#He is very aware of his physical appearance

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Ellen, Orlok and Windows

Aside from the lilacs, another visual narrative device that showcases Ellen and Orlok connection in “Nosferatu” (2024), are windows. This is a reference to the Romanian strigoi folklore; where strigoi are said to appear at their loved one’s windows, at night, asking for entrance. I talk more about the strigoi legend in this post. This is most likely the origin of the “vampires need to be invited in” lore.

Orlok makes his first appearance to Ellen; the window is open, she’s inviting him into her life (haunting), cursing herself in the process.

Symbolically, windows are a veil between life and death, a portal between the known and the unknown, and a barrier to the supernatural. Windows also represent liberation, freedom and escapism from real life. Windows also serve as a mirror of our true selves, as they encourage self-awareness.

The window in “Nosferatu” also references another inspiration for this story: “Wuthering Heights” novel by Emily Brontë; where there’s the theme of “Catherine’s window”. In this story, windows (and doors, too) are usually connected with Catherine and Heathcliff’s separation and his inability to reach her. In “Nosferatu”, we also see this: in the prologue, Ellen’s window is wide open (when she meets and develops a relationship with Orlok), then it’s shut (symbolizing their separation) until the second and third act, when she asks him to come to her (union).

The next time we see windows in connection to Ellen is when Thomas is leaving for work, and she realizes Herr Knoch will send him away. The prologue has established windows in connection with her and Orlok; and it’s later revealed that Ellen has premonitions; why does she look at the window? Does she senses Thomas will be sent to Orlok?

The next scene is Ellen cutting a strand of her hair and put it in a locket. She does this in front of the window and the music in this scene is very eerie, and her mind appears to be elsewhere.

While at the surface, this act seems like a gift to Thomas, it is really? In the Victorian era, it was common to keep locks of hair from deceased loved ones in pieces of jewelry, especially lockets. Later, Orlok recognizes the scent of lilacs on her hair, and keeps the locket for himself, and is able to reach her, once again.

Indeed, when Thomas tells Ellen that Orlok has her locket, she doesn’t have much reaction to it, because, maybe, that was her intention all along. Again, another reference to the strigoi folklore.

Ellen and Orlok are reconnected through the locket. And she knows Orlok is coming to Wisburg, for her. She stands by the window, waiting?

Meanwhile both Thomas and Orlok arrive at Wisburg. Thomas is relieved Orlok has not got to Ellen. Yet. Later, when Ellen is asleep next to Anna, she wakes up and goes to the window, opening it and granting Orlok entrance into the Hardings house, and cursing everyone there as a consequence.

On the third night, when Ellen is willing to re-pledge herself to Orlok, and accept his covenant -(“you shall be one with me ever-eternally”; “our spirits are one”); which is “weird kind of sacred marriage” as Robert Eggers calls it; explaining the need to consummate it, - she opens the window, calling for him.

Ellen invites Orlok into her and Thomas’ house, which was one place he didn’t had access to, previously. So, indeed, she’s the one who commands him, in a way. Ellen is the one who grants or denies Orlok access to places.

The next reference to the window is the morning, after both Ellen and Orlok are physically dead and their spirits have been set free by the breaking of the Nosferatu curse.

[silna-pdf]

Connor likes to check himself out in every mirror

+ Chloe smelling a rose <3

[luveline]

I wanted to know how Aaron Hotchner would react to discovering the existence of a daughter (something from college perhaps), she would be his copy both in appearance and personality

—Hotch has a surprise visitor and the world spins on a new axis. daughter!reader, 2.2k

readers physical traits like hair and skin colour are not mentioned, but she is described as looking like her mother (also not described) and as sharing some characteristics with Hotch!<3 I also altered canon so that Hotch and Haley take a break at college 

“There is a kid in your office.” 

“Morgan?” 

Hotch pulls his phone away to check. D. Morgan blinks on his phone screen. It’s a slightly absurd sentence. 

“There’s a child in my office?” he asks, returning the phone to his ear. 

“I’m standing with her right now. She won’t tell me who she is. Anderson let her in.” 

“How old?” Hotch asks, scratching his cheek. God forbid he steal two minutes of peace in the bathroom. 

“How old are you, sweetheart?”

“I’m twenty two,” a feminine voice says. 

“You said kid,” Hotch says, frowning. 

“Anyone under twenty five is a kid to me. Are you on your way?” 

He sighs. “Yeah,” he says, and hangs up, dropping the small body of his phone into his pocket. Twenty two isn’t a kid, it’s a year younger than Spencer was when he started at the BAU; Hotch doesn’t underestimate the intelligence of young adults. Why you’re in his office is another thing. He can’t have one day without inconvenience. 

Hotch makes his way into the BAU office and up the stairs to the half level where his own office resides. Morgan leans against the door with his arms crossed, standing to attention when Hotch passes. 

“Thanks, Morgan,” Hotch says. 

Morgan nods, sending a curious gaze at you before he leaves. 

You’re dressed very formally for someone your age, but it’s not as though this is different from the norm of the building. You have on a dark shirt with a starched collar and a fitted blazer, a crisp skirt, and leather Mary Jane heels, one pressed flat to the back of the other. 

You stand when he comes in. 

“Mr. Hotchner?” you ask. 

“Yes?” he asks. 

You have a small file in your hand. Paper with worn edges pokes out of one side as though you’d been looking through it and put it hastily away, and the Manila file itself is fresh.

“Do we know one another?” he asks. 

You look familiar. It’s possible he would’ve known your parents —it could make sense. A colleague or acquaintance assumed he could help you with something, and you in your naivety you made your way in. 

“I think you know my mother.” 

“And she was?” he prompts. Not impolite, but needing to move forward. He’s very busy. 

You take a small step back. “Mr. Hotchner,” you say again, something nervous in your eyes as you lift your chin, “I don’t want to waste your time. I’m aware I might sound foolish, or that this… might not be something you want to hear, but. My mother told me you met in college, and that…” 

You bite your lip. 

He’s incredibly confused now. Not one to let a stranger suffer whether in real pain or awkwardness, he opens his hand. “Can I?” 

“Yes, sir,” you say.

You don’t want to pass it over, but you do as he’s asked. 

The photograph is a shock, held with a paperclip to a magnolia sheet of paper. It’s of Hotch, undoubtedly, a much younger Hotch sitting on a bench with a woman he recognises immediately. He only looks at her, and he knows why you’re here, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking. 

“Do you remember her?” you ask quietly.

He doesn’t answer.

“She says you’re the only man that could… possibly be my father.” You hold your hands behind your back. 

He lifts the photograph. There’s not much else to look at, only your photo ID, your birth certificate where he is glaringly not listed, as well as your mother’s birth certificate, and proof of her enrollment at George Washington University. 

You look a little teary. Trying very hard to be sober, as you have been since he laid eyes on you, but clearly getting more and more upset as time goes on. He’s feeling a similar ache, a searing pain in his chest, staring at you from over the Manila folder to really, really look at you. He swears he can see something of himself in your face, though he’s not sure what. Perhaps it’s wishful thinking. 

There’s certainly some of him in your frown. 

“I think you should sit down,” he says softly. 

You sit down immediately in the chair you’d inhabited a few minutes ago. 

He’s not sure what to say. Are you sure it could only be him? Is your mother? But you’re looking at him with an expression he practically trademarked, whether he wanted to or not, and the proof is in his hands: you’re your mother’s daughter, and Hotch would have slept with her almost twenty three years ago. He doesn’t need much time to do the math. 

“I realise my word alone isn’t a lot to go on, sir, so– so if you’d want to, I’ll of course submit for a paternity test. Or if you want nothing to do with me, that’s okay too.” 

“It’s not okay,” he says, closing your folder. 

Your eyes widen just a touch. 

“Can I sit with you?” he asks. 

You push your chair back to make lots of room. He sits in the chair besides yours, cautious that being across a desk from you is insensitive, or cold, at least. 

He looks at you and he’s sure that you’re his. The longer you sit there, the more sure he becomes.

“I do want a paternity test,” he says, watching your tight nod. 

He believes you. And truly, if he was unsure of what you’re saying he’d still give you grace now, because the first time you meet your father should be full of love. He should’ve been there to hold you in one arm twenty two years ago, he should’ve been there for you through everything he’s already missed. 

“But I believe you,” he says.

“You do?” 

“I’m a very good judge of character. I know that you believe what you’re telling me completely,” he says.

“How?”

“When you’re nervous your hand drifts to your chest, but you didn’t move when you suggested I’m your father. You haven’t once checked the door or looked toward the camera in the corner of the room.” And the full truth. “I want to believe you.” 

“Why?” you ask.

“You look like your mother, but…” He lets himself smile. “You sound like me.” 

You laugh under your breath. “Hopefully not so deep.” 

“I’ve had it described to me as mellifluous.” 

“I’ve wanted to hear your voice since I can remember. My mom didn’t talk about you much, but I’ve always wondered. She told me she didn’t know who you were, and…”

“And you believed her. Any child would do the same.” 

“She’s made mistakes.” You look to him with eyebrows gently pinched, asking him to understand. “But I looked you up. When she told me your name, I looked for you online, and… I always thought I never needed you, even if I wanted to know you. I thought you might want to know me. I thought that a man like you would want to know.”

There’s something you’re not saying. Hotch doesn’t mind. “Of course I want to know you.” 

You chance a smile at him. “You really believe me?” 

“You were expecting me to turn you away.” 

“No, just– I’m not a kid, even if your colleague said so. And I’m not an image of you, I don’t have your eyes. All I have is that photograph. There's not much evidence to go on.” 

He sees no reason why a young girl like you would walk into his office and tell him who you are. Self preservation insists on a paternity test, and soon —UnSubs haven’t ever done something so conniving as imitating a family member yet, but there’s no prediction for evil— but Hotch has an inherent sense of the truth.  

“What do you do?” he asks. 

You frown. “Sorry?” 

“What do you do?” he asks again, “You’re dressed like a lawyer.” 

You nod with a smile you’re pushing into a flat line unsuccessfully. “I’m at GWU. For law, like you and my mom.” 

“She only just told you who I am?” He speaks each word carefully. 

“The photo fell out of an old album, and I had a funny feeling. I asked her about it and she said I’m too much like you. She admitted it like the secret had been eating her alive.” You look at your hand on the armrest. “We aren’t getting along right now.” 

“I don’t know why she wouldn’t tell you. Or me,” he says honestly. 

“I don’t know either.” 

Hotch is expecting a lot more awkwardness than he feels as he puts his hand over yours. You stay very still. 

“Thank you for coming here today.” He gives your hand the barest squeeze and stands. “Have you eaten? I could take you out for dinner,” he suggests. 

You stand with him. “Are you serious?” you ask, gentle and pleased at once. 

“I think you have a lot to tell me, and I’d love to listen.” 

“You’re not working?” 

Sometimes, sometimes, there are things that can be worked around or held on the back burner. You and Hotch go for lunch. 

—

Aaron Hotchner knows many important people. Your paternity test takes a day, less than twenty four hours from the time you both submit samples, but you have a class you can’t miss and he’s sure you’re nervous, so you don’t meet again for two days regardless. By then, you both know the results. (And Aaron’s had to have a very strange conversation with his wife, in which she doesn’t believe him, and then has to sit down.) 

He can admit to being far more protective of you once he knows the truth for sure, though he knows it before the results come back. You’re his daughter, and he’s left you without a father for two decades of your life, your formative years, time he can never get back. 

He doesn’t even know what to do. How can he make up for it? Twenty two years of birthday cards? He feels like buying you a diamond necklace with a stone for each year, and then he wants to buy you a house, but mostly he wants to give you a hug. He thinks about it for so long the morning before he’s scheduled to meet you again that it makes him as upset as he’s ever been in his life, desperate to say sorry to you and your mother and furious with her for keeping you a secret. 

He thinks of all those years without an inkling of your existence, and now you’re the only thing he can think about. His remorse makes him sick. 

You’re smiling when you see him. For a millisecond, you look like Jack. 

“Hi, Mr. Hotchner!” you say, standing from the table, your formal dress and cardigan pressed neatly, your hands held behind your back.

‘Mr. Hotchner’ will need to be fixed quickly, though he won’t force you to call him anything else. He can’t help himself, however.

“Hi, sweetheart,” he says softly. 

You pause, and you laugh. “This is weird.” 

He doesn’t mean to make it weirder, but he opens his arms, and he waits for an indication that you might not want a hug before he leans in to hold you. You’re still so young. There’s still time for him to be a good father to you. 

He can’t say everything he needs to in his hug, and at the end of the day he’s a stranger to you; you probably don’t want him to hug you for too long. But he rubs your back, and he promises himself that he won’t let you down twice.

Your arm curls tentatively behind his back. For a second, you press your face to his shoulder and breathe. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away. 

Your lip twitches to one side like his would when presented with such heavy sincerity. “I’m okay. How did, um, Haley take the news?” 

“She just wants to meet you, okay? You’re part of my family now.” 

You give no indication you’ve heard what it is he’s saying to you, or whether you like it as you sit down at the dinner table. He quite likes that some way, somehow, you’ve become like him, but he wonders if he might not love it so much when he asks how your mom is taking this new development and you just smile. 

“We’re going to tell Jack about everything this weekend,” he adds. “He’ll be excited, if no one else.” 

“And Haley doesn’t mind?” 

“She’s not going to ask you to babysit anytime soon, honey, but no, of course she doesn’t. He should meet his sister before she’s too old for legos.” 

You actually laugh. 

Dad humour transcends age, and for that, Hotch is grateful. 

—

only after I finished did I wonder if I misinterpreted the request and this was supposed to be x reader with a shared daughter so if that’s the case I’m sorry original requester!! and I can totally write that if that’s what you meant 🫶❤️

[hannieehaee]

BED CHEM

18+ / mdi

summary: when chan's friends decided to start a betting pool on how long it'd take him to lose his virginity at the start of college, none of them expected him to remain a virgin all the way to senior year. desperate to prove them wrong, chan goes to his best friend in hopes you'll take him out of his misery (and maybe fall for him in the process) OR when chan uses a stupid bet as an excuse to get his pretty bestie in his bed.

content: virgin!chan, f2l!chan, sub!chan, mutual pining, college au, chan is characterized as a fucking loser but what else is new, some will they wont they, the rest of svt bully chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 11k

a/n: i wrote this so long ago i don't even remember what it's about #oops

masterlist | patreon

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a virgin!"

— lied Chan for the nth time.

"It's been years and it's still not believable. Plus, Vernon told us you were whining about it at Soonie's party last Friday," responded Jeonghan nonchalantly.

"Vernon!", Chan turned to him, betrayal in his eyes.

His whines were only met with chuckles from all the other men surrounding him, most of which were nursing some different variant of an alcoholic beverage as they lounged around uselessly.

Most weekends were spent like this.

Chan had the misfortune of being the youngest in his large thirteen member friend group, one which was also well known throughout school due to a few of his friends' reputations. Chan, however, did not live up to that idea.

Unlike all his other friends, — well known to be either heartthrobs, or at least, you know, not virgins — Chan found himself as an outlier.

On the outside, he may have easily emulated that same popular and charismatic persona all his friends held and lived by, but he truly had no idea what he was doing. Sure, he knew himself to be likable and attractive (at least he liked to think so), but his sexual prowess was still very much below average (is anything lower than zero?).

Luckily for him, this was not known by anyone outside of his friend group. To everyone else, Chan was as pursued as his older friends such as Mingyu and Wonwoo, except it was all a lie.

Hell, even you, being his best friend since middle school, were blissfully unaware of his virginal state. And to be quite honest, this was something he wanted to keep that way.

You see, Chan had hopes of airing out his not-so-discreet crush on you one day ('maybe not today, but someday!', he'd tell himself). And the knowledge of him being a loser virgin would probably not help matters when that day came.

His virginity was such a hot topic among his friends that a running bet had tormented him since his first weekend at university. With all his friends being merely one year older, he was the victim of constant teasing as they watched him crash and burn any time a girl showed interest in him, only for him to psyche himself out of actually getting down to anything.

His constant failures only prompted more teasing throughout the years, especially in the form of Jeonghan and Seungkwan berating him about losing his virginity and confessing his pathetic crush on you. Sometimes Dokyeom and Mingyu would join in, insisting he could kill two birds with one stone if he'd only play his cards right.

The mere thought never failed to make Chan blush. To think of you in that context always had a physical effect on him. His palms would become clammy, his face would redden, and sadly, his hardness would make an appearance.

But he'd be lying if he hadn't wanted to will the thought into existence.

The two of you never really spoke about such things, but he was still painfully aware of how opposite of him you were in that aspect. It was no secret to him that your virginity was long gone. To his knowledge, you'd spent your freshman and sophomore years basking in all the attention you received, landing in a few beds in the process. You had this charisma that Chan envied (and was simultaneously extremely attracted to). In your junior year, however, you'd calmed down a bit, spending your Fridays nights cuddled up with Chan in the corner of one of his friends' frat parties rather than out on your own.

"Okay, so are you giving up? You're losing the bet?," Jeonghan piled on, calling Chan's attention away from his internal monologue.

"Giving up on what! I never participated on that bet. You guys came up with it to bully me!," he responded, exasperated.

Joshua rounded the couch to take a seat on the arm of it, patting Chan's shoulder condescendingly as he sipped at his beer with a chuckle.

"We could set you up with someone, you know?", he suggested, knowing Chan would deny his suggestion but trying anyways.

"N-no. I don't want someone to fuck me out of pity," Chan grumbled.

"And that'd be cheating. We're not supposed to help him," added Vernon.

"You guys made up rules?!"

"Shh. The adults are talking," tsk'd Seungkwan.

"You're still a junior. You have time to lose it before graduating still," aided Wonwoo from his side of the room.

"We decided against that. It has to be before we graduate or else it doesn't count," said one of the many seniors in the room.

"Okay, maybe queue me in on the rules if I'm going to be the main character of this bet, guys," grumbled Chan, giving up.

"That's still four months til graduation, Channie. C'mon, it'll be good for you. Maybe you can find a girlfriend and then you won't be all alone after we graduate."

"Yeah, man. Why do you have no friends your own age?" poked Mingyu, chuckling along with the rest of the seniors currently picking at a defeated Chan.

"It looks like I have no friends at all."

Vernon laughed, getting up to sit next to a slumped-back Chan, completely defeated on the couch. He patted his back, though unlike Joshua, he seemed to do it in solidarity.

"Listen, man. Just ask Y/N out. She likes you. We all see it. Just be a man and ask her out. We've told you before — two birds, one stone," encouraged Vernon.

Chan sat back up at the mention of your name, now having you back in his mind.

Should he?

Should he throw all caution to the wind and go on a limb? He'd sensed some more-than-friends vibes from you before, but he'd never been sure enough to actually try and go after you.

Annoyed and confused, Chan stood up with a huff, heading for the door before turning around to grumble at his friends.

"You all suck!," he began his tipsy rant, "I'm going to go out there and prove you all wrong. I'm going to lose my virginity ten times harder than any of you ever did," he declared, his intoxicated brain not realizing he wasn't making much sense, "And then you'll all owe me that stupid betting pool. You'll see," he went to point at Jeonghan, "Specially you!"

Jeonghan gaped at him in amusement, which only provoked further laughter from all the drunk men who had already been laughing at a pent-up Chan. Chan made his exit with this last statement, annoyed enough to disavow his friends for the rest of the night.

Still tipsy and with frustration charging through his veins, Chan made his decision. He knew his next destination for the night and marched there decisively.

