#like the interaction between these 2 materials

[runn1ngn0se]

Doodle commission (+alt) from @sqrkyclean

[s-aint-elmo]

throwback to when i first read harrow the ninth and i was convinced that The Body(TM) was not a genuine daily harrow experience but rather a consequence of gideon's erasure. like has harrowhark been having hallucinations of the body locked in the tomb since she was ten or is that just her mind filling in the sounds and sensations of gideon's presence in her life. is harrowhark really in love with the body or is that just her feelings for gideon finding another vessel in her absence. etc. etc. that was fun

[ba9go]

(nsfw) bestfriend!bakugou catches you sneaking over

🔞 minors please do not interact!!! nsfw under the cut

bestfriend!bakugou x fem!reader, college au (bkg & reader are both of legal age), masturbation, heavy petting, loss of virginity, degradation, teasing, praise kink, fingering, clitoral stimulation, rough sex

summary: you get caught masturbating in his bed

part 3/3 of the bestfriend!bakugou likes to sneak over series (completed)

back to part 1 (sfw) 💥 part 2 (sfw)

about a month after katsuki’s parents found out about you, his darling best friend since childhood and now his girlfriend, sneaking over late at night, they gave you a spare key to the house. you had initially refused their offer, red-faced and stammering profusely, “nononono, i couldn’t! this is too much—” but mitsuki kept insisting, and katsuki couldn’t stand anymore of her damn whining and told you to just take the damn key. you relented.

the next day, katsuki decided to hit the gym after school and told you to go home first.

“huh? but your mom’s cooking dinner tonight, isn’t she?” you frowned. it was a friday. you always ate dinner at katsuki’s on fridays.

katsuki raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “no shit?”

“then why would i go home? i’ll just wait for you to finish up at the gym and go back with—”

“i meant my home, dumbass.”

“i can’t sneak over when you’re not home!”

“who the fuck said anythin’ ‘bout sneakin’? you have a fuckin’ key, for fuck’s sake!”

for some reason, using the key to unlock the door later that day felt more egregious than all the other times you had snuck over to katsuki’s place. you thanked the stars that katsuki’s parents were working. that definitely made things slightly less nerve-wracking for you.

still, you couldn’t help but take your phone out to text katsuki.

you: suki

you: i’m home

katsuki’s reply came after a few moments (he always left notifications for your chat turned on, even at the gym).

katsuki💣: Ok

you: i’m gonna go shower

you: then i’ll revise for next wk’s history test

katsuki💣: Cool status report I guess.

you pouted at his dry response.

you: ure so mean

you: it’s weird doing things at ur place when ure not home

you: feels wrong

katsuki💣: The point of having a damn key is for you to come over

katsuki💣: Even when I’m not around

katsuki💣: I’ll see you later idiot

katsuki💣: Stop spamming me

you sighed. katsuki was right.

you: okayyyyy see you later

you: i love you

katsuki💣: You know I love you too

you smiled, reacting to his message with a ‘❤️’. katsuki was right about that too.

you showered and slipped into one of katsuki’s hoodies. on katsuki, the hoodie fitted his shoulders and broad frame just right, but on you, it was oversized.

you sat on katsuki’s bed and whipped out your notes and laptop to start studying. about two hours later, you found yourself increasingly bored. it was weird, not having katsuki around. even if katsuki was more or less silent when you two studied together, he’d always be there to check in on you occasionally, grabbing your hand to press gentle kisses on each of your knuckles, or grabbing an elastic band (he kept a few on his nightstand for you) to bun up your hair.

you contemplated texting katsuki, but it was already almost 5pm; he should be back anytime now.

maybe you should take a break from studying. you sighed, getting up from the bed to place your study materials onto katsuki’s desk. you plopped back down in bed, pulling the covers over yourself.

like this, you were completely engulfed in katsuki’s scent — sweet, musky caramel. you had always been addicted to katsuki’s smell. you wish he was here to hold you, in his big, strong arms. god, he’s so big. and fuck, he must’ve looked so good at the gym, in that black compression tee that you bought for his birthday last year. you can’t believe he’s your boyfriend. yours, yours, yours—

you eyes squeeze shut, and you can’t help the way your hips start grinding into the pillow between your legs. it’s so hot down there, and you just wish katsuki was here to hold you, touch you, make you feel good—

you gasped, and your hand moves downwards, beneath the waistband of your and into your panties. your pussy is soaking, dripping, throbbing, and you can’t help the tiny moan that escapes your parted lips. it had only been a month since you and katsuki had started dating, but you’ve been growing increasingly pent-up and frustrated; every time one of your makeout sessions got too steamy, katsuki would always pull away, kissing you sweetly on the forehead. you knew katsuki well enough to know that it wasn’t because he didn’t want you (fuck, you’ve seen, felt his erection press against your thigh so many times), but because he, the perfectionist that he is, wanted your first time together to be perfect.

you found it endearing, really, you had always known that katsuki has always been sentimental about things, especially when it came to you, but fuck, you wanted him, needed him.

“fuck, katsuki,” you moaned. you were getting impatient. you brought your fingers to your clit, rubbing quick, hard circles. you wanted to cum, fuck, your pussy— “feels too good. hnng— fuuuck, m’close, m’gonna cu—”

“feelin’ good without me?” you imagine katsuki on top of you, smirking down deviously at you, eyes bright with mischief. you whine, and your hand stops.

“fuck, m’sorry,” you whimpered, grabbing katsuki’s hoodie to pull it up to your face. you writhe, feeling your pussy throb in want as you inhale the scent deeply. “wanna feel good with you, wanna make you feel good, ‘suki, please, please, i’ll do anyth—”

the covers are ripped away from you, your body suddenly exposed to cold air. you gasp, eyes flying open to see— oh, fuck.

katsuki stands at the edge of the bed, and god, he really is in that damn compression tee, and you moan at the sight. your fingers continue moving against your clit for a moment, but you watch as katsuki’s eyes flickered down to the movement, to your bare, exposed, leaking pussy, and you cross your legs shyly.

“y/n,” katsuki grits out, dragging his eyes slowly up to meet your gaze. you wonder if you’re imagining the lust swimming in his eyes, or if it’s just your own lust that’s clouding your judgement. you bite your lip, embarrassment washing over you, but you can’t tear your gaze away from katsuki.

“y/n,” katsuki repeats. he doesn’t move. “tell me to fuck off, and i will.”

you look at him, standing at the foot of the bed, jaw clenched and fists balled into tight fists at his sides. his face is flushed, and you almost feel sorry for putting him in this situation.

“don’t go,” you whimpered. “need you, ‘suki.”

and suddenly, katsuki is on top of you, arms and legs caging your body while his hands cup your cheeks. he kisses you, and your lips fall open with an embarrassingly loud moan, and katsuki’s tongue forces its way into your mouth. you didn’t think you could want him more, but in that moment, feeling the wetness of his slick tongue against yours, you think you do. you rub your thighs together, already sticky from your juices.

katsuki pulls away, and you whine. he ignores the way you wrap your arms around his neck, trying to pull him back down for another kiss.

“ya sure ‘bout this?” katsuki says, voice gruff but stern. a hand goes to the top of your head and he ruffles your hair slightly, before ducking his head down to bury his face in the crook of your neck. “need ya to be sure.” he kisses your neck.

“katsuki,” you moan as katsuki begins suckling at the spot, biting and licking and sucking. “fuck me, please?”

katsuki groans, his hips falling as he finally grinds down against you. your hips move upwards reflexively to press your core against his. fuck, he’s so hard.

“you,” he growls accusingly. “said ya didn’t wanna come over, cuz it felt wrong?” his hands find their way to your hoodie (correction: his hoodie) and he tugs at it. you tug at his shirt in response, and he shifts backwards to undress himself. you do the same.

you stare at katsuki, clad in just his boxers. big, is all you can think as you stare at the obvious outline of his dick.

when he lies on top of you again, your naked bodies are pressed flushed against each other. this time, however, his hands are cupping your breasts, and he presses featherlight kisses on the top of your chest, making you whine.

“why did it feel wrong, huh?” katsuki presses, eyes darting upwards to meet yours. his touch finds your nipples, pinching and rolling them between his fingers harshly. a smug smirk tugs at the corner of his lips at the drawn-out moan that the touch illicits from you. his hands continue moving down and down, tickling over your skin, until one hand ghosts over your leaking pussy. his other hand holds your waist.

he takes two fingers and drags them along the wet slit of your cunt, smearing your slick all over his fingertips.

“katsuki, fuck!” you cry out, voice a garbled mess as your hips stutter.

shamelessly, katsuki continues to tease you. he finally tears his gaze from yours as he brings his face down to your pussy. he looks at his fingers, coated and glistening in your thick juices.

katsuki brings his fingers between his lips, and sucks on them obscenely, sticking his tongue out to lick around them, between them—

you moan like a bitch in heat.

“is this why, hm?” katsuki pulls his fingers out his mouth with a ‘pop’. without warning, he shoves his fingers into your dripping cunt. your hand flies to your mouth, and you try to stifle your screams as he begins thrusting his fingers in and out.

“felt wrong cuz you knew you wouldn’t be able to control yourself, right?” katsuki demanded, eyes flicking hungrily between the fucked-out look on your face and your pussy. “you knew you’d start touching yourself like this, like a needy slut, the moment i’m not around to keep an eye on you.” he rubs a thumb against your clit, and you cum around his fingers.

your eyes squeeze shut, moaning and moaning as you tremble under his touch. katsuki continues rubbing your clit, relishing in your noises and the shivers that wrack through your body, until your hips are squirming away from overstimulation.

“dirty girl,” katsuki scolds, though his face is more smug than angry. “what am i gonna do with you, hm?”

“f— fuck,” you stutter through gritted teeth, still coming down from the highs of your orgasm. “fuck me, kats.”

“can’t hear you,” katsuki smirks. he pulls his fingers out of your dripping cunt, and pries your lips open with them until they’re shoved deep in your mouth. your eyes sting with tears and you start to choke as his fingers hit the back of your throat. “speak up, sweets.”

“f— fua—“ you tried to speak around his fingers, but your words came out a garbled mess.

“hah?” katsuki snickers. you’re too horny to be mad. “come again?” this time, katsuki relents, and pulls his fingers out of your mouth.

“fuck me, please,” you manage to choke out between your coughs. katsuki takes pity on you, you think, as he presses an apologetic kiss to the corner of your lips.

“slut.”

katsuki flips you over onto your belly, and you instinctively prop yourself on your hands and knees as he positions himself behind you. curiously, you twist your head to look at him and holy shit—

katsuki’s boxers are off, and his cock is so big. it’s thick and veiny, and you make a mental note to suck him off later, but for now, you let out an impatient whine as you back your hips to grind your ass against his cock.

katsuki clicks his tongue disapprovingly. he places his hands on your ass, kneading the soft, fleshy fat, as he lines his cock to your entrance.

you let out a moan when you feel the head of his dick press against your entrance. then, he presses in and—

“fuuuuuck—”

“fuckin’ hell,” katsuki groans, hands moving to hold your waist as he bottoms out inside of your pussy. his dick is so deep inside you. your pussy throbs and clenches around him. “such good pussy. so perfect,” he starts thrusting, and you start seeing stars.

“yer so good for me,” katsuki rasps, and you moan happily at the praise.

“yes, yes, yes, all for you, ‘suki, all yours, love you, love your dick so much,” you babble. your hands fumble around the bed until you find what you’re looking for - katsuki’s hoodie - and you pull it towards you before sinking your face into it. the smell drives you crazy.

“greedy girl,” katsuki says with a slap to your ass. his hips thrust into you faster, harder. “already fuckin’ you senseless, and you still want that thing? fuckin’ insatiable.” you try to apologise, for being such a slut, but as katsuki’s pace becomes punishing, you can only let out broken screams.

“shit, m’not gonna last like this, sweets,” katsuki pants shakily, hands gripping your waist even tighter. his thrusts become shallow and sloppy. “pussy’s too fuckin’ good.”

“s’okay, ‘sukiii,” you moan drunkenly, eyes rolling back. you’re already so fucked out, letting katsuki do all the work. “cum for me, wanna feel you cum inside me.”

one last thrust, and your words are pushing katsuki over the edge, and he barely makes it in time to pull out. as his cock spills warm, sticky cum all over your ass and back, katsuki lets out a stream of curses, groaning quietly. he swears you’re going to be the death of him.

he presses a kiss to the back of your shoulder blade.

“ya’d better not lose that fuckin’ key.”

is it obvious that i haven’t written smut in like 3 years

taglist (thank you for your support!): @anicaaa67 @maddietries @literallyhere4noreason @nemisimp

[bloodsbane]

so i really liked this part in the snack/sorbet episode, and since i've been in a Think About Dunmeshi mood the last couple days, i've been trying to interrogate why this little moment caught my attention (besides the fact it's cute and appealing animation-wise - i especially like the movement of chilchuck pulling his head back up and gesturing with his hand afterwards)

i guess the short answer is it's a nice moment between chilchuck and laios. like, to me, it's an oddly... not vulnerable position, but maybe more open for chilchuck? it's a couple things: the POV shot emphasizes the fact that he has to tilt his head up and back to look at laios because of the height difference, and i know it's been shown (mostly in bonus material i think) that laios tries to be careful about how he interacts with chilchuck because chilchuck doesn't like feeling infantilized for his size (like laios not obviously bending/kneeling down to hug him, as an example). like, chilchuck could've still turned his head while looking up, or even walked backwards to look at laios, but he does this instead.

then there's the fact laios is gently pushing chilchuck forward. it's a small thing, but i know pushing can feel... well, pushy, maybe patronizing or rude in some cases, depending on the context and who's doing it, yknow what i mean? but chilchuck doesn't appear to mind. and this last part is probably mostly a me thing, but i think there's a certain amount of trust being demonstrated here, because chilchuck is 1) letting laios guide him, 2) trusting laios enough to not look where he's going for a second, which 3) idk about you but i find the act of walking forward while looking up mildly disorienting

i get this is probably mostly me looking into things a bit more than i need to! but still, i've always really liked the moments where chilchuck demonstrates that he does see laios as their team leader, and generally trusts laios well enough, even if he might prefer laios behave differently and sometimes decides he needs to be pushed to understand/confront certain things. their relationship dynamic is a particular one, kinda subtle, but there's a degree of respect and trust that i just enjoy seeing!

[fangswbenefits]

Confession

Summary: You come to Miguel when he least expects, and now there is no turning back.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x spider-woman!reader

Word count: 3.9k

18+. Miguel POV. Obsessive Miguel. Inexperienced/V*rgin reader. Oral s*x. Body worship. Dry h*mping. Br*eding k*nk.

Part 1 - Previous part

Miguel chose to give you space and time.

For two whole days, he had kept all interactions with you at a minimum. 

Not because he wanted to, but because he had to.

It pained him that things between you two were now in this limbo. You were still your sweet self as expected, but Miguel had soured. Anyone within a three meter radius could spot it.

So when he walked into HQ with blood dripping from his face, no one dared approach him besides the occasional spider asking if he needed anything.

He dismissed all of them and headed to Lab 2 in search of a first-aid kit to deal with the bleeding bruises. 

"Need help, boss?" a fellow spider offered.

Miguel shook his head, and kept going through the countless shelves until you came into his field of vision right in the corner of his eye.

His heart immediately skipped a beat as usual.

Holding a small bag in your hand, you rummaged through it and handed him two pieces of gauze.

"Thanks," he grumbled under his breath, as he pressed the soft fabric to his face.

"What happened?"

Miguel scoffed and turned his head away from you, not wanting to extend the conversation.

He heard you heave a sigh. "Okay, Mr. Grumpy. Can you please move away, then?"

This time, he shifted to glare at you in confusion.

You smiled warmly and pointed at the lab counter that was covered in drops of blood.

Oh.

He grabbed the bag from your hands and began pacing towards his station, but it seemed that you had no intention of parting ways with him just yet.

And that hurt more than any of his wounds.

Having you around was intoxicating enough, but having to go days without barely seeing or interacting with you, had taken a toll on him.

And the result had been sloppiness and being caught off guard by an anomaly.

Very amateur of him.

Very unlike him.

And all because he had filled his mind with you, since he couldn't physically have you.

But you insisted on being present in his life even when you didn't have to.

Miguel walked through the door and let it slide shut, knowing fully well that wouldn't deter you from stepping inside as well. 

"Let me take a look. Please."

He threw you a side-glance, and stopped to glare at his own reflection on the nearby glass wall instead, and determined that the damage could have been much worse. 

"Miguel O'Hara, stop being stubborn and let me take a look."

Your kind voice was chewing at his nerves, and he had to take a deep breath to stop himself from snapping.

He'd rather not have you at all than having your pity.

But then again, there was still that part of him that craved your attention.

And he gave in, like the fool he was. 

"Fine."

You were standing by his desk, and he saw the triumph glimmer in your face. "Take a seat."

He swallowed and did what you asked, allowing your hands to cup his face. Your touch had his stomach flip, and he couldn't bring himself from breaking eye contact with you, even when you moved your finger under his chin, tilting his head back slightly.

"Right," you said in a low voice, before removing the bloodied gauze. "It's very superficial. I think I can just use liquid stitches."

He figured as much, but his focus wasn't on his bodily bruises anymore, but on the delicate touch of your hands, the intensity of your roaming eyes, and, above all else, your warmth.

"Hold the bag a bit higher."

Miguel offered it to you, and you smiled in return.

That sweet smile of yours that had him tightly wrapped around your finger for so long.

His sweet girl…

Your touch left his skin briefly as you gathered the needed material to fix him. Miguel allowed his eyes to flutter shut, occasionally hissing from the sting of the antiseptic as you cleaned his wounds. His mind went blank for a few seconds, and he only focused on enjoying how you took care of him.

Miguel had forgotten what it felt like to be taken care of. He had spent so much time looking after others, that having the roles switched felt so foreign, yet so welcome.

"I didn't think you could ever get injured," you said with a faint chuckle, breaking the comfortable silence.

Miguel knew you were trying to lighten the mood, but he remained silent.

You worked on him with impressive expertise, patching him up.

Once you were done, you lightly patted the edges of the adhesive that covered his wounds and stepped away.

Pride settled on your face, and you moved to sit on the chair across his. "Looking good as new."

"Thank you."

He wished he was strong enough to ask you to leave, but he had missed these little moments. He had accepted you needed time and space, but it still hurt to think that he could have been there for you, and that you had pushed him away instead.

You drummed your fingers on the table for a while before taking a deep breath. "Miguel… we should talk."

"What about?"

"Us."

Miguel slowly straightened in his seat. 

You had his full attention now.

"I don't want things between us to feel awkward," you began, eyes fixed on his. "I don't want us to grow apart…"

He hadn't seen this coming. He assumed it would take longer than this for you to come to him again.

He wasn't often wrong about many things, but he had been wrong about this.

Cocking an eyebrow at you, he leaned back. "Then what do you want?"

Your gaze faltered briefly. "I thought it'd be easier being with you intimately. It felt less… suffocating. It made it easier for me to bury my feelings." You paused and swallowed. "I know people do this casually, and I assumed you felt that way, too…"

He remained silent for a while, slowly digesting the information you had just dropped on him. 

It felt like a confession of sorts, but that last part left a sour taste in his mouth.

"You assumed wrongly," he finally spoke, face twisting into a light scowl. "Is this why you pushed me away the other day? Because you think I only look at you that way?"

Your eyes shot up and you shook your head. "I didn't push you away… I… never meant for that, anyway. I just needed time to think," you said in a whisper. "Like I said, I know some people do this casually… and I would be fine with you just wanting that. I still am," you corrected yourself.

A part of Miguel felt incredulous at this turn of events. Were you confessing you had deeper feelings for him? Or was it all surface-level? 

But another part of him wasn't allowing him to fully savour the first possibility. He wanted you. He needed you. But the conclusion you had drawn of him stirred annoyance inside him.

"What do you want from me?" He snapped a bit too harshly.

Your mouth parted, but no sound came out.

"Sex? I can give you that," he said dryly. "But that is not all I want. Is that all you want?"

You looked restless. "I… I think I want more."

"You think? I don't want anything from you that you won't give willingly," he said in a softer tone this time. "This doesn't have to be more than it is. If all you want is intimacy, I can help you out. But I wish for more, and I want you aware of that."

You remained still for a while as if weighing your options.

Not long after, you nodded.

There was absolutely no doubt inside him. He was sure of how he felt about you, and he was too desperate to have anything he could take. Even casual sexual intimacy if that was what it took to soothe his frustration.

But he couldn't hide his true intentions any longer, and had to make things crystal clear for you.

"What about Tom?"

Your eyes widened. "Tom?"

"Yes. How do you feel about him?"

He needed reassurance.

"We'll work on rebuilding our friendship… but that's it."

That was good enough. Realistically, Miguel didn't expect you to sever your bond to your childhood friend. He didn't even want you to, so long as you weren't getting your feelings hurt.

You then rose to your feet and walked to him with unsure steps. Once you were in front of him, Miguel instinctively parted his legs, allowing your to close the distance between you two.

You glanced around you, and Miguel knew what you were silently assessing.

With a quick tap of a finger on his watch, rendering the glass windows opaque.

The newfound privacy made you visibly relax, and you brought your hands to either side of his head, before raking gentle fingers through his hair.

Miguel had to bite back a moan, and tilted his head back, angling it perfectly with yours.

His heart drummed rapidly inside him as you lowered your face to press the softest kiss to his forehead, and he brought his arms to envelop you into a tight embrace, his chin resting in between your breasts.

There was comfort in this type of silence.

Actions did speak louder than words, after all.

The way you began trailing kisses down his face, carefully avoiding his wounds, had him melting into your touch.

You hesitated upon reaching his lips, hovering over them with your own.

He could feel your breath fanning them rhythmically, and he felt the impending erection stirring down below.

And then you kissed him.

It was shy and controlled at first, but he quickly parted his lips, deepening the kiss. You moaned into him first, gently tugging at strands of his hair. Miguel's groan tore through his throat and he dropped his hands to your waist, gripping them tightly and bringing you closer to his strained erection.

You jolted once you felt it nudging your legs, breaking the kiss momentarily.

"Hard already?" 

The genuine tease in your voice awoke in him the urge to breed you. It was primal and intense, and he knew he should keep that to himself for now. However, he would need to know if you were on birth control eventually. 

"You make it easy," he chose to say, placing one hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into yet another kiss.

He would devour you if you allowed him to.

His tongue slipped past his lips and met yours halfway. You tugged at his hair again and he bucked his hips against you.

He was so painfully hard and already dripping precum.

Just for you.

His sweet girl.

You let him take control and only parted from him once his other hand began to move to your front, fingers dipping between your legs.

Your body language told him to immediately stop, and he did.

"I'm sorry."

You shook your head. "I'm… still getting used to this…" your voice was but a whisper. "Can I… come over to your place later today?"

His cock was throbbing impatiently, craving release from his tight digital suit, but he nodded.

He wanted you to feel comfortable and safe around him, so he placed your needs above his.

He silently vowed to always do this.

You brought your lips to his unarmed cheek and pressed a fleeting peck to it.

"See you later, Mr. Grumpy," you said with a smile before exiting through the sliding door.

Miguel looked down at the visible outline of his cock and contemplated easing some of the tension, but he decided against it.

He would gladly build up all the frustration within him and only you would be able to relieve him from it.

You came to him late at night, before the clock struck midnight.

For the second time that day, you had come to him.

Your steps echoed through the hall and you came into sight, immediately earning his undivided attention. 

"Hey, you."

Miguel's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Hey."

You were wearing a flowery dress that trapped his gaze. It fit you perfectly, but he couldn't wait to get it off you.

Laughing nervously, you took determined steps to where he sat on his couch until you were close enough. 

Miguel met your eyes and watched carefully as you lowered yourself to straddle his waist. Instinctively, his hands slipped under your dress to grip your hips into him.

Then he noticed you weren't wearing anything underneath.

You giggled, biting your lip teasingly. "Is this too much?"

"It's not even enough."

He caressed your skin with his thumbs, as he positioned you right on top of his hardening cock, that was now stirring slowly inside his sweatpants.

You gasped softly as your folds parted to accommodate the underside of his cock, increasing the pressure on your clit.

Miguel considered immediately removed the only layer of clothing that was in the way, but he wanted to feel you soak the fabric.

"I really, really like you," you said through half-hooded eyes, caressing the edges of the bandage covering the wound on his cheek.

Then, you took his lips in yours.

This time, you were the one taking the lead and he let you set the pace. He tasted the impatience and hunger in you, and helped you grind against him. You were a fast learner. You already knew how to sway your hips sensually against his cock, drawing a low groan from him.

Miguel felt his cock fully harden just from feeling your body undulating under the palms of his hands. 

You were going to kill him one day. He was sure of this.

Your hands moved from his shoulder to your chest, undoing the cute buttons that held the dress together.

He broke the kiss so he could marvel at your breasts coming into view, as you allowed the fabric to slide down your shoulders and arms.

The nipple piercings glistened, and he felt his cock twitch from the sight of the spider pendant dangling from each of them.

He wanted to make you custom ones. Maybe with his own symbol. Or his initials. He wanted to mark you as his, and what better way than this?

"Please touch me," you begged, arching your back lightly.

Sweet.

Hungry.

His.

He brought both hands to your chest and grazed your nipples with the pads of both thumbs, hardening them.

You moaned softly, and kept riding his clothed cock.

"Can I tug gently?"

"Please…"

Miguel's hips jerked to meet yours, and he felt your wetness finally seeping through his pants.

He twirled your nipples at first in between his fingers, before gripping the metal piercing, tugging ever so slightly in awe.

You gasped loudly this time, stilling yourself as he admired the jewelry.

"I'll make you custom ones," he promised, as he positioned himself to press a kiss to one nipple. "With my symbol."

You whimpered with a nod. "Yes…"

You'd look so pretty being marked by him.

He wrapped his lips around the nipple, capturing and twirling the pendant with his tongue.

Too bad you hadn't been bred yet. He would have loved to taste your milk as you carried his child. 

You pressed down on him, and the motion of your pussy dragging along his cock was enough to draw the first beads of precum.

He couldn't care less that he was about to get soaked in it, as he knew his body was only trying to prepare itself to be inside yours.

"Slowly… Miguel…" you pleaded in between moans, burying your hands in his hair. "Miguel…"

He could easily get addicted to you mumbling his name like that, but he did release the nipple, admiring how perky it looked.

Before he could have it in his mouth for a second round, you slipped off of him, settling on the floor and in between his legs.

He quickly spotted the damp spot along the outline of his cock from you grinding viciously on him.

"What is it?" he asked, unsure of what to do next.

A faint pout settled on your lips. "Can I… can you show me how to… do it?"

His eyes widened at the realisation of what you meant when your gaze landed on his crotch.

"Are you sure?"

You merely nodded, hands grasping at his waistband, gently pulling it down until his cock sprang free.

Immediately, you straightened yourself and shifted closer. He could feel your curious gaze on him, as strings of precum dripped from the tip.

He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondering how long it would take for him to cum from this.

"Open your mouth," he breathed, and you immediately complied. "Just give it a few licks first."

You nodded and darted out your tongue to press it flat along the underside of his cock.

He immediately flinched, but still gripping it at the base to to push it towards you.

You pulled back with a pout. "What did I do wrong?"

"Nothing. It feels really good…"

A sweet smile tugged at your lips. "What now?"

He inhaled sharply, trying to keep himself from going over the edge too soon.

"Lick the tip…" 

This time, you wrapped your fingers around him, and positioned yourself until your tongue grazed along the tip, collecting the thick droplets of precum.

He had to grip the cushions on his couch to steady himself, not wanting to accidentally shove his cock into your mouth.

You kept your eyes on him, working your tongue around the sensitive tip until he saw the strings of precum mixed with your saliva begin to dribble from the corners of your mouth.

He immediately pressed his eyes shut.

The visual stimulation would only make him reach his peak faster, and he wanted you to be able to take his cock in your mouth before he exploded.

You kept giving him quick licks, further edging him.

"You need to stop…" he groaned, his hips lifting from the couch. "Please…"

Once you did, he opened his eyes again only to be met by the thick and long strings of precum of either side of your chin to drip down to your breasts.

"Too much?" you asked shyly, swiping your tongue along your bottom lip.

Fuck.

You looked so fucking delicious.

But he needed more.

"Do you think you can fit it in your mouth now?"

You quickly nodded. "I think so."

Miguel knew he was not going to last long. "Go slowly…"

You didn't need to be told twice, and craned your neck before lowering yourself and sliding the tip past your lips.

His hips instantly bucked, further sliding in and nearly gagging you.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out, lovingly caressing your cheek.

You tried to give him a reassuring smile, but it was hard to do with his thick cock stuffing your mouth.

"Suck gently…" he said with a groan that quickly turned into a hiss once you began to suckle softly. "Just like that…"

You were so good for him…

He saw your eyes watering slightly as you took him even deeper. "Don't be greedy… you're doing just fine, sweet girl."

By this point, more beads of precum and saliva began to spill from the corners of your mouth, streaming down your face until they connected under your chin into a single strand that dangled further and further down.

Miguel felt his balls tighten lightly as a warning sign.

He was actually impressed with how long it was taking for him to reach an orgasm.

And that was when he decided he didn't want to cum just yet.

Slowly, he gripped your chin and slid off your mouth, earning a muffled protest from you until he was fully out, a string of precum bridging your lower lip to his tip.

"Miguel… why?"

You were pouting again and he nearly lost it. 

"Come here," he asked, trying not to focus too much on how his body was throbbing for release.

You wiped the wetness from your face with the back of your hand, but did as you were told, standing up.

"Do you trust me?"

You nodded right away. 

"I want you to lay on your back," he instructed with a sultry voice. "Then I want your legs over my shoulders."

You seemed to hesitate at first, but moved to sit on his thighs, as Miguel grabbed your hips to help you slide into his desired position. Your legs parted to rest on his shoulders and he effortless lifted your hips.

"Oh…" you drawled out as your dress slid up your thighs, until you were fully exposed to him.

Miguel almost groaned at the sight of your swollen clit peeking through your soaked folds.

"Tell me if it gets too much."

"Why would I-" your words did in your mouth the moment he dragged his tongue across your folds, tasting you for the first time.

He felt your hips jerk lightly under his touch, but he had decided to bring you over the edge with just his mouth.

So, naturally, Miguel began to eat you out.

His thirst for you was satiated with each flick of his tongue across your throbbing clit, yanking the most delicious gasps and whimpers from you.

He first let his tongue slide past your opening, as his nose pressed against your clit.

You choked on a sob as he went deeper. "Oh…oh my…"

Your wetness quickly began to coat his his lips and chin, as he continued to feast on your tast.

"Miguel… I… please…"

His cock twitched at the sound of your voice, and he slipped out of you only to wrap his lips around your clit.

Your hips bucked violently into him, and he had to still you with both hands, so he could properly suckle on it.

More wetness spilled from you, fueling Miguel's ego, as it was the best indicator that your body was yearning for him to breed you. He felt it pool in his tongue and eagerly swallowed as much as he could, feeling intoxicated with your taste.

He sucked a bit more fiercely and could tell you were close. So, so close.

Come for me, cariño…

You were mumbling his name with other incoherent words as you reached your peak.

As soon as he felt you tip over the edge, he let go of your clit and plunged his tongue inside, so he could feel your contracting rhythmically around him.

Your whimpers turned into loud grunts as your orgasm spread throughout your body like wildfire. Your legs began to shake and he wrapped his fingers around his own cock, pumping it in unison with each contraction.

His senses were completely flooded and it didn't take long for his balls to tighten and the first spurts of cum to gush from the tip.

As you descended from your bliss, Miguel entered his, leaning back against the backrest and groaning loudly as he rolled his own hips, desperately fucking his hand.

His fangs were fully on display as your wetness dripped from them while also running down his chin and neck.

By the time he was able to come to his senses again, you had slipped from his grasp, kneeling on the floor with your head pressed to his thigh, breathing erratically.

The two of you remained silent, as both struggled to even out your breaths.

His cum had landed on his shirt, seeping through the fabric and dribbling down his toned abdomen.

"Do you want to spend the night…" Miguel finally managed to find his words again, caressing your cheek approvingly.

You were panting heavily and could only nod.

Part 8

Masterlist

[pickingupmymercedes]

Firsts pt.2 - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Some firsts, like Small firsts, only NSFW version - pt1 / pt2 /

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, kinks, mention of blood.

Also, wrap it before you tap it

wordcount: +4K

a/n: Sooo, we got a few kinker requests and I put half of them together here. Prompts are about: toys, people around, mirror and period. Please, be mindful if you're not okay with reading those.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

First time with toys

Y/n had just left the room to shower, leaving Lewis sprawled out on her bed, scrolling through his phone.

His eyes drifted around the room lazily, and that’s when he noticed it—a bright pink dildo sitting on the nightstand, partially hidden behind a stack of books. His eyebrows shot up, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He reached over, picking it up, his mind already racing with what that toy had done and seen.

When Y/n returned a few minutes later, her skin still damp and her hair up on a bun, she found Lewis sitting up on the bed, holding the dildo in his hand, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Lewis teased, holding the toy up for her to see.

She stopped in her tracks, a playful smirk spreading across her face. “Looks like you found my little friend” she replied, not at all embarrassed, but rather amused by the situation.

Lewis’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of her standing there in nothing but a robe, the fabric clinging to her damp skin. “Do you picture my dick when you use this?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave, making the air between them crackle with tension.

Y/n’s smirk only deepened as she walked toward him, her hips swaying slightly. “Maybe I do,” she teased, coming to stand in front of him, her fingers brushing lightly over the toy in his hand. “But honestly, I might have to get a new one… this one doesn’t quite measure up.”

His eyes narrowed, the challenge in her words igniting something in him. “Is that so?” he murmured, his grip tightening around the dildo. “Guess I’ll have to give you a proper comparison.”

Before she could respond, Lewis was on his feet, his free hand wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. The dildo was still in his other hand, and she couldn’t help the thrill as he pressed it against her stomach, the cool silicone a stark contrast to the heat in his skin.

“Let’s see how you like it when I’m the one controlling it” Lewis whispered against her ear, his breath hot.

He guided her to the bed with his weight, laying her down gently before climbing over her, his eyes never leaving hers. With a slow motion, he opened her robe, revealing her naked body beneath.

His gaze raked over her, taking in every curve, every inch of exposed skin, and she felt her breath catch in her throat.

Lewis positioned himself between her opened legs, his hands running up her thighs, parting them wider as he settled in. The dildo was still in his hand, and he brought it to her mouth, her saliva coating the synthetic material  

He smile like a kid at Christmas when he pressed it to her entrance, teasing her with the tip, but not pushing in just yet.

“Is this how you use it?” he asked, his voice rough as he watched her reaction closely.

Y/n bit her lip, her hips arching slightly toward the toy. “Sometimes… but I think you’re missing a step,” she replied, her voice breathless, but full of challenge.

He smirked, his free hand moving to cup her chin, tilting her face up so she had no choice but to look at him. “Show me.”

With a wicked grin, she reached down, guiding his hand to press the toy against her clit, her body responding immediately to the pressure. “Start here” she instructed, her voice soft, but laced with need.

Lewis watched her, fascinated by the way her body reacted, the way her breath hitched, her eyes fluttering shut as he followed her lead.

He circled her clit with the toy, teasing her with just enough pressure to make her squirm, but not enough to push her over the edge.

“Like that?” he asked, his tone mocking innocence, but the darkness in his eyes giving him away.

She nodded, her voice catching as she answered, “Yeah… just like that.”

But he wasn’t done. His teasing was just beginning. Lewis moved the toy lower, brushing it against her entrance, teasing her with the promise of more. “And here?” he asked, pushing just the tip inside, watching her reaction closely.

Her hips bucked slightly, trying to take more of the toy in, but he held her firmly in place, controlling the pace. “Deeper” she gasped, her voice trembling with the need that was building inside her.

Lewis obliged, pushing the dildo in, but he kept the movements slow, deliberate, driving her crazy with the agonizingly slow pace.

His free hand moved to her breast, his thumb brushing over her nipple, adding to the overwhelming sensations in her body.

“Does this feel good, love?” he murmured, his lips brushing against her neck as he continued to work the toy in and out of her, his pace steady and controlled.

“So good” she whimpered, her hands gripping the sheets, her body arching off the bed as she tried to push herself closer to the edge.

But Lewis wasn’t ready to let her have it with a toy, not when he was there.

He pulled it out, making her whimper in protest, but before she could say anything, he replaced it with his fingers, thrusting them deep inside her, curling them just right to hit that spot that made her cry out.

“Fuck… Lewis” she moaned, her hands flying to his shoulders, pulling him down for a heated kiss as he fucked her with his fingers, the toy forgotten beside them.

He kissed her back with equal intensity, his tongue exploring her mouth as he worked her over, his fingers relentless in their assault.

She was close, so close, and he knew it. He could feel her walls tightening around his fingers, her body trembling beneath him.

“I want to feel you come all over my fingers” he growled against her lips, his voice commanding, full of desire.

That was all it took.

Her orgasm ripped through her, her body tensing, then shuddering violently as she came, her cries muffled against his mouth as he swallowed every sound, every gasp, every moan.

When she finally caught her breath, she looked up at him, her eyes glazed with pleasure, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “You’re definitely better than a toy” she teased, her voice weak, but playful.

Lewis grinned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to her lips. “Glad we agree on that,” he murmured against her mouth, his tone still laced with that dark edge. “But you, with that toy, it was pretty fucking hot.”

She laughed softly, her fingers brushing through his braids as she pulled him down for another kiss. “Maybe we can keep it around… just for fun,” he suggested, his voice now lighter, but with a hint of the heat that was already starting to build between them again.

“But only if I get to be in control” he continued his lips curving into a smirk as he kissed her again, this time slower, deeper, already thinking of the next round.

First time having to be quiet

The closet was narrow, cluttered with unused coats and shoes, leaving barely enough room for Lewis and Y/n to squeeze in. The tight space only added to the thrill though, their bodies pressed against each other as Lewis closed the door behind them, sealing them into almost complete darkness.

“Lewis, this is—” Y/n started, but her words were cut off by the sudden press of his lips against hers. His lips moved urgently, filled with the pent-up desire they had both been feeling all night.

“I couldn’t wait,” Lewis murmured against her mouth, his hands sliding down to grip her hips, pulling her even closer. “This dress… it’s been driving me crazy.”

Y/n breathe hitched at the low growl in his voice, her own hands grounding in the soft fabric of his shirt. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the hardness pressing against her stomach, and it only made her want him more.

But then she remembered where they were, and who was just outside.

“Lewis” she whispered, breaking the kiss. “Your friends are right out there.”

Lewis smirked, his teeth grazing her earlobe as he whispered back, “Then we’ll just have to be extra quiet, won’t we?”

Without waiting for a response, he dropped to his knees, his hands tugging her skirt up around her waist. Y/n gasped softly, her back hitting the wall behind her as she struggled to keep her balance in the cramped space.

“Lew, we don’t have time for this,” she hissed, even as her hands automatically went to his shoulders, steadying herself.

He looked up at her, his eyes glinting in the dim light. “I’m just making sure you’re ready for me.”

Before she could protest, his mouth was on her, his tongue flicking out to taste her through the thin fabric of her panties. Y/n bit her lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued to tease her.

“Fuck” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper. “We really don’t have time—”

He silenced her with a firm lick, the pressure just enough to make her tremble. “Just making sure” he repeated, his voice muffled against her skin as he hooked a finger around her panties, pulling them aside to give him better access.

Y/n’s head fell back against the wall, her eyes fluttering closed as she struggled to keep her breathing steady.

It was a losing battle, especially when Lewis began to suck on her clit, his tongue flicking out to torment her just the way she liked. She bit down on her knuckles to keep from crying out, her other hand tugging at his braids in a silent plea for mercy.

But Lewis wasn’t in a merciful mood. He kept drawing out her pleasure until she was trembling with the effort of staying quiet.

And when she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, he pulled away, leaving her on the edge.

“Soon of bi—” she started, but the words died in her throat as he stood up, his mouth crashing against hers in a kiss that tasted of her own desire. His hands were quick, unbuttoning his pants and freeing himself before lifting on of her legs, pressing her back against the wall.

“Now, be a good girl and stay quiet” he murmured against her lips as he slowly entered her, his cock sliding in with a delicious stretch that made her toes curl.

Y/n bit down on the skin of his arms to stifle the whimper that bubbled up in her throat, her arms wrapping around his neck to hold on as he began to move.

The space was too tight for anything other than shallow thrusts, but it didn’t matter.

 Lewis’s hands were everywhere, gripping her hips, sliding up her back, pulling her impossibly closer with each thrust.

“Fuck,” he groaned into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “You’re so fucking tight.”

Y/n could only nod, her nails digging into his shoulders as she fought to keep her moans quiet. The pressure was building, her body tightening around him as she edged closer and closer to the brink.

Lewis seemed to sense it, his movements becoming more urgent, his breath ragged in her ear.

“Lew, I’m—” she gasped, but he cut her off with a fierce kiss, swallowing her cries as he thrust into her one last time, hitting exactly the spot that snapped the coil in her abdomen.

Her body shook with the effort of keeping quiet as she came apart in his arms. Lewis followed moments later, his own release shuddering through him as he buried himself deep inside her, his forehead resting against hers as they both fought to catch their breath.

For a long moment, the only sound was their ragged breathing as they slowly came back to earth and Lewis reaching for a tissue to clean her up.

But before they could fully recover, there was a knock on the closet door, followed by a voice that was far too amused for Y/n’s liking.

“You two done in there?” Miles called out, his tone teasing. “Because it doesn’t sound like you’re just tidying the closet.”

Lewis chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to Y/n’s forehead before whispering in her ear “Guess we weren’t as quiet as we thought.”

Y/n could only roll her eyes, a mix of embarrassment and satisfaction flooding her as she quickly fixed her clothes. “You owe me, Hamilton” she whispered, but there was no heat in her words.

Lewis just grinned, giving her a playful smack on the ass as they both tried to regain their composure before facing the inevitable teasing that awaited them outside the closet.

First time getting the other to watch in a mirror

Lewis had Y/n sat on the bench in front of the full-length mirror of his closet, her reflection staring back at her, flushed and trembling with anticipation.

The room was dimly lit, the shadows playing off their bodies as Lewis knelt behind her, his hands firm on her hips, keeping her in place.

“Keep your eyes on the mirror,” he instructed, his voice low and rough with desire. “I want you to see what I see.”

She swallowed hard, her breath hitching as his hands slid up her thighs, parting them just enough for him to nudge her legs wider. The cool air of the room hit her exposed skin, making her shiver, but the heat pooling between her legs was all she could focus on.

“Lew…” Her voice was a breathy whisper, filled with need and a hint of nervousness. They hadn’t done this before, and the idea of watching herself unravel under his touch made her feel somewhat vulnerable.

“Shh…” he soothed feeling the shake in her voice, pressing a soft kiss to the back of her thigh. “You’ll like this. Trust me.”

She nodded, biting her lip as she looked back at the mirror. Her reflection showed her standing there, completely exposed, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

And then when she looked back down there was Lewis, his dark eyes locked onto hers as he leaned forward, his breath hot against her core.

The first swipe of his tongue was slow, deliberate, dragging a gasp from her lips. Her hands flew to the nearest wall, needing something to steady herself as he repeated the motion, his tongue teasing her folds, each movement deliberate and precise.

“Fuck…” she breathed, her eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

“Eyes on the mirror,” Lewis reminded her, his voice a growl against her sensitive skin. “I want you to watch.”

With a shaky breath, she forced her eyes open, meeting her own gaze in the reflection. The intensity in her own moans made her weak, but she held herself up, determined to give him what he wanted.

His mouth was relentless, his tongue and lips devouring her. Every flick, every suck, every teasing nip had her squirming, her hips trying to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but his grip on her hips was firm, keeping her in place.

“You taste so fucking good,” Lewis murmured against her, his voice sending vibrations through her core that made her moan loudly. “I want you to see how good you look when you fall apart for me.”

Her eyes were half-lidded, her breaths coming in quick, shallow pants as she kept on watching. She could see the way her body trembled, the flush that spread across her chest, the way her lips parted as she moaned his name.

It was dirty, so dirty, and it made the whole scene so much hotter.

Lewis’s tongue found her clit, circling it with agonizing precision, his eyes never leaving hers. His only desire to get her to watch the one thing in the world that could melt all his resolutions, the known sight of relief she let out whenever she was truly happy.

She was close, so close, and he knew it. His grip tightened on her hips, pulling her back against his face as he worked her over with his mouth, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Lew… please…” Her voice was a desperate whimper, her hands clawing at the wall as she fought to hold on. But he didn’t let up, didn’t give her a moment to breathe as he sucked her clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue in rapid strokes that had her seeing stars.

“Come for me, love” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “I want to see you come.”

And that was all it took. Her body tensed, her eyes locked onto his in the mirror as she fell over the precipice, her orgasm crashing over her with a force that left her legs shaking.

Lewis didn’t stop though, his mouth working her through her orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until she was a trembling mess, barely able to hold her body up right without his support.

When she finally opened her eyes again, she saw the satisfied smirk on his face, his chin glistening with her release as he pulled back, his hands gently rubbing her thighs.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lower abdomen as he stood up, wrapping his arms around her shoulder “You’re beautiful.”

Y/n leaned back against him, her body still trembling with the aftershocks. “That was… intense,” she admitted, letting out the sight he wanted to hear.

“We’re just getting started, babe” Lewis replied with a grin, kneeling before her, his lips finding her neck as he pressed his fingers on her folds again “Now, how about we see what else that mirror can show us?”

First time on your period

The bathroom was filled with the soft hum of the tv from their bedroom, the steam from the shower still clinging to the air as Y/n stood by the sink, clad only in her robe, her body still warm from the hot water.

She caught sight of Lewis in the mirror, leaning against the doorway, his towel slung low on his hips, eyes dark with desire as he watched her get ready.

“You have no idea how much I need you” Y/n whispered; her voice thick with longing. It had been almost three weeks since they last saw each other, and she could feel the ache of missing him in every part of her.

Lewis pushed himself off the doorframe and walked over to her, his hands finding her hips as he pressed his body against hers. “You have me right now. I’m all yours” he murmured against her ear; his breath hot on her skin.

She turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I’m on my period, Lew…”

Lewis pressed a kiss to her neck, his hands rubbing soothing circles on her back. “It’s okay, love.”

“But we’ve barely had any time together,” Y/n murmured, frustration clear in her voice. “And I really, really need you. Like, right now.”

He kissed her softly, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, pulling her closer. “I don’t really mind a bit of blood. Besides, I really, really want you too.” his voice low, a hint of desire already creeping in.

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “You sure? It’s... you know, messy.”

Lewis’s lips curled into a small smile, one that was equal parts reassuring and teasing. “I don’t care about a little mess. I just care about you.” His hand now on her hips, “And us.”

Y/n’s breath hitched at the heat in his gaze, the tension that had been building in her body since she finally saw him that afternoon coming to a head. “Okay.” she whispered, her fingers trailing over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath her touch.

He didn’t need any more encouragement. In a swift movement, he lifted her onto the bathroom counter, his hands pushing her knees apart to make room for him. The towel around his waist dropped to the floor, and Y/n’s eyes darkened with the sight of him, already hard, so ready for her.

“I’ve missed you too,” Lewis murmured as he leaned in to kiss her, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was all-consuming, the kind that made her forget everything else. His hands moved to her robe, losing the grip of the fabric on her waist so her breasts could spill out.

Y/n moaned into his mouth as he ran his finger down her body until he found her slit, feeling the wetness there—some from her arousal, some from her period. But he didn’t seem to care, his touch firm and deliberate as he teased her, drawing out moans.

“Lew,” she breathed, breaking the kiss as she looked down at him, her eyes pleading. “Please, I need you inside me.”

He grinned, his hands sliding up to grip her hips as he lined himself up with her entrance. “You sure?” she asked, her voice a low rumble that had him chuckle softly.

He nodded and kissed her again, one of his hands gripping at the skin of her waist while the other continued his tease. “I want you in any way you’ll have me”.

Without another word, Lewis pushed into her, his cock sliding into her with a slow, steady pressure that made her gasp.

The sensation was different, the added slickness, the tension in her lower back and the dull ache from her cramps made every movement feel heightened, more intense.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Lewis groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as he began to move, his pace slow and deliberate, dragging moans from her.

Y/n’s head fell back against the mirror, her mouth falling open as he thrusted into her, his cock hitting just the right spots with each movement.

The mess was the furthest thing from both of theirs minds—right now, all she could focus on was the way he felt inside her, the way he was filling her up, making her feel whole after weeks of being apart.

“Don’t stop” she whispered, her hands reaching out to grip his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I won’t” he promised, his voice strained with the effort of holding back, of making this last. He leaned down to kiss her again, his lips hot against hers as he continued to move.

Y/n could feel herself getting closer, the tension building in her as he pushed her closer and closer to the edge. He groaned, his movements becoming more urgent, his breath hot against her ear as he buried his face in the crook of her neck and whispered in her skin. “Let go for me, love. Let go.”

Her body tightened around him as she came. Lewis followed a moment later, his own release shuddering through him as he filled her with his cum.

Lewis lifted his head to look at her, a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips. “You okay?” he asked, his voice soft.

“More than okay” Y/n replied, her own smile matching his as she looked down to where they were connected and the sight of blood on their skin “We’re gonna need another shower”

“Yeah?” he murmured, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Good. Because I can’t imagine a better way to spend tonight than with you, in my arms, in a warm bath.”

______________________________________________________________

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[504py]

In Ink, Unsaid - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

Your knight is appointed to tutor you, and he falls asleep during your lesson. It leads to a cute interaction involving his hair.

hell yeah finally got this out!! this one's a lot longer than the first part, i pray it ain't too wordy LOL. once again art by me and hope y'all enjoy!!

Historical inaccuracies, I suck at old-timey speak, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, mutual pining, almost a Leon character study. It's a little more romantic this time.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You don't think you've ever seen Leon make a mistake. It unsettles you a little, how much composure and perfection he seems to uphold. You tend to watch him a lot because of it, growing a strange compulsion to always have your eyes on him.

Whenever you see him through a window while passing by, the sight of him slows you down a bit before you continue on your way. Whenever he walks past the room you're in, your eyes dart to his figure on impulse, trying to take in as much information as you can before he's out of your sight. Leon walks too fast, you find yourself thinking a lot.

Paradoxically, when you're close enough to actually see his face, you find yourself unable to look at him. You try to, but he's already staring at you, and he never looks away first, so you do. Whenever you look at him, his eyebrows raise slightly, like he thinks you want something from him when you do. The pressure from it is surprisingly crushing, so you simply cannot imagine holding eye contact with Leon for more than two seconds.

This strange fascination of yours with your new knight has materialized itself in the form of behaviors that might align themselves with a stalker's. You've drunken in all the little details about him. You recognize the sound of his footsteps, the dent in his left vambrace, since he tends to guard his body with that arm, and the moles on his knuckles. Since you can't look at his face when he's actually near you, you've taken to staring at his hands or his feet. He rarely ever shifts his weight between each leg, even if he's been standing for a long time. It makes you more conscious of how you carry yourself... Speaking of posture, he tends to tilt his head to the right slightly when he rests.

Rest and any of its synonyms are words you'd rarely use to describe anything related to Leon. The most you'd seen him do something as relaxed as resting, was that night he sat by your bed till the thunderstorm passed.

So how do you know his habits when he rests? Shockingly, he's doing it right now, in front of you, during your first tutoring session together.

His eyes were rather bloodshot and dull when he entered the library, a feigned intensity in them like he was trying to convince himself he wasn't tired. He knows you notice, but you don't ask about it, and he seems to be glad you did.

"...This arrangement is rather unorthodox, is it not?" You ask as he sits down across from you.

Leon puffs out a little breath, not enough to be a sigh, but noticeable enough. You are unsure if it is out of annoyance.

"I suppose so, my lady, but your mother was the one who appointed me to tutor you today."

You frown a little. It's not like you disliked Leon at all, but you tend to find him a little too... tense to be around. He seems so structured and confident and it makes you afraid to make mistakes around him... Besides that, he's got a really intense stare that doesn't fare well with your nervous composition.

"...Do you dislike having me as your tutor, my lady?" He queries, the faintest hint of doubt and dejection in his voice.

"I–" You try to start, but he cuts you off, "It's not meant to be taken in any personal manner, my lady, but..." He takes in a sharp inhale, realizing he interrupted you and maybe stepped over a line. Leon pauses and watches you carefully, waiting to see if your expression will contort or if you'll start to reprimand him.

...You just avert your eyes, so he continues.

"Perhaps you'd fare better with someone you were more comfortable with... my lady."

You bite the inside of your cheek. "I'm rather alright, Sir Leon. I apologize for complaining."

"Forgive me for pushing, my lady, but you always feel rather tense around me. Is that for any particular reason? Perhaps I could help."

"I, uh..." Your gaze falls to your lap, "I'm just not sure why mother chose you. Your schedule is rather full as it is, is it not, Sir Leon?"

"Well, I can promise you I'm very well-educated, my lady." He says, but as he observes, it doesn't do much to soothe your nerves.

"...Spending more time with you is always a pleasure to me, my lady. I promise that to you too."

That wrinkle between your eyebrows soften, and your shoulders drop.

Leon does surprisingly well as a tutor. You suppose it's because of his rugged impression that you thought the opposite, but even the way he speaks is well-constructed and seems to have been planned in advance.

If your mother had never appointed Leon as your tutor today, you'd never have really noticed how calming his voice can be. Whenever he's spoken, it always sounded like a command, even if he's trying his best to be respectful. His voice usually comes off too strong, too deep in his chest, too loud sometimes, too much authority. Usually you tend to shrink in your skin a little whenever he speaks, but now, he sounds so relaxed that you feel like he could lull you to sleep at any moment.

Ah– it seems he's beat you to the chase, though.

It took you a little too long to notice, but Leon has fallen asleep in front of you, cheek resting against his right fist and his left hand still resting on the book's page.

You freeze up, not wanting to do anything that'd wake him up. You understand that a tutor falling asleep in front of a student would be highly inappropriate, but you still felt that it would be rude to wake him. Is he a light sleeper? You wonder how exhausted he must be to fall asleep in such an uncomfortable situation, and it makes your heart ache.

He's breathing lightly, you wait a bit, see if he'll wake up on his own. Maybe it's just your own excuse to watch him while you can.

His eyelashes are a lot longer than you thought, and you don't think you've ever seen him without that crease between his brows, and an almost-scowl on his lips. Leon's hair was of a color and style that confused you. Some days it felt brown, sometimes it was blond, or something in between. You've convinced yourself it depended on his mood or the weather. As for the length... the fringe always seemed to obscure his eyes slightly, so you've always wondered why he didn't just cut it. Especially when he wears his helmet, and he makes a bit of a fuss when his bangs get pinned underneath his visor.

Unconsciously, you've been reaching forward to brush away the strand of hair hanging in front of his nose, hoping to get a better look of his face.

Leon's eyes flutter open, his pupils adjusting to the light before they dilate as they settle on you. Your arm flinches back to your side.

He mumbles your name, intimately, no honorifics or titles, and your face warms.

"I– Leon– Sir Leon, hello," You breathe out shakily, "You fell asleep."

The message takes a few seconds to reach his just-woken-up brain, before his eyes widen and he immediately sits up properly.

Words come spilling out of his mouth, this is the first time you've seen him stutter. "I'm so sorry– I'm incredibly sorry, my lady, I apologize for my inappropriate behavior, I don't know why I dared to do such a thing, and why I keep making mistakes today–"

"Leon."

He bites on his tongue and his eyes are slightly wide as he stares at you.

"...It's alright, I promise."

The tips of his ears are a bright red, and that same flush seems to be creeping up from under his shirt collar to his neck. He takes in a few deep breaths, and he looks unsure. This is the second time you've seen him wear this look now. He takes in a deep breath.

"I... I apologize, my lady." He bows his head towards you. The roots of his hair were a deeper brown compared to the rest of his locks. You wonder if he's not even a real blond. Perhaps hours of staying under the sun lightened his hair.

You space out staring at him, and Leon straightens his neck. He can't recall maintaining eye contact with you for this long, and it makes his abdomen feel warm, even if he knows you're not really all there.

"My lady?"

You finally blink, and at the realization your blank-eyed gaze settled on him, your eyes widen and you immediately look elsewhere. You decide to rest your sight on his hands.

"Is there something wrong with my hair?" His fingers twitch, slightly restless.

"I... What makes you say that, Sir Leon?"

"You've been eyeing the top of my head for a while. I felt your hand near my face while I was waking up, as well, my lady."

Your heart skips a beat, and the way your blink catches for a second and the way you seem to choke on your spit isn't missed by the knight-now-tutor across from you.

"I-It's quite alright, my lady." He rushes out, his heart dropping at that look on your face. He's not even sure what's "alright", but he just wanted to offer you any bit of comfort so things don't escalate, in the fear he was too forward with confronting you.

He remembers the musings of his fellow knights about his hair, about how could he see with all that bother, how it could get in the way during combat, or how it just looked a little funny. Truth be told, his hair was the result of continuously forgetting to go get a haircut because he fixated so much on work, but now he keeps it out of spite. Leon insists he can do perfectly fine to anyone who says otherwise, but if it's you...

Leon breathes in slightly, and his hands move away from your line of vision. You follow them, and he's pushing his fringe back as much as he can. He's trying to tuck it behind his ears, and it almost makes you laugh, how gentle the gesture is, then you realize how beautiful he actually looks. Your cheeks warm, and you cannot look away.

"Is this better, my lady?" He asks, strangely demure in his demeanor.

You chuckle, and his heart soars at the noise, "You missed a spot." you comment, before your hand raises for a second, nearing his face.

"Ah– May I?"

"Of course, my lady." The devotion leaking from his voice is punctuated by the mole on his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows.

Your fingers are slightly shaky as they clear the few strands of hair he couldn't pin back. The pads of your fingers graze his forehead, and he takes in a sharp breath. Physical contact between you two was relegated to holding onto his hand when he assisted you, and nothing more, so he wasn't a stranger to it. So he can't really understand why such a tiny act has such an effect on him.

You sit back, properly look at him, and smile. He feels slightly shy under your scrutiny, but he hopes you find him good-looking at the very least. He does have the face to pull off shorter hair, but something about it felt like you were seeing him naked. He felt under-decorated without his fussy hair.

"Mm... I think you look best just as you are."

Leon breathes out a little laugh accompanied by the toothiest smile you've seen on him thus far, which really isn't much, but it comes off just as endearing. The bags under his eyes seem to disappear as his eyes turn into happy crescents. Adoration is dancing around in his pale blue irises, and in the reflection of his dilated pupils, it's only you.

"Thank you, my lady... It makes me happy to hear that."

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[elementroar]

Analysis behind the backstory and personal story arcs of A.B.A. and Paracelsus (part 1)

Sorry for the people who waited. Technical and real life delays and all that. On the positive, I happened to run into new resources in the past two days that have helped lining up the facts easier.

Anyway, I originally wanted to compress all the lore into a single post, but I find it’s so much more massive once you really dig into the analysis between the story across multiple mediums, the in-game animations and interactions etc. To make this more readable for you all and to make creating these posts faster, I’m going to separate them up into parts that focus on different facets of their relationship and lore as I progress through them.

This first part goes into their origins, and I hope this big post helps to thoroughly explain who/what A.B.A. and Paracelsus are, their backstories prior to STRIVE, and my own analysis sprinkled on top. I want to try to keep the info/lore dump minimal and focused, so if I mention a character without elaborating, I’ll leave a link but if I’m not elaborating more, it’s because they’re not relevant to A.B.A/Paracelsus' stories that much.

Related links:

Analysis of Paracelsus' initial bloodlust and its longlasting effects on A.B.A (Part 2)

This is the "Why ABA and Paracelsus can feel horny" lore/theory post

Flament Nagel - Paracelsus’ true form theory

The Red King and White Queen alchemical concept in A.B.A and Paracelsus’ relationship

The beginning with A.B.A.

First off, to introduce their individual origins, it’s easiest to start with A.B.A. She’s a homunculus, an artificial lifeform created by a scientist in his mansion, which was located in the mountains of a region called Frasco or Flask. But before she was ‘born’, her creator had been taken away by the military for his skills in creating artificial life, and so A.B.A. woke up alone.

Despite this, within the 10 years she spent alone in the mansion she was able to learn to read, write, and even create some alchemical magic (seen in some of her attacks in games before -STRIVE-). It’s assumed either she was created with a set of memories and skills, or she naturally learns very quickly. It’s probably due to reading leftover journals and research materials that she even learnt her creator’s name was Paracelsus.

Technically, A.B.A. could’ve left the manor quite easily, there was even a village not far from them. However, she understood that she knew nothing about the world outside and was scared to leave the safety of the manor by venturing outside to explore the unknown world. But she did yearn for freedom and to leave Frasco, so she took to fixating on keys, which she found fascinating in being able to unlock doors to different places.

In the last bit of her 10 years in Frasco, A.B.A would accidentally cross paths with the hidden the demon axe Flament Nagel (which she would later rename to ‘Paracelsus’ in honour of her creator, or just cos that’s the only other name she actually knew).

What’s a demon axe doing here anyway?

So what is Paracelsus? He is what’s known as a magical foci, which are objects or even people that get a soul or a collection of memories/emotions/desires attached to them, which eventually leads to them gaining sentience and often supernatural abilities. They draw from the Backyard, which is basically where the information that makes up all reality is stored in the Guilty Gear world, and also the source of magic. This is the origin of ‘demons’ within the GG world, like Paracelsus.

The story of how Paracelsus/Flament Nagel ended up in Frasco actually involves the ancient Nightwalker (technically not a vampire but he's basically a vampire without the bad stuff) known as Slayer.

Now Slayer is this incredibly old, incredibly strong vampire Nightwalker, who nonetheless is a very nice guy who doesn’t need to feed on regular people because his wife, Sharon, is a deathless woman that he can feed on indefinitely without worrying about her dying.

Because of his immense age (AFAIK he’s the oldest of the main GG cast) and overwhelming power (he always holds back in-game), he has very insightful observations of Paracelsus and A.B.A.

The following screenshots are excerpts taken from the English transcript (available here) translated from the Night of Knives Vol.2 audio drama CD (you can listen to it here), and are from the perspective of Slayer recounting his encounters with Paracelsus and A.B.A.

Sometime near the end of the 100 year long war between Gears and humans known as the Crusades, Slayer was roaming a battlefield and came across a mountain of corpses of both Gears and humans. In the middle of it was a wandering blood covered warrior that was swinging an axe wildly. After confronting the man, Slayer realized that it was the axe that was the true master, the man had already lost his mind and was under its full control.

That axe called itself Flament Nagel aka the Flaming Nail, or the Sanguine Gale. I'll still be referring to him as Paracelsus at this point in time though.

Now magical foci start off simple-minded, only repeating small word fragments, and evolve over time to become more intelligent and sapient. At this point, young Paracelsus was a demon axe who had just gained sentience on that battlefield. Hot-headed and hungry for blood, and wanting to prove his combat superiority, he challenged Slayer and got curb stomped. Slayer was disappointed in how primitive Paracelsus still was in mind and soul, so he left him there to rust.

However eventually, Paracelsus was picked up from that battlefield and was sent to the alchemist Paracelsus, creator of A.B.A. We don’t know if the alchemist knew what the demon axe was, or whether he even requested him specifically for research. But the alchemist ultimately didn’t let Paracelsus out, not letting him take control over him and hiding him somewhere in the depths of his mansion.

(Inaccurate information removed, updating with A.B.A.'s JP GG World entry from XRD)

It would be after A.B.A.’s 10 year long isolation that she decided for reasons unknown, to leave the mansion and explore the outside world. By pure chance, she comes across Paracelsus, who because kinda resembled a key, she immediately picked up and she fell in love with him and decided they were married from then on.

Becoming her key

It's always been known that Paracelsus has some form of empathic abilities, and that he could tell that A.B.A. was fixated on keys and assumed the shape of a giant key to entice her to wield him. This was also the first ‘manipulation’ that Paracelsus admitted he had done to A.B.A. during their heart-to-heart talk.

It’s been further clarified in this recent interview, that it wasn’t so much Paracelsus deliberately taking the form of a key to attract ABA, but because ABA had been so heavily fixated on keys that she saw Paracelsus as a key straight away. That image she had of him as a key seemed to immediately imprint itself on him the moment she touched him, because of his true nature as “an axe (that) transforms into the owner’s image” of what his wielder wants him to be.

Slayer actually did mention this was likely the case over 20 IRL years ago in the audio drama CD, when he observed Paracelsus behaviour with A.B.A. in their second encounter.

Because A.B.A. never sees Paracelsus as a weapon, Paracelsus began to change to fit her ideal of what she saw him as, to become something more than just a weapon, and allowing Paracelsus to truly change and evolve physically and emotionally.

It’s important to note, Paracelsus isn’t bound to his wielder, and he doesn’t HAVE to allow this to happen either. Despite being dragged around by A.B.A. and acting like he has no autonomy; he actually has all the power to stop her from the start.

As Slayer notes, Para still has the power to completely take over A.B.A. 's mind and force her to do what he wants if he is truly unhappy. However he has never even threatened A.B.A. with this ability, and if not for Slayer knowing his past, no one would know Paracelsus actually can do this.

Whether consciously or subconsciously, Para was becoming more than just a demon axe from the moment he met A.B.A., and in his heart of hearts, he was begrudgingly accepting of his then situation-ship with her.

Fast forward to STRIVE and it's shown that he still continues to evolve to fulfill her 'vision' of what he is. When described as becoming more key-like, it's more obvious when you place both his old and new design side-by-side.

Notably, the blade part of his axe form has gotten smaller by STRIVE, just as he has sworn off violence and bloodshed by STRIVE.

It's even shown in how A.B.A. wields him., especially when Para partially possess or influences A.B.A. in his Muroha mode in the old games (mechanically this is the Jealous Mode in STRIVE). A.B.A. would wield him like a proper 'axe' blade-first in XX/ACCENT CORE. In STRIVE, since A.B.A. is now the dominant one in Jealous Rage mode, she doesn't wield him like an axe and now wields him by...bashing his head into people.

(Also I'll be going over the in-game animations and what they convey in a future post, don't you worry! You can view the comparison compilation here first.)

This even is shown in how A.B.A. uses Paracelsus as an actual key in her Overdrive "Keeper of the Key", which is a new move for her.

If we go further, I have speculated in this semi-crack theory that due to A.B.A. also interjecting her ideal of Paracelsus being her spouse over the years, that him actually 'reacting' to her advances now could also be an example of his evolution.

Even if he's trying REAL hard not to.

Hope this was an enjoyable read, let me know if you have any suggestions for improving readability or other stuff. Feel free to ask me questions through the inbox in the mean time that I'm working on the next part.

The next part is going to be analyzing and comparing Paracelsus' XX/ACCENT CORE Muroha mode to STRIVE's Jealous Rage mode, which has quite a bit of detail from comparing their effects on A.B.A. in in-game sprites/animations, plus how it reflects on the change in their power dynamics between games.

Edit: Part 2 available here

[geovanag]

Composite Chart #2

🌿 Rising in Composite Part 1 🌿

The Composite chart, which is effective after meeting a person and is formed by calculating the common points of the positions in the charts of the two people, is the chart that many astrologers (and me too) often use. One of the things you need to know at a basic level is what sign your ascendant is in and what it means. (In one of my previous posts I talked about what houses can mean in general, if you want to read it: #1 ) Let's now examine what the rising between Aries and Virgo mean, the identity of the relationship and how the relationship visibly looks from the outside…

》Aries Rising《

There's a strong drive to initiate new experiences and ventures together.

Both individuals may value their independence and individuality within the relationship.

A competitive spirit may be present.

There's a direct and assertive communication style within the relationship. Both individuals are likely to express their needs and desires openly and assertively.

Aries Ascendant can signify a love for physical activity and exercise. Engaging in physical activities together can strengthen the bond between the partners.

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》Taurus Rising《

Both individuals value reliability and consistency in their partnership.

There's an inclination towards creating a comfortable and harmonious home environment together. Both partners may prioritize material comforts and may work together to build a solid financial foundation.

Both partners are grounded in reality and prefer to take a pragmatic approach to handling day-to-day affairs.

They are willing to invest time and effort into nurturing the relationship and overcoming any difficulties that arise.

Both partners may enjoy indulging in good food, luxurious surroundings, and other sensory experiences together.

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》Gemini Rising《

Relationship may involve a lot of social interaction and networking.

The individuals may enjoy teasing each other, engaging in witty banter, and finding joy in the small pleasures of life.

The individuals to express themselves in diverse ways within the relationship.

The individuals may enjoy a dynamic and versatile partnership that fosters mutual growth, understanding, and appreciation for each other's unique qualities.

They may share a curiosity for knowledge, enjoy engaging in deep conversations, and have a mutual appreciation for each other's intellect.

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》Cancer Rising《

They may feel a strong emotional bond and a sense of closeness to each other, with an intuitive understanding of each other's feelings and needs.

Relationship may center around domestic life and familial connections. They may prioritize spending time together at home, creating a sense of warmth and security within their shared space.

They may form a close-knit unit, offering each other emotional support and security in times of need.

The individuals are likely to be caring, compassionate, and empathetic towards each other's needs.

There may be a strong intuitive connection between the individuals, allowing them to understand each other's feelings without the need for words.

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》Leo Rising《

They may enjoy being in the spotlight together and may attract attention wherever they go.

The relationship may be characterized by acts of generosity, kindness, and warmth, as the individuals strive to make each other feel special and valued.

They may enjoy celebrating each other's achievements and milestones, fostering a sense of mutual admiration and respect.

The individuals may take on leadership roles within the relationship.However, you should keep in mind that there is one feature to watch out for. Because in this leadership role, frictions/discussions will be inevitable.

Inspiring each other to shine brightly and embrace life with enthusiasm and zest.

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》Virgo Rising《

The individuals may pay close attention to the finer points of their interactions, striving for perfection and efficiency in their communication and activities.

They offering practical assistance and guidance to help each other grow and succeed.

The individuals may be down-to-earth.

They may work together harmoniously, supporting each other's goals and aspirations while maintaining a grounded and realistic approach to life.

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Part 2 🌿 is coming soon...

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[shooting-love-arrows]

A villian yandere? Not like those cartoon villian but the one that actually make the reader feel fearful, not because the villian is physicaly scary or something but the villian is so cunning, sly and manipulative like the knave from genshin or fyodor from bsd

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄! 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍

PAIRING: 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 x reader (gender not mentioned/specified/implied) TW. manipulation, isolation, holding reader against her will, stockholm syndrome, dark yandere, flag so red my eyes hurts, unhinge, yandere behavior. A/N: Inspired by manhwas I've read so far. I'm on a roll guys. I didn't expect it to be this long too but man, he's one crazy creation.

𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Who isolates you to the point of insanity. It is widely known humans are social creatures and we need social interactions. However, 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 used this fact to his advantage. Knowing that after a while people go mad when they don’t interact with other people, he decided to do just that. At first his manipulation is subtle: hidden suggestions about who is right to hand with and who's not. Little yet meaningful words weaved between innocent sentences. Then when he saw his tactics working, he began to get bolder. As the group of people becomes smaller (thanks to him) 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 starts to outwardly say they aren't people you should associate with. They are a bad influence and did you know they said this and that behind your back? Real friends don’t do that! He doesn’t do that! That's when comments about how you don't need anyone but him, who always stays by your side and was right about what he told you, each and every time. Your family isn't safe from his doings either. He never fails to drive you away from them. Suddenly they are people who lead you on and make a fool out of you. A black sheep of the family. You just had to see! Before you know it, you are completely alone with only him to talk and listen to.

"I'm just looking out for you like a best friend should be doing." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 wanted to vomit when he said those two, blasted words.

Who snaps and ends up locking you up. Now that you're completed isolated and you happen to start living with him, he locks you up. In a bedroom with a bathroom attached who only has necessities and nothing you could harm yourself with. You can bang, scratch and kick at the door all you want but those doors won't budge. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 is fully prepared. Those doors were expensive but it was worth it. Those locks could be opened by him and the material it was made of could not be so easily destroyed without certain tools you didn’t have. And you're yelling, begging and crying? It is like music to his ears. He'll often sit at the door and listen to you, basking in your voice, and when you're quiet (either pass out from exhaustion or too tired to continue), he'll pick up from where he ended the last time, manipulating you again. His sentences are repetitive and he wants to drill those into your head. He'll tell you how no one is looking for you, how he's all you need, how he'll take care of you and so on...

"Those people want to hurt you. I am doing this for your own good. If you want, I can bring you something? I was thinkng about tamagochi! They are so cut, aren't they?"

Who has to show you some tough love. 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 didn’t expect you to realize just how much he loves you. That’s why he tried to be an understanding partner and be forgiving towards your rash and childish tantrums. But he has his limits too. For example, he notices how you don't eat meals he oh so lovingly has prepared for you. If you don’t want to eat, then he won’t force you. He just doesn't bring you food for the next 2-3 days. Only water. And on the fourth day, he'll bring you a proper meal again. Of course, like he expected, you ate it all. See? It’s not hard to act your age. You don’t see it but 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 smiled in glee when he saw an empty plate. It's a good sign!

"I'm relieved you like the food I prepared for you. I cooked it for the first time but when I saw the recipe I knew you'd like it."

Who you grow to not only fear and love. He is your captor, the one who took away your freedom and cut all ties with society, who manipulates you and ends up breaking you. Who you feared, despised and cursed like he was the source of all evil. But the longer you stayed in the little room that became your whole world, the lines between hater and love began to blurr. Not that you realized it. At some point something switched in your brain and although you feared him, you began to ponder over his words. Maybe he's right? After this period of time, no one ended up looking for you. No one cared enough to do so. And you do only have him. He always makes time for you, brings you delicious meals, and sometimes even gifts you a little trinkets when you act good. Not to mention you live in a nice bedroom with a bathroom too. He never touched you without your consent or forced you to do anything. You could make a choice to bathe whenever you want, pick one of the books he brought you and read and so on. Your brain was suggesting that he is a caring best friend who takes care of you and protects you from all those monserts that want to hurt and bring you down. Soon enough his actions made your heart speed up.

"I knew you'll love me..." 𝐘𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐕𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧 teared up when he heard your confession. It was worth the waiting becaouse now he can bulit a perfect life he always imagined having with you. "I love too. So, so, so much sometimes it hurts."

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @shooting-love-arrows. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites. Likes, reblogs, comments are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

[wilwheaton]

the scorpion doesn’t care who it stings

I posted this on my Facebook four days ago, and it seems to have taken on a life of its own for a minute.

I thought I’d repost it, here:

I can not fathom the emptiness, the insecurity, the insatiable need for attention and validation, the staggering arrogance, the malevolence and total void of human experience that is Elon Musk.

He's the richest man on the planet. You can't go anywhere or do anything without interacting with something he's part of in some way. There are literal millions of people who uncritically worship him, in spite of overwhelming evidence that he's a douchebag. Some number of them will come after me, as they come after anyone who points at their naked emperor. They'll spend entire days going after me and people like me, slavishly serving a man who does not even know they exist. They are his army of fools, uncritically serving his every whim. And it still isn't enough.

He can have any material thing he wants, and he will *never* be happy or satisfied. He has no real friends. Every single person around him is either a viper, a parasite, or both.

So what does he do? He bullies and threatens and harasses and trolls and behaves like the weak, scared, insecure child he has always been. That's a tragedy for him, but it's dangerous for us. He doesn't care what he destroys or who he hurts as he chases this existential thing he cannot ever have.

You know the saying "hurt people hurt people"? He's a hurt person who is hurting our society, making people I care about less safe. The consequences of this one man's midlife crisis are global, and that terrifies me.

In a comment, about an hour later, I added:

You know what's really interesting is the tiny number of people who are attacking and harassing me are either typical right wing idiots who all spew the same garbage from behind their wraparound sunglasses, or these weird nerds who are DESPERATE to justify how toxic and cruel and destructive Elon Musk is. Like, nerds, listen to Old Man Wheaton, please. 

Don't hitch your wagon to Elon Musk. There are countless people who are amazing and genuinely good, who do all the things we wish we could do. Stop defending this piece of shit who would push you into a volcano without even learning your name, if it would save him half a second on his way to his next shitpost on $8Chan (formerly known as Twitter).He doesn't stand up to anyone. He doesn't stand up FOR anyone. He is not your champion. He's angry and chaotic and destructive, and you have to understand that the scorpion doesn't care who it stings.

Finally, I want to add two things: 1) It’s interesting to me that a lot of the people who came to my post to be dicks used a lot of MAGA language. It reminds me of this thing my friend says about concerts: the audience looks like the band. Of course there’s substantial overlap between the angry, hateful, terrified, cowards who support Trump and the same who Stan Elon Musk, and it’s real interesting to see it in action.

2) I haven’t used Twitter for years. I quit before it was popular (lol) because it was better for my mental health. I logged in once when my book was published, and I deleted all my tweets when he announced he was buying Twitter. When he took over and immediately amplified a conspiracy theorist, I made my account private. In a perfect world, I would delete my account entirely. But I have to keep it for reasons I hope I don’t have to explain. After I posted this on Facebook, it made its way around Twitter (still is, four days later, which is ... a thing that is happening) and when people went to look at my account, they saw that it was closed. As much of a fucking manbaby Elon Musk clearly is, he didn’t do anything to my account. In fact, the only reason he even knows I exist (if he does) is through a vanity search of his name. I locked my account on my own, and so should you.

I am only on:

Tumblr

Facebook (itswilwheaton)

Instagram (itswilwheaton)

and my blog that I’ve been neglecting for too long at wilwheaton.net.

I’ve had a Reddit account since 2006, predating user-created subs! I’m u/wil there.

Okay that’s all. Thanks for listening. Please choose to be kind.

[kazuyaluvr]

NSFW Alphabet | Karasu Tabito .ᐟ

❤︎ | Get to know Karasu Tabito from A to Z~ ╰ feat. karasu tabito x afab! reader

minors do not interact

[A] Aftercare You should know that he takes aftercare seriously and believes that it's (almost) as important as the sex itself. He's adamant about getting to it, but not before cuddling for a few minutes. But if he starts feeling icky with all the sweat and other things, he'll get up and force you to take a shower and to pee. Definitely will click his tongue at you if you ask to lie in bed for 5 more minutes. But it's okay because he can carry you to the bathroom anyway. He has a bit of fun with you in the shower, but will dry off before you so that he can go change the sheets.

[B] Body Part Karasu loves staring into your eyes since it's how he can tell someone's truly sincere. He believes in the saying, "the eyes are the window to the soul." Naturally, that means he likes being able to get lost in your eyes while fucking the life out of you. But he likes seeing you screw your eyes shut in pleasure just as much. On himself, he probably likes his arms the most. Not only is it useful for his football style, but those are the same arms that hug you, carry you, and hold on to you while he does unspeakable things to you. He'll be so cocky about it—flexing them for you at the most random moments. Also, he won't admit it, but he loves it when you bite his biceps.

[C] Cum He cums a lot and usually in long ropes which makes clean up a bit of a hassle. It's translucent—bordering on clear—and it's not that viscous. However, it's not the best tasting since he's not that strict with his diet. With that being said, he won't pressure you into swallowing it, but it would make his heart (dick) swell with pride if you soldier on and swallow his seed anyway. He likes cumming specifically on your hip bone for 2 reasons: one, it's the nearest part when he has to pull out, and two, he likes seeing it so near to your dripping cunt. So close yet so far, he would think. Has a slight breeding kink if you can't tell yet.

[D] Dirty Secret He doesn't like the idea of filming your private time; he's a bit of an old man at heart, so he doesn't trust technology like that. But sometimes he'll leave his phone by the nightstand to record audio instead. He gets off more on sound rather than visuals when he's alone. It's his primary jack-off material basically. He loves hearing all your moans and whimpers. Karasu especially loves the part when you abruptly let out a high-pitched and breathless moan. It makes him smirk a bit even while fisting his cock to you. If you're into phone sex, he'll record those calls sometimes—more jack-off material. Though he cringes at his own voice sometimes when he listens to it again.

[E] Experience He has enough experience that he's decent in bed, but not a lot. It just so happens that he had encounters like that and it felt right at the time. Karasu doesn't think much about them though, especially if those were simple flings. He differentiates sex for experience and sex for connection. He likes to ask what his partner likes and if he's doing okay—much of his good performance comes from that.

[F] Favorite Position A sucker for missionary. He likes it because he can see your face and the expressions that you make. It's even better since he can lean down into your neck and let your moans pour directly into his ear. It gets him going. Karasu also loves the feeling of caging you between his arms. Although, if missionary gets boring, he also likes going into the lotus position. He can still see your face—even better this way. But the beauty of this one is that he can hold you close to his body in a secure embrace. But also because you can perch your head in the crook of his neck and whisper sweet nothings to him.

[G] Goofy It depends on the context really. Most of the time he's serious—silent and attentive—only making a sound to whisper dirty things in your ear. That's usually the case when emotions build-up and eventually leads to sex. Although, if you get into it because he was teasing you or you were being a brat—the more likely it is that he'll be flashing that cocky smirk of his. He'd let out an occasional chuckle when he sees how cockdrunk you become. He's not that stiff; he'll laugh when he truly feels like it. But he'll show you sincerity for the majority of your "fun" times.

[H] Hair He doesn't really think much about his situation down there. He'll trim it every once in a while, but not totally. Karasu forgets about it a lot, though it doesn't bother him. He'll tend to it when he feels like it. If his partner requests that he trims it more often, he'll feel hassled by it but would try to comply. However, if he's asked to completely shave it—don't expect him to. He doesn't dig the bald look on himself. With that being said, he doesn't really care about his partner's hair down there. As long as it's clean and well-taken care of, he could care less if there's hair. But he doesn't dig the completely shaven look on his partner either.

[I] Intimacy He seems very cold and rigid the first few times that you do it—like he's doing it because you're supposed to do that in a relationship. It's not that he's not enjoying it, but more so because he isn't ready to be vulnerable just yet. His flings would be like this. But give him some time and his walls will come crashing down. Once he feels comfortable, he'll wear his heart on his sleeve for you. Emotional sex—that's it. That's the post. Kidding, but you'll really feel how much he loves and cares for you through his actions and his words. He can be such a sap.

[J] Jack Off He probably does so most days of the week. Multiple times in a day though? Rarely. It often happens in the mornings when he has to take care of the usual morning wood. Typically does it out of necessity and rubs a quick one before taking a shower. Although, there are nights when his mind wanders and boom—he's horny. He'll quickly pull his shirt off and take his time, unlike in the morning. He also loooves to edge himself. That's another reason he does it at night—more time, less disturbances. The only downside is that he needs jack off material now.

[K] Kinks We all know he has a raging voice kink. He loves hearing anything from you—moans, whimpers, praises (this one especially), affectionate insults, and of course, his name. But one kink that isn't so evident at first is his size kink. Karasu likes to think of himself as quite the large guy—muscular, hulking, intimidating. So to see a pretty little thing like you on the verge of being ruined by him does inexplicable things to his brain. He likes hovering over you to emphasize the difference in your size. He'll hold your smaller hand and cup your cheek with his larger hand. This kink of his mostly stems from his inclination towards "cute" girls.

[L] Location He's not a fan of public sex. Don't get him wrong though; he enjoys playing around in public—rubbing each other under the table, grinding his hard on against your ass while waiting in line, or whispering dirty things while at a party. But when it comes to the actual sex, he'd rather do it somewhere private. You can do the teasing anywhere, but best believe that he's hauling your ass back home the moment it gets serious. For one, he'd just hate it if someone were to see you in such a compromising position. And he'd hate having to deal with what comes after being caught. In most places it's downright illegal. He's not about to risk breaking the law for an orgasm—no matter how good it is. A pretty rational man through and through.

[M] Motivation He says he hates it, but I'd like to think he loves it when you whisper something dirty in his ear. Hell, you could simply moan and he'll know what's up. Anyway, it's pretty easy to rile him up. You could feel him up or let him feel you up. You could prance around your space while wearing little to no clothing. Or you could outright ask him for it and he'll give it to you. He's a no nonsense guy when it comes to initiating. But more often than not, he'll be the one making the first move anyway.

[N] No Not into extreme pain or degradation. He would hate to hurt you to the point it would leave a nasty scar or make you bleed. Light pain is alright—biting, marking, spanking, and the like. Always makes sure you're still okay with it as well. He doesn't mind using harsh nicknames or saying nasty shit to you every once in a while, but he wouldn't want to be degraded himself. He's TOO big into praise to even consider that. Plus, he takes your words (specifically) to his heart. Karasu doesn't think he can handle hearing harsh words directed towards him coming from you.

[O] Oral Prefers to give more than receive (but he won't refuse EVER if you do offer to give him oral). But he likes going down on you more so that he can hear your beautiful sounds. Even though he's the one going to town on you—best believe that he's getting off to your voice anyway. It's basically a win-win situation for him. And did I mention that he's an absolute monster at oral? He's so messy with it and so shameless. He'll really push his face into your heat relentlessly. Karasu knows your pussy like the back of his hand and knows all the spots to lick and suckle on. A foreplay god—is what I'm trying to say.

[P] Pace Depends mostly on his mood and how demanding you are. There are times he prefers to go slow but hard because of how amusing your sounds are to him. But most of the time, he can't really commit to that pace. He gets restless and you can tell because he speeds up all of a sudden. The cocky smirk gets replaced by a more serious and focused expression. The usual indicator that he's about to go to pound town is when he grips your waist tightly, almost bruising. Tell him to go rougher—and he will. Although, be prepared to not walk much the next day.

[Q] Quickie Of course, he prefers a proper session, but he doesn't mind engaging in quickies every now and then when really necessary. Besides, he's the one usually asking for one. He's quite easy to tempt, so even if there are time constraints, he'll make it happen. He can control himself better while in public—at least dragging you into the car if he really needs to release his pent up "frustrations". But when it's just the two of you? He'll bend you over and get the job done right away—returning to his normal everyday tasks like nothing happened. To him, it's like scratching an itch.

[R] Risk Not heavily into risk. He's fine with slightly risky situations (e.g. few people around, really hidden, etc). But he'll never put you in a highly risky situation. It would piss him off if anyone saw you in such a compromising state. The temporary thrill and excitement isn't worth it for his jealousy. Though he does like to play around with you to see your reaction—caressing your pussy under the table, texting you or whispering something dirty while with friends, or subtly squeezing your ass.

[S] Stamina Does it really matter when he's a beast at foreplay? Well, even after he coaxes a couple orgasms from you, he'll obviously still have energy for actual sex. Though he's not that consistent when it comes to stamina. There are days when he's tired or not really feeling it as much, so he might last for just one round. On those days, he'd rather have you in his arms while relaxing. However, on days when it's almost like he's on a rut—he'll go for as long as you need him to. When he's extra frustrated, it's like his dick won't go down at all. He's the type to shoot blanks after going at it for so long. He'll keep groaning in your ear about how, "he hasn't had enough."

[T] Toys Quite the traditional man, so it has never occurred to him to use toys. But he's not exactly against it either. Although, I feel like he'd be too shy to purchase these things himself. Maybe he'll try it online, but he would prefer it if you bought it. That way—he'll keep his "dignity" and you can go ahead and choose something that you know you will enjoy. Truth be told, he's mostly doing it because he wants you to feel better. More about your pleasure rather than his. Oh, but he'll have fun using a vibe on you.

[U] Unfair He loves giving, so I can't imagine him being unfair at all unless you ask him to. Honestly, he gets off seeing you writhe in pleasure. So depriving you of that is equivalent to him blue balling himself. He's not a masochist by any means, so he won't ever be unfair with you.

[V] Volume His pride forbids him from moaning or whimpering. As a "manly man" he's only permitted to low grunts or groans. But the unavoidable happens and he gets "lost in the sauce." He'll start moaning a bit more—whispering about how good you feel around him. There's a chance he might whimper slightly if he hasn't felt you for a long time. He's just so pent up that he doesn't give a shit about anything else. Other than that, he doesn't want to be so loud because he wouldn't want to drown our YOUR sounds. (I feel like he also cringes inwardly when he becomes hyperaware of his volume).

[W] Wild Card He realizes it later on by accident, but he loves fucking in front of a mirror. Karasu loves to see you unravel because of him, but to actually see himself do that to you? It changes things for him; it's so much better that way. It further heightens his size kink because now he can see clear as day how bigger he is compared to you—how he can engulf you so easily with his larger frame and his thick arms. He won't outright tell you, but you can kind of tell by how he always seems to drag you to the spot where both of you can be seen in the full length mirror of your room.

[X] X Ray He is hung. That's it. But seriously, he's bigger than average. He has good length—reaches all the necessary spots, but not enough to actually hurt you. The way he stretches you out is just right as well. He's extra sensitive at the tip and the underside of his dick; he feels as if he'd cum prematurely if you gave too much attention to those areas. It's a given, but he's a shower. He still grows a bit when hard, but not so much. But for some reason, he hates you seeing it flaccid.

[Y] Yearning His drive is a little above average, but it fluctuates a lot depending on his mood and errands. But it's important to note that he'll never force you into anything if your moods don't match. His drive might be high, but he's not some monster without any self-restraint. Most of the time he can be satiated with cuddles or any type of skin-to-skin with you. However, it's more unbearable for him if you're away from him. He'd rather not have sex but have you near than to not have sex because you're miles away from each other. If that makes sense.

[Z] Zzz Admits that he wants to snooze as soon as your done, but his protective instinct is way too hard to ignore. At the very least, he'll get the two of you clean first before hitting the hay. Also, he's a man of foresight. He probably already laid out a towel or any sort of barrier on the bed so that clean up isn't a hassle afterwards. That or he fucks you somewhere else around the house so you can sleep right away. Sometimes, his sleepiness vanishes completely when you offer another round in the shower before actually cleaning yourselves up. Like I said, he can never say no to you.

©kzyluvr do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note self indulgent as you can see

[unoislazy]

Your Touch

(Part 2)

Mizu x Fem! Reader

A/N: AHT AHT, RAY? RAY NO

NO READING FOR YOU RAY

Disclaimer; Due to me having never written full NSFW publicly, I will have to get warmed up to it. I’ll use this series as an excuse to get more and more used to it.

So don’t expect any of this to go all the way for a few parts, sorry my friends.

What’s included: Inexperienced Reader (Taking it easy, not going too far), Consent Checks, Praise

————————————————————

Time had passed since your little interaction with Mizu. Every time you wanted to bring it up, you shut it down, not wanting to make things awkward between you two. You both wanted each other, it was clear, no one could deny that, and yet you chalked the tension up to just the heat of the moment.

That’s what you walked around believing, you had got it into your head that there was no feasible way that woman could’ve just been purely attracted to you, she was simply just affected by the tension in the air, as were you. You didn’t want anything to come of it, why would you? It’s not like you thought about Mizu that often, if at all. You never thought about what it feels like to be near her, or remembering the feeling of her hands and what they would feel like around you, and you certainly never thought about the feeling of her breath along your neck when you…

Maybe you did think about her.

So what? That doesn’t mean anything, sometimes your mind wanders, that doesn’t mean you have any feelings for her.

You sat stuck in thought, your eyes never leaving the patch of snow you watched as if it was going to run away had you looked away. You were quite cold but you hadn’t thought twice about it, your face felt so warm and you couldn’t tell if it was from the weather or your… not so helpful thoughts. You just barely caught the sound of snow crunching rhythmically behind you causing you to quickly spin around, meeting two familiar blue eyes looking back at you.

“Mizu? What are you doing out here?” You asked, quite surprised to see her coming towards you.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She began, crossing her arms as she stared down at you with a questioning gaze. She had a reason to come looking for you, but you weren’t able to tell what it was from her expression.

“I just needed to clear my head… just thinking about some things.” You answered, turning back towards the patch of snow, and just like you thought it had not moved an inch. You heard Mizu move more towards your side. She was quiet for a moment so you could tell she wanted to ask you something but she was debating on whether or not to say it.

“What’s up?” You asked, turning a bit towards her. You could tell she wasn’t really expecting you to ask from how quickly she turned. She played off her surprise by turning back away from you.

“I have something to ask.” She finally said, so you turned to face her better and give her your full attention. She did not look back at you, she simply stared ahead much like you had been doing before. “Would you… do my makeup?” She asked.

You stared at her for a moment, not necessarily confused but you were surprised. You hadn’t thought Mizu to be the type to like feminine things, but you supposed that was only because you only ever saw her wearing masculine clothing. You nodded with a smile, luckily you had some makeup material that you took with you everywhere, just in case. You stood up, sticking out your hand for her to take so you could lead her back inside. You both knew it wasn’t necessary, but did either of you object to it? Of course not.

She took your hand gently and followed behind you as you led her back into the cabin that you all had been staying at for a while. It was small, but there was enough room for the three of you, having lovingly ‘dropped’ Taigen off on the way.

Mizu knocked him out and left him in a tea house.

But at least he has somewhere to go.

You carefully picked up a small box, opening it up and taking out some of the materials you would need. Mizu sat patiently on her knees, her hands resting on her lap and her fists were clenched as if she was worried about something. You had noticed this and smiled at her, thinking she was nervous about the makeup.

“You don’t have to worry, I won't say a word about this to anyone.” You said lightheartedly, turning back around to fiddle with a brush that you needed to use. She didn’t say anything in response so you figured you would just drop the topic all together.

Having finally gotten all the material you needed, you moved it closer to Mizu and set it down on the floor beside her, sitting directly across from her. A smile stayed plastered on your face, you were quite excited having not done makeup in quite some time, but you had to admit, you were quite nervous having to be so close to Mizu again after what had happened last time.

However, you managed to push the nervousness down like a professional and told yourself to focus on the goal, doing makeup, that was it.

You took a shallow breath before reaching down and grabbing a very long brush and dipping it in very pale white makeup. You looked back towards Mizu whose eyes were watching your hands very closely, she seemed very intrigued by your every movement. Gently, your hand reached up with the brush and slowly swiped across her face. You were trying to stay focused, you had to be strategic about how you brushed the product on after all, but you couldn’t help but get distracted once you had noticed Mizu now just staring at you.

It wasn’t like a normal stare though, her eyes were half lidded and relaxed, she was deep in thought but it was clear she didn’t have makeup on her mind.

You tried your best to ignore this and continue on with your work, having finished the base layer and moving onto the eye makeup.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t deny that Mizu’s makeup was the last thing you wanted to do with her at that moment.

You turned back, grabbing a thinner brush, biting the inner part of your lip in the process to shut up any thoughts that were threatening to come loose. All you kept telling yourself was to “Just focus, just focus, just focus.” As if repeating it was going to make it any easier to keep a hold of yourself. She just asked you to do her makeup, she didn’t have ulterior motives, you’re just looking too deep into it.

Right?

Once you turned back to Mizu, her stare had not faltered, but a small smirk had made its way onto her face as well.

“What?” You asked, almost freezing in place as you saw her expression.

“Are you nervous about something?” She asked, still watching your body language carefully as you shifted uncomfortably.

“No, I’m not nervous. Are you? Do you have something to be nervous about?” You responded quite frantically.

Real smooth.

Your jittery response only outed your true feelings towards the situation as you stared back at her, hoping someway, somehow, she missed the very obvious signs that you were in fact extremely nervous. You weren’t in the beginning of this interaction, but now that she had called you out, your nerves seemed to not only double, but quadruple. You were so nervous about looking nervous that you hadn’t noticed Mizu very subtly make her way towards you. She hadn’t gotten extremely close, but it was still a close enough distance for you to begin to freeze up.

“Is it because of me?” She asked quietly.

And here you thought she was nervous about getting her makeup done. You thought having her makeup half done would’ve made the interaction at least a little funny, but you were so lost in the discovery of many new thoughts and feelings that that was the last thing you were thinking about at that moment.

“Do I make you nervous?” She added, nearing you a bit more, the smirk never subsiding as she watched you freeze before her.

Every emotion and feeling you tried to subdue after the last interaction came back full force as you looked at Mizu who was staring back at you like she was going to devour you.

And honestly? You wanted to let her.

But for some reason, something inside you just wouldn’t let you admit that openly.

“No, you don’t.” You very obviously lied, which seemed to be taken as a challenge to Mizu.

“Is that right?” She inquired, tilting her head as she looked you up and down for a moment, “Yeah, your body says otherwise.” She teased before looking back up towards you. You felt as if you were going to melt into a puddle under her gaze. You didn’t want her to see you react in such a way but you also didn’t want her to look away from you. You didn’t know what you were feeling at that moment, all you could really pinpoint was feeling… warm.

Mizu had neared you a little more, now being directly in front of you. Her hand had found its way towards your thigh, slowly making its way up the side of your waist, past your chest and up to your neck. The entire time, leaving a trail of tingles throughout your body. The closer her hand began to shift from your neck, the closer she got to your face. Your heart pounded like crazy, you wanted nothing more than to kiss her right here and now.

But before either of you made any sort of contact, she stopped for a moment and whispered to you, “Is this what you want?”’

You nodded eagerly, no longer caring how pathetic you may have looked. But your response only earned a disapproving sound from the woman.

“No, no. I need you to say it outloud, is this what you want?” Mizuasked again, now looking at you, only inches away from your face. Her eyes were slowly going back and forth between your eyes and your lips and yet again, all you wanted to do was melt.

“Yes.” You answered quickly.

“Yes, what?” She teasingly asked. She knew making you wait was killing you, but she didn’t exactly care either. She wanted to make sure you were both on the same page at the very least considering she kind of just… jumped into it. You definitely didn’t mind that’s for sure.

“This is what I want.” You finally fully answered. She leaned towards you making you think she was going in for a kiss, only for her to go towards your ear and whisper,

“Good girl.”

If your legs could have become jelly at that moment, they would’ve. They might as well have considering if you had been standing they would’ve given out beneath you. You didn’t know what exactly to do or say in response to what she had just said, but you definitely knew what emotions you were feeling now. She took no time before quickly trapping you in a kiss, one that you had been anticipating for several minutes but that point.

To no surprise it had gotten heated extremely fast, you could feel her hands moving around your body and yours were doing the same.

As she kissed you, she had gently begun to push you back, eventually pushing you all the way to the ground with her body between your legs. She broke the kiss, her breathing a bit more labored than before you both had started this ‘activity’ as she looked down at you, the same smirk coming right back onto her face. She neared your face again but instead of kissing you, she went for your neck instead. You gasped a bit at the feeling but let her continue regardless.

It wasn’t until you could feel her begin to bite down a bit did you have to bite your lip to keep your own noises in. She knew exactly what she was doing, and she was enjoying every second of it. She stopped for a moment, lifting herself off of you and looked down at you with a smug look on her face.

“You got to hear me. I think it’s only fair if you return the favor.” Mizu said, causing you to pause for a moment. She couldn't be serious, could she?

“Mizu-” You began, wanting to explain why it was too embarrassing to make such noises only for her to cut you off very quickly.

“Let me hear you.” She teased, leaning back towards you. She was definitely serious.

“You know, the more you let out, the more I know I’m doing this right.” She whispered, her hot breath against your ear sent shivers throughout your body in seconds. Mizu was using your own words against you, and much to your dismay it was working wonders. She took clear notice of the effect she had, and wasn’t planning on stopping any time soon.

She went back towards your neck, doing just as she had before except this time she was just a tad bit extra enthusiastic about it. She was clearly trying to put in the work to hear you, and it was going to pay off.

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t really stop yourself from making the noises you did. The feeling wasn’t overwhelming, but it was definitely new enough to elicit such a reaction.

“There you go.” You could hear her whisper.

How did you get here? You walked in thinking you were going to do Mizu's makeup and here you are moaning and squirming while being pinned down underneath her. The words of encouragement were not helping the fluttery feeling you felt in your stomach everytime she said anything. This truly was not the day you thought you’d discover things like this about yourself, yet here you are.

One of her hands made its way back onto your body, light being placed on your chest, and ever so slowly beginning to move down. She stopped messing with your neck for a moment before she lifted off of you for a second. You took the moment to try and catch your breath, your head was pounding, your stomach had flipped several times, your entire face felt warm, you felt like you were on some kind of roller coaster.

“Are you okay with me going further?” She asked quietly, her hand remaining on your chest. You paused for a moment, suddenly you felt extremely nervous, as if you were so unprepared for whatever could’ve come next. You didn’t answer and Mizu took note of it, taking her hand off of you.

“If you’re not comfortable, we can stop.” She stated simply, still leaning above you as she waited for an answer.

“It’s not that I’m uncomfortable I just-” you began, but you cut yourself off and began to think.

You wanted to continue, you really did, but there was something frightening about doing so. You weren’t ready, you knew that deep down no matter how much you wanted to continue.

“I can’t go further, not yet.” You answered honestly. Mizu nodded before getting off of you.

You sat up after her, a feeling of guilt beginning to wash over you.

“Did I ruin the mood?” You asked quietly, causing Mizu to turn back to you very quickly.

“No, I asked you for a reason. I want to make sure you're at least enjoying yourself, and if that’s where you want to draw the line, then I’m fine with that.” She explained with nothing more than a shrug of her shoulders.

“Besides, there's nothing saying we can’t just continue what we were doing before.” She teased, moving towards you a bit again. You smiled at her, entirely in gear to continue what you were doing before, only to hear the door quickly open followed by a very familiar jingling bell.

“I met some very nice people by the dock today and-“ Ringo began, only to stop once he noticed the position the two of you were in. However, your proximity didn’t really ring any bells for him, instead he pointed out,

“Master, you have makeup on your face, and you do too! Why do you have some smudges on your neck?” A very confused made its way onto Ringos face as he just simply stared at the two of you, who were still merely inches away from each other, before Mizu very plainly responded,

“Don’t think too hard about it.”

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Exchanged clothes [S. R] Bolinