfway through his ramblings, the two of them had changed their position and comfortably sat crossed-legged in the middle of the street. Bobby was far too entranced to care about the looks of annoyance being thrown at them.

“My point is,” he pursed his lips, “I like you too, Bobby.” To prevent Bobby from countering, Reggie pushed his cheeks together, making him look like an inverted version of a pufferfish.

“And before you ask, it’s good enough for me. We don’t even have to put a label on it!”

“I don’t know... being called your boyfriend sounds nice.”

“It does?”

“Yeah, Reg.”

“Okay, boyfriend.”

“Ew.” Bobby quickly stood up, cackling as Reggie chased him through the multicolored crowd.

#anon response #jatp one shot #jatp au #boggie #bobby jatp #bobby supremacy #reggie peters #jatp drabble #boggie brain rot #jatp #just writing stuff #short one shot #astrowritings

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writingmanaged · 4 years

Text

Fluff Alphabet (Sirius Black)

Ship: Sirius Black x Reader

Triggers: Just mentions of alcohol and sex.

A/N: This is my first post and I hope you all enjoy it! I saw these abcs a lot on tumblr and I thought, why not! I decided to make a new alphabet instead of copying one because I thought it would be much more fair. Without further adu, let's go to the fic!

Α - Activities (Hobbies and things you like to do together)

It is no surprise to anyone that Sirius adores his motorcycle. He simply adores the feeling of the air on his face, pulling his hair back while he looks down at the sight of London. It would only make it better for him, if you were with him too admiring the view and wrapping your arms around him. Perhaps you'd be frightened at first, but he'd make sure to make you understand you are in no danger while he is around. Well, almost.

B - Baby (do they want to have a baby with you?)

Not really. Don't get him wrong, he simply wants his freedom. He thinks you are too young and you should enjoy your independence as much as you can. However, (if you are a fem!reader), as long as you tell him you are pregnant he changes his mind about that completely. Suddenly, he wants to protect that little human and make sure his or her childhood is much better than his own. (That makes him father material)

C - Comfort (how to they comfort you after a bad day?)

If there is one person who knows what it's like to have a bad day, that's Sirius Orion Black. Personally, he usually lets it out on alcohol or sex. But he would never let you do that. Instead he'd pour you just one light drink and let you tell him all about it while you rest in his arms. He'll try to be of help in every way possible. No one has the right to hurt his baby.

D - Dancing (do they like to dance with you?)

Oh yes! Sirius is an amazing dancer of all types. He will always drag you to the dance floor with him. If you like dancing, then prepare yourself for the best time of your life. If you don't, he'll still try to dance with you. Maybe by putting on some music in the dorm when it is empty and dancing in the dark.

E - Eating (meals together)

Sirius will make sure you always have 3 meals a day. During your Hogwarts days, he'll always check on you on all three meals. Both because he loves to stare at you, and to make sure you are eating properly. If you two live together, he will still do so. Do not expect him to cook. This boy barely even had to pour water himself. If you can't cook, however, he'll probably learn. Maybe you could have cooking lessons together.

F - Favourite (their favourite part on you)

Although everyone would expect him to be obsessed over your body (and don't get me wrong, he did love every aspect of it), his favourite part on you is actually your eyes. He just loves to stare inside of them and seeing your love for him reflect inside. They always give him a warm feel which must be what home is supposed to feel like.

G - Gifts (what it says)

It's no secret that this boy is rich. He would love to spend loads of money on you. He'd buy you the most expensive things. Everything you ever need is yours. You look at something in the store? He instantly buys it. If you feel uncomfortable with all this, he will try to restrain himself. You should still expect great gifts on birthdays, holidays and anniversaries whatsoever.

H - Hair (how you treat each other's hair)

Sirius is very fond of his hair. He takes extra care of them. He adores when you run your fingers through them or brush them for you. At times he may even allow you to braid them. At first he was a bit annoyed by it but seeing how it helped you relax it helped him relax as well. He may or may not go to classes looking like that-

I - Ironing (who does the chores?)

I know I've said this a lot, but Sirius was brought up in a rich household. Which means he never got to do chores. However, unlike common belief, he is above all a gentleman and would never let you do all the chores by yourself. He'd make sure you shared an equal amount of chores.

J - Jokes (would you pull jokes on each other)

You bet! Jokes are part of your daily life so you better get used to it. He would also adore to prank you. Your reactions are always so adorable to him. He can't help but life while you are scolding him for ruining your hair. But his laugh is so attractive that you sigh and start laughing along.

K - Kissing (how are their kisses?)

Deep, rough and passionate. He wants to show you how strong his feelings are through the kiss. He is also very demanding and wants to show off dominance. French kisses are his favourite. However, when times require it his kisses can be softer.

L - Lies (would you lie to each other?)

No. Sirius is a very honest person. He would feel most betrayed if you ever lied to him even about the slightest thing. He would also always tell you the truth. "Did you just eat the last piece of cake!?" ".....yes?"

M - Money (how do you handle money?)

Seeing as it is not an issue, he just spends it in all the ways possible. Perhaps he wanted to get rid of it for the shake of his parents. However, you (as the brains of the relationship) would make sure there are always some money aside in times of need.

N - No (things they are not okay with)

Sharing. Not with you, of course. He'd always share everything with you. His house, his clothes, his friends, his heart, they are all yours. However, you only belong to him. This is not an open relationship and if anyone stands too close to you well... They are on for a lifetime of hexing.

O - Outdoors (do you spend more time outdoors or indoors?)

Sirius is a very outgoing person. However, if you are introverted he would stay inside. He is into anything as long as you are there. Still, you should forget about quiet reading nights. Even if you stay in, time with Sirius is very active and loud.

P - Partying (do they like partying with you?)

He is the party animal. More specifically the party dog. This means you will get dragged along into parties a lot. If you like partying, then awesome! If you don't, he'll try to change your mind at first. If he can't, then he'll go without you only to grow tired of it eventually and stay inside with you.

Q - Question (marriage and how they feel about it)

He dreams of it actually. Only the thought of you being a Black, is enough to make him bear a huge grin on his face. Nevertheless, that is the case only after he met you. Beforehand, he wasn't so supportive about it. He was actually certain he would die single.

R - Right (do you argue a lot? Who usually wins?)

This depends on your personality of course. But you should know, this boy is very stubborn. With the correct arguements, you are the one who wins. But he is too stubborn to ever actually admit defeat.

S - Sick (taking care of each other when sick)

He barely ever gets sick, which means he is usually the one taking care of you. He doesn't care if he gets infected. Really, he just wants to take care of you and make sure you get better soon. He'll stay with you while you're sleeping and always race to bring you everything you need. Painkillers? The best in the market. Pillows? The softest. Soup? The tastiest. Hotel? Trivago.

T - Tears (do they cry a lot? Do they do it in front of you?)

Due to his background, he actually cries a lot. Especially when he finds out news about his family. But he would never do it in front of you. He isn't afraid of being seen as weak or anything like that, but he just doesn't want to make you sad.

U - Until death tears us apart (does your relationship last long? Do you ever get apart)

He wanted to stay with you forever. Unfortunately, we all know he has to spend 13 years in Azkaban prison. If you still love him, he would be very happy to get back with you when he comes out. If not, he would be heartbroken but understanding.

V - Victim (what do they do if someone blames you for something you didn't do?)

Oh boi. He would never let that go. He hates when things like this happened. When someone who is innocent gets punished (rings a bell?). He would do his best to get proof regarding your innocent and whoever blamed you... Let's just say they woke up in the infirmary the next day.

W - Working out (what it says)

Sirius likes to work out a lot. That's why his body is the way it is. He'd be delighted if you wanted to join me. He had always wished to do all these couple training.

X - Xoxo (how do they text?)

If phones existed in his era, he'd text you 24/7. Really all the time he wasn't with you, he'd text you. He would send a lot of memes that's for sure. He would also send you a lot of selfies and use emojis all the times. 💕

Y - Yours (Are they possesive? Do they get jealous a lot?

A lot! They would be jealous the second a guy is more than friendly. Don't get him wrong, he trusts you. It is the others he doesn't trust. He'd always rush to your side and wrap his arm around you, claiming you as his own.

Z - Zzzz... (How you sleep together)

He loves cuddling, especially if it is after making love. He'd like to hold you in his arms until morning. He hates to depart from you when you wake up so he'd pull you back down for some more cuddling and maybe even more if you are in the mood.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius #sirius x you #sirius x reader #sirius x y/n #marauders x reader #marauders #marauders era #harry potter marauders #harry potter headcanons #harry potter x reader #padfoot #snuffles #Sirius black x you #young sirius x reader #young sirius black #young sirius imagine

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starkerintheparker · 4 years

Text

starker reclist - AUs

Hey guys! Welcome to the second part of my personal Starker reclist, dedicated to AUs. Last week I posted my canon-based recs, you can find them here.

I tried to incorporate as many tropes as I could, hoping everyone will find something special within their interests. There are a few a/b/o and underage fics, all properly tagged in case anyone wishes to avoid them. I also tried to highlight soulmate AUs because I reckon it’s a somewhat popular trope. Enjoy! ❤️

Last updated: April 25th, 2020. All new fics added will be marked with ***

• 007 AU by @darker-soft-starker (T, 4k, completed)

Summary: Undercover and bored at an art auction, Tony finds entertainment in Peter Parker.

Review: Look, I’m a simple woman. Daniel Craig has owned my ass ever since Casino Royale and I was reading 00Q and Hartwin before I even shipped Starker. Point is, I like spy movies, ok?! So naturally I couldn’t leave this fic out of my reclist. I you need further incentive, consider this quote: “What, a little late night espionage not romantic enough for you?” Peter retorts, whipping a pistol out from his jacket and aiming it at Tony’s chest.

• 3 Times I Told You I Loved You & 1 Time You Said It Back by @starkeristheendgame (E) background Peter/Steve, Peter/Bucky, Peter/Scott

Summary: Peter Parker confesses his love to Tony Stark three times. Once at ten, once at fifteen and once at twenty. Finally convinced that Tony will never love him back, Peter ventures out into a different path, desperate to find the love he seeks from someone else. But you know what they say about star-crossed lovers.

Review: This lovely fic holds a very special place in my heart. I’m so invested I decided to wait until it’s finished so I can read it all in one sitting. Peter’s longing and heartbreak hurt my poor soul but I trust Jensen to give me that promised Starker endgame - I know it will be glorious when it finally comes.

• A Night on the Town by @scarletmanuka1 (G, 2.3k, completed)

Summary: Nightclub AU. Years after the events of Endgame, Tony has hit rock bottom. The Snap left him crippled, Pepper has abandoned him and has taken Morgan with her, and he's feeling old and lonely. Peter arranges a night out at the nightclub that he works at to try and cheer Tony up.

Review: I love get together fics, especially if it involves oblivious!Tony getting his shit together and going after his man. Seeing him bitter and broken after Thanos was hard, but special kudos to IronBros moments because that friendship is true goals!

• Age of Adeline by @starkerforlife6969 (completed) background Harley/Peter, Bucky/Peter, Wade/Peter

Review: I’d never in a million years think about this movie as a Starker AU but gosh, this is everything I needed in my life and it completely devastated me but I loved every minute of it. As a devoted monoshipper, I was surprised to realize that I got emotionally involved with all pairings, even more so with Starker, which totally paid off. Gorgeous, powerful and heartfelt. God bless SFL.

• assume makes ass for u and me by @pretty-well-funded (M, 1.6k, completed) tw underage

Summary: In Tony’s defense, he was sure the kid was a rent boy.

Review: This 1.6k fic caught me completely off guard and now I’m crying because I need MORE. I love the premise, the dialogue is criminally good, their voices are amazing and I can’t get enough of cheeky!Peter charming Tony with his wit and filthy mind.

• Bamf!secretary Peter by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed)

Review: Who could ever resist some corporate espionage drama with bamf!Peter leaving Tony speechless and horny? Not me. I’d read more 30k of this verse because competent, sassy Peter Parker is such a kink, omg.

• Biker!Tony by @starkerforlife6969 (T, completed) Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Review: Same age AUs are not usually my thing but I can’t resist cute high school sweethearts written by this fandom goddess. Plus, protective!Tony calling Peter “doll” does things to my heart - and Peter’s.

• Breaking Character by @cagestark (E, 8.3k, completed)

Summary: Tony Stark, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, and spy for SHIELD. Working with another SHIELD spy, the infamous Spider, he will take down an infamous human trafficking ring in New York. But the act they have to put on will demand more from Tony than he ever thought he'd have to give. Not that he minds.

Review: The spy trope seriously needs more fic like this one, because I’ll have bamf!Peter lying back to save his country while Tony freaks out any day. Cage hits the perfect balance between plot building, fantastic sexual tension, clever dialogue and the hottest smut sequence. What a ride! (Pun intended).

• Curiosity Killed the Cat by @areluctantsblog (T, 1.5k, completed)

Summary: Peter has been modelling in an art school for years. He's used to strangers' eyes roaming his body - clothed or naked - and he knows that it's not him they are looking at. Not him who they are interested in. He's just a model, a tool for their work. And for a long time he doesn't notice the one pair of eyes that, despite seeing him but rarely, is looking right at him.

Review: Very soft and atmospheric, this fic left me in a bit of a daze and it took me a while to realize it was over. Great writing will do that to you.

• Detective!Tony, Graffiti Artist!Peter by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed)

Review: Oh don’t mind me, just appreciating this author’s talent at writing from the filthiest smut to the softest “Tony saves Peter in all ways that matter” like this ficlet. We stan.

• Eat at Pete’s by feyrelay + glorious art by @peachbabypie (E)

Summary: Peter gives him an unimpressed look, “If you didn’t do your work, then you wouldn’t be able to earn my time though, would you?” Pfft. “Kid, I have more money than god. I can splurge on your delicious pancakes and attention, trust me,” Tony informs him loftily. Peter smiles that wicked, crooked little smile that's just for him. It's not even and perfect like his the-customer-is-always-right one that's more frequently on offer. “I didn’t say you couldn’t afford it. I said you wouldn’t have earned it.”

Review: How can we ever say no to dom!Peter putting Tony in his place and hopefully on his dick + Tony loving every second of it?? Their dynamics are fantastic and that TASTY COUNTER DIALOGUE KILLS ME. EVERY TIME. Check it out and come scream with me: sub!Tony rights :D

• Fire and Ice by LeafyGreenQueen773 (M, 3k, completed) Soulmate AU

Summary: AU where when someone writes on his or her skin, the same thing shows up on their soulmate in the same place as a Mark that fades away in a few hours.

Review: This was the first Starker soulmate fic I’ve read and it made my heart ache so soft and good. Lovely and bittersweet, quiet and painfully honest.

• Genius, Acrobat, Playboy, Philanthropist by @scarletmanuka1 (E, 28k, completed)

Summary: After Peter's aeriel acrobatics partner, Adrian Toomes is fired from The Avengers Circus Troupe for theft, he is shocked to discover that his replacement is non other than legendary performer, Tony Stark - the man that Peter had hero worshipped since he first learned how to tumble.

Review: After reading this fic I realized I need more Circus AUs in my life. I could read jealous idiots falling in love while doing beautiful acrobatics for the rest of my days. Original plot, nice character development and I really appreciated how the author inserted little canon things here and there.

• Happy to Disappoint by @deaded-blush (M, 60k, completed) tw underage, domestic violence

Summary: Adrian Toomes is in quite deep with notorious mob boss Tony Stark. But when Tony comes to collect the debt owed, he's surprised to discover Toomes has an adoptive son. The chance meeting changes the direction of both their lives...

Review: Hands down one of the best Mafia!AUs I’ve ever seen. Read it all in one sitting and by the end I was SHOOKETH and utterly obsessed with this story. Nothing about it is okay so brace yourself for whump!Peter and lots of h/c. Bonus points for an incredibly satisfying ending that will make you gasp out loud.

• Hey Baby, Slip between my Beta-Pleats and get to know my Alpha-Helix? by @starkerforlife6969 and @darker-soft-starker (E, 37k, completed) A/B/O

Summary: Even though Tony can't tell the difference between Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo, Peter really has no other choice. His heat is around the corner, so even though he loathes the party-going, booze drinking, smug playboy know-it-all that is Tony Stark. He'll just have to do.

Review: I can’t believe life went on as we know it (or did it??) after these two geniuses wrote together. This is the Starker version of “enemies to lovers” we all wanted and deserve, where spoiled-bratty-posh princess Peter finds the perfect balance for his chaotic energy in goofy-unapologetic-charming playboy Tony. Their falling in love is just so tender, so genuine and so good, it’s impossible not to cheer for these two sweethearts through this delightful, carefully crafted story.

• If you let me by @css1992 (E, 12k, completed)

Summary: Peter had tried dating younger guys, but it just didn’t do it for him. They were often too eager, too fast, too rough. Just too young, in general. Not that older men couldn’t be too much, too, Peter learned it the hard way. The man looking back at him from across the room seemed like a good one. He knew he shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but he was gorgeous. Possibly the most handsome man Peter had ever seen in his short life.

Review: I remember the first time I read this fic it hit me in such a powerful way I cried a bit and was too overwhelmed to do words and tell the author just how much I loved it. But I never forgot this fic or the way it made me feel. It’s so evocative, so sexy, so raw, so heartbreaking, so sweet and so gentle. Great atmosphere, even greater characterization and some of the hottest smut I’ve ever read. Treat yourself and check this out right now.

• I’ll be Home by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed) A/B/O

Summary: The story starts when Soldier Tony comes home for a few days, and is introduced to the love of his life.

Review: Will I ever stop reccing SFL’s works? Maybe, but today is not the day. This gorgeous, breathtaking fic attacked me in my own house during Christmas day and made me cry like a baby. I’m a sucker for reunion stories - the longing, the heartbreak, the power of endurance. This fic reminded me that no matter how long or difficult the journey, love will always find a way.

• Little Spider by @stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou) (E, 5k, completed)

Summary: Peter Parker is one of the country's best hitmen, known in the underworld as the Little Spider. He spends his days in the lap of luxury with his billionaire fiance Tony Stark, and his nights doing dirty work for various shady characters. Life is good, right up until someone puts out a hit on Tony and wants Peter to pull the trigger. It... might be time for them to have a talk.

Review: Omg this fic was so deliciously good in a totally surprising and sexy way. Bamf!Peter took my breath away with the perfect balance between his two personas. Tony getting off on that sheer power and confidence is a BIG MOOD and my second favorite thing in this fic. The first being the badass power couple they make.

• love somebody like you (E) by @intoxicatelou

Summary: five times Tony was Peter’s roommate and one time he was his soulmate instead.

Review: Who doesn’t love some forced proximity mixed with the unbeatable soulmate trope? This plot is the hottest take and my heart cannot handle young!Tony with his brilliant mind and sassy charm protecting and flirting with Peter, unfff feels everywhere *cries in Starker*

• Love Thy Neighbour by @darker-soft-starker (T, 2.3k, completed)

Summary: Tony's new neighbour is kinda weird.

Review: I know I keep saying that same age!AUs are not really my thing but I’m the softest bitch for feel-good, cozy domesticity, and I love how this charming story shows that ordinary life become magical when shared with someone special. I could babble all night about how eccentric and confident Peter seduces our man of science that for once has absolutely no idea of what’s going on - but you really should see it for yourself right now :)

• Mafia Boss!Tony Break Up Make Up by @starkerforlife6969 (E, completed)

Review: Man, this fic was so rude to my heart. The heartbreak, the rough sex, the guilt, the hopeful make up, the gorgeous ending. My body literally cannot take the stress, why are Mafia AUs so doomed and beautiful and more importantly, why is SFL so good at writing them???

• Microcosm Series by @bloomblood (M, 32k) tw underage

Summary: Tony and Peter become each other’s heroes after the Snap, saving themselves before they offer aid back to the world.

Review: I haven’t read many post-apocalyptic fics but this series’s raw atmosphere sucked me in. I adore the quiet intimacy, the slow and tentative healing, and all the silent and complex emotions underneath apparent simplicity. Big aesthetic mood, just as its lovely author.

• Musechaser by @nightskygardenia (M, 10.5k, completed)

Summary: Eighteen year old art student Peter Parker is desperately searching for his muse, someone who can bring his creative skills to the next level through inspiration. Lucky for him, his next class just so happens to feature a gorgeous model by the name of Tony Stark, a man Peter's convinced is his muse, to the point of staying after class to ask for private modeling sessions.

Review: Another big aesthetic mood, this fic paints a gorgeous imagery. I love the setting, the slow pace and the building anticipation until the sexual tension finally breaks. Peter is adorable and Tony exudes confidence; their voices are spot on and their chemistry is palpable and intense.

• My Best Friend’s Dad by @darker-soft-starker (M, 17.6k, completed)

Summary: Peter is home for the summer, back from his first year away at college. Having stayed over at Harley's house every weekend since they were fourteen, he never used to think much of his friend’s dad. A few years worth of college experience has Peter noticing Tony in a different way. This time, Tony notices him back.

Review: Turns out that Tony Stark being a dad and a daddy is too much for my body. I worship this fic. I wanna get married to it and have its babies. No words will ever make it justice *sobs* no but seriously, secret relationship is a perfect Starker trope and this one will take you to the edge of your seat until the very end. A+ characterization, lovely build up, infuriating cliffhangers and the wholesome happy ending we all deserve. This is the kind of fic that leaves you a bit depressed once it’s over, because you suddenly realize you’ll never read it for the first time ever again. So get to it and make sure to enjoy every second!

• One Call Away by @readysetstarker (E)

Summary: Tony didn’t need the phone sex gig. He was more than well off, his own sex life was in great shape, but damn, there was just something about listening to someone else get off to his voice.

Review: Omg who could ever resist sex hotline + daddy kink + identity porn? Dev is coming after our own hearts and bodies with this hot combo. I love the balance between their cute chemistry and the hot phone sex, plus the identity porn is deliciously fun. I was so happy to know this fic is getting longer than the author had previously anticipated because I’m definitely not ready to let it go.

• Open Road by @starkerflowers (E, 2.5k, completed)

Summary: It’s not love, but it’s good. TW: implied abuse (not between Tony/Peter); bruises/violence; panic attack.

Review: This refreshing not-quite-a-love-story will capture your heart, make it hurt, make it ache, make it hope and finally, make it heal. This fic is so gorgeously written I honestly cannot rec it enough. Yes, it’s dark and angsty, but it’s also gentle, hopeful and deeply evocative.

• Panty Raid by @starkerforlife6969 (M, completed) A/B/O

Summary: Imagine Tony being forced to do a panty raid as an initiation for his fraternity. So Tony, keeping up his playboy appearances, sneaks into the omega dorms. And he sees sweet innocent Peter who is so alarmed by the alphas raiding their dorm Tony can’t help but comfort him.

Review: Unf this fic is just too charming and cute, my heart cannot take it. Frat stories are so fun they make me forget my preference for age gaps and realize I could read more 50k of protective young!Tony any day, please and thank

• Pete’s Eats by @darker-soft-starker (T, 9.3k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a YouTube channel where he just drinks wine and teaches people how to cook things if they live in a mediocre apartment. While cooking and drinking he just talks about stuff like memes and school and, most importantly, his undying thirst for Tony Stark.

Review: This is legit the funniest shit I’ve ever read, everybody else can go home. I was already sold on Peter being a relatable thirsty dork, but Tony’s A+++ characterization (for a moment I thought it was RDJ on the big screen) and the identity porn side trope killed me for good. And what a way to go. I’m an angst hoe but I could read this forever and would be okay with it.

• pondus, pondera by spqr (M, 9.3k, completed) underage prostitution but not between P/T

Summary: Peter sells his virginity for $5,000 when he’s fifteen.

Review: Ugh I’m so weak for the angsty hooker trope, I just love the potential to simultaneously explore whump, mutual pining and gentle recovery. Trust spqr to deliver it all with a carefully crafted slow burn, god-tier characterization and a heartfelt and satisfying get together. This fic is a gem.

• Powerful by @cagestark (E, 4.6k, completed) SIM!Tony

Summary: After finding out about Peter's abusive ex, Tony privately vows revenge.

Review: This fic took my breath away and made me realize that dark!Tony with a soft spot for Peter is everything I need in my life. Precious Peter being empowered by a viciously protective Tony is now my absolute jam, and it was fascinating to see see their dynamics mutually feeding each other’s nature. This fic is gorgeous, sexy and liberating.

***Red Light District series by @starker-stories (17k, ongoing)

Summary: Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a playboy who has dozens of women passing through his life and through his bed. What everyone doesn't know is that Tony Stark is deeply closeted, longing for something he can't ever have -- a life and a love with another man.

Review: I’m completely in love with this series and not only because it explores the good old hooker trope which I’m very partial to. It’s so well written and atmospheric, if a tad bittersweet and heart-wrenching. Great narrative tension, Tony and Peter’s chemistry is insane, their voices and dialogue are amazing and the smut is looong and scorching hot *chef’s kiss*

• Samadhi by @starkercrossedlovers (E, completed)

Summay: Tony goes to yoga to try and deal with his anxiety and ends up falling for the instructor, one Peter Parker.

Review: Okay so yoga fics are among my guilty pleasures and I can’t get enough of feel-good fics like this one. Peter’s such a sweetheart, so thoughtful and amazing with Tony. I love it when they take care of each other and find solace together, this fic made me soft :’)

• Single dad baker!Peter and lawyer!Tony by @starkerforlife6969 (G, completed)

Review: I’m not usually a fluff girl but this fic is just too wholesome to go by unnoticed. Nothing hits my soft side harder than a cynical character reaching that turning point that makes them start to believe in love. Fuck yes, YOU SHOW THAT MAN SOME HAPPILY EVER AFTER PETE

• Soft Kitty by @ko-fiandfanfiction (E, 33k, completed)

Summary: Peter wasn’t wearing something Tony would call normal, not that there was anything inherently wrong with what he was wearing or anything. It just struck him as…different. To put it plainly. Tony is not sure what to make of this new development.

Review: For those of you who love some occasional feminization, this is the perfect treat. Soft, sexy and sweet, it combines top guilty, pining Tony with oblivious idiots in love, two of my favorite tropes. Amazing slow burn with glorious sexual tension, infuriating dancing around each other and a very satisfying get together. Bonus points for including the “Avengers living together in the Tower” trope, this is the 2012 team building fic we deserved.

• Solitaire by @darker-soft-starker (M, 29k, completed)

Summary: After a traumatic experience, Tony loses his marriage and his business empire in one fell swoop. At rock bottom, it takes real change to pick up the pieces, to dig himself out of the funk he's been living in. It's not pretty. Along the path of healing Tony meets a bright young man, Peter Parker, who makes the entire journey worth it.

Review: Oh man, this was a tough ride on the soul. Few things hurt me like reading whump!Tony but his healing journey is so beautiful it’s all worth it. Top notch characterization, amazing dialogue, FEELS EVERYWHERE, and a gorgeous portrayal of loneliness, friendship, hope and love.

• Someone Who Makes you Happy by tuesday (T, 6k, completed) Soulmate AU

Summary: Peter was born with several marks already marring his skin, including an interlocking AES over his heart. A scar-sharing soulmate AU.

Review: This fic is absolutely stunning and it makes my heart ache in all the right places. Great worldbuilding (I LOVE the scarring concept, so unique and fitting to these characters), A+++ Tony characterization (the wit and the self-hate are so spot on I could weep) and a journey full of longing, until they finally get to be on the same page.

• Splice by Mezzymet (E, 35k, completed) A/B/O

Summary: "He's not...." The doctors polite nature and disposition hadn't been able to mask the odd tone of his voice, like he had been reading someone's death certificate. Only Peter hadn't been on his death bed. "Peter isn't like the other kids.

Review: I keep coming back to this story because it’s such a fascinating and unique take on this trope. Very well thought and put together - the world building is fantastic, the sex sequences are breathtaking, and Tony’s gentle thoughtfulness makes me wanna cry.

• Stopover by @cagestark (E, 10k, completed)

Summary: A stopover is just a break in a journey. Tony is on the run from the organization he used to kill for, and when he stopped for gas and coffee in the small town of Stopover, IL, he had no plans to leave with anything more.

Review: *sigh* this is the mob boss!Tony fic I’ve waited for all my life. Even more impressive than the delicious smut checking all my kink boxes was the phenomenal build up, the overall urgent atmosphere that surrounds those “on the run”, combined with the gentle wonder of stealing a moment in time to find solace in the most unlikely place. Breathtakingly moving.

• Student Body President Election by @starkerforlife6969 (T, completed)

Summary: Tony and Peter are competing for Student Body President and a smear campaign takes things a little too far.

Review: GIMME ENEMIES TO LOVERS AND ALL THE HIGH SCHOOL DRAMA. This ficlet is so fun and adorable it will make your heart smile. Great plot idea and the usual bonus points for protective!Tony being a sweetheart. Will have more 30k, pls and thank.

• Such a Softer Sin by @css1992 (E, 18k, completed) background Peter/Norman

Summary: Tony is a self-made man. Peter is a sugar baby – someone else’s sugar baby.

Review: Another fantastic slow burn that hit me hard in the feels. I love it when fics explore the characters’ personal struggles before they get together, and while the Peter!whump destroyed my heart, Tony’s parallel journey of growth took my breath away. css1992’s talent took the good old sugar baby trope to a whole new epic level.

• Summer Daze by @darker-soft-starker (NR, 4.3k, completed)

Summary: Starker no-powers au where Peter watches construction worker Tony from his bedroom window as the older man works across the street.

Review: Ahh yes, the classic “food as metaphor for love” trope, my absolute jam. This fic is so adorable and endearing, pining!Peter in his wooing mission makes my heart ache and the sweet anticipation is so good. There’s something about this fic that gives me nostalgia; it’s as soft and warm as a summer breeze.

• Tamed by @cagestark (E, 8.3k, completed)

Review: It’s no wonder this is Cage’s most beloved fic. Bad boy!Tony being all soft for Peter is everything we deserve, not to mention a mesmerizing (and HOT AF) first time together. This fic shows how rich and captivating Cage’s writing is - she’s able to transform that old basic trope into something unique and heartfelt. If you need one more reason to read this, please consider: best first bj ever :)

• Teacher!Tony wrong number by @areluctantsblog (T) tw underage

Summary: Peter’s using a replacement phone and mistypes Ned’s number asking for help on a physics problem.

Review: I have such a soft spot for this fic! It was one of the first AUs I’ve ever read and I’m completely in love with their dynamics. Peter’s underage but this fic is carefully written and pretty tame, so I’d rec it to anyone looking for the good old “they probably shouldn’t, but then again nothing’s happening” trope.

• The Bleedover Effect by tuesday (T, 11k, completed) Soulmate AU

Summary: The first time Tony got punched in the face by nobody there, he had a lot of very complicated feelings about it that mostly boiled down to, "I deserve this." A pain-sharing soulmate AU.

Review: Tuesday truly is the queen of soulmate AUs, we have no other choice but STAN. First of all, I adore the concept here - being such a sucker for whump, this could easily become my favorite soulmate trope. As usual, her Tony voice is perfect and his devotion to Peter hits my fragile heart every time. Kudos for the soft and hopeful ending. The series has been discontinued but the sequels are very much worth the read, if you’re up for it :)

• The Catfish Chronicles by @stfustucky (iwillpaintasongforlou) (E, 32k, completed)

Summary: Peter creates a fake profile under the name “Benjamin” trying to catch his scumbag boyfriend cheating. Tony creates a Tinder profile for "Anthony" looking for love late in life. Funny how two geniuses who fight side by side every day can only manage to fall in love after they've accidentally catfished each other. This is... gonna get awkward.

Review: My identity porn thirst might be showing but who cares, I want these two idiots pining after each other in every possible way. This was such a fun and exciting ride! The suspense had me legit freaking out and their get together was lovely and wholesome. I particularly adored how thoughtful and sweet Tony was dealing with Peter’s insecurities, that was handled really well. A treat!

• The Concept of Domesticity by @peters-tofu (E) mpreg

Summary: Tony has accomplished nearly everything he's set out to do, now he wants something different. A family of his own? Sounds easy enough. But he's far too impatient for a relationship, so surrogacy it is. Meanwhile, twenty-two year old college student Peter Parker has just volunteered to be a bearer at an agency.

Review: Can’t say I’m a big fan of this trope but since every rule has its exception, here it is! The only Starker mpreg I’ve ever read is so so good and adorable I can’t help smiling every time I think about it. I just love their dynamics, the soft domesticity, the cute bantering, and the fact that Peter has one baby daddy all wrapped around his little finger but what else is new ;)

***The Date by Neuropsyche (E, 33k, completed)

Summary: Tony has a high society gala and he needs a date.

Review: My favorite fake dating AU so far, this fic is so sweet and wholesome. Confident!Peter is my jam and it was amazing to see their sassy bantering evolving into genuine affection towards each other, not to mention the delicious hot smut with dom!Tony :D

• The Final Heist by @starkerforlife6969 (G, 10k, completed)

Summary: Tony’s only got one more heist. He does this, he can be retired on an island in the Mediterranean in a month. All he needs is a world-class art forger. (White Collar inspired)

Review: Honestly, the amount of times I’ve mentioned SFL in this list is getting embarrassing. I must have done something really good in another life to get such a talented author writing something inspired by one of my favorite TV shows. I feel like this fic was personally crafted for me; it’s original, romantic, sexy, fun, clever and so very atmospheric. I’m a lucky hoe.

• The Heart Benefits of Exercise by @areluctantsblog (E, 14k, completed)

Summary: Personal Trainer Tony and Gym Newbie Peter. Peter can hardly keep it together watching Tony demonstrate different exercises and lift weights. Tony is very much aware of the effect he has on his trainee, and after a session, Peter begs to be shown a whole different array of exercises.

Review: This fic was a lovely surprise, very relatable and entertaining. Love myself an adorable Peter thirsting over Tony (can’t really judge lol), especially if it comes with a good amount of pining and hot, kinky smut :D

• Tipping the Scale by JayPendragon (E, 119k, completed)

Summary: Peter has a rhythm. A system. All runs like a well-oiled machine, engineering pun intended. Every wheel of his life is churning perfectly. He doesn’t expect Tony Stark of all people to throw a wrench in it.

Review: Hooker!AUs are my kryptonite, I’m so here for the “fuck first, talk later” and the general pining + misunderstandings + h/c combo this trope provides. This amazing longfic delivers it all with a well-paced, delicious slow burn told from Peter’s POV, which is always a delight to read and makes you fall even more in love with him. If you also enjoy this trope you’re in for a treat!

• To Catch a Spider by Thekeyandquill (E)

Summary: After the war, Peter Parker left his career as a spy behind to live a simple life in the south of France. But when someone frames him for the theft of plans for a new weapon, he must re-enter his old life and get close to the real thief's likely next target - one Tony Stark. A To Catch a Thief AU.

Review: TKAQ is so skilled their writing should be experienced like fine wine. Amazing research, top notch world building and characterization, and the loveliest atmosphere that makes you feel like you’re inside a movie. Clever, organic dialogue and a sexual tension so palpable you can almost taste it. This is a gem. Make sure to check their other works.

• Two White, Two Black, One Pink by @starkerforlife6969 (E) poly fic: Peter/Tony, Peter/Steve, Peter/Bucky, Peter/Strange Summary: Peter has three (maybe one day: four) men in his life who mean the world to him. Review: Ugh, this fic is pure bliss. It has legit ruined me for any and all other poly fics. Words just cannot describe how gorgeous, poetic and unique SFL’s writing is, or how deeply it has affected me. So if you enjoy Mafia AUs, poly fics and soft-but-also-bamf!Peter taking care of Tony AND being taken care of by the men he loves, give this a chance and experience transcending storytelling.

• Uranium Heart by spqr (M, 11k, completed) Soulmate AU Summary: It’s probably better, Peter thinks, that he doesn’t know who his soulmate is. He wouldn’t want to lie to them about Spider-Man, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell them the truth, either.

Review: Be still my heart. This is such a gorgeous fic! Not only it combines two major tropes in a coherent 11k story, but I also appreciate how spqr explores these characters and their dynamics in a very unique and realistic way. I strongly recommend checking their other works, especially Landslide.

• Waiting Game by @cagestark (E, 6k, completed)

Summary: Peter hasn't seen Tony in fifteen years. Not since he had their hasty marriage annulled, graduated college, and moved across the country. Their twenty year high school reunion will find them reunited. They've both changed, but one thing hasn’t. Hint: it's their feelings for each other.

Review: This fic literally made my heart BURST WITH FEELS: the whole build up and anticipation, the slow disclosure of their past, the first uncertain moments of their reunion. I also appreciate the powerful and moving message underneath it all, that true healing comes after we overcome our demons at our own pace. A masterpiece.

• Wooing Peter Parker by Neuropsyche (E, 62.5k, completed)

Summary: Tony and Rhodey dodge the press and sneak into the library where they meet Peter Parker - who immediately catches Tony's eye. But Peter isn't a one and done kind of guy and Tony's going to have to work for what he wants this time.

Review: This is the kind of fic that warms you all over and makes you smile non stop. It has so many elements I love in fic: cute flirting, clever banter, hot sex, soft domesticity, boys being reasonable and talking their problems out for a change. If you’re looking for something light, sweet and honest, this series is a must read!

#starker #reclist #peter parker x tony stark

349 notes · View notes

leapyearkisses · 3 years

Note

For the director’s cut: Orbs Are Bad News, please? Part 2 (or both, if you’re willing!) It’s one of my favorites 💗

One of my favorites, too! Thanks for the ask! :D I'll do both parts, with Part 2 to follow this a bit later.

Director's cut comments in bold below the cut! MESS, m/m, holding a handkerchief, etc.

This story came from a prompt on a writing meme about a character losing the use of their hands while having to deal with snz. I can't remember at the moment if the prompt was D&D-flavored or if I just picked that setting myself because I was really into playing the game at the time (still am!). Also I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I hope these comments don't ramble overmuch.

"Okay, we don't know what we're dealing with here, so let's be careful." Gerrit pushed open the heavy wooden door and lifted his torch to illuminate the room inside. The firelight played over several tables covered in intriguing objects and glinted teasingly off of more than one hint of gold. Gerrit himself spotted a stolid wooden chest in the corner and his heart rate quickened.

When I was a kid, my mom gave me the Dragonlance books and I fell in love with them, although it was a long time before I was able to play D&D myself. I attribute my love of the very traditional fantasy realm to these books and my enduring love of sickly mages to Raistlin (Soulforge was like an EXPERIENCE for me). Gerrit has his origins in Tanis Half-Elven - he's a good guy, kind of a normal/default fighter build. "Jackpot," breathed Remembrance, the party's resident ne'er-do-well. She rubbed her hands together, sharp nails clicking. Gerrit was sure she was assigning price tags to the lot of it, except for whatever she hid in her bags for herself, of course. "I know a guy in the capitol who'll pay through the nose for that pervy little statue there." "That is a religious object," chastised Cordes with a haughty tsk. "It's used in rituals of worship for the goddess Fortuna." "Oh, I'm sure he'll be worshipping," cackled Remembrance, and she slipped past Gerrit into the vault. "Few hundred gold and he'll be rubbing out a grand ol' prayer." Her pointed tail waved with greedy delight. "Hey! The proper course of action would be to bring it back to a temple!" Cordes went after her, pushing Gerrit aside.

Remembrance and Cordes are here to be the beta couple and provide background color. Their development was based on a few factors: A) a D&D party should have ~4 people with different abilities (fighter, sorcerer, cleric, rogue), B) a priest and a devil is never not a fun/ny dynamic, C) I'm not into F snz but I feel bad that most of my OCs are not women, and D) given that Gerrit is a "default" archetype, there needed to be differing characters to contrast his personality with (or he would seem to have none). Also I like dirty jokes, so Remembrance can be my humorous id for this purpose lol The half-elf grumbled but wasn't surprised. "At least TRY not to touch anything cursed," he called. He'd been the one to organize this little band, but although he was the one who reported to their patron, he had precious little influence over what they did. They were happy to point to him when some upstart had a problem with the party, though. Ingrates. He turned to the last member of the group. "What about you, Llewellyn? I thought I saw some books on the far table." "Lead the way," replied the sorcerer, and his usually mellifluous voice sounded strained. Purple shadowed the hollows under his faintly luminous silver eyes, and he had his nose tucked into his handkerchief again. Gerrit hadn't spent much time around full elves, but he'd always believed they couldn't get sick, at least not like a human or dwarf. Llewellyn had been dragging since Saints' Day, though, and seemed to have come down with a flu. His skin, where visible under his fitted robes, was wan.

Fuck up that slender, haughty elf man is an endlessly running subroutine in my head. "Sure," said Gerrit, and he stepped into the room, holding the door out so that Llewellyn could join him. "You, uh, you don't look like you're feeling any better." "Oh," said the sorcerer, "I'm not. I ran out of tonics." He entered the vault and walked over to one of the tables, investigating a strangely shaped glass bowl. "But as we were already down here, I'm not sure what you want me to say. There's no inn at which I might rest my weary bones." "Cordes could make you an herbal remedy," Gerrit grumped. He went over to the chest he'd seen earlier and smashed the lock off with the pommel of his dagger. He didn't need any fancy lockpicking tools like Remembrance's. And hitting something felt good when his companions were all intent to be annoying, acerbic, or both. "I suppose," Llewellyn replied, sounding uncertain as his voice wavered. Gerrit tried to ignore the way his ears heated at that. That was the tone that overtook the elf when he was preparing to sneeze. It wasn't any of Gerrit's concern. His occasional roll in the hay (literal and figurative) with Llewellyn did not make it easier or more appropriate to acknowledge his odd attractions, especially since they were currently ransacking a dungeon with a priest and a psychopath. He focused his attention on searching the chest, and he was rewarded with a heavy coin purse, a stack of calfskin-bound journals, and a ruby the size of a robin's egg. He whistled.

Gerrit and Llewellyn are the dynamic opposite of Eliseo and Padgett. Gerrit is the less-privileged, more personable, "low class" character and Llewellyn is the high-born, fussier, sarcastic noble; however, in this story Gerrit is the voyeur character with the fetish and the POV window while Llewellyn is tortured for everyone's amusement. Narratively it's more fun and easier for me to describe the non-fetish-having character because I also like the power of the narrator to be that voyeuristic eye. Llewellyn gasped. "Hah- hahttsch-ow!"

I made myself laugh while writing this hahah "'Ow'?" Cordes appeared from behind a bookshelf, one arm wrapped tightly around a thick rug, the other reaching for his pack of salves. "What is it? Cut? Burn?" When Gerrit looked, their sorcerer was rubbing his nose with his left hand. "Bruise," Llewellyn said. He lifted his right hand, in which he held a blue crystal orb that was knotted inside a thin lattice of gold chain. "I got my hand caught." He'd apparently run the thing into his nose when trying to cover his sneeze. Llewellyn's thin face was already dusted pink from the embarrassment. Gerrit couldn't help but laugh. "Very graceful," he chuckled. "I will thank you for keeping it to yourself," Llewellyn replied, and that was elvish dialect for "fuck you." Gerrit laughed again.

Embarrassment is a huge part of my enjoyment of this kink because of the ensuing power dynamics. The victim is thrown into disequilibrium by something (snz) that is inherently seen as socially inappropriate, disgusting, or at least uncomfortable. Almost always their reaction is outsized to what it would probably be outside of a fet context (most people can sneeze in public without feeling shame - which is the typical mode, lol. It's a normal bodily function). However, then the other character, motivated by their BF's anxiety and potential humiliation is prompted to caretake and comfort them, "approve" of the "shameful" act, and deepen the intimacy of the couple. They can also enjoy the embarrassment and the act voyeuristically while feeling their own discomfort about watching, then deal with either having to divulge the kink or be found out by their partner later (because consent is the sexiest thing, really). But I love my characters and I'm not into hardcore stuff so much, so there are almost never any consequences of the "humiliation" - the characters do not get caught out, they do not get shamed by society, they do not actually lose face or have to explain their sexual preferences to anyone who should not know them.

Now you know way too much about my psychology but also the basic formula for any kink story I have written or will write in my entire life. Yay! Cordes had leaned over to see the orb better in the firelight. He was the only one among them whose vision was hindered by the dim light. "What kind of artifact is this?" he asked. "It doesn't resemble anything I've studied."

Lol humans don't have darkvision. "I'm not sure." Llewellyn held it up to the torch. The orb lit up like a lamp, but otherwise nothing happened. "Whatever this chain is, though, it's very prone to tangling." He tried to shake it off his wrist and failed. This was a task for both hands, and he set to freeing himself. And kept trying. And trying. Gerrit frowned. "What are you doing? Cordes, would you get that off of him?" "Sure." The priest reached out to help, but Llewellyn suddenly backed away out of reach. "Uh... I'm not trying to steal it, elf." "Oh, I would let you take it," Llewellyn said, scowling. "But I have a feeling we would be in for some trouble if you touch it now." He held up both hands. His palms were wrapped around the crystal and bound with the ball in that thin gold chain. "I am... I'm stuck."

---

"STUCK," hooted Remembrance again. She was crouched at the entrance to the dungeon - a root-cellar-like set of doors they'd found in a small bandit settlement - and hauling out a heavy pack stuffed with loot. In the daylight, she looked menacing and out of place, her horns, dusky maroon skin tone, and black eyes setting her apart from this land's primarily human residents. "And you even said not to touch any curses!"

Jump cuts are funny! I love this kind of thing, honestly. It's some of my favorite humor - that and dramatic irony, which is also often depicted in visual media with a funny jump cut. "I recall you said so as well," said Cordes, who looked exactly like a run-of-the-mill human resident except for the star-like scar on his left temple. He reached down and grabbed Gerrit's hand, steadying the half-elf as he climbed out of the hole. Llewellyn was hanging uncomfortably on Gerrit's back, arms looped around the other man's neck. They'd tried to find a more dignified way to get him out of the dungeon, but he couldn't manage the ladder well enough without the use of his hands. "The artifact didn't react to my detection spell," sniffed Llewellyn disdainfully, and Gerrit was quick to set him down before that sniffing could become another sneeze. He didn't want to blush in front of the others.

Blushing is very appealing to me, so everyone blushes all of the time. "There must be someone in Veigh who can help you," Gerrit said. "We'll just swing by on our way to the capitol." The city was three days out of their way, but they couldn't have Llewellyn stuck this way for the two week trip back to their patron. With his hands bound, he couldn't cast any spells that required him to gesture, and that was almost all of them. He'd effectively rendered himself completely useless in combat. Veigh had a chapter of the Mages Guild in residence, though, and if no one there could help, they might at least be able to send Llewellyn on ahead via a transportation spell.

Let's go on a short tangent about names. Usually I name my characters using Babynames.com or similar sites and I pick based on the look, sound, and meaning of the names. For this little group, things were slightly more haphazard. Llewellyn is a Welsh name meaning "leader." I just happen to like this name already, but it also has a visual beauty and difficulty to pronounce on sight that lent it well to an elf character without me having to look up specifically elven names. When I make elf characters in D&D, I tend to give them a nickname or alias that is easy to remember and pronounce so that the name isn't a hindrance while playing the game.

Gerrit's name was picked based on sound. It is similar to the Welsh name Gareth ("spear ruler"), which is on purpose, but it was altered to make it a bit more fantastical/removed. It's appropriate for a fighter in meaning but also suits his more familiar/pedestrian half-elven experience vs. that of a noble elf.

Cordes was given a short name because he is a no-nonsense human, but I chose it to resemble that of conquistador Hernan Cortes because of the "holy invasion" and "treasure hunter" associations. Remembrance is named using the PHB's suggestion that tieflings often pick "ideal" names for themselves, and she has a complicated past (like most tieflings). "I will hope there is." Llewellyn looked pale and worn, though his fine features still exuded the otherworldly beauty of the high elves. His hair was a silky black, although mostly covered by his hood, and the contrast made his silver eyes look even more curious. He fumbled for a minute at his waist before scowling heavily. "I can't get into any of my bags, of course..." "What do you need?" asked Gerrit. Remembrance had started off through the trees, humming, her bulging pack swaying with her sinuous movements. Gerrit really didn't want to let her get too far ahead, not least because she was scary good at concealing herself in the foliage and might slip the party completely. However, Cordes was with her, and Llewellyn couldn't exactly fend for himself right now. "My handkerchief..." The elf's voice had gone wavery again, and Gerrit watched as his nostrils flared. Fuck.

Oho! Here is the plot and the kink conceit. Gerrit hurriedly patted his pockets until he produced his own handkerchief, or what he bothered with when necessary. It was a large square of flannel, rough around the edges. It wasn't embroidered or monogrammed like Llewellyn's, but he figured by now the flannel was a hell of a lot cleaner, and it was soft for an irritated nose. "Here, take mine."

Characters' belongings are also a good way to contrast their situations and personalities. I don't consider handkerchiefs particularly vital to my enjoyment of this kink, but they are a useful visual and I like to describe things. Small details like this are how you can worldbuild without having to do too much extra research. Llewellyn held out his hands plus the orb for it, breath hitching, but no matter how Gerrit tried to drape the cloth, it kept slipping off of the artifact. He supposed he could try to tie it around the-

This is just so funny to me XD Llewellyn made a desperate sound and tipped his head back, exposing the long line of his throat. His breath was coming in soft pants now. And he was raising the orb reflexively. Gerrit couldn't let him whack himself in the face again, so he did the only other thing he could think of. With one hand he reached out and took Llewellyn by the shoulder. With the other, he lifted the handkerchief and pressed it over the elf's nose. His fingers settled firmly on either side of Llewellyn's nostrils, and none too soon. After another half-hitch, Llewellyn ducked forward again with a quiet but insistent sneeze. "Happtsch!

One of the most pleasing sneeze sounds, tbh. Gerrit was sure he was beet red. “Bless you,” he mumbled. Through the cloth, Llewelyn’s nose felt hot, and any gentle pressure resulted in a bit of a squish. “Let me just…” "Whh- wait-" Llewellyn leaned into the handkerchief. "I'm nh- I'm not done hhH-" His eyes slipped shut and he gasped again. Gerrit swallowed and tried to ignore the tenting of his breeches. "R-roger that." He could feel Llewellyn's nostrils twitching against his fingers. "Hh...Haah- Hapttschuh! Snrk... Aptschiu!" His body rocked, and he took a half-step forward. Gerrit could hear the thick sound of congestion in the elf's nose as he tried to stave off another sneeze.

The desperation, talking through the sneezing, and congestion are all vital parts of this scenario. Unavoidable embarrassment + disgust factor + need for caretaking/mitigation. "Blow your nose," he said. "It will help." Llewellyn hesitated, but in the end, he had to comply. There was nowhere for the mucus to go except out. He started to blow with a gurgle.

I used to be really against mess, but the taboo/disgust part of the brain turns off psychologically a LOT during arousal and now I really do not find snz interesting without it. Snz without mess isn't embarrassing enough or visually exciting. Gerrit moved the hand from his shoulder to start rubbing Llewellyn's back. The handkerchief and his fingers were rapidly growing damp, but he really didn't mind. "There you go." He held the handkerchief to Llewellyn's nose until the elf moved back on his own. His nose was red and tender looking, and his cheeks were flushed rosy. He didn't seem to want to meet Gerrit's eyes. Gerrit didn't mention it. He didn't really want to look at Llewellyn either right now. It had been a while since the elf had looked so very fuckable.

Potentially due to my propensity to write fanfic about established ships, all of my OCs apparently have a history or mutual attraction out of the gate. On one hand, it's difficult just mechanically to write a scenario about a romantic or sexual encounter without there being chemistry and an excuse for them to already want to rub bits (obviously), especially in short stories, but I also cannot stand the thin veneer of situational causality that underlies porn (to borrow from Cards Against Humanity). If I can't care about my characters' lives outside of the one random fetish scenario, I can't care enough to write about them at all. He put the handkerchief in an easily-accessible outside pocket of his vest. "Ready to go?" Llewellyn coughed lightly. "Yes." "Excellent." Gerrit gestured for Llewellyn to precede him, and the two of them headed out through the trees, following the sounds of Cordes negotiating the underbrush and swearing about it. --- Travel proved easy enough once they made it to the road. They were fortunate not to meet anyone else along the way. The party could handle a group of bandits without their sorcerer, but they had their treasure to worry about, and Remembrance always drew stares, and sometimes aggression, even from normal travelers. Gerrit thought her skills more than made up for the extra negative attention they drew. And anyway, Remembrance was crazy but she wasn't evil. She did better out on the road than in town, but that was probably true of all of them. Llewellyn kept up with her pace, but it was clearly a struggle. He was usually fairly quiet, but he didn't speak at all as they walked, focusing on breathing and not devolving into coughing or more sneezing. There were a few times when Gerrit hastily reached into his pocket, at the ready, but Llewellyn fought back the itch with admirable determination. He kept his nose from running by sniffling heavily, which sounded somewhere between awful and revolting. Cordes commented on it multiple times with disgust, but nothing could be done. Llewellyn held his tongue, and Gerrit was reluctant in this case to offer the handkerchief without being asked.

Cordes is here providing the societal reaction and voice of reason lol, but there still aren't any consequences or shaming from them. I just imagine how fricking uncomfortable it would be if people acknowledged this porn scenario happening in-world and so that is never part of the story development. They found a place to camp about half an hour outside the small village of Tewks. Remembrance cleared out some brush to make a flat area for the bedrolls and then promptly decided she'd rather sleep in a tree with everything she owned. She found a good, solid oak a few yards from the camp and ensconced herself in the crux of its branches. She had a good view of the road in either direction and volunteered to take the second watch in the middle of the night, which was her favorite time. Gerrit agreed to take the first watch as Cordes started to set up his tent. The priest refused to sleep on the ground and always took an extra fifteen minutes to erect a curious one-person canvas canopy. It wasn't even large enough to sit up inside, but whatever. The priest never asked anyone else to haul it along, so Gerrit wouldn't complain.

Remembrance and Cordes are thus handwaved away from the sexual center of the plot and they will neither see nor hear anything they aren't invited to. These arrangements left him and Llewellyn alone together on one side of the fire, and he supposed that was preferable during the orb situation anyway. Llewellyn couldn't handle his own bedroll, help with the fire, or unpack any of their supplies. Gerrit realized he would probably have to help the elf eat, too. And... Well, when he noticed Llewellyn fidgeting uncomfortably, Gerrit took him out into a thicker copse to see to his other needs. They didn't talk about it... Llewellyn could hardly undo his own buttons, though, and it wasn't the first time Gerrit had taken over.

I am very into watersports, so it creeps in, although I don't think there's a friendly community out there for that like there is for snz, so I haven't developed any kind of presence for it. It appeals to me for pretty much all of the same reasons as described above. Maybe someday I will start writing those kinds of stories on this account as well, but I don't know if they would find an audience, so maybe not. By the time the fire was hot enough to cook over, Llewellyn had tucked himself up to sit on a tree stump, exuding an aura of furious self-reproach. Cordes took some jerky into his tiny tent with him - for some reason. Gerrit made up two bowls of pottage and sat himself on the ground at the roots of the stump. He put one bowl on the ground for himself and then held up the other. "Hungry?" "Not particularly," Llewellyn replied, voice blunted with congestion. He coughed. "But you're going to make me eat something, aren't you." "I'd prefer you do it willingly." Gerrit tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl. "Come on. It's hot. You'll feel better." Llewellyn growled in a manner more suited to orcs than elves. "I feel like an invalid." Gerrit sighed. "Well, if it makes you feel better, we can pretend you lost your arms in an owlbear attack very tragically." He could feel Llewellyn's fiery glare on him and smiled a little. "Look, we've all done stupid things while adventuring. I'm sure you remember when I tripped and knocked myself out on that knight's shield during the tournament." "I remember," replied the elf, begrudgingly. "Besides, you're sick on top of the whole orb thing. Maybe your detection spell wasn't sensitive enough. Maybe the thing's not even cursed! Maybe it's supposed to do this, and we just don't know why." "I have a hard time believing that. What possible purpose could this serve?"

Porn! Gerrit shrugged. "Don't ask me. Dad says my mother was a druid, but I haven't got a magical bone in my body." He tilted his head. "We could always try smashing it?" Llewellyn's rejection was forceful. "Do you want to explode?!" Gerrit chuckled. "Not really." Llewellyn sighed. Gerrit held out a spoonful of pottage. Feeding both Llewellyn and himself was a bit difficult, but Gerrit did well enough when he could alternate. It would be better if he could use both hands equally like Cordes, but he couldn't, and so he didn't. He just thought about it wistfully as he worked. Llewellyn ended up eating most of his bowl, then went back to sitting quietly and sniffling. Gerrit finished the rest and put the utensils aside to deal with later. And... Even though Llewellyn hadn't asked, he drew out his handkerchief again.

More caretaking, more intimacy. Gerrit is a kind and loving person even though he's a fighter by trade. "Hey," he began, trying not to sound awkward. "You wanna blow your nose?" No one else was paying attention and Llewellyn didn't need to inhale any more of that crap. The elf gave him a shitty side-eye. "Come on," said Gerrit. "Don't be like this." He patted the ground in front of him encouragingly as if Llewellyn was a recalcitrant cat. "I'm fine," said Llewellyn, and then betrayed himself with a quick breath. "Hah--" "Come on," Gerrit repeated, "before you make a mess."

He is also pretty comfortable talking about a lot of things that people with the fetish have generally admitted difficulty acknowledging. This is because even though he's the one with the fetish in this, he is also the "Padgett" character and practical and not caught up in the anxiety prison. Llewellyn came down off the stump to sit in front of him, legs tucked underneath, and rested the orb on Gerrit's thigh to balance himself. His eyes were pinched with reluctance, but Gerrit could see that the elf's nostrils were already damp. "Hah- hh- hurry," Llewellyn gasped.

People should sit in each other's laps. It's good. Again, Gerrit reached out with the handkerchief, enfolding his companion's nose. He could feel Llewellyn's breath fluttering against his hand through the fabric and hear quite clearly how it kept catching on congestion. "Hah-hngk- Hahgkttscht!" Llewellyn ducked forward with the force of it and Gerrit steadied him with a hand on his hip. "Ngkttsch! Hnggktxch!!"

The sneezes now involve nasal consonants because of congestion. Sometimes people tend to have a certain way their sneezes always sound, and I try to maintain that, but these details are important to show a change in the severity of the cold (and evidence of sniffling for hours). Gerrit bit his lip sharply to keep from saying anything, but his body was singing with arousal. Llewellyn hiccupped a short gasp and Gerrit pulled the handkerchief away to present a clean corner. The current spot had become soaked and silvery. "Bless," he managed after a moment, and he carefully readjusted the cloth. "Are you going to sneeze again?"

Hiccupping is also sexy and cute. Also I spelled that wrong in the original, gdi... Llewellyn nodded, eyes teary with the effort of the first bunch. Gerrit wasn't surprised; the elf had been holding back since they left the dungeon. He couldn't imagine it had been comfortable, but Llewellyn had his pride. He never would let Gerrit give him love bites either. Annnd Gerrit was going to have to stop thinking about that. "Haptsch!" Easier said than done. Really. But Llewellyn's comfort came first.

Voyeur with a heart of gold. "Hahkptsch!" The sorcerer groaned softly. "Hah- hh- Hgnaptscxhx!" Gerrit did his best to assist Llewellyn through the fit. He kept the handkerchief secure, moving it when necessary to keep it dry enough. He steadied the elf when the sneezes bent his body or when he felt faint from lack of breath. He even massaged Llewellyn's nose for him when he was trying to blow it and the congestion was stubbornly refusing to move. By the time he felt finished enough to lean back, Llewellyn was flushed and light-headed, swaying where he sat. Gerrit was sweating and needed a towel. "........Thanks," murmured Llewellyn, eventually.

Sometimes kink authors tend to just write out like twenty sneezes in a row and I hate that, honestly. (No shade - I don't even have an example in mind because I don't read a lot of stories anymore and everyone has their preferences.) I just think that the kink should support the storyline and not the other way around. The story should be enjoyable and sexy but have a narrative structure and coherent rising and falling action. Even if a fit is a sexy scenario (it is), trying to make your eyeballs power through a repetitive series of nonsense syllables is counterproductive and takes the reader out of the story and into the realm of annoyance, which disrupts arousal as well. "Yeah," said Gerrit. "Sure." He swallowed. "Let's wash up." He helped Llewellyn to his feet and they went a little way to a creek (generously; it was little more than a ditch through the woods). Gerrit gently washed Llewellyn's face, careful of his tender eyes and nose, and sent him back to camp to lay down for the night. He lingered at the water's edge to wash the handkerchief and, well, to take other matters in hand.

If ya know what I mean. Llewellyn was completely out when he returned, and Gerrit was grateful. He smoothed the elf's bangs back and then settled beside the fire to take watch. The woods in the dark were full of the sounds of insects and small animals moving in the undergrowth. And Llewellyn snoring and sniffling in his sleep. Safe sounds. Gerrit rested his chin on his hand and looked toward the road. Damn orb. It was going to be a long way to Veigh.

And this was getting long, so this is where I cut it to make part 2, which I will also commentate in a bit (hopefully after a nap =___=). Thanks!

#lyk writes #snz #llewellyn mistwalker #gerrit truestride #gerwellyn #director's cut commentary exercise

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