"Chan? What are you doing here? Hurry, come in! Guys aren't allowed in here after hours," you ushered him in quickly, taking a look outside to check for any onlookers before locking the door behind you.

In the meantime, Chan turned around, ready to face you once you'd ensured yourselves some privacy. On his walk here, he'd sobered up enough, but his decisive demeanor somehow remained. He had one task tonight and he was going to fulfill it no matter what.

What task was that? He was going to beg you to put him out of his misery, hopefully obtaining an annoyed affirmation from you and ridding himself of his lack of experience once and for all — and also finally getting to have a taste of you, but that was besides the point!

And then that all his courage died the longer you stood there, staring at him expectantly.

But he couldn't back down now. He needed to prove a point, both to the guys and to himself. Also, he was growing quite fed up of his predicament. There was only so long a guy like Chan could go without the touch of a woman, and 22 years seemed to be the limit for him.

"I, uh, I wanted to ask you for a favor," he mumbled, eyes unable to look into your own.

"At 3 in the morning? Was it urgent?"

"Yes!", he found himself quipping with far more energy he'd meant to.

You eyed him curiously.

"Okay, what is it?"

Well.

That was a difficult question.

But this was the moment of truth.

He needed to come out and say it. Just get done with it.

Any moment now.

It was just like a bandaid.

A single moment of bravery and then-

"Chan!"

Oh, right.

He huffed, nervous, annoyed, frustrated, all of the above, before mustering the courage to spit it out.

"Ineedyoutotakemyvirginity," he mumbled out all at once.

"Please tell me you didn't just say what I think you just said."

"What?! You actually understood that?"

"Why would you say it if you didn't want me to hear you?"

"Yeah, but like. How can you be sure I said what you think I said?", this was a lost battle and he knew it.

You were his best friend. You were fluent on his drunken rambles, his annoyed mumbles, his overexcited speeches. Of course you could understand what he said, no matter how mumbled or quickly he'd said it.

"Chan."

"Okay, fine! Want me to say it so bad, I'll say it."

He took a short pause, taking two steps towards you before taking your hands in his own and looking to you with pleading eyes.

"Will you please take my virginity?"

"Since when are you a virgin?"

"As much as I want to take that as a compliment, I'm pretty sure you're implying I'm a slut," he frowned at you.

"God, Chan, you- Come on. Come sit with me," you pulled him by the hand, dragging him over to your couch and taking a seat with him.

Your body faced his own with complete ease and confidence while his remained slightly avoidant of yours. He was slightly faced towards you, but it'd be clear to any spectator that his body language lacked any confidence, especially considering his eyes were facing your lap rather than your face.

"Explain," you instructed, lacking any real emotion in your voice. If anything, you sounded annoyed — something which, to be fair, was not unusual between you and Chan.

"Uh," he started, scratching his head, "Do I have to?"

"Chan!"

"Okay, fine!"

Chan took a breath, body leaning against the back of the couch with a groan and resulting in a slouch of his back. He continued to make no eye contact with you, face now in his hands as he attempted to rub the embarrassment out of his eyes.

"I might've sworn to the guys that I'd lose my virginity," he groaned.

"Sworn how ..?"

"There was a bet involved," he grimaced to himself.

"Chan, you idiot," you chastised, "I didn't even know you were a virgin."

"How could you not?"

Before he could hear your response, Chan suddenly felt a ruffle of the couch. Pulling his hands away from his face, you forced him to face you, now sitting even closer to him on the couch.

"Have you seen your friends? No offense, but they're all kinda ... slutty," he could hear the humor in your voice and knew exactly what you meant. His twelve elders were never shy about their promiscuity.

"Plus, you're always flirting with me. I thought this was something you did with any girl you wanted to sleep with," you added nonchalantly after.

Well, you were half right.

That was something he did with girls he wanted to sleep with. Except you were the only girl he did it to. Because you were the only girl he wanted to sleep with.

A slippery slope.

Chan was his own damn enemy.

"I, uhm, I'm shy around other girls," was his lame excuse.

"So, what, you want me to take it from you?"

"Well, it'd be helpful."

He proceeded to stare at you with what you usually called 'dumb boba eyes,' knowing they had a tendency of breaking you down if he used them just right.

"Dude," was all your response, deadpan as per usual.

"Listen! I'll pay you!", he chirped exasperated, not realizing how his words could be interpreted.

"You want to pay me for sex? Walk that one back for me, Channie."

"Oh, uh, yeah, I take it back. My bad," he couldn't help but flush at the way you laughed at him after he took it back.

"Chan. You don't have to lose it if you don't want to, you know?"

Great, now you were going to comfort him. Chan usually loved how in tune with his emotions you were, but what he needed right now was for you to defile him.

"I know! I just- I just want to. Please? I- It won't get in the way of our friendship, I promise," he went to grab onto your hands, attempting to convince you and himself of his certainty, "It's not sudden either. I've thought about asking you before."

"Why me, though? It's not that I'm saying no," you went to say when Chan was about to interrupt, "I just don't get why now and why me."

Because he was in love with you and because a year from now you'd both be graduated, no longer in each other's constant vicinity. That's when he'd lose his chance altogether.

"Because I know you and I trust you. You'd be nice to me," he allowed himself to be a big vulnerable around you as per usual.

"I'm always mean to you."

"Shut up, I'm making a point here," he disregarded you, "Plus, don't tell me you've never thought about it."

You laughed, tilting your head to the side with a giggle.

"Maybe," you mumbled between chuckles.

Oh. Okay.

Chan would just have to take this confirmation and store it for later.

"So, what do you say?" he looked at you expectantly.

"I think you're the bane of my existence, but what else is new?"

He pinched at your leg like a petulant child who was being denied of a treat, "Answer the question!"

"God, you're even more annoying as a virgin," you chastised, squeezing your eyes closed with a groan before actually responding, "Fine!"

His head turned to you like a magnet, expression completely dumbfounded.

"Wait, what?"

"Are you really trying to get me to change my mind?"

"N-no! Just- Shit, are you serious?", he scoot over closer to you, invading your personal space in the same manner a child would.

"I mean. I kinda feel bad for you. Plus, I've always thought you were pretty cute, so why not?", you said in a way far too casual for Chan to compute.

Was this good? I mean, you did call him cute. But did this mean this would be completely meaningless to you. Would that mean he had absolutely no chance with you past this one instance?

"Can you stop thinking so loudly?", you interrupted him.

"Sorry, I'm just trying to comprehend this. It's a big moment in a man's life when he finally gets his cherry popped."

"Please never say that again," you laughed.

He chuckled with you, still a bit dumbfounded but overall content with the unexpected turn this night had had. His face must've shown the turmoil of thoughts bubbling up in his head, as you suddenly scoot even closer, putting your hand on his leg in a comforting manner before speaking up.

"What, changed your mind already?", you were joking, but there was still kindness in your eyes.

"It's not- it's not that. Just nervous, I guess," he mumbled.

"Tell me about it," you encouraged.

"I, uh, what if ... what if it's disappointing for you?"

"Well, luckily for you, we're best friends. I'll guide you, if you want. What matters most is that it's good for you."

"Yeah, but, but I want to make you feel good."

Careful, Chan. Might give yourself away on accident.

"Chan, I've seen you dance. There's no way you won't make me feel good," you chuckled almost to yourself.

Oh, well, that's-

Chan felt himself getting a bit flustered.

Did you look at him like that when he danced?

"Oh, I- uh, thanks," he managed to mumble.

You must've not caught onto how awkward he felt, as you made no comment about it as you usually would.

"So," you dragged the 'o,' "when do you wanna start?"

"Oh! Uh, I don't- I don't really know. I didn't think I'd get this far."

"Did you think I'd say no?"

"I'm still not sure I'm not dreaming."

You giggled at this, "I can hit you, if it'd help."

"I always thought I'd be way smoother at this," he half groaned, half chuckled, sitting back against the couch while you knelt on it, facing him.

At least he felt more relaxed now. This had gone way better than he ever thought, not that he ever even considered asking you to take his virginity before tonight.

"So, my question?", you pushed again, scooting closer. Chan was beginning to fear you were suggesting something.

"Oh, uh, well-"

Before he knew it, you were even closer, knees pressed to his side as you leaned your body towards him, confident body language while his own reeked of awkward alertness.

"How far have you gone before?", there was a smile on your face. Not a happy one, though. It seemed more satisfied than anything. Kind of as if you had a higher ground (which you did).

Chan's body couldn't help but lean back as you got closer. It's not that he didn't want your touch, he very much did. The issue at hand was just how deprived of it he was. Having never felt such touch before, the mere thought of it could very well be his early undoing. He needed to mentally prepare for such a thing.

"Well, uh," he scratched the back of his head, avoiding eye contact, "I've kissed a few girls before ..."

"And?"

"That's, uhm, that's kind of it," he mumbled.

The avoidance of eye contact became harder now that you were closer in proximity, but he continued to attempt it.

"Really? Only kissing? Uh, what kind of kisses were they?"

"W-what do you mean?", he knew exactly what you meant, he was just an idiot.

But how was he supposed to tell you that in his entire twenty-two years of life he'd only ever shared a few short-lived kisses. There was nothing in his repertoire of experiences to write home about, much less to tell his best friend.

You half-muffled a giggle, now invading all his personal space, "What type of kiss, Channie?", you repeated.

"It was just- they were just regular kisses, uh, you know?," he gulped.

He couldn't help it when his body tilted a bit to face you. Chan still felt unsure and nervous, but his body did not lie to him. If anything happened, he'd welcome it despite the risk of embarrassing himself.

"I'm not sure I'm understanding what you mean," you whispered, leaning even closer.

Within a mere passing second, one of your hands went to his chin, tilting his head towards your own before finally invading the entirety of him. Your eyes were hooded and glued to his lips, a pleased smile still on your own lips.

You pressed a quick peck to his lips before pulling back, causing a pathetic little whimper to leave Chan at the surprise.

"Was it like this?", you asked against his lips pulling away for a mere second before pressing your lips to his own once again, this time for longer.

While the first kiss had barely been there, the second one was anything but shy. This kiss evolved very quickly, with your tongue entering his mouth and tangling with his own. Chan attempted to follow your lead, but was initially very awkward. His teeth clanked against your own, his tongue was too shy and then too excited. You had to silently lead him and teach him the right way to kiss you, eventually resulting in what Chan could very embarrassingly describe as an orgasmic kiss.

He whimpered when you finally pulled away, lips pathetically chasing your own up until you nibbled at his lower lip with a hum.

"Or like this?", you went to ask a light-headed Chan.

"H-huh?"

"Ever kissed someone like that?", you giggled.

"Oh, uh, n-no, I just- no," he stammered his way to his answer.

"Well, glad to be your first," you winked, finally sitting back down next to him.

"Are you- uh, I mean, was it good?", he found himself asking.

You giggled again, unnerving him once more.

"Yes, Channie, it was really good. Don't worry, I'll let you know if there's anything you need to work on."

This made him nervous, but it was preferable, right? Even though he hoped he'd somehow be a natural at blowing your mind, he was glad you'd be the person leading him. The fear of causing disappointment or embarrassing himself diminished tenfold at knowing it was you who'd be with him through this process.

However, his undying crush on you remained in the back of his mind (and sometimes the middle, front, and, well, everywhere in his mind). Chan knew this would become a problem the very second you touched him. Hell, it was already a problem after just one kiss. His mind was already going in circles, attempting to create scenarios in which those kisses were a regular occurrence between you.

"When do you want to start?", you interrupted his thoughts.

The slight chub forming in his pants was begging him to tell you that it was imminent you started now. However, he wanted to at least not smell like frat house when he was finally deflowered.

"W-when, uhm, when do you want to do it?", he mentally face-palmed. He could not be smooth about this even with a gun to his head.

Once more, you chuckled at him. You appeared to greatly enjoy his awkwardness around the topic.

"How about Sunday? I be completely prepared for you. To make your first time special and all, you know?"

Chan did not want to begin imagining what you meant by that. His mind was already scrambled over the results of tonight's events.

All he could do was numbly nod in agreement at you.

"You know, I think this is gonna be very fun," you hummed with a giggle, pinching at his cheek teasingly.

You got up from the couch after that, too nonchalant for the life-changing kiss that had just happened all while Chan continued to process it. That kiss was only the beginning, he realized. On Sunday he'd get to see your naked body, feel it up, have your breasts pressed up against his chest, your wetness will land on his lap, your cunt will wrap around his-

" —Channie?" you called out from the kitchen, head peeking out the doorframe just moments later.

Chan shook his head to rid himself of any of the unseemly thoughts he'd just been having before asking you to repeat yourself.

"I asked if you're staying the night. I'll make you some hot chocolate before we go to sleep," you asked, though it clearly wasn't a question. You had already deciding he was staying, not that he was complaining.

"You know, all that sugar before sleeping can't be good for you," he tsk'd, following you to the kitchen.

"Shut up. You're not my nutritionist, you dweeb."

"This is why you never fall asleep before 3AM."

Despite his chastising, he aided you in the making of the drinks, grabbing the whipped cream from the fridge after you'd boiled the milk and poured the liquid into the matching cups he'd gotten for you last christmas.

"You expect me to take health advice from the guy who showed up tipsy at my dorm room at 2:45 in the morning? Just come to bed," then you walked off, drinks in hand as you settled them on each bedside table and made yourself comfortable.

Ah, right. Sharing a bed.

Chan had momentarily forgotten that you were in a point in your friendship where sharing a bed was as normal as breathing. It had been a while since you'd been able to have a sleepover, but Chan felt particularly awkward about this instance in specific.

You see, before tonight, any sleepover was had with nothing but platonic thoughts in mind (at least for the most part). Now, Chan had to sleep next to you while knowing you were likely thinking about how you'd rob him of his innocence just a few days later.

And him? He'd be thinking about how well you fit in his arms. How well other parts of you would fit with his own.

Within minutes, Chan found himself clad in some pjs he'd left over at your place after the endless times he'd crashed with you. Meanwhile, you were already in bed, whining at him from your place under the sheets for him to move his ass and cuddle with you.

Yeah, Chan was basically a dead man walking.

Regardless, he couldn't leave you waiting for too long. He never could.

"Chan! Hurry, I wanna go to sleep!", you exaggerated your whining a bit for the effect, he could tell.

"God, just say you're in love with me already," he whined back as he made his way to your bed and joined you under the sheets.

"Stop projecting."

Those were your last sleepy words before nuzzling your way to his side, falling asleep almost immediately while Chan sat awake with your head on his chest. One of his hands absentmindedly toyed with your hair as you slept, with his mind completely filled with contemplations about tonight's events.

Chan knew it had been an idiotic, spur of the moment decision to show up to your dorm room tonight. He was well aware of the regrets he'd have if he actually went through with it, knowing there'd be no way for him to feel platonically about your relationship after the fact. Hell, any platonic feelings he had about you were already dying day by day, and that was just due to your mere existence!

Sadly, Chan's desire for you ran deeper than his ability to think critically.

Jeonghan had been right, after all. Maybe this was the way to go. It'd be shooting two birds with one stone, like he'd said. After this, he would maybe finally find the confidence to find another girl, get over you (despite how unlikely he found that to be), and not have to worry about getting rejected for being a loser virgin, as he liked to call himself.

All Chan needed to do now was enjoy your embrace and mentally (and physically) prepare himself for you this coming Sunday. In just a few days, you'd be changing his life.

The following morning was not much for the books. You had an early shift at the supermarket you worked at near school, so you left pretty quickly despite it being a Saturday.

Meanwhile, Chan stayed in bed for a while longer, mind still fuzzy from last night. When you'd given him a kiss on the cheek as you usually did when bidding him goodbye, he began malfunctioning at the memory of the steamier kiss shared between you the night prior.

He only allowed himself a short time to go over last night's events in his head again before finally deciding to leave your dorm room. As a frequent visitor, he had a pair of keys which he used to lock the door behind him, taking his dirty clothes from last night with him and heading over to his own dorm.

Sadly for him, he had the misfortune of sharing a room with a nosy Kim Mingyu, who began berating him about his whereabouts last night after storming out. Along with him were Vernon and Jeonghan, who he recalled being annoyed at last night in specific, though he didn't remember exactly why.

It was extremely uncommon for Chan and Mingyu's dorm room to be empty of at least one other member of their friend group, but out of all times in which Chan wished he could be alone, today was the biggest instance. Except that even alone, Chan knew he'd have to deal with their teasing at one point or the other.

What was even worse, however, was his stupid decision to confide in them with what had gone down last night. They were his friends, after all.

Their reactions were exactly as expected, going from shock to laughter to mockery and eventually landing on a weird demonstration of understanding.

"Well, I guess this was the best course of action, all things considered," hummed Vernon as he rummaged through the mini-fridge Mingyu had gotten a few weeks prior.

"Dude, you're an idiot. Good job," Jeonghan snickered at him, offering up a high-five Chan vehemently denied. Mingyu responded to it in his name.

"C'mon, man. You should be happy! Isn't this what you wanted? You'll finally rid yourself of your virginity and bag your crush. What could possibly go wrong?"

Chan couldn't help but glare and at Mingyu in complete silence. Vernon's snort at the interaction was what brought him out of it.

"Dude, how is this a win? She's only sleeping with me out of pity. Plus, it's going to be so fucking embarrassing when I nut in my pants the second she lets me see her boobs!", Chan whined, completely exasperated.

But he didn't stop there.

"And what even happens after this? Am I just going to be stuck in the friendzone? I'd rather not have her at all than have her once and have it go nowhere. I know me, I'll never get over it," he let himself fall back on his bed, groaning at his predicament.

His friends continued to lounge in his room, at some point even turning on a console to play and not really paying much mind to his dramatics, though still providing sufficient feedback for his situation.

"Okay, then call it off," challenged Jeonghan.

Chan sat up to stare at his friend, not surprised to find him on his couch, eating his food, yet still finding entertainment in his misery.

"Well, I- I don't-"

"See! You want this. Just let yourself have something good, Channie. Wouldn't you rather your first time be with the girl of your dreams rather than with some random?"

"Yeah, my first time sucked. I'd pick Y/N over the girl I lost it to. It was so awkward," Vernon physically shuddered, "Also, this is a step in the right direction, if you really think about it."

Chan ignored the allusion to you and Vernon in that context, choosing to retain the very little sanity he had left in him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't think she'd sleep with you just for the fun of it. We're friends too and she just doesn't seem the type. I think she might like you back and is just using this as an excuse," theorized Vernon.

Before Chan could deny his assertion, Mingyu clapped his hands as if he'd discovered something grand, his mouth in an 'O' shape at Vernon's theory.

"Dude, you're so right," Mingyu agreed dumbly, "Wasn't she the one to start the kiss? Dude, she like-likes you."

"Of course she like-likes him. Anyone with eyes can see it," interrupted Jeonghan, "This idiot just needs to play his cards right and he'll be virgin-less and with a girlfriend by Monday morning."

"Easier said than done," grumbled Chan.

"No, it's pretty easy, actually. You're just an idiot," Jeonghan's statement was met with agreement from the other boys in the room, leading Chan to groan again.

"She said she was going to prepare something for me. What ... what does it mean when a girl says that?", he asked with a bit of apprehension in his voice.

Chan felt like he was violating some sort of secret between you by sharing all this with the guys, but he also did not want to make a complete idiot of himself when he finally got a chance with you — putting all context around it aside. So he opted to try and gauge to see if his friends could give him any type of useful advice.

"Oh, god, she's gonna eat you alive," Vernon chuckled, earning a similar reaction from the other two boys.

"What does that mean?", Chan was afraid to ask.

"He means she's going to rock your world," snickered Jeonghan.

Their responses were sort of absentminded by nature, seeing as they had at some point turned all their attention to the old Xbox Wonwoo bad recently handed down to Chan. They were still lucid enough to amplify Chan's anxieties, though.

"Okay, that gives me nothing."

"God, Chan, what they mean is that she wants you and she's going to make this a good experience for you. She's probably dolling herself up for you and getting you fancy flavored condoms or some shit. Stop overthinking it," grumbled Mingyu as he hacked at his controller, not even facing Chan once as he said so.

Chan felt himself falter at Mingyu's comment. He wasn't sure what to do with this information. Were you really making yourself pretty for him? Chan felt that was completely unnecessary, I mean, god, seeing you in your tiny pajamas last night had been more than enough for him to grow a chub unprovoked.

Should he do something too? Was there any prep he needed to do in order to please you? Maybe he should ask his friends to see if-

"Before you think about it, do not do anything stupid in preparation for it. Just let her take care of it. I know it's your first time, but as a guy you should focus on it feeling good for her," Mingyu scolded precautiosly, "She'll know what to do, just do whatever she asks you to."

Chan's mouth closed before it could even open, nodding to both himself and Mingyu in affirmation.

The conversation seemed to lull out there, with his friends still giving occasional feedback but with Chan checking out at some point due to his anxieties for what was to come.

Despite their advice, Chan decided that he'd at least hit some online forums to do some last minute research on how to optimize your pleasure despite his lack of experience. Along with that, he made a quick stop at a Target nearby to stock up on aftershave (despite not growing any facial hair), some cologne you'd once mentioned you liked on him, some condoms (just in case), some of your favorite snacks, a few aftercare products he saw listed on Reddit, and a few other amenities he thought might be useful.

At some point during the day you'd texted him letting him know at what time you'd be expecting him at your place, instructing him that all he needed was an overnight bag and to make sure his stamina would be up to par with your own (a comment he was sure you'd said in jest but had sweat dripping down his neck).

After having packed the stuff he'd bought in his overnight bag, he decided to call it a day and go to sleep to be well-rested for what he was sure would become the best day of his life.

What he felt was a mixture of jitters and dread. One side of him was overly excited to not only lose his virginity but to also finally be able to have you in a way he'd dreamed of for years. However, the other side of him dreaded the possibility of disappointing you and embarrassing himself. That, and knowing that this would be a once in a lifetime experience and that he'd have to live the rest of your friendship thinking of this moment knowing it'd never happen again.

These thoughts invaded his mind for a little while before he had to retort to some sleepy tea and some melatonin to ensure he'd maintain his energy for tomorrow as instructed by you.

Chan had woken up with a mission.

After all the research he'd done online, he might've gone a little overboard with the superstitions behind his preparation, but being overly prepared did no harm, right?

It had all begun with a very meticulous shower, ensuring he was cleaner than he'd been in his entire life. He'd even gone as far as using essential oils with your favorite scents to attain a smell he knew you'd enjoy. That, paired with his cologne had him confident you'd at least be happy with both his appearance and aroma.

He'd even gone as far as preparing himself a smoothie with a healthy mixture of fruits he'd come to learn would aid to his taste. He was slightly iffy about this fact, but decided against asking his friends about it to avoid any further teasing — they'd all been spamming his phone with good luck messages already.

A few hours were killed as he paced back and forth in his room, passing by the mirror every so often to fix his hair in order for it to be as perfect for you as possible. Hell, he'd even stopped by a flower shop to get you some tulips as some sort of token of his appreciation for ... for your pussy? He had no reason for it, it just felt right to get you flowers.

Your meeting was meant to be at seven, which gave Chan the impression that you'd probably spend all night at it ... The thought had him shuddering every hour that passed by as he waited.

When the time finally arrived, Chan felt extremely out of place as he stood outside of your apartment, flowers and overnight bag in hand as he pondered when to knock on your door. It was 6:58PM, was it too early? Should he have arrived a bit after seven? Would you think he was a loser for being so punctual, or for having brought flowers and snacks for you?

Okay, fuck. He needed to chill. You were his best friend. You already knew the most embarrassing things about him and he knew yours, there was really no reason to be this anxious or to feel inadequate in your presence. He needed to just man up and take anything you were prepared to give him.

When he finally ended his internal monologue, it became 7:01PM, which he thought a good enough time to finally knock on your door.

But he was beat to it by you, as per usual, as you suddenly showed up on the other side of the now open door, laughing at him as you always did for some reason. Not that he didn't enjoy it. He had gotten used to most of his friends laughing at him, that was sort of his goal most of the time.

"Are you planning on knocking any time soon?", you berated him in jest.

"How'd you-"

"The peephole, you dumbass," you giggled before pulling him in, seemingly ignoring the nerves radiating off him.

Once inside, Chan was able to take in what you were wearing, or more like what you weren't wearing.

In front of him, you stood with in nothing but a floor-length robe, though it was clear to him your hair and makeup had been done to perfection, with matching nails you hadn't had last time he'd seen you.

Fuck, he was terrified to find out what you were hiding under there.

"Dude, stop that. You're overthinking this," you scolded him, "Here, let's go to my room, gimme your bag."

One of your hands held onto the bag while the other grabbed onto his own as you led him over to your room.

Before he could make any quip or fun comment to alleviate his nerves, his attention was taken up by the brand new decor in your room. It wasn't anything too fancy or breathtaking, but the implication was enough to knock his breath out of his lungs.

Your bed was partially undone, with what Chan knew were your favorite sheets (as you'd berated him about the one time he'd laid on your bed with his shoes on), the lighting was best described as sensual, not too dark but dark enough to provide a lustful vibe, mostly provided by some dimmed fairy lights and a few candles here and there.

"You like? I didn't wanna be too cliche, but I thought you'd appreciate the atmosphere," you laughed when you noticed him mutely eyeing his surroundings.

"Y-yeah, thanks. Honestly, you're kind of making me nervous."

"Shut up, you'll be fine. What'd you bring?", you asked as you rummaged through his bag.

He thought about stopping you, but you were too stubborn for it to work. You were already pulling things out of it, giggling at some of its contents. Chan had to hold back a physical wince when you pulled out the condoms and lube he'd packed just in case.

"Flavored condoms. You're a man of taste, Lee Chan," you giggled, "You didn't need to bring anything, you know. I have everything we need."

You decided to ignore his bag now, instead walking over to him and sitting him at the edge of your bed, taking a seat next to him and turning to face him.

"I know you're nervous, but this really isn't as nerve-wracking as you think. It's usually worse for the girls. All you really have to do is sit there. It'll be fun for you regardless."

"But I want it to be fun for you too," he practically whined.

Chan already knew this would be a good experience for him no matter what. God, seeing you dolled up for him was already eternal spank bank material for him. The kiss a few days ago? He'd jerked one out to that mere bit of contact this same morning when he took a shower. His pleasure had never been something he worried about. It was making this good for you (and hopefully making you fall for him in the process) that he was wracking at his brain for.

"God, Chan. It will be fun for me, are you serious? You're such a people pleaser, there's no way that doesn't translate over to sex. Plus, you're hot. That in itself makes the experience ten times better than usual."

Hot? You wanted to kill him. That much was already obvious to Chan.

"So, when do you wanna start this, Channie?", you asked as if it was nothing.

"What, uh, what exactly are we going to do?"

"Ever watched porn, Chan? You have to get me wet first. We need some foreplay before you can put it in. Maybe we can just start by kissing like last time? God, it sounds so lame when I say it out loud, just get over here," you grumbled by the end, grabbing him by the shoulder to make him face you better.

Despite asking him to come closer, you were the one to take initiative and straddle him as he sat on the bed, leading his hesitant hands to hold onto your covered hips. Chan gulped at this, fingers instinctively squeezing at your hips as you leaned in closer.

"Don't overthink it," were your last mumbled words before closing the gap.

The kiss began soft and shy, almost as if it were your first. It progressed into open mouthed kisses up until the point your tongue introduced wetness to it, encouraging Chan to do the same. Similarly to last time, he was awkward about it at first, but your guidance got him comfortable enough to reciprocate your kiss.

"You're good at this, Channie," you mumbled, not giving him a chance to reply with anything but a moan.

Your hands were exploring him, unlike his own static ones. You played with his hair, toyed with the collar of his shirt, even unbuttoning the first few buttons, caressed at his cheeks and jaw. You had fun mapping him out while he remained stagnant and shy.

"Can I take this off?", you asked gesturing to his shirt, hands already fiddling with the leftover buttons.

All he could do was nod numbly as he stared up at you, gulping when your hands expertly did as you'd said. Your hands proceeded to push it off his shoulders, feeling up the skin of his chest with your cold hands.

"You're so strong, Channie, so pretty," you mumbled almost entranced as you felt the strong muscle on his torso. Your lips didn't leave him for long as you did, constantly reconnecting with his in open-mouthed kisses that were making him dizzy.

"Take off your pants for me, Channie?", you asked in a tone sweeter than Chan had ever heard from you before. Sure, you were probably the nicest out of all his friends, but your tone was slightly winded and soft in a way that made him shudder at the mere sound.

A few moments later, you got up, moving Chan's hands away from your hips (to his misery) and giving him space to get up and quickly remove his pants, sitting back down on his boxers as his hands insisted on pulling you back to his lap. He hissed a bit when he felt your weight back on his hardness.

"Fuck, you're big. Didn't feel like sharing that bit of information with your best friend?"

Chan could only groan at your comment, both in annoyance and hornyness. You were incredibly infuriating to him in all the best ways, specially as you pressed up your weight against his hardness and humped at him once to test the waters. Drawing another grunt from him, you giggled, losing the gap between you again.

The kissing continued for a while, and Chan had no complaints. If this was meant to be a learning experience, then he was learning a lot from you. As time went by, he felt less and less shy about the pants and moans he'd release against your lips as you sucked at his tongue. His hands remained mostly shy, but would at some points reach up to your back to pull you closer and then make their way back down to the meat of your hips.

Things became slightly problematic when you suddenly decided to begin moving your hips.

It was barely-there movement at first, but that only lasted a few moments. It progressed into full-on dry humping when Chan least expected it, catching him off guard at how good it already felt. Pushing him to fully lay down on the bed, you repositioned yourself to fuck yourself against him in a way that had him choking on his own tongue.

"F-fuck, wait," he rasped, hands digging into your hips in a lame attempt to stop you while knowing it was the last thing he wanted.

"Don't like it, Channie?", you asked despite knowing the answer.

"You're gonna make me cum," he grumbled half annoyed, half incredibly horny.

"Isn't that the fun part?"

"I- I want-" to fuck you, he meant to say

But he couldn't bring himself to say it when you were on top of him, shoulder now bare due to the robe sliding down and pretty eyes staring down at him as if he were a meal.

Not that he'd be able to verbalize anything so explicit to you otherwise.

"You want me to fuck you, right? But there's so many other fun things we can do first, angel. The night is young," you giggled, going back to your dry humping, now allowing yourself to moan at the friction along with Chan.

'Angel'?

Did you find him as perfect as he did you? He was an angel? You were a goddess.

That's when he gave himself up to the pleasure. It was a frustrating type of pleasure. His body ached for more, but this in itself already felt so damn good, he didn't have it himself to fight it. He knew the real thing was coming soon.

At some point you became desperate, huffing and puffing above him as you clearly stole all pleasure you could take from him, riding him through your clothes as you pressed yourself up against his hardness. Through the fabric, Chan could feel the warmth of your cunt dragging against him, making his eyes roll back at the thought.

He was aware you were wearing some sort of lingerie under your robe, — he'd caught a few peaks already — but the anticipation to see it was too much that he found his hands coming up to the loose knot located to the center of your waist, nudging it as he asked for silent permission to undo it.

Your frantic movements did not stop, but you still nodded in affirmation, aiding him in throwing off your robe when the tie came loose.

Chan grumbled into his throat at the sight.

Fuck.

He always knew your body to be a dream, but decorating it with a lacy babydoll was completely unnecessary. It felt like a targeted attack at his sanity and a mockery of his self control.

It was baby blue and sheer, which allowed him perfect view of the equally sinful lingerie laying underneath, accentuating every curve and dip of your body that he'd always remained curious about.

"God, you're so fucking mean to me," was all he could say in reaction, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt his balls tighten, an orgasm surely heading his way.

The sight combined with the making out, the extended foreplay, the caresses, and the dry humping left Chan a defeated man. You knew you held victory the moment he walked through that door and now Chan was willingly giving you the orgasm you clearly wanted to pull out of him.

All he could do was whimper pathetically as his orgasm took over, biting his lip in an attempt to quiet himself as he gasped at your continued movements against his stimulated dick, seeking out an orgasm of your own.

"F-fuck, Channie ... So good, so, fuck, so perfect," you cried as you let yourself fall into him when your orgasm finally took over.

With your face buried in his neck, Chan pulled you as close as he could, hips occasionally humping upwards without meaning to.

You remained laying there for a few moments, completely spent at your shared orgasm.

Meanwhile, Chan held you close as he attempted to catch his breath and maybe recuperate some of the sanity he'd just lost at the most intense orgasm he'd ever had — one due to mere dry humping, at that.

"How was that?", you chuckled when you caught your breath, sitting up again.

"You're insane," was his response.

"Just wait til I actually fuck you."

He shuddered, hating how easy it was for you to have an effect on him.

But you seemed to enjoy it, so it wasn't all bad.

"But for now you need to rest a bit," you got up from his lap then despite his complaints, laughing at his grabby hands.

That's when he got a better look at your outfit of choice, making him groan to himself once more.

"Like it, Channie? Got it just for you," you even twirled for him as you said it.

God fucking damnit.

For him? You'd bought lingerie for him?

Chan remembered Vernon's words then. Maybe you did like him back. God, the need to make you feel good just multiplied right that second.

He gulped as he sat up and let one of his hands reach out to you with shyness he wished he could rid himself of. You smiled at him with what felt like adoration, moving closer to him to let him touch you.

Chan was in a trance as he pulled you closer, getting up to match your stature better and letting his hands hesitantly find your waist.

"You're so pretty," he breathed, eyes running up and down your body before staying locked on your own eyes, which were conveniently stuck on his lips.

Taking his chance, he kissed you again, immediately moaning into your mouth at the intensity in which you kissed him. It took no time for you to take control of the kiss, making it as fervent as all others you'd shared and turning yourself around so you could guide yourself to lay on the bed, now pulling him to lay atop you.

Your hands were frenzied as they felt at every inch of him, pulling at his hair and scratching at his muscles in ways he had no idea could turn him on so much. His hardness was already beginning to come back.

Chan pulled away from the kiss to make his way to your neck, internally panicking at doing something wrong but taking the chance anyways. His hands explored you a bit more now, going beneath the baby doll and feeling the nude skin of your stomach while occasionally gracing against the lace of your bra and panties.

"I want you so fucking bad," he found himself breathing out when his kisses reached your chest, mind reeling at what laid beneath the pretty bra you'd worn for him.

"Then take me," you challenged.

Your hands joined his own in ridding yourself of the troublesome lingerie, throwing it out of the way as if it'd offended you and finally giving Chan a peak at what would now become the main character of all his wet dreams.

"Oh, fuck."

"Am I what you imagined, Channie?", you giggled, licking into his open mouth while he aw'd at you.

"Fuck, god, shit," his hands were frenzied as he felt your body under them. Any shyness in him left the moment he received unadulterated access to you.

"Shit, Channie," you gasped when Chan began grinding into you, this time harder due to him being on top and you being now fully nude.

"I, fuck, I want you so fucking bad," he repeated.

Chan's lips followed his hands, exploring every available inch of your body. They went from your neck, licking and sucking at any place that had you whining a little louder. Their next stop were your breasts, where he spent enough time to have you writhing under him, pawing at him to do more. Your stomach was his next victim, though he quickly skipped over it to make way to your thighs, which he opened further as he now knelt at the foot of the bed.

Wet yet desperate kisses were pressed against the skin of your inner thighs, ghosting at the place Chan wanted to claim the most. With your moans of encouragement, Chan braved a few love bites on the ample skin offered by your thighs. His hair somehow became an erogenous zone as you pulled and pulled at it in frustration at his avoidance of your center. The feeling was slightly painful, but Chan still keened at it.

Eventually even Chan grew frustrated of kissing around the place where you needed him most. With a deep breath and furrowed brows, he finally lowered his head to your cunt, hoping his half-assed research on Reddit gave him good enough advice on how to make you feel good.

His tongue licked a stripe at your middle, going from bottom to top and landing on your clit, which he recognized soon enough and began licking intently at. Slightly worried at your lack of reaction, he let himself take a peak above, only to find a sight that had him moaning into you.

Your mouth was open and your eyes tightly shut, with your eyebrows furrowed like his own. Paying close enough attention, Chan realized you'd been releasing silent noises of pleasure, stuck in your throat as he continued to lick and suck at you.

"Cha-channie, fuck," you finally breathed out, hips inadvertently pushing up against his face.

As if it were second nature, his arms went to push you down, holding you onto the bed to allow himself free rein over your pleasure.

At some point Chan's worries went away. He began to freestyle your pleasure, to put it in simple terms. He went off of your reactions, licking or sucking any time you pulled at his hair a little harder or whined a little louder.

The experience ended up being far more enjoyable than Chan had ever imagined. Sure, he knew he'd have enjoyed being on his knees for you, but never had he imagined he'd lose his inhibitions so easily whilst between your legs. His face was practically buried in you, devouring every inch of you whilst his hips took a life of their own as they humped at the bed.

Your noises were making him lightheaded, your whines of his name and your breathless gasps. It was all too much for Chan, he completely lost himself in you to the point in which he completely missed your first orgasm, too focused on his task to process it.

"Channie, f-fuck, I already came, you don't have to- shit. You don't have to keep going," you hiccuped at him, hands pulling him away from your cunt but hips continuing to attempt to get closer.

But he needed to keep going. He was slightly scared that he'd cum in his pants (again) by how consistently he kept humping at the bed, but he needed to draw that second orgasm out of you more than he needed his next breath — which he also needed, as he was basically suffocating between your legs.

Your whines and pleas became higher and even more winded as he continued, enjoying the torturous pleasure he knew you were feeling at that moment. Chan had never felt such ecstasy in his life.

"C-cumming, Channie! Cumming!" you gasped out before beginning to shake under him.

And even then, Chan could not bring himself to stop. He liked and kissed and sucked until you kicked at him to stop, groaning his name between breaths.

"Shit, fine," he grumbled in a chuckle when he finally separated himself from you.

He had no time to be cocky before you pulled him up, somehow managing to get him to lay on the bed and straddling him once more. Maybe you'd caught him off guard or maybe his body was too willing to do anything for you to ever fight you. His hands were able to immediately go to your hips, which was rewarding enough in itself.

"Shit, that was insane," you giggled with wide eyes as you looked down at him. Then you paused, your eyes squinting at him while the ghost of a smile took on your lips, "Wait you have a little something ..."

That's when you kissed him again, not shy at all in licking any leftover slick from his lips and even sucking at any remnants from his tongue. Chan, being only but a man, easily fave in to it, kissing you back as you'd shown him timeless times throughout the past hour.

"Who taught you that?" you asked in amazement as you pulled back.

"Reddit?"

"God, you're such a fucking loser. Why is that hot?", you mumbled the last bit to yourself.

You bit your lip as you watched him under you, likely looking like a complete mess. All his preparations for you had been undone by now. He probably reeked of sweat and his hair was completely fucked up (courtesy of you), yet you looked at him as if you wanted to eat him.

A few seconds later and your hips began moving from their spot on his crotch. You leaned down again, this time kissing at his neck while you ground on him. Chan whimpered pathetically at the stimulation, already too pent up to put up with it.

"I- I can't- I need to, fuck," he swallowed, "Please fuck me."

"God, how can I say no to you when you're so ..." you groaned into his skin, not bothering to complete your sentence.

That's when you got up without a word, aiding Chan in removing his boxers before pulling a condom from your the pile you had on the bedside table and sitting back on him.

Chan both salivated and gulped at the knowledge of what was to come. His hands tightened on your hips when you began eyeing at his dick. Half of him was self conscious while the other half was too turned on to even think.

The girl of his dreams was currently sitting on him, completely naked as she eyed at him like he was meat. There wad a mixture of fear and immense anticipation building in him.

"Such a pretty dick, Channie. I should've known. Everything about you's so pretty."

"T-thank you," he hiccuped when your hand went to lightly trace at his cock, almost as if entranced by it.

He was slightly embarrassed when he cried out when you finally got him into the condom, but what could be done? He was incredibly turned on and would likely continue to embarrass himself the moment you got him inside you.

"Ready, Channie?" you asked from above him, breath slightly scattered just like Chan's.

He nodded snd 'uh-hu'ed at you, hands pressing at a bruising strength into the skin of your hips as you lifted yourself just enough to press his cock against your folds. As the tease Chan knew you to be, you played around with him a bit first, tracing your folds with his tip before circling your clit with him to stimulate yourself even more.

When Chan's whining got too loud, you hushed him by lowering yourself down on him with no warning, slow in your descent and making sure to make noises that'd drive him crazy. Unluckily enough, Chan's own noises battled your own.

This was an unparalleled experience for Chan. His mind was hazy yet he felt more alive than ever. He whined and cried and moaned and whimpered at your heat. You hadn't even moved yet, but Chan's world had already been turned upside down.

"Oh- oh, fuck. That's so- You feel so fucking good," he rasped out. His hips canted forward a bit just as he spoke, causing another whine to leave his lips.

"It's so good, isn't it, Channie? Fuck, so good and perfect for me," you sighed when you began to move.

Taking on an increasingly rapid pace, you still made sure to angle yourself perfectly in order to get him as deep as possible, Your legs were practically in a knelt pancake stretch above him as you took turns bouncing and grinding. Red marks were left on his chest as you raked your nails across it, but Chan was in too much pleasure to register any of the pain; he was on Cloud Nine.

"Didn't think it could, shit, feel this good."

"That's cause it doesn't, baby. This is all you," you whined out.

Chan was entranced by you above him. It was clear you were enjoying yourself. Endless noises left your mouth and ecstasy made a home in your features. Your movements had finesse, but were mostly done in desperation. Chan felt his stomach knot at the knowledge that he was the cause of your pleasure.

"Gonna ruin me for anyone else," you complained in between pants, causing Chan to hump upwards without meaning to. This made you both gasp, eyes rolling back in unison, "F-fuck, Channie. Do that again."

And your commands were impossible to not follow. His hips immediately began canting in sync with your own. With his feet planted on the bed and his hands secured on your waist, Chan fucked into you with a complete lack of finesse and a mind full of depraved desperation.

The only noises leaving the two of you after that consisted of cries of each others' names and grunts. The mixture of skin slapping and disgruntled sounds of pleasure was nasty in nature, but Chan found the sheer need shared between you mind-numbing. This was a physical representation of how much he'd always wanted you, and it was finally taking form.

When Chan felt his orgasm approach, his hips sped up, causing you to hiccup out praises and moans, with a warning for your impending orgasm in between. Your hand went down to your cunt, toying at your clit messily as you continued to ride him.

It became a mess pretty quickly, but Chan didn't care. His mind was too focused on your shared pleasure.

"Gonna cum with me, handsome?", you gasped out between heavy breaths.

"Mhm!", was the most Chan could do at the moment. The pleasure was blinding as it led up to his orgasm. It was impossible to keep control of himself at that moment.

And then it came.

It felt like he was completely blinded, like his senses were overturned while also shutting down completely. Everything felt way more sensitive, especially when he felt you tightening around him for your own orgasm.

His brained tuned out your noises of pleasure and his throat muted any of his own. The feeling was so good that he choked on the loud noises he knew he'd be letting out at this moment. It was like he short-circuited. It all went black for a few moments as the pleasure overtook his entire being.

By the time his senses came back to full function, you were lying on top of him, breathless as you took turns nuzzling against his chest and pressing kisses on the flushed skin. Just before his arms wrapped around you, you disconnected yourself from him to lay beside him, removing any distance between you to cuddle into his side.

"I think you might've ruined me for anyone else," he breathed out finally.

You chuckled.

"Well, good thing I don't want anyone else to have you," you said nonchalantly, unknowing that Chan's heart rate sped up 100x.

"Do you mean-"

"Yes, I like you back, you absolute dumbass," you said in faux annoyance before pressing a kiss to his lips and getting up, mumbling something about needing to clean up before catching an infection. Girl stuff.

Meanwhile, Chan sat back on your bee completely dumbfounded yet more pleased than ever before.

Fuck, maybe he should buy Jeonghan a drink or something.

to read short 1.8k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, loser!chan getting bullied by the members and reader all at once (with love ofc!), mentions of sex, mentions of prior overstimulation, sort of dom/sub dynamic, begging, oral (m receiving), etc.

wc: 169 (teaser); 1858 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Dude, you totally owe me money," cackled Jeonghan as soon as he spotted you and Chan walking into the frat house hand in hand.

"What? That was never the bet," Vernon gestured towards you and Chan, who were now settling onto the couch across from them, "The bet was that he wouldn't lose his v card, which it looks like he did – congrats man," he finished off with a high five to Chan.

"I'm talking about the other bet," rebutted Jeonghan, "I told you he'd confess within this week. You said it'd take him til after we graduated."

"Wait, what? We bet on that?"

"You guys had multiple bets based on my love life?", gaped Chan, half annoyed and half confused — he was making that question mark face you loved on him. He looked like a curious puppy when he did it.

You continued to watch amused, eventually joined by Seungkwan as he took a seat to your opposite side and offered you a sip of his fruity drink.

...

find the 18+ continuation on patreon!

if you have trouble finding it on there, just let me know!!<3

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 8

it's the morning after. spencer reid suspects you’re left with some doubts after losing your virginity to him. he has to figure out why—which is hard when you're keeping secrets.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ warnings/tags: fem!reader, blood related to losing virginity (dramatized for the drama duh), super vague allusions to the BAU being hungover, mild blasphemy if anyone even cares, pondering god bc am I really a fanfic writer if I don’t get a little religious w it, emily AND hotch are here and nobody knows why pls don't pay attention to that bc we are imagining like season 11/12 spencer and I'm inconsistent w who is unit chief in this series apparently, spencer slut lore, spencer emotional wounds lore, Spencer is a traumatic situationship survivor a/n: DADDYS HOMEEEEE (me and dybmn not spencer) anyway missed these little guys and am happy to be writing for them again!! idk what my upload schedule will becoming back to this but pls lmk what u think of this part, I have no idea how you will respond but I'm being brave and ily

Friday morning Spencer comes into the office fifteen minutes late (he tried his best), in yesterday’s suit (everything in his go-bag had been too wrinkled), hair messy (no doubt from your fingers), coffee cold (he’s exhausted) and overall, in an excellent mood.

The rest of the team isn’t faring quite as well—Spencer gathers they stayed at the bar celebrating Derek’s birthday a lot later than he had. It shows through sallow skin and dark circles and the grimaces he receives on the way to his desk that are probably supposed to approximate good morning’s. 

Honestly, he doesn’t mind the dull mood—he doesn’t need the teasing and the prying questions that would be sure to come if his co-workers were at peak performance and were able to put together his unusually perky demeanor and disheveled appearance. At least Prentiss doesn’t appear to be paying him any mind. She’s always the one who can read him like an open book and has no shame in doing so aloud. Echoes from years of, ‘so who was the lucky girl, last night, Reid?’ Still ring through his mind and it’s like he can feel her finger prodding at his side. 

The Emily of it all makes him smile, though the rest of the memory leaves a metal tang in his mouth. Back in those days, there were sometimes a lot of girls, but even then he was consciously aware he wasn’t necessarily doing something he enjoyed. He spent a lot of time, actually, staring at his bedroom ceiling, psychoanalyzing himself. Repetition compulsion. The insatiable desire to repeat or reenact emotionally painful experiences. Maybe he thought if he could teach himself to subsist off of emotionless hookups, he could in some way heal from his experience with Elle. Though, he’s hesitant to think of it now as healing��it’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing when a few nights after she said I don’t feel the same I’m sorry he opened up his front door for her. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was doing every time after that. So, maybe heal isn’t the right word, when one doesn’t have the right to be injured. Or when the injuries are, in a manner of speaking, self-inflicted. At the very least he could tell himself that this time around, meaningless sex was a choice he was making for himself. Spencer hates when things just happen to him. 

But you—you’re different. You were a complete surprise. At first, a cute and unexpected complication. After a few painful and short-lived attempts at real relationships, Spencer decided he was simply not to be trusted with emotional intimacy of any kind, including that which inevitably develops from physical intimacy, and would resign himself to a life of celibacy. He tried not to like you, but you were just so damn likable. Magnetic, to use a trite and perfectly honest turn of phrase. All that to say: he doesn’t regret you at all. There is no filter of putrid shame or anguish over his memories of last night. 

Just you. Perfect. Starlit. Glowing softly around the edges like you’re not even real. 

I love you I love you I love you. A hymn with no melody. You, always reminding him exactly why he is decidedly not a man of faith. At least, not in the typical sense of the word. 

How God became the idol and not Mary is lost on him. That’s why, Spencer supposes, tapping an eraser on his desk, marriage and sex were forbidden for so many ecclesiastics. After all, if they knew what it was to love a woman, specifically to love you, he doubts they’d feel like spending much time in the pulpit. Love. Humans had that long before they had any gods. It’s primeval. It’s the most natural manifestation of devotion and worship. It will always have come first. Isn’t it a better kind of religion when a man realizes he can kneel in front of a woman rather than an altar?

A heavy hand falling on his shoulder jolts him from his theological musings—which are in all practicality useless. What’s that saying about blasphemous thinking on the FBI’s dime? Right. There isn’t one. 

“I’m scared to ask,” Morgan says as Spencer jumps slightly in his chair. 

“What?” He mumbles, looking up from the document he’d only sort of been reading.

Morgan just looks at him, strong brows furrowed and a ditch between them, angles his head and glances to the side as if Spencer is missing the obvious. He almost follows Derek’s eye-line. When that doesn’t work, Derek just says your name. Like your status is somehow in question. 

“Did you two work things out, or not? It looked pretty bad when you guys were leaving last night.”

People often misunderstand an eidetic memory. It’s not like things can’t slip his mind—Spencer can actually be quite forgetful. It’s made worse by the fact that last night at the bar feels like months ago. For a moment, he has no idea what Derek is referring to. 

“Oh. Oh! Right, we—right. Yeah, we, uh—we worked it out.” Before Derek has a chance to read his face, no doubt as incriminating as his fumbled speech and an ill-timed throat clearing, he turns back to his paperwork. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her at the bar. I appreciate that.”

It’s quiet for a moment, and Spencer’s lips twist as he can feel the incoming inappropriate comment. 

“Is that the same suit you were wearing last night?” Morgan quips, his wide grin audible. Spencer can practically hear the cartoon gleam of his friend’s bleached teeth. 

“No.”

“You dog.” Derek is still smiling as he claps Spencer’s shoulder again. “What did you say to her that worked so well?”

Spencer clears his throat again and tries to look extremely involved in logging onto his computer, speaking quickly as if he’s beyond disinterested and can’t wait for the exchange to be over. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m actually trying to work so if you wouldn’t mind going back to your desk that would be great.” 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you work. But I see you, pretty boy.”

Spencer tries not to blush like a teenager as he refuses to look up. 

Naturally the rest of the day is a slow descent into dread and madness as all those good feelings with which Spencer had started his morning begin to harden into something much worse, chilled by your lack of response to the text he sent you earlier. Which was essentially a rehashing of the note he left on your bedside table. 

Maybe it was too much. It should’ve been one or the other, but not both. He’s overwhelmed you. 

Okay, so maybe this is what religion is for. A last ditch effort when you can’t talk to your girlfriend so you have to try talking to God. 

But Spencer knows you, and he knows something is wrong. You wouldn’t just ice him out so blatantly if everything was okay. He catches himself glancing up toward Hotch’s window to see if the blinds are drawn, and considers faking an illness to get out of work early and go check on you. But he powers through the remaining hour and a half that he is obligated to stay at work, he bounces a pencil between his fingers, drums at his desk, and gets nothing else done. As soon as 4:59 rolls around, he’s out. 

Spencer can hear shuffling on the other side of your door as he stands in the hallway. A pot clatters. The walls hum with the rush of water through the pipes to your sink. He knocks, relieved that you’re okay and at the same time struggling with that weight on his chest—something cold that leans over his shoulders and whispers into his ear—so she just didn’t want to talk to you. 

Suddenly all sound from inside your unit ceases. For a few long seconds, Spencer’s confusion only grows exponentially. 

“Who is it?” You finally call, voice wavering. Also odd. Usually you just open the door. 

“Um… Spencer?”

“As in my boyfriend Spencer?”

He frowns, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly as he tries to decipher your sudden paranoia. “I hope so?”

The click and jingle of several locks precipitates your much-anticipated reveal. 

“Come in,” you say breathlessly, more harried than usual and not giving him the tender greeting he’s selfishly become accustomed to—barely even giving him a second to look at you. But he steps inside, watching on in concern as you do up every single lock—the one on the knob, the deadbolt, even the chain. Is this really all because of his little comment last night about anyone being able to get in? He certainly hopes not. He didn’t mean to terrify you. 

When you finally turn, he takes stock of your appearance. Big hoodie, pajama pants patterned in little hearts. Hair pulled back hastily. Your skin is sort of dull where you normally glow. But you’re beautiful, like always. It always aches just a little bit to look at you. Spencer’s always been like that. Going breathless at a particularly good piece of art or pretty girl. Like yourself. Mostly you. 

You quickly turn to hurry back into the kitchen. “I was trying to make dinner, I—”

“Hold on,” he interrupts, stopping you with a hand on your stomach that is so non-demanding it’s really mostly a suggestion. He tries to clear his head, though you make it hard. “You didn’t talk to me all day. Not that you have to, but… I was worried.”

You glance at the floor and mumble, “I lost my phone,” with so much embarrassment he believes you’re telling the truth. “Did you, um—did you text me?”

Insecurity. Spencer knows well what it looks like on you. He softens. You weren’t ignoring him—but you’d been left in a vulnerable state without any ability to contact him or anyone. That couldn’t have been comfortable. 

“Of course I did.” He pauses to observe you. Still anxious. Still prepared to run at any second. Something, and he’s not sure what, did a number on you today. Maybe it’s sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the anxiety of not having your phone. But he has to figure out what it is so he can undo it. “What? What’s wrong?”

He watches your breathing pause—watches your eyes gloss over with tears and a frown contort your features. Oh, god. He’s done something terribly wrong. It’s been thirty seconds and he’s done something wrong. 

“Can we sit down? I don’t feel very good.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we can. Whatever you need.”

You cast a baleful look at him and now he has to wonder what that means. Spencer sets his bag on a pulled out dining chair and follows you to the couch where you settle on opposite sides—you’re curled up in the far corner, hugging a pillow to your chest with your legs folded in front of you. Spencer’s heart is beating fast. He doesn’t know what’s going on with you and he can’t figure it out just by looking and you don’t seem eager to tell him. 

He’s exhausted all his typical ways of collecting information, and now he’s at a loss. 

Eventually, the anxiety comes bubbling up. 

“Please talk to me,” he pleads. And you do. Almost instantly, like he stepped on some sort of landmine. 

“I know it’s my own fault for not having my phone on me and not being able to see your texts, but it really sucks that I had to find out from my creepy neighbor that you snuck out in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.”

The whiplash is so strong it’s almost a broken neck. Spencer reels, frowning deeply as he tries to process your impromptu speech, the sudden confrontation. What creepy neighbor?

“I… didn’t. I went to grab my stuff from the car around one, but I came right back. I left at 7:30. You don’t remember me saying goodbye?”

Your brow furrows, and your eyes dart over the design on the rug like you’re watching memories go by. He sees it in your eyes when you recall some hazy image of him holding your face, kissing your cheek more times than was necessary and whispering sweet things against your lips before he had to go. You shrink into the couch, clearly struggling under the combined weight of relief and embarrassment. 

“I forgot. I thought… he said…”

A moment passes and it’s clear you’ve abandoned the sentence. Spencer is concerned about this shadowy male figure who put malicious untruths into your head. He slides his hand under yours and twines your fingers together. Finally, finally you meet his gaze. 

“Someone made you believe I left without saying goodbye.”

And he almost wishes you weren’t looking at him as more tears pool before falling down your cheeks. You nod, and don’t make a sound. 

“No, honey. I didn’t do that. I’m sorry that’s what you’ve been thinking all day.”

“I was worried that you… or that I wasn’t…”

His chest aches. You’d woken up alone, no recollection of his goodbye, and without the comfort of even a text. 

“You didn’t see my note?”

The way you look at him then is heartbreaking. Eyes wide and wet and sad, lip trembling. 

“You left a note?”

Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will. 

It must’ve fallen off the bedside table, or maybe he just hadn’t positioned it obviously enough. 

A lost phone, a missed note, and not even a memory of his departure. While none of these things are verifiably Spencer’s fault, he feels so, so guilty. 

“I did,” Spencer says gently, scooting closer and pulling you into him, head pressed to his shoulder as you try not to cry, and he rubs your back slowly. 

Your sulky words are muffled by his shirt. “I didn’t see it. What did it say?”

“A lot of very nice things about you,” he whispers. Spencer thought maybe he could get away with giving you all the sincere compliments you can’t accept face to face through a note you could read while he wasn’t around. That way you couldn’t refute them or stop him. It was a good plan. 

He feels the sigh of relief leaving your body against his neck. 

“I didn’t know.”

“I know. I’m sorry. That’s not… I should’ve just stayed. This is my fault.”

You keep your cheek pressed to his shoulder as you speak. 

“It’s not. You have a job. A really important job. You can’t just call out whenever I want you around.”

Logically he knows you’re right, but he doesn’t always think logically around you. 

“I could’ve made it work. I could’ve come in late, or the team could’ve called me if there was a case, which there wasn’t—”

“Spencer, it’s okay. It’s not your fault. Don’t worry about it.”

He pulls back slightly, frowning at your tone. You do look relieved, much less plagued than you’d been when he arrived minutes ago, but something heavy still weighs you down. The burden of it darkens your eyes and dulls your expression. When he cups your cheek, you glance up at him, and then away once more. 

He speaks softly. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?” 

Again he earns a moment of your eye contact, but it’s fleeting. He watches the words spin around your head as you try to figure out what to do with them—and then choose to remain silent. 

There is in fact something you’re keeping from him. 

Spencer hates to use work tactics on you, but he doesn’t speak either, hoping that you’ll feel compelled to fill the silence with the truth. Knowing how you’re not entirely comfortable with quiet. 

And you try, lips parting and the sound delayed as you wrestle with something you clearly don’t know how to talk about. 

“I… my neighbor,” you say, frowning like you don’t quite know why you’re speaking. “The one who told me he saw you leaving in the middle of the night. He also—he said…”

Spencer brushes hair away from your cheek with a thumb, stroking the high point in gentle passes as your words taper off. Now that he’s thinking about it, he did encounter a man in a dumpy robe standing in the courtyard and smoking a cigarette when he left you tangled in sheets and dozing contentedly to get his bag from the car. In fact, they rode back up to your floor in the elevator in mostly awkward silence. Spencer was sure his outfit told a story—shirt untucked and hastily buttoned only partway, no belt, shoes barely tied, duffel slung over his shoulder—he wasn’t really expecting to run into anyone at such an hour, to be honest, but he hadn’t particularly cared what this man thought of him, so it didn’t cross his mind again.

Now he remembers. 

Long night, huh? I remember those days. 

It was an inappropriate comment, but given his job he’s used to ignoring those. Mostly his mind had been preoccupied with the idea of returning to you, who gave him such a warm and sleepy welcome when he climbed carefully back into your arms several minutes later that it was like he’d never known anyone else at all. 

Now he resents that he hadn’t said anything, he hates the idea that you spoke to this man and he said something to upset you and Spencer wasn’t there. Usually he tries not a judge a book by its cover (metaphorically, of course) but he’s been around enough bad men to know when he’s looking at one. Last night he hadn’t even been cognizant enough to realize they got off on the same floor. 

“What did he say, angel?” Spencer whispers, incapable of being anything but soft with you at the moment. Even though he senses something a lot like a tide of preemptive anger rising in his chest, painted over with layers of anxiety and guilt. He should’ve found a way to stay with you this morning. 

You sniffle and let your head fall again, forehead resting against his collar. Instinctively his hand slides to the back of your neck and even at the awkward angle he finds a way to press his lips to yours hair. “Can we talk about it later? I don’t feel good.”

If it’s making you this uncomfortable, Spencer really wants to know what passed between you and this neighbor. In fact, he’d be willing to bet a lot of your strange behavior this evening stems from something that occurred which you don’t feel comfortable telling him yet. But he manages to bite back anymore questions. He doesn’t want to make you feel interrogated. 

“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he says eventually, kindly, hand tracing down the length of your back and up again. “Why don’t you feel good?”

He doesn’t miss the way you reach up to discreetly wipe your cheek. But he won’t make you talk about anything you don’t want to talk about until you’re ready, and it seems like you’re already having a rough day. Which is not what he wanted. This is so far from what he wanted for you. He’s cursing himself for how he handled this whole situation. 

“Um, I just… I don’t know. I feel… bad. I’m sorry I’m being so weird.”

“You’re not being weird, honey. You had a hard day. You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal set of circumstances.”

You sit up, sniffing and wiping your tears like you can just make the whole thing go away. 

“No, I am. I am. It’s all okay now, right? So I don’t know why I feel like this. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He watches helplessly. “Nothing is wrong with you. We’ve… it’s been a big couple of days. Mostly good, but I think you’re probably really tired. Emotionally and physically.” 

You bury your face in your hands and nod silently. He still feels like he’s shooting in the dark, but you’re not entirely comforted yet, and it’s killing him. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is okay. If this is… about last night, or this morning, or something entirely different—regardless of what it’s about, you’re not going to be… in trouble with me if you’re having complicated feelings. And you can talk to me. But it doesn’t have to be right now. We don’t have to figure it out all at once, okay?”

You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, and for a moment, his words sink into silence. When you do raise your head, nodding, the evidence of your discomfort is all over your face—reddened eyes, cheeks polished with wiped tears. But you take a deep breath and try to project whatever it is you think he wants to see. 

The back of your hand is soft under his thumb as he sweeps it, as if he could draw forth more information that way. People speak when they’re ready.

“Is there anything I can do?” He tries, all ramped brow and soft spoken. 

You’re looking at where he’s tracing swirls on your hand as you swallow and blink the last of your tears away. 

“Um… you can say no, but—do you think it would be okay for you to maybe stay again tonight?”

Spencer sucks in a breath, painfully aware that he’s about to let you down. 

“I… I haven’t been home in a week. I’ve been wearing this suit for two days straight and I don’t think I would want to share a bed with me again until I shower.” He watches you wilt and lifts a hand to stroke your hair. “But I do want to spend time with you… do you maybe want to come stay with me instead? No pressure—”

“Okay. Yes. Is that okay?”

Spencer’s brow knits. You seem even more enthused about the idea of going to his apartment, like now that the opportunity has presented itself you can’t wait to get out. Maybe you have some sort of black mold problem. 

“Of course. Do you wanna grab a few things and then we can go?”

“Um��I also haven’t showered today. Do you mind waiting?”

“Sure. Or you could use mine. With supervision, this time.”

Spencer is attempting to make a joke about your unplanned (and unmoderated) stay at his apartment last week after he left—but looking at your face now he’s wondering if he touched a nerve. 

“Like… one at a time? Or…”

He thought maybe you’d be more comfortable around him after last night—and it’s not like he hadn’t seen you naked before then, either.

“Do you wanna do it one at a time?” He asks gently. 

There’s this sparkly sort of longing in your eyes that he’s seen before, but you tamp it down like always. You’re so cautious. About everything. Even the things you’re curious about. It’s sweet and a little sad. 

“I’ve never… showered with anyone.”

The corner of Spencer’s mouth twitches as he pushes hair over your shoulder. “I know. You don’t have to. We could save like 100 gallons of water depending on how long your showers typically last, but—”

“Spencer—”

“Sorry, sorry—I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to pressure you. You absolutely can take your own shower. You can go first so you get the hot water.”

“No,” you laugh, and it’s like a sparkling cloud of gold has settled around you, fractals bouncing off the shine of your cheeks and eyes—the sound of your laughter, the look of it, is such beautiful relief he can’t believe how good it feels, but it fades from you quickly. “It sounds… I think I want to, I just… I don’t wanna, like… do… anything.”

For a split second your veiled language mystifies him and then he realizes what you’re trying to say without saying. Something has changed since yesterday, when you brazenly referred to it as fucking, and today, when you can’t even say sex. He’s gotten as far as it being something your creepy neighbor said. Maybe. He needs to know what. 

But that’s not the topic at hand. 

“We don’t have to. I didn’t mean to imply that we would do anything like that. I don’t expect anything from you.”

You swallow. 

“Okay. I wasn’t sure.”

About what?

He says your name. No response. 

“Can you look at me, please?”

It takes you a moment, and your head raises like you might need some oil in your hinges, but eventually you manage. Spencer hopes the way he’s rubbing your leg is comforting. 

“You know I’m never, ever going to make you do anything you don’t want to do, right?”

To his horror, your answer isn’t an immediate and resounding yes. Instead you look back down and cover his hand with your own, fiddling nervously with his fingers. 

Eventually, you reply, “Yeah… I know. I just thought… I’m not sure. Maybe it’s supposed to be different now.”

“It doesn’t have to be. Nothing has to be different. We’re still doing everything on your schedule, okay? And as for the next few days, at least—I think it might be a good idea to take sex off the table altogether.”

Your eyes narrow and you hesitate. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want you worrying about it. And I don’t think it would feel good for you right now. I think there are things we need to talk about, but… we’ve probably tried enough for a while, hm?”

You give him a shy nod and hum your agreement. For a moment he lets his hand linger on your leg and then pulls it back. 

“Okay. Do you want my help packing a bag, or should I wait out here?”

“You can wait. It should only take a minute.” You pause, halfway up to look pensive. “Um, Spencer—do you think it would be okay if maybe I… if I stayed tonight and tomorrow? I just—I wanna get out of here, for a bit.”

He frowns but doesn’t hesitate. “Of course. Can I ask why?”

“It’s just… suffocating sometimes,” you call as you turn and hurry down the hallway to the bedroom. “Feels like my neighbors are on top of me, like they’re… breathing down my neck, half the time.”

Sure, bigger apartments exist—but it’s not like you’re in a studio. And you’ve never mentioned feeling that way before. That bad feeling is starting to come back—like you’re not telling him something he needs to know. But is it worse to let you deal with it yourself until you’re ready to talk or to force it from you?

A few minutes later you return, a duffel of your own over your shoulder and full to bursting. 

“So I’m an idiot. My phone was literally in the pocket of my jeans on the floor.” You drop the bag as you bend down by the door to pull on your favorite slippers. “Oh—I think I forgot my charger, can you grab it? It’s by my bed.”

Spencer of course obliges, and is secretly pleased to be in your room again, in the light this time, so he can see better. It’s sweet. The pictures on the walls, the plants and the knickknacks and the sticky notes scrawled with messy reminders on every surface and the sweater hanging over the back of a chair—the one you’d been wearing at the cafe all those months ago—it all feels so you. He wonders why the two of you don’t spend more time here. 

He lets himself linger for only a minute before remembering his task, but as he reaches down to unplug your charger, whatever dopey smile he’d been wearing evaporates. The sheets have been stripped from your bed, and he can see why—there’s a striking stain of dried blood, and several surrounding dots, soaked into the mattress. Not much, but enough to make him feel horrendously guilty. He cringes, imagining what it must’ve been like to wake up all alone to nothing but your own blood. Poor girl. Of course he’d noticed some, last night when he was doing his best at cleaning you up, but it had been dark, and he was exhausted, and he hadn’t done enough. 

“Where’d your sheets go, baby?” He asks once back by the front door with his own bag on his shoulder, setting a gentle hand on your lower back and holding out your charger for you. You jump slightly, and he makes circles on your back, wishing there was something he could do to settle you. 

“Oh! They—they got ruined. I threw them out. It’s fine. I have others.”

So you didn’t have enough energy this morning to walk a few feet to your shower, but stripping your bed, getting dressed, and walking down to the trash chute at the end of the hall had been top of your priority list. 

You swallow as he undoes the locks and holds the door open for you, and pretend like you’re not doing surveillance to either side as you stand in the hallway, locking your door again like you can’t get out of here fast enough. 

Spencer casts a sidelong glance at you and wonders if you’re intentionally avoiding eye contact. He tries not to think like a profiler. He tries not to assign meaning to your actions, but he can’t help it. He can’t not notice. 

He can’t not worry. 

And he can’t not wonder what you’re not telling him. 

-

part nine

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[rxmye]

" 𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔 . . . "

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐍𝐈𝐀𝐂 / 𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 — Yoichi Mikami . . introduction | masterlist | requesting rules . . warnings : nsfw content / sixteen + content / gender neutral reader / yandere oc x reader / Yoichi is aimed at people with a savior complex tbh / yandere content / pathetic yandere / submissive(?) yandere /

a/n: this is just a character sheet of some general info alongside nsfw and sfw headcanons below . .

Appearance: Yoichi has fair skin and soft brown hair, which is slightly wavy and it reaches all the way down to the bottom of his neck; it's well kept as he has this obsession with his hair. He has light hazel coloured eyes and soft pink heart shaped lips. He has the inverted triangle body type, so a slim waist. He's toned but nothing over the top, his physique is mainly thanks to his close friend Lucas forcing him to join when working out. Yoichi has slim Vieny hands, and stands at a tall 6ft in height. Yoichi has many piercings, truly the embodiment of "You're not depressed, you just need to get your skin pierced", with 3 different ear piercings, a tongue piercing, and to top it all off a eyebrow piercing. (He has yet to get a lip piercing, but let's be honest, he's one melt down away from getting one).

Character basic info: Yoichi's birthday is on June 12th, he is Pansexual, and emophilia which is a tendency to fall in love fast, he's a hopeless romantic as heart and is more of a obsessive and delusional type of yandere/stalker. His has many hobbies, which includes but is not limited to, cooking, drawing, writing, photography and etc . . Yoichi has a major sweet-tooth, and is not that picky with what he eats but hates peppers with a passion . .

backstory: Yoichi is currently attending university, he's in med school and plans on becoming a surgeon, currently completing his bachelors. Yoichi comes from a well-off family, he's old money and his family is pretty traditional but rather accepting when it comes to him as he is an only child. His parents have always been reserved with affection except when it came to each other and though he's aware they care and love him, he often times craves to fill the missing gap with his romantic entanglements, hoping for something similar to what he saw his parents having, . . which has led him to being a hopeless romantic. Yoichi has always struggled with sleep, but now has found a remedy that comes in the form of y/n . . and he does not intend on letting them go . . .

NSFW | 16 + CONTENT BELOW THE UNDERCUT . . .

Yoichi's love language is quality time and physical touch, the feeling of skin on skin, your touch, the smell of your hair, the scent of your sweat as your embrace him closely is something he wishes he could stitch into his brain. Yoichi is willing to die in the comfort of your touch, your embrace, to let you swallow him whole is his dream.

Despite that, Yoichi is a switch, he has no personal preference when it comes to who's taking the lead in bed and has a high libido, yet he wants nothing more than to feel as much of your skin as possible, he wants to swallow your breath—to become one. He'll take anything you give him, and expects the same in return.

Despises bondage for that very reason, restrainment will drive him insane—he'll whine, he'll cry. . if he can't feel you, if he can't reach out and let his hands touch your pretty hair, grip your thighs . . Same applies to blindfolding him, he needs to see! He needs to feel, see, touch, smell, taste you, he needs you to overwhelm his senses!! You can't do that to him!!

Cock-warming would be torture, it would be a punishment for him, he'll do his best to behave, but honestly he'll be a crying and pleading mess in no time, you mean you're going to let him stay inside you . . yet not let him move? You feel warm, wet, and amazing, he wants to feel more . . let him have more . .

He's more of a groaner then a grunter, he whines and has a habit of overstimulating himself, which leads him to overstimulating you. . He just needs more, thursting deeper into your walls, touching you, his mouth on your neck, fingers teasing your nipples, sharp teeth sinking its fangs into your flesh, he wont stop unless he himself is on the brink of passing out, fingers gripping ever so tightly on your waist, thighs, fucking into you sloppily and messily, he'll leave both you and himself a crying mess . . as drool drips down onto your chin.

Aftercare is usually something he has to prepare before hand, because with the way he goes, it'll be unlikely that either of you will have energy to move out of bed, most of the time he'll have snacks and drinks prepared for afterwards, and you both will spend the time cuddling.

He despises quickies or voyeurism, he doesn't mind fucking you against the window, or when someone is near, but he dislikes the idea of doing it outside of the bedroom harshly, sex is intimate . . and he wishes to keep it as such.

With that, he also dislikes degrading, other then the few small occasions. However, this man adores receiving and giving praise, he'll compliment everything, voicing how much he adores you—the way you taste, the way you moan his name, your fucked out expression when he goes a little bit faster then before.

On the other hand, Yoichi really really really likes being degraded, he'll never voice it—but go ahead! Call him a pervert while he kneels at your feet, worshipping your body as it should be!!! Call him sick and twisted, please call him names, choke him—Oh . . he also loves it when his partners get aggressive.

Also, bite him, scratch him, dig your nails into him, pull his hair, he loves anything with a sting or mark that's left behind . .

NON-NSFW HEADCANONS

Yoichi is a obsessive, delusional, and stalker type of yandere, he often writes down his fantasies in a book, and isn't afraid to get violent when needed, he'll defend himself by repeating a lie over and over till he believes it—till it erases any guilt or remorse he feels. He's willing to kill, he's willing to do all of that, because if it came down to it, he'll lie to himself, so much so, that even he himself will convince his mind to believe that yes, he did the right thing . .

He's skilled at stalking, yet he rarely risks breaking into your house—out of fear he may leave one thing misplaced and you'll catch on, his insomniac, sleep deprived mind is paranoid and anxiety ridden, and he cannot risk anything of that sort, he may watch you from outside your window, he'll move near you, he'll follow your around the neighborhood to satisfy his whims . . he'll stage coincidental meet-ups at class, clubs, etc, until he can come into your home as a friend lover!!

As he can't sleep without your scent, he often tries to satisfy his whims by buying similar perfume/cologne as you use, it does the job for awhile, and he's at least able to sleep a bit, he still prefers the smell of your old clothes, and the real thing more . . .

Yoichi often writes letters to his darling, that he refuses to send out of fear that they might call the authorities, despite knowing full well they'll do nothing about it, since he's not a 'huge threat' to them. He had done his research before this entire fiasco, and has taken to imitating traits of famed stalkers in movies and documentaries so no one catches him.

Also, he isn't the type to steal underwear or anything of the sort, he's much more above and mature then that. . instead he steals all the clothes you plan on donating, because what greater purpose can they have but being a part of his shrine, collection, horde. Same with any tangible items, why should he dig through the trash? No, he couldn't have dirty hands when he plans on touching his darling in the future (he's a germaphobe) rather, he'll offer to throw out that juice box, that piece of gum you have wrapped up in a tissue, yeah . . and then stuff it in his pocket.

want more, buy my limited time only advent calendar?

@ rxmye , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in your life while working as the Justice League's assistant. Also, they are all yanderes for you and it's Valentine's Day.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+ just because of a mention of Superman misusing his X-Ray vision and the mention of hooking up, aside from that, this is pretty SFW; Flash and Green Lantern are a little delusional; Hal Jordan is pushy; Batman is probably a little out of character (and I’m ashamed to keep it that way) bc I can't see him giving anyone flowers as Batman, just as Bruce Wayne; Mentions of them all secretly stalking you; This League members are Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Flash (Barry Allen), Green Lantern (Hal Jordan; John Stewart is mentioned), Aquaman and Martian Manhunter; I wrote too little about Martian Manhunter, Aquaman here because I don't know much about them; Wish I had more ideas for Wonder Woman’s interaction here too cause I love her; My crush on Hal is very obvious; Reader doesn't struggle much against them but they're also pretty tame; The physics in flying and running at super speed might be wrong but this is comic book science so it's wrong either way; English is not my first language.

Word count: 1,6k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

The zeta tube flashes and the AI voice announces the arrival of Flash. Your heart goes fast.

— Hey, (Y/N)! — In a flash, he's in front of you. — Happy Valentine's Day! — You tear your eyes off of your schedule on your tablet and see him holding a rose towards you.

— Oh, hey, Flash… — You reply a little tense. — Thank you… You didn't need to. — You hesitantly take the rose from him and whilst your attention is on staring at the flower and holding back a grimace, you miss the glint in his blue eyes. His blush is covered by his mask. His mind seeks for something to say before you decide to break the momentary silence. — You're really sweet, it's great to have a friend like you! — You make sure to exclain, the tone a notch higher, trying to make your point come across. Flash’s face falls.

— Uh- I- Actually- — His speech gets cut off by the zeta announcing Superman. Before you can have a heart attack, the boy scout also zooms in front of you, this time your hair blows back with the wind. He must've come flying.

— (Y/N)’s heart is pounding, what are you doing, Flash? — Superman alternates between looking at your face worriedly, then your chest, then glaring at the speedster by his side.

— What? Nothing! — Flash looks wide-eyed at Superman. Then his mind clicks and he looks at you again. — Wait, what? Your heart is pounding? Is it… Is it because of me?! — You see the dazed look on his face coming to the surface again. Oh boy.

You casually make the effort to take a breath you didn't know you were holding and make your heart go down. You hate when Super uses his X-Ray vision on you. You can never be sure when he is doing it, but why else would he analytically stare specifically at your body when he is worried about you? Also, that time when you commented with Sarah from the kitchen’s crew that you forgot to do your laundry and went to the Watchtower without underwear. Seconds later, Superman appeared in the doorway, looking startled and flustered, ears red. Although he pretended to have just arrived at the tower and you and your friend chose to ignore your embarrassment that your boss with superhearing might have chose that exact moment to focus his hearing on only the places around him, including your too intimate conversation, you still caught him red handed sneaking glances specifically at your hips, and he hurriedly exited the room after that. At the time, you had just recently started the job as the Justice League’s assistant. After that you were a lot more aware.

After a while you realized you had a reason to be.

Superman was glaring at the rose in your hand and Flash was daydreaming while looking at your face when the zeta flashed again and you snapped out of it fast enough that by the time you started talking, your mind didn't pay attention to who had just arrived.

— Hm, no. It's just you fast people are always catching me off guard. — Flash deflates and- Is he pouting? Bro. Superman lights up and looks at you again.

— Oh, sorry, (N/N), we always forget about that. — The alien chuckles while rubbing the back of his head.

— Superman. Flash. — You and Flash jump, but Superman, not surprisingly, doesn't react and just follows you three and looks behind the two heros in front of you to the one with the gruff voice that just arrived.

Flash groans and Superman just rolls his eyes, you can see that while trying to peak past the men’s towering frames blocking you. You don't have to guess much though, because they make space for the newcomer and you suppress a tired sigh at seeing Batman making his way to you with a gigantic arrangement of flowers that covers his entire torso, arms and head, only his bat-ears, legs and cape being visible.

— (Y/N). Those are for you. — Color me shocked. Before you can try to start thinking about how you are gonna take this absurdity anywhere, vengeance speaks. — I'm gonna leave it at your desk.

— Hmhmm. Thank you, Batman. — You refused to watch his retreating form and let any member of your yandere harem think you actually have an interest in any of them and look down at your tablet again. The action makes you remember the rose you're still holding and you hurriedly walk away from the two nutcases stuck glaring at the third and go to his side. — Actually, take this with you. — You stick the rose amongst the rest of the flowers and before any of them can say anything else, you get out of the room.

You take a deep breath. Since the League’s weird obsession started seemingly around a year ago, you had a whole crisis over it. The pay was good, and it increased even more when they took this insane liking to you, so it's not like you could just quit like it was nothing. Besides, it's the Justice League, you could run from the fucking planet and they would still find you. It's easier to adapt.

You go on with your routine for a few minutes until you bump into a neon green brick wall. Scratch that, it's just Green Lantern’s chest.

— Hey, cutie, I was looking for you. — Your eyes widen when the space cop suddenly holds you by the shoulders, pushes you against a wall, then lets you go just to keep his two muscular arms on each side of you, trapping you and keeping you close to his frame. Ugh, the Lantern with brown hair has always been the more touchy one. You miss the one with dark skin and common sense.

— Need me for something? — You hold a groan with the limitless possibilities of how he could use that sentence to be crude, but you just wanted to get rid of him. He smirks.

— I was wondering if you were free today and would like to go on a date with me later… — He knew you were free. You knew he knew you were free. Every time you have a date (and you never told them) the League seems to get more on edge and suddenly your workload increases. Tsk, you hate them. Unfortunately, you love nice things even more.

You raise an eyebrow.

— I don't even know your name. — You point out, maybe that would make him give up, but he just shrugged.

— I could tell you, trust is a fundamental part in any relationship.

— Is a date a relationship? Also I don't think Batman would like that. — Any of that. He cocks his head to the side and his beautiful hair moves down.

— Cutie, you don't have to worry about Spooky. And I don't want to just hook up with you, you know that. Now just stop playing hard to get and-

A golden light catches your attention, it could be a miracle, but it's just Wonder Woman's lasso wrapping around the lantern's neck and pulling him away from you. Unfortunately, she tied a it in a way that the action wouldn't strangle him or break his neck.

— Ugh, men really have no boundaries. — The amazon rolls her lasso back and takes a step towards you, keeping said man sulking behind her while analyzing you. — Forgive my friend, (Y/N). He grew up in a barn. — The stunning demigoddess smiles at you.

Ugh, if she wasn't just as crazy as the rest of them you would happily swoon over her.

— Right. Well, I have to go. — You turn your back to them and take fast but casual steps away from them and the empty hallway. It never fails to scare the shit out of you and give you goosebumps whenever one of them catches you alone in one of those, and the competition between them for your heart somehow makes you confident enough that if there are at least two of them, no harm will come to you.

You clear your throat. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts. The martian should’ve arrived by now and you don't doubt he reads your mind 24/7 when he’s close enough.

You’re about to turn a corridor when you spot Aquaman poking his head in a room, looking for something, it's probably you, only his body is visible and he can't see you.

You hold a groan and run as quietly as possible away from him without him noticing, remembering the time he ranted to you about seahorses being the most romantic fish species, with monogamous mate bonds for lifetime, and all the times he promised to show you Atlantis one day and make you rule his people by his side.

A few minutes later when you look at the clock, you know by that time they're all already in their meeting and not wandering around, desperate for a crumb of your attention. To confirm that, you open the camera’s feed that not many had access to and idly check their presence in the meeting room. Your stomach churns seeing your figure in one of their monitors, the others displaying normal missions info. Of course they would follow you around through the cameras, because that's just as important as discussing wars and crisis in Earth countries and other planets.

You passively shut the screen when you finally get to your office, in which you avoid staying until you absolutely have to, or the coast is clear enough to, otherwise it's the most obvious place for them to force an interaction with you.

You look up and your shoulders drop in defeat at the sign of too many flowers, gifts and letters from each member of the League.

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[the-crooked-library]

Nuance, Narratives, and Nosferatu

As of today, Robert Eggers' Nosferatu (2024) has only been in theatres for 4 full days; and, coincidentally, that is about as long as I am able to let my thoughts marinate before they demand to be communicated. Before going into any further detail, let it be known that this film was made by freaks for freaks; it exists for the goths, the gays, the monsterfuckers, the historians, and for all those who delight in moral and thematic complexity.

With that being said - spoilers under the cut!

There are two principal narratives running through the flesh of Nosferatu, both of them rooted heavily in the cultural and literary origins of the story. It is a nightmare; it is also an erotic fantasy. It is horrifying, and it is also achingly romantic. From what I've seen so far, the vast majority of discourse that has already emerged around the film is caused by people misunderstanding or deliberately ignoring the relationship between these different lines of analysis; so please trust me when I say, from the bottom of my heart, that this duality is the very lifeblood of the movie.

The reason for that is, quite simply, that Nosferatu is a gothic horror film, set in 1830s German Confederation; and its plot relies on the same (sometimes contradictory) complexities often displayed in Victorian gothic fiction.

From the beginning of the movie, we are given to understand that Ellen Hutter met Count Orlok - the eponymous nosferatu - psychically, when she was very young. They spoke, she pledged herself to him, and was horrified to realize what she had done when he revealed his true visage to her in their first visual (and sexual) encounter.

Here, under the lilacs, the paths diverge.

The first reading of the film is perhaps the more straightforward. A young girl is essentially catfished and groomed by a much older, dangerous man. When they meet for the first time, she is a teenager; the lilacs that bloom where it happens become a trigger. He is the source of her madness and "melancholy" (depression), she has nightmares about him regularly enough that her husband is aware of them, and it is implied that she has been institutionalized in the past. Thomas Hutter is the physical representation of her one desperate hope for a normal life - but as the story progresses, she finds herself being denied even that. Orlok's psychic connection with her verges on demonic possession; in chilling, The Exorcist-inspired sequences, she writhes and mutters, prophesying a city-wide reign of death and terror. In pursuit of his claim on Ellen, Orlok terrorizes her husband, murders her friends - and, eventually, she gives her life to take him with her to the grave, saving the city from the plague he caused.

That is the horror element of Nosferatu; it deals with an exploration of childhood trauma, of PTSD, of difficulties maintaining a social life after the fact. It is easy to understand even from a modern viewpoint, and it pushes the film to its conclusion with a bleak, heart-wrenching punch.

The horror is not the only element of Nosferatu.

To contextualize the alternate - though just as correct - reading of the film, it is essential to understand that Ellen’s society was extremely sexually repressed, especially in regards to female and queer sexuality.

Both were severely medicalized, demonized, and restricted; and as such, when these topics do make an appearance in contemporary fiction, they are often inextricable from disgust and fear.

Dedicated as always to historical accuracy, Eggers maintains the same setting-based narrative coding.

In anticipation of morality arguments vis à vis monstrosity, depiction, and modern purity culture, let me clarify: this is something that works within his chosen genre. Horror, and especially gothic horror, invites a deeper analysis in regard to morality and motivation, and in this case, Eggers' homage to the origins of that genre grounds the narrative in its time and location, as well as fleshing it out much further than a purely modern cultural lens would permit. In this context, the details of Ellen's connection with Orlok become paramount to the understanding of the film.

As bits and pieces of their background become revealed, the audience realizes that her psychic gift did not begin with him - and neither did her melancholy, or her isolation. She was born with her abilities, and throughout her childhood, she was a bit of a tomboy by her contemporary standards, running wild in the woods near her father's property; however, once she foretold her mother's death, and once she was too old to get away with eccentricities, her father became frightened of her abnormality. She was isolated, confined indoors, and that is when her melancholy had begun. Painfully lonely and aching for some form of companionship, she called out into the ether; and Orlok responded.

Over the course of their story, he becomes the physical manifestation of everything Ellen perceives as dark and sinful about herself.

He is psychic, he is vicious, possessive, and blatantly sexual; her sensual affection with Anna parallels the evident and physical attraction he displays towards Thomas; and the social power he so easily commands is the same that she lacks, being a woman in a rigidly patriarchal society.

In the end, the severely questionable age gap, the murders, the coercion, the betrayal - all of that comes down to respect. Throughout the film, that is the one thing that Ellen is consistently denied. She is young when she meets Orlok, yes; but she is aggressively infantilized by her surrounding society even when she is a grown, adult, married woman.

It starts from the beginning of the film, when the Hutters visit the Harding family. During those scenes, the men are shown talking business - while the women play with children in the parlour; and the same social framing persists into the body of the film. When Ellen is suffering from what appears to be some form of mental illness, she is referred to as a child by multiple different characters; and when the condition progresses, she is swiftly diagnosed with hysteria and drugged - thus being forcibly removed from the discussion of her own illness. The general reactions to that illness - which is, in fact, a display of her psychic abilities - range from annoyance to fear to curiosity; it is seen either as a disability or a curse, rather than anything entirely innate to who she is. Her fears are dismissed. Harding tells her to learn some deference. Even closer to the finale, when Von Franz admits that she could have been a great priestess in another age, he does so with pity rather than anything else; in their industrial era, he cannot help but see her only as a tragic sacrifice - horrible, but necessary to save the city from a plague. Brought in to heal her, he instead guides her to her death.

All these aspects of Ellen's circumstances find a direct opposite in her relationship with Orlok. Unlike all other characters in the film, he only ever sees her as his equal, which is made even more evident when his interactions with Thomas and Herr Knock are brought into consideration. With both men, Orlok insists on being addressed by his lordly title, "as his blood demands it"; and yet, Ellen never calls him by any title at all, be it "My Lord" or even a simple "Herr." She argues with him freely, and there is a familiarity between them that he is demonstrated to never tolerate from anyone else. Similarly, while he disguises the covenant he makes with Thomas, the terms of his covenant with Ellen are laid out clearly, in full. He does not hide from her; she already knows the worst of him, the same way he knows that she is intelligent, that she is powerful, and that she is not meant to be demure and deferring. Again and again, Orlok insists that Ellen is not meant for humanity - and the true horror, the horror she cannot bring herself to face, is that he is right.

In a sense, he is a mirror held up in front of her own face. Ellen is painfully aware that she does not fit in, and that she never has. The "normal" society, epitomized by the Hardings (wealthy husband, pretty blonde wife, 2.5 kids), has no place for her - and actively dislikes her.

The film makes this ostracism impossible for the viewer to ignore. As the story progresses, it becomes evident that the other human characters - even those that do sincerely care for Ellen - never truly know her. Anna loves her, but wishes she would not talk of dreadful things - and lashes out as a result of that discomfort, scolding her. Sievers finds himself bewildered by her; Knock sees her as an object to trade; Von Franz pities her, Harding hates her, and Thomas cannot truly satisfy her, even after being touched by the supernatural himself.

Seeing a flash of a monstrous face while they are together, he flings her away. To him, his experience with Orlok is merely traumatic, and he wishes for nothing more than to leave it behind. However, to her, it is something she cannot help but crave; and she continues to wear her lilac perfume.*

All that to say - Count Orlok is, simultaneously, everything Ellen wants and everything she is terrified of being.

That specific dichotomy reaches its climax during their mutual finale. As it is to be expected from a vampire wedding night, they rejoin in a sequence of sex, blood, and renewed vows - and what is particularly notable is that (unlike Murnau) Eggers makes it clear that this Orlok never intended to kill his Ellen, despite his inability to resist her blood. Though he drinks from her through the night, he stops at cock-crow; and she guides his head back down herself, distracting him long enough for the sun to rise. It is a duet of accident and intention. He drains her; and she holds him as the sun drains him. They cling together as they end - on a bed that serves their wedding and their death.

It is romantic. it is unquestionably romantic. However, that does not mean that the horror isn't also present; Ellen's consent, under these circumstances, is highly debatable, and Orlok is cruel, amoral, and murderously possessive. At the same time, the characters are also acting out folkloric archetypes, with precious little adjustment to that framework - which further removes them from a modern understanding of morality. He is Death, a Koschei the Deathless, a monster; she is the Maiden, a Vasilisa, a damsel. I hesitate to liken them to the Beauty and the Beast, largely because in the original premise of that story, the Beauty falls in love with the kindness that the Beast consistently displays; and it is essential to stress that Orlok has none. He does care for Ellen, in his own way, but he admits to being incapable of love as she defines it in human terms;** and, curiously, that seems to be her primary concern when it comes to the idea of accepting his proposal - rather than all the blood and carnage.

What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is that there are multiple ways of following a story, and multiple different stories in a film as nuanced as Nosferatu. Yes, it is about grooming and trauma. Yes, it is about finding love outside of the cage that is "polite society." I'm sure that it is many other things besides, with as many meanings as there are people in the theatres; after all, I am only one person, and the film grossed something over $40M in its first three days. The point is, really, that this is a story in which a rotting vampire is woken from centuries of deathlike slumber by a lonely voice asking him to be her friend; and whatever these two strange and aching souls do with that can go down any myriad of paths. The film trusts the viewer to interpret the narrative they choose.

* LILAC PERFUME - in fact, it is such a consistent favourite of Ellen's that Orlok smells it on her hair in the locket she sends with Thomas to the castle. Thomas never really learns the reason she likes that scent - even though he knows that preference well enough that he gifts her lilacs in the beginning of the film.

** ORLOK'S OBSESSION - this is a side note, but: the vampire wedding sequence reminds me strongly of the third season of NBC's Hannibal. I suppose that was to be expected, considering that Hannibal is also a Dracula offshoot, much like Orlok himself. When Ellen snaps at Orlok that he cannot love, he responds that "no; but only with you, I can be truly sated." Similarly - "Is Hannibal in love with me?" asks Will; and Bedelia responds - "Could he feel a daily stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you?" I'd say if you liked that series, you should try and see the film. It works with a familiar blend of aesthetic horror.

[nmakii]

strayed from the main idea of this drabble… oops.

sae itoshi, who loves calling his girl ‘amorcita’. that’s fine, and all. it’s romantic, but he likes calling you his princess much more.

princess is more than just a pet name to him though. because to him, you’re truly a princess, graceful and beautiful despite your faults; someone who deserves to be given the world. he’d go to the ends of the earth to find something that doesn’t exist if you asked him to find it.

it’s not much of an exaggeration when you say that he’s down bad.

he is— he’s just very good at hiding it. he doesn’t boast about you loudly in the ways that someone like that devil— shidou— might, but he instead manages to offhandedly relate any conversation topic to you.

oddly enough, the only other time sae’s ever as talkative or passionate about something other than football, is when he’s talking about you.

that additional time where aiku asked shidou why he was making funny faces in the locker room? after that, sae mentioned, “my princess makes weird faces too. when she’s sleeping, her cheek is always pressed up to me, and it leaves a red mark in the morning. and, she can never manage to keep her mouth closed when she’s asleep. once, i was able to feed her while she was asleep.” and he sighed, silently smiling at the funny memory.

in his first interview after going public with you as his girlfriend, he immediately jumped at the opportunity to mention you. he had always thought that these interviews were an unnecessary hassle. he’s a good football player, and he’ll let his work speak for itself. “right! soo… sae, how are you adjusting to your new team?” the interviewer asks. sae thinks for a moment, his lower lip raising in a slight pout as he thinks of how to answer. “…the center forward has incredible dribbling skills, i’ll admit that. but, his shot range and goal chance percentage are awful. the rate at which he can score goals is still lukewarm.” he sighs disappointedly, “the best striker in the world seems to have not had his awakening yet. it’s annoying, but the city isn’t so bad. there’s a french bakery near my apartment that my princess and i like to frequent. she loves those flaky croissants with chocolate in them— pain au chocolat, but i tend to just get their house black coffee.” he’s recalling your typical order as if it’s the back of his hand, and the flow of his speech is much more relaxed than when he had been speaking about his new team.

and at this point, the interviewer is confused. “pardon… your ‘princess’?” he repeats, trying to confirm what he heard. sae nods, “yes, my princess; my girlfriend. she really likes those chocolate croissants. she eats about a fourth of it in just one bite. and when some hot chocolate from the inside burns her on the lip, she complains a bit and asks me to kiss it better. it’s really cheesy on her part, but i guess i don’t mind if it’s for her.” even sae doesn’t know just what he’s saying. he didn’t mean to reveal this much about how he feels. …yet, here he was, going on like a pining gentleman in love, and remembering how the softness of your lips felt against his as the piping hot chocolate pressed and stuck onto his lips as well.

in his eyes, you’re as close to perfection as there ever will be. it didn’t matter whether or not your physical appearance changed, or if you suddenly decided to change your career path— as long as you stayed as who you are, he’d be at your side.

and to be worthy of such a perfect human being; his princess. he has to become a king— a king of the field. one who domineers the field with his spatial awareness alone, and passes to the one who can keep up with his vision; the greatest egoist. that’s who he needs to become in order to earn your love; to become worthy of being the one that gets to love you every day and every night.

but even so, it’d still never be enough for him. you always make him want to push his limits further, and show you just how amazing he is.

sae’s really down bad for his princess.

[moonastro]

Groom persona chart

Asteroid groom (5129) in the house

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

So the asteroid groom within the gpc will indicate the overall feeling and overall summed up vibe that your spouse can be linked to. This can interpret what kind of husband he can be and how he may be after marriage.

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[before you read this post... i want you all to know how grateful i am for each and every one of you <33 i took a little break from posting but will hopefully be back and consistent and hopefully will finish this series quicker.]

{ALSOO.. if you like this series and would like to support a small creator, go and check out my readings here--> 🤍🤍🤍}

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Groom in 1st house: your future husband can be a real me person. Can really be self aware and just be a confident and bold. He can be a real star and know himself better than anyone else. he is someone that can have a short temper and can have bursts of anger from time to time. although, your spouse can be a very energetic and confident individual. depending on the sign, it can make him become selfish and mine mine mine. especially if in scorpio can tend to hide things that they own or buy and just may not share as much of important information with you like any other couple would do. your spouse can be quite demanding but will give back always. can be a very attractive individual, takes care of his appearance and for sure can spend time by himself emotionally. this does not mean that he will be totally absent but he may just need his own space to just breathe and think.

Groom in 2nd house: so your husband can be a very much material mann. someone who is literally not afraid to spend money on himself and you. depending on the sign especially Saturn aspected or Capricorn, can indicate hoarding so not wasting money neither on themselves and on you even if they have a lot. spouse can be a comfort person, someone who is there and will listen to you and they dont even need to speak a single word and you will feel as if they have helped you a ton. your spouse can be very protective of you physically wise, especially if in the sign of aries, they will be ready to throw hands on anybody who upsets you or just handles you very badly. can tend to be very gentle with you and be very patient with you whether if its when you are facing your problems or when you need time to figure something out hell be waiting there.

Groom in 3rd house: so your fs can be a strong communicator whether it’s him talking for hours and hours or him being a very good listener and a good companion to those who he is in conversation with. This is an indication of your spouse being chronically online whether it’s not that big of a deal, expect him to know everything that’s going on the internet. Since he may be of curious nature, best believe your spouse is the one to even search and do his research when something interesting comes up on his social media feed. He might even post a lot online too. he can form strong opinions and often tend to make up arguments out of the most silliest of things. he may require lots of attention from you and he may just crave the attention a lot of the times. on the other hand, he is someone who is intelligent, smart and very humble and a person that is comfortable to hang and be around with.

Groom in 4th house: spouse can be very traditional and by that i mean that your future spouse is the one who takes roles of the home very seriously. have a leafy faucet, he will take care of it, you try to fix a light bulb, uh uh uh nope, he is taking care of it that sort of thing. he feels like you already have so many responsibilities so let him take care of the handy ones. if groom is in the sign of taurus or virgo even cancer, they will almost be looking out for you and doing the services in prevention to you getting hurt. so they will be like no sit and rest. furthermore, your spouse can be very witty and love to be too comfortable towards you. sometime referred to as 'tmi'. he can share a bit too much information at times and you may have to just pause that for a second to realise what just happened. but that just means that he is very comfortable and trusting towards you.

Groom in 5th house: this placement gives me real childhood sweetheart vibes and i just love ittt. just imagine the one boy that you met on a summer holiday that you later meet in life and you're just like "wait..🤔i know you". so basically with this placement your spouse can be someone that brings out the most inner fun, exciting, adventurous, romantic person within you. he is someone that will laugh when you are crying, cry when you are laughing literally match your energy in any type of situations. this placement is a very peaceful yet chaotic vibe, it gives the sense of seeing no one as beautiful as you, seeing no one but you, laying eyes only on you. he is literally the ray of sunshine to the point that you may literally crave them, like you'll be at work or something and you just NEED to be near him or to be within his presence.

Groom in 6th house: your future spouse can be what you think a normal town guy looks like. not that its bad but he can be very natural and not have too much going on. can work a job that he has had for many years and be too afraid to move on from fear of not knowing what to expect and how it may turn out to be like. on the other note, he can be a very heart warming and positive guy, that tries to live his life to the fullest. he is someone to be the first when it comes to help people out, he finds warmth and comfort in achieving good deeds. this placement is actually very good for those who need someone that does their own thing and have their own responsibilities. they may not like to be tied down to something so maybe staying at home for too long is not his go to and so forth.

Groom in 7th house: ommggg this placement is the biggest definition of a charmer and a spouse that wants fair share of everything so literally his money is your money. may share on bill payments so he may have the rent and you maybe the electric and so forth. he is someone attractive to a lot of other people so can cause a lot of jealous people around you because they may be jealous of the man that you have and they may hate you for it. your spouse is soft spoken and tries to be positive at all times, he can appear to be someone from a Disney book, can be absolutely perfect in your eyes especially if venus is conjunct with groom. your future spouse can be very into beauty and aesthetics, so he may like your house to have a specific colour, design, sets of cutlery, and so forth.

Groom in 8th house: spouse is full of surprises, can be very mindful and very picky of the information that he wants you or other people to know. he is very careful of the words and actions that he does. depending on the sign, like for example if in capricorn, can be a very isolating individual that like to stay away from people, on the other side can have a secret income of money that you may not know about until later on in the relationship with him. another example would be if in pisces, can be an individual with a lot of mental blockages and a lot of mental baggage. this is not me diagnosing your future spouse, i am only stating what this COULD possibly mean because the whole chart should be taken into consideration. on the brighter side, he can be a very emotionally smart person, the one to understand what your feeling or even thinking without you needing to tell them anything. he can also be very emotionally encouraging and comforting individual. also a very highly indication of them only allowing certain people to view his true emotions, can often appear to be hard as a rock but inside could be different.

Groom in 9th house: your future spouse is most likely a genius and an individual with great wisdom. He is full of ideas and creative finds that sometimes has no place to put them into the world. He most likely is smarter than he looks or he is always doubted by his intelligence. This is a STRONGGG indication of your husband being a foreigner or you meeting them in foreign land. Depending on the sign this can tell us the details of how your spouse may reveal his intelligence by. So in Gemini, may talk in a very sophisticated way and can reveal his wisdom through his words and writing especially. He can be a unique and self taught writer whether it’s for work or for himself. If in Taurus for example, can reveal his wisdom through cooking and money making, he may be a very experimental chef and a great cook with a ton of knowledge on recipes. Another thing about this placement is that your spouse may travel a lot, may go on trips a lot and meet foreign people a lot as well. He definitely has good humour and is someone who is known for his attractive humour.

Groom in 10th house: your spouse is mr. worldwide business sugar daddy rich. 🤭no but fr he can be a very chill yet providing person. may not exaggerate as much but will go with the flow and follow your rules in a way. if the sign is in leo, capricorn or jupiter is involved this for sure can indicate a spouse with his bank full. very mature, can indicate an older spouse physically and mentally. perhaps a spouse that is like your mother figure or reminds you of your mother. he can be serious and can take things seriously too much of the time, unless in sagittarius. can be quite an introvert, awkward person but can be an attractive kind of awkward if ya know what i mean. your spouse is the man that gets stares from strangers when in public and literally all eyes on him. there is just something magnetic about him that pulls others to him.

Groom in 11th house: spouse can usually act inconsistently. Meaning that he is really unpredictable in any situation given. Spouse can be quite isolating and may spend time alone or just refuse to do anything with anyone. This isn’t all the time as someone with good aspects can have a spouse that is social, and great with their social life, but this house is rules by Saturn so there is some strictness, discipline and alone time that is a big part of your future spouses personality and overall being. he can be with his friends a lot of the time though, so maybe he can have friends over to the house a lot of the times or him going over to theirs and all. he may have a sense of equality and sense of achievement that he may want to pursue. your fs can have goals that he is eager to reach so slowly he may like to show off his interests in these things with you.

Groom in 12th house: spouse can be distant in a way after marriage. with that i mean that he can always be away somewhere, travelling for work etc. especially if for example in Sagittarius your husband can be away travelling overseas or simply if he is a foreigner can be away visiting family a lot of the times. spouse can become quite lazy in a sense, of course depending on the sign and aspects however with this placement your husband after marriage has this reaction of already having this milestone completed and they know in a sense that they are secure and safe and comfortable and thats why this can make them a bit lazy. furthermore, your husband can become more and more in love with you the more that he is with you. this may really be a very beautiful placement if in the sign of libra or venus is conjunct groom asteroid.

thats it for now, i hope you enjoyed this post and have a good rest of your day/evening/night <<33

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

some Chrollo things i found/realized on my rewatch + reread of hxh

- he has REALLY bad posture. in the PT base during yorknew, when Chrollo is reading a book, he is literally hunched over and his back is at like a 45 degree angle🥺

- he’s very smug and cocky. after his fight against Zeno and Silva, he asks with a smirk to Zeno “if we were in a fight, who would win, you or me?” and chuckles knowingly when Zeno replies. during Chrollo vs Hisoka, Chrollo says that he is “100% sure that i am going to win”

- his personality switches depending on who he’s with. with the troupe, he’s logical and stoic—never losing his temper. when he’s with Hisoka, he’s much more relaxed and friendly + smiles much more often. when he’s with someone older, he’s respectful.

- he doesn’t seem to mind celebrations/parties. he’s seen drinking with the troupe in a manga panel after the auction.

- he seems very self aware of his handsome appearance, as he lured Neon in + most of the abilities in his book are from women.

- in terms of physical strength, Chrollo is 7th in the Troupe —above Bonolenov, Nobunaga, Shalnark, Pakunoda, Shizuku, and Kortopi, making him MUCH MUCH MUCH stronger than even superhumans such as Gon and Killua. (I love this fact for some reason)

- he had many similarities to Gon and Kurapika as a kid. (read Ch. 395-397, which is the Troupe backstory. it has a lot of cute baby Troupe member scenes🥺)

- he has a habit of covering his mouth with his hand whenever he is thinking deeply about something or connecting the lines.

- he knows a shocking amount about the Kakin Empire (in the manga), even more so than some of the Princes of the Kakin Empire.

- he seems to have a habit of smirking whenever something is going according to plan or when something went according to plan. he also just seems to enjoy smirking in general.

- his favorite color seems to be purple due to much of his outfits being some sort of variation of purple.

- in official arts + mobage cards, he seems to have dark circles under his eyes. in the yorknew city arc, he is also the only troupe member who didn’t sleep during the entire arc, meaning that he seems to have some sort of insomnia.

- in mobage cards, Chrollo seems to have a habit of fidgeting with his clothes. (pulling off his tie during the Christmas mobage card, playing with his hat, etc,.)

- he is very athletic, considering how at the end of yorknew city when he was left nen-less on those plateaus, he managed to climb down and find shelter all by himself.

- he is also very rich, since on average, every Zoldyck assassination costs around 1 billion—Chrollo managed to afford to assassinate the 10 Dons, meaning 10 billion Jenny.

- Chrollo doesn’t seem to care whenever someone is being disrespectful towards him or the troupe.

- Chrollo seems to have a particular fondness for suits, as he is often seen wearing a suit in official arts

- Chrollo often wears clothing that covers much of his body

- Chrollo seems to have the traditional values of a chivalrous man, meaning that he respects women quite a lot and makes sures to keep them safe. Chrollo made sure to catch Neon in the most respectful way when she “fell” (he literally could have just grabbed her by the arm and it would have been fine), he made sure to keep Pakunoda + Machi + Shizuku in the same team during yorknew (there were no men in their team), and during the Chrollo vs Hisoka battle, none of the female spectators (or even the commentator) were harmed.

———

AUGHHHHHH CHROLLO ILYSM PLEASE LIVE UNTIL THE END OF THE SERIES😭🥺😫❤️CHROLLOOOO UR MY BBY AND ILYSMMMMM😭😭😭🥺🥺🥺🥹🥹🥹❤️❤️❤️😫😫😫💕💕💕

[heylittleriotact]

So I can't stop sharing this after realizing it myself earlier... After Rook tells Emmerich that they're a virgin, during their dinner date, and he clearly processes what is a VERY unexpected fact to him, he tells them that's okay, and you 2 can just take things slowly. :) It's sweet, right? But also... Emmrich... how fast did YOU wanna take things? Because now this man's got me convinced he was SO down bad for Rook, he wasn't gonna waste time NOT hitting it now that they're together. I'm unwell

Okay so I actually really appreciate how ambiguous they left Rook and Emmrich's sexual relationship until the coffin scene in the third act: they wrote it such that the player could headcanon that they had an intimate relationship already leading up to that scene OR it was the first time they slept together, and I think that's AMAZING.

I headcanon that my Rook (not a virgin) and Emmrich slept together for the first time the night of the dinner date, and I think that he planned the night not with the intention of seducing Rook, but with the mindset that if they were interested in moving forward with the sexual aspect of their relationship, the privacy of the Necropolis might be a bit more relaxing that the Lighthouse. It's clear that Emmrich has pulled some strings to have the gardens roped off just for the purpose of their romantic dinner, he goes above and beyond with the meal, they have a very sweet conversation about their feelings and attraction to each other, mention previous dates (or lack of), and the whole thing ends with a fade to black.

... and I'm a romantic degenerate who sighs and stares dreamily into space while twirling my hair at the thought of them making love for the first time on a bed of soft flowers in the garden, illuminated by veilfire as wisps float lazily through the air... but I digress:

Since Emmrich trusts that Rook isn't pursuing him from a place of "charming flattery" I think he takes their new relationship incredibly seriously, and part of that is acknowledging the sexual aspect of it. He strikes me very much an actions over words kind of person (hence the charming flattery remark), and given their circumstances and what they're up against, facing danger, violence and the possibility of death on a daily basis (especially daunting for him), I feel like Emmrich would be very motivated to explore that aspect of the relationship as soon as Rook was comfortable with it.

He's also older, more experienced (even if Rook isn't a virgin), and gives off the vibe that he's extremely comfortable with sex and intimacy based on the banter he has with Davrin. I think he views physical intimacy as yet another way to express his feelings for Rook and show them how much they mean to him. This man isn't sure if they're going to see tomorrow, let alone next week: he's only got so much time to make sure that Rook knows how treasured they are, so that's going to include romantic dates, deep conversations, surprising them with thoughtful gifts, and making love as often as they can get away with it. Regardless of what comes next, he doesn't want Rook to doubt for a second how much they mean to him, but he puts the choice about sex squarely in their hands and will let them ultimately be the one who makes the call as to when they're ready to explore that.

Once their relationship begins, he appears to court Rook quite ardently, with enough enthusiasm that Harding takes notice and points out that he's been mopey and distracted lately, and goes so far as to suggest that perhaps he and Rook are taking things a little fast. Even he's aware that this is moving at quite a pace, and he's clearly worried about how other people will/might perceive that given their respective ages - he probably thinks that people think he's a dirty creepy old man: a besotted fool, but I don't think he could approach Rook any other way even if he tried.

There are no half measures with this man: once he's in, he is IN. He's not fucking playing: this isn't just a casual fling that he expects to end once this evanuris business is over. It's probably why he comes off as a bit guarded and hesitant to engage with Rook's earlier flirtations: he probably puts this amount of care, vulnerability, and passionate authenticity into ALL his romantic relationships, and has probably been hurt in the past because of it.

Anyway, this has become suuuuuper unnecessarily lengthy, but I have so many feelings about this man, and I am indeed unwell too.

[hannieehaee]

BED CHEM (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: when chan's friends decided to start a betting pool on how long it'd take him to lose his virginity at the start of college, none of them expected him to remain a virgin all the way to senior year. desperate to prove them wrong, chan goes to his best friend in hopes you'll take him out of his misery (and maybe fall for him in the process) OR when chan uses a stupid bet as an excuse to get his pretty bestie in his bed.

content: virgin!chan, f2l!chan, sub!chan, mutual pining, college au, chan is characterized as a fucking loser but what else is new, some will they wont they, the rest of svt bully chan, afab reader, smut, dry humping, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.1k (teaser); 11k (full fic)

RELEASE DATE: november 18th

or you can check it out on my patreon today by subscribing!

a/n: yet another loser!svt fic on the way. sorry<3

masterlist | patreon

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a virgin!"

— lied Chan for the nth time.

"It's been years and it's still not believable. Plus, Vernon told us you were whining about it at Soonie's party last Friday," responded Jeonghan nonchalantly.

"Vernon!", Chan turned to him, betrayal in his eyes.

His whines were only met with chuckles from all the other men surrounding him, most of which were nursing some different variant of an alcoholic beverage as they lounged around uselessly.

Most weekends were spent like this.

Chan had the misfortune of being the youngest in his large thirteen member friend group, one which was also well known throughout school due to a few of his friends' reputations. Chan, however, did not live up to that idea.

Unlike all his other friends, — well known to be either heartthrobs, or at least, you know, not virgins — Chan found himself as an outlier.

On the outside, he may have easily emulated that same popular and charismatic persona all his friends held and lived by, but he truly had no idea what he was doing. Sure, he knew himself to be likable and attractive (at least he liked to think so), but his sexual prowess was still very much below average (is anything lower than zero?).

Luckily for him, this was not known by anyone outside of his friend group. To everyone else, Chan was as pursued as his older friends such as Mingyu and Wonwoo, except it was all a lie.

Hell, even you, being his best friend since middle school, were blissfully unaware of his virginal state. And to be quite honest, this was something he wanted to keep that way.

You see, Chan had hopes of airing out his not-so-discreet crush on you one day ('maybe not today, but someday!', he'd tell himself). And the knowledge of him being a loser virgin would probably not help matters when that day came.

His virginity was such a hot topic among his friends that a running bet had tormented him since his first weekend at university. With all his friends being merely one year older, he was the victim of constant teasing as they watched him crash and burn any time a girl showed interest in him, only for him to psyche himself out of actually getting down to anything.

His constant failures only prompted more teasing throughout the years, especially in the form of Jeonghan and Seungkwan berating him about losing his virginity and confessing his pathetic crush on you. Sometimes Dokyeom and Mingyu would join in, insisting he could kill two birds with one stone if he'd only play his cards right.

The mere thought never failed to make Chan blush. To think of you in that context always had a physical effect on him. His palms would become clammy, his face would redden, and sadly, his hardness would make an appearance.

But he'd be lying if he hadn't wanted to will the thought into existence.

The two of you never really spoke about such things, but he was still painfully aware of how opposite of him you were in that aspect. It was no secret to him that your virginity was long gone. To his knowledge, you'd spent your freshman and sophomore years basking in all the attention you received, landing in a few beds in the process. You had this charisma that Chan envied (and was simultaneously extremely attracted to). In your junior year, however, you'd calmed down a bit, spending your Fridays nights cuddled up with Chan in the corner of one of his friends' frat parties rather than out on your own.

"Okay, so are you giving up? You're losing the bet?," Jeonghan piled on, calling Chan's attention away from his internal monologue.

"Giving up on what! I never participated on that bet. You guys came up with it to bully me!," he responded, exasperated.

Joshua rounded the couch to take a seat on the arm of it, patting Chan's shoulder condescendingly as he sipped at his beer with a chuckle.

"We could set you up with someone, you know?", he suggested, knowing Chan would deny his suggestion but trying anyways.

"N-no. I don't want someone to fuck me out of pity," Chan grumbled.

"And that'd be cheating. We're not supposed to help him," added Vernon.

"You guys made up rules?!"

"Shh. The adults are talking," tsk'd Seungkwan.

"You're still a junior. You have time to lose it before graduating still," aided Wonwoo from his side of the room.

"We decided against that. It has to be before we graduate or else it doesn't count," said one of the many seniors in the room.

"Okay, maybe queue me in on the rules if I'm going to be the main character of this bet, guys," grumbled Chan, giving up.

"That's still four months til graduation, Channie. C'mon, it'll be good for you. Maybe you can find a girlfriend and then you won't be all alone after we graduate."

"Yeah, man. Why do you have no friends your own age?" poked Mingyu, chuckling along with the rest of the seniors currently picking at a defeated Chan.

"It looks like I have no friends at all."

Vernon laughed, getting up to sit next to a slumped-back Chan, completely defeated on the couch. He patted his back, though unlike Joshua, he seemed to do it in solidarity.

"Listen, man. Just ask Y/N out. She likes you. We all see it. Just be a man and ask her out. We've told you before — two birds, one stone," encouraged Vernon.

Chan sat back up at the mention of your name, now having you back in his mind.

Should he?

Should he throw all caution to the wind and go on a limb? He'd sensed some more-than-friends vibes from you before, but he'd never been sure enough to actually try and go after you.

Annoyed and confused, Chan stood up with a huff, heading for the door before turning around to grumble at his friends.

"You all suck!," he began his tipsy rant, "I'm going to go out there and prove you all wrong. I'm going to lose my virginity ten times harder than any of you ever did," he declared, his intoxicated brain not realizing he wasn't making much sense, "And then you'll all owe me that stupid betting pool. You'll see," he went to point at Jeonghan, "Specially you!"

Jeonghan gaped at him in amusement, which only provoked further laughter from all the drunk men who had already been laughing at a pent-up Chan. Chan made his exit with this last statement, annoyed enough to disavow his friends for the rest of the night.

Still tipsy and with frustration charging through his veins, Chan made his decision. He knew his next destination for the night and marched there decisively.

...

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[st4rymoon]

𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘮𝘦

˚ ༘ *⭐︎ Miguel x afab reader

Warnings - 18+. smut. Some Angst. Enemy’s to lovers, sex with a plot, unprotected sex, breeding kink, breath play, arguing, both get physical (get in a fight but nothing too serious), other variants mentioned and Dr. Strange (why not bring him up), after care, teasing, possessive Miguel, biting, messy sex, semi-mean Miguel, pet names (doll, muñeca, princesa, chula), Spanish (translations added)

[pt.2 is out! → better than me pt. 2]

Miguel was obnoxious and self-absorbed, you knew that by now.

You were living your life as the Spider-Woman of your universe with no worries at all until a blonde-haired ghost-looking spider appeared.

You had somewhat of an idea of what she was talking about, after all, you had a Dr. Strange in your universe and he would never stop talking about the multi-verse.

He never mentioned that these variants would come looking for each other but hey, what did you know?

The blonde-haired girl begged for you to meet the others, calming you weren’t alone and had a group of others to bond with. But you had no problem being alone with such powers, matter of fact you enjoyed it.

There was no one to boss you around or scold you which was always a plus as a superhero. That carefree life you had turned sour as you agreed with the blonde-haired girl and went to meet the others.

“By the way my boss, OUR boss doesn’t know you exist… he’s practically found every spider in the universe. But I guess he forgot one, and by the way, I’m Gwen”

You smiled “Well Gwen, YOUR boss will be pleased to hear that it’s almost impossible to find every Spider-Man. There are millions of universes” you shrugged.

Gwen was taken aback by your words, she wasn’t aware you knew about these universes since a majority of the others didn’t. “How do you know?” She questioned with her arms crossed.

“Do you not have a Dr. Strange in your universe? A tall annoying brown-haired man? Middle-aged? No sense of humor? Come one you don’t have one!?” You gasped.

“Never heard of a strange before”

-

Both of you walked into a giant laboratory-like room, you heard chatter all around you as you looked above and saw dozens of spider variants on the ceilings and walls.

“GWEN! Gwen! May has been getting into trouble have you see- who are you?” A tired-looking brown-haired man looked at you in confusion. “I’m a rouge-killing monster called Spider-Man” you replied.

Both of their faces turned pale at your words “Gosh you guys have no sense of humor! I’m joking” you sigh. “Im a spider variant like all of you, now why’d you drag me here”

“Miguel isn’t going to like this… I’m Peter” the brown-haired man smiled. “And I presume Miguel is the big scary boss man right?”

“Thank you for the kind words” a loud voice boomed from behind. “Miguel! I found another!” Gwen smiles awkwardly.

“Mmh”

You turned to see an attractive middle-aged man with glowing red eyes “She knows about the multi-verse she was talking about some dude called Strange” Gwen nodded.

Miguel tensed at her words, his eyes glued to you as he made his way towards you. “What do you know about strange?” He hummed, circling you like his prey.

“Nothing that’s your business that’s for sure” you chuckle “Well I had fun, I’ll be heading out now” You rolled your eyes.

“I’m talking to you” Miguel yells “No your yelling, have a nice day” you wave as you shoot a web out and swing. Halfway through the swing, your web was cut, causing you to drop to the ground “WHAT THE FUCK!” You yell.

Miguel stood tall with a cocky smile on his face “We aren’t done talking” he shakes his head.

You knew very little about Dr. Strange, sure you’re well acquainted with the universally famous sorcerer but he was a private man. He called you when he needed help and that was it.

To your disbelief, you had no clue other spiders could be so damn annoying. “Well I am, I’m not going to say it again. I AM LEAVING.” You yell.

“She’s just like him” you hear a spider whisper “I AM NOT” you point a finger up at one of them “How could you hear that” they muttered. “Don’t you all have great hearing?”

“Not all of us” Peter shrugged. “What did they say?” Gwen asked. You ignored everyone and walked out of the room. Already halfway through the door, you felt a hand grip your arm.

Turning, you see Miguel’s ruby eyes staring at you. “I suggest you let go of me” you say calmly. It was a shame he was an ass, he was too good-looking to be acting the way he was.

“Threats don’t work on m-“You cut him off mid-sentence, kicking his ankle and making him fall back. You pinned him onto the ground, your leg on his chest and heel pressed onto his chin.

The look in his eyes was a mix of anger and shock.

The other spiders started yelling, Gwen yelling at Peter to stop this and during the chaos for some odd reason you saw a talking spider cat yelling “A cat?” You chuckled causing you to lose focus.

Within seconds you were now in Miguel’s position. His hand on your throat as he pressed his weight onto you “CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” He seethes.

Just as you were about to kick him where it hurts, his hand held your knee in place “Have to be quicker than that muñeca” he whispered into your ear. [t: doll]

Your eyes widened at the pet name. You swear you could feel your cheeks burn red and telling by the smile on his face you knew they were. “This is fun but can we have a normal conversation? Like civilized people?” He replied.

He got off you, holding a hand out for you to stand. You got up on your own, pushing past him as you heard a few whistles and ‘Miguel is flushed look at him’ from behind you.

“Fine. You have 5 minutes”

Miguel led you to his office, one hand on your lower back leading you. “Brave for a newcomer” the annoyingly attractive man smiled down at you “It’s obvious no one stands up to you, I’ll happily be the one to do so” you cooed.

“Sit” he commands while pointing at the chair in front of his desk. You nod and sit patiently for him to start “What do you know about Dr. Strange?” He questioned.

“He’s Dr. Strange what is there to know? He’s a private man for god sake. You surely have one in this universe, don’t you? He’s usually in every universe” you sighed.

“He’s never been in any I’ve visited”

“Or maybe you didn’t look well enough” you chuckle. “I have one in my universe and trust me you aren’t missing out. He only calls when he needs a helping hand and that’s about it” you shrugged.

“How do you know about the multi-verses?” He questioned. “Strange explained to me the importance of leaving it alone, we’ve seen universes almost disappear due to it. People have to learn you cannot change the past, present, or future without losing something so it’s best to just deal with it. In another universe, another life we are happy just think of that”

Miguel clears his throat at your words “Let me guess you lost something as well? By messing with this fucked up world? Who was it? A wife, mother, father, daughter?”

His hands slammed onto the desk in anger “NOT YOUR BUSINESS.” He seethed while he threw his papers on the ground. You knew he was hurting, That’s why he was acting like this.

“You know, I can tell this whole I’m mean and bad act is because your hurt. It’s not healthy to live in the past, we will just rot ourselves from within Miguel. Whatever you lost trust me you have it in another universe” You smile as you stand up, patting him on the shoulder as he doesn’t move a muscle.

“You don’t understand” he growled. “Trust me I do. Why do you think I’m friends with strange huh? I lost someone too you know. But instead of making everyone suffer with me, I decided to tr-“ you couldn’t finished your sentence before his lips crashed onto yours.

You were taken aback by the kiss but couldn’t help but moan into it. You pushed him back slightly “I don’t even know you Miguel” you smiled onto his lips “I know we can change that” he hummed as he lifted you onto his desk.

You were taken back by his actions, was a conversation all he needed to get this riled up?

“You know, out of all the spiders, no one’s said anything like that to me? Not one of them genuinely has a conversation with me” he sighs while pulling back. “Well, you don’t exactly let them say a word without screaming” you chuckle.

“That’s because they all pull away once I raise my voice. It was a surprise when a pretty thing like you came in acting like you own the place” Miguel cooed, his hands trailing up your hips as he pressed himself onto you.

“And I can tell you haven’t gotten laid in a while, you really gonna fuck a girl you just met huh?” You teased. “And are you really going to fuck a man you just met?”

“Maybe, If he can make me want it that bad” you winked, your hands ran down his chest, the spandex-like material of his suit outlining his chest and muscles in the most perfect way.

He chuckled at your response and wrapped your legs around his waist, lifting you before sitting down on his chair. You straddled him as he rocked onto you softly.

You’ve never done anything like this before, you were shocked by your compliance with his actions but you couldn’t help it. You told yourself everyone needed a one-time thing right?

“You sound so fucking pretty” he mumbled onto your neck, your soft sounds making him lose every bit of patience while you tangled your fingers into his hair.

You could tell he was wondering how to remove your suit, you were trying to hide your laugh but it came out either way.

“What’s so funny huh?”

“If you want to remove my suit you press this” You smiled as you grabbed his hand and lifted it behind your neck. His hand instinctively started massaging the nape of your neck as he pulled you into a kiss.

Completely off task with what you were showing him; each of you lost in the other's taste. “Ok, so how do I remove it?” He panted “Like this” You guided him as his fingers went on the hem of your neckline.

You pressed a button from the inside of your suit with his fingers “Like that” you whispered into his ear as you licked his cheek before kissing him.

Your suit was in his hands in a matter of seconds, tossing it somewhere behind him as his eyes admired your curves.

“Can’t believe I missed you out of all of the others” Miguel groaned. His hands not missing an inch of your body as you could feel his painfully hard bulge through his suit. “Take it off” you whined say you tugged at his. He chuckled at your neediness, and complying he tossed it along with yours.

You couldn’t believe other spiders like him existed. You’ve met a few but never ones that were this irritating and gorgeous, to say the least. “Like what you see princesa?” He mocked. [t: princess]

You rolled your eyes and pressed yourself onto him “I do”, you could feel his cock pressing onto your panties. His breathing was ragged and uneven as you nuzzled into his neck.

Sucking and kissing purple bruises onto his neck, your hands tangling into his hair. You felt his fingers tugging at your panties as a way to tell you to lift yourself a bit.

You did as told and let him toss your panties onto the pile of mess on the ground. “Although I love this pretty lace, it has to come off” he pouts as he pulls at your bra “Who knew you’d have this under the suit” he mumbled as he tossed your bra.

“Off” you demand as you tug at his boxers, he smiles in surprise as he sees you so needy “Alguien esta ansiosa”. “Oh shut up” you hiss as he leans onto the chair and brings your hands to his waistband. [t: someone is eager]

“If you want it so bad, take them off yourself” he cockily smiles. Your eyes narrow in annoyance but you were too needy to argue about it. Still on top of him, you tug his boxers down.

You clenched around nothing as his cock hit his stomach. You thought the whisper you let you wasn’t audible but your eyes shot up to his as he watches you with his hands behind his head.

“Love it that much already?”

You don’t bother responding as you go back to kissing him. His hands were back to their previous position, holding you tightly as you felt him rubbing between your folds.

“Shit..” you seethed. You felt his teeth sink into your skin, a loud moan coming from you causing you to slap your hands onto your mouth.

Miguel’s eyes shot up at your actions, his hands pulling them away as he pinned them onto your stomach “I don’t care who hears, hands on my shoulders”

As he ends his sentence he slams into you, your eyes rolling back while a shaky moan leaves you. He holds you onto him for a few seconds, taking in your soaked gummy walls before thrusting into you.

You could hear the wet pornographic sounds coming from the both of you as he fucked into you. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as he wrapped one arm around your waist the other hugging you onto him.

“Love it so much doll, fu- fuck you feel so good”

It was much more intimate than you thought it would be, the way he never broke eye contact even when you squeezed your eyes shut and muttered incoherent sentences into his chest he watched you intensely.

Miguel wondered if this would go anywhere, he hoped it did. He had no reason why he acted on his needs so quickly with you, he hadn’t slept with anyone in a long time and had no problem with it, but the moment he saw you sitting in his office it was like a switch flipped.

“Look at the mess you make muñeca, shit. This pussy was made for me” he huffed. You couldn’t even say a word, the way he felt slamming into you was euphoric.

You could feel every inch of him inside you, the way he curved perfectly in you with each of his thrusts was intoxicating.

You were making a mess, you could feel the cum dripping down your thighs as you bounced on him. “Migu- fuck all for you, only you” you whined. The words spilling from you caused him to fuck you deeper “Nadie más te va ver como te miras orita, eres mía muñeca. Solo para mi” [t: nobody else is going to see you the way you look right now, you’re mine doll. Only for me] 

His tone was adoring, he loved seeing the way you clawed at his chest whenever he picked up his pace. Miguel couldn’t help but wrap a hand around your throat when you started to slump on him; lifting you he held you to his lips as he squeezed your throat.

“Feels good huh baby? Your eyes say it all” he groans onto your cheek, his hand still squeezing your neck. You can feel your vision getting hazy, your hand wrapped around his wrist as he smiled up at you.

He let go of your neck, a loud pant leaving you as you caught your breath. But before you could even think your mouth pressed onto his, you couldn’t help but kiss his saliva-covered lips.

His pornographic moans made you dizzy, his fingers piercing your hips as he fucked you senseless while you looked down at him with needy eyes.

You could feel the knot form inside your stomach as his pace picked up, each of his thrusts causing a shaky whimper to leave you as he watched you getting closer.

“O- oh- Migu- M-“ you were crying out words as the feeling of his cock slamming into you and the slight rubbing on your clit from his pubic bone was driving you to the edge.

“I know baby I know, let it out princesa. Gonna fill you full so they all know what happened in here” he chuckled. With that you let go, the thought of his cum spilling out of you made you drunk on him. [t: princess]

You were loud but he didn’t care to quiet you down, he loved hearing how good he was fucking you. “No one’s going to fuck you better than me, I just met you and you look like you’ve been doing this for a while” he cooed.

“You’ve fucked other guys like this huh? The first day you meet them you fuck them?” He questioned. You shook your head weakly, his cock still ramming into you as he watched you bounce along with his thrust.

“No? Don’t lie how many?”

“J- you only” you cried. You couldn’t take the overstimulation, tears streamed down your face as you felt yourself about to cum again. “Only me? How lucky am I huh?” He hummed.

You scratched at his chest, pushing him slightly as his finger moved between your legs and circled your clit. “N- oh m-“ you begged, you buried yourself into his neck as he whispered praise into your ear.

“Doing so good for me chula, feel s- so fucking good” he praised. You felt the mess between your legs run down your thigh, you hugged him as you felt yourself about to cum again. [t: pretty]

“I- Mig-“

“I know baby let it out, I’m f- go on” he seethed. You could tell he was close. His pace was sloppy and his grip on you was getting tighter. You cried out his name in pleasure, the 2nd orgasm hitting you harder than the first as tears streamed down your face.

Miguel’s loud moans filled your ears as he coated your walls. You could feel his cum dripping down to his lap as he messily fucked you onto him. His pace came to a halt, his grip on you was tighter than ever while he took in your warmth.

“Fuck…” he whispered as he kissed your jaw, peppering kisses up to your mouth and sloppily kissing you. Saliva was all over your mouths, the sounds of both of you sloppily kissing each other made Miguel groan.

“You still wanna leave?” He chuckles. Miguel fixes your hair, adjusting it back to normal as he whipped your tears and saliva with his hand. You shook your head, completely drained of energy as you buried yourself into his chest.

You were questioning why he was being so nice. He was just acting like a complete ass a few minutes ago and suddenly he’s treating you like you’ve been together all your lives.

“Do you know what’ll happen if a variant from different verses gets pregnant?” He hums. You shake your head, you’d deal with those thoughts later. All you wanted was to stay in his arms.

“Descansa, I’ll clean us up” he reassured. [t: rest]

[adrixivy]

People think that turning off super strength is easy or that it can even be turned off. Peter is the physical evidence and spokeperson that it is NOT easy to do so.

He wakes up, grumbling about school one day since it was the day of his Spanish quiz and accidentally breaks the doorknob off the door as he dreaded the day. He panics about it and hesitantly told Tony about it and was on the verge of tears, scared Tony is going to shout at him. (Tony hugs him and coos “It’s fine, Bambino. It’s okay, it’s just a doorknob”)

Another example, he’s in PE class. The whole class has to do 50 pushups since the class was abnormally louder than usual. Everyone is grumbling or falling over, finding it impossible to complete.

“Good job there Peter. Everyone better hurry up or I’ll dismiss Peter only for lunch!” His PE teacher announces. His whole class is staring at him wide eyed. Flash is screaming he cheated and he winces and looks over to Ned for help, only to see him lying flat on the ground, knocked out. Damn it. His PE teacher expects more from him now and he internally groans. He’s definitely ranting this to his dad when he goes home.

Whenever he’s carrying something like helping his teacher with carrying stacks of assignments, he has to act like he’s struggling a little and it’s more exhausting than you think to act like you’re struggling to carry a tall stack of thick papers when you can easily carry the hulk. He probably could if he wanted but Tony’ll probably get a heart attack.

Even in patrol, he has to hold back his strength so that he doesn’t fatally injure criminals that their hospital bills are through the roof. He’s using around 20% of his strength when he punches. He’s always holding back his punches that it’s physically draining him. So imagine he faces a villain where he doesn’t have to hold back his punches. Like Juggernaut.

Instead of his usual favorite Russian Rhino appearing in Manhattan central, it’s his favorite American giant that rarely appears because he’s always under confinement. It’s unusual that he somehow broke out of his containment but Peter’ll gladly send him back to it. He lands a punch and it does basically nothing to the man. It became some sort of cat and dog fight in cartoons like Tom & Jerry with Peter landing hits on the giant that does basically nothing to him and the Juggernaut trying to grab him as he swings around and shoots his quips.

Peter, groaning and his frustration growing: God, why isn’t anything working on you!

Juggernaut, unamused: Your hits are weak. You are holding back your potential, Spider.

Peter pauses, realizing that Juggernaut is infact not like normal people. He doesn’t break under Peter’s punches. He’s not fragile. He drops down and punches Juggernaut with slightly more strength than usual which makes the giant stumble back a little and scoffs in disbelief and he looks at his hand then Juggernaut then his hand again and he squeals in excitement, jumping happily that he can for once punch with his full strength. Juggernaut nods, having a worthy opponent that can finally damage him.

Peter is incredibly excited as he lands hits on the giant that does actual damage to him, making him stumble back and actually groan from pain. He’s landing punches and kicks with laughs and tires Juggernaut out, where he finally webs the man up and wait for SHIELD to appear and take him back to where he came from with even more improved security

The Avengers are on the Quinjet, about to help Peter but they stayed in the Quinjet watching Peter punch the giant with a little too much glee that he almost seems like a maniac. Bruce didn’t have to jump in and be the green guy to help. The others did even need to restrain Juggernaut or anything. If anything, they should restrain Peter from going a little too overboard. They’re all suddenly very painfully aware that Peter can destroy the whole Avengers with his full strength if he wanted to.

Tony: We’re lucky he’s a kind-hearted and soft person or the entire world will be in chaos by now.

The Avengers nods along mindlessly as they close into the spider kid who is waving at them cheerfully with a big grin, who is obviously not aware of how dangerous he could possibly be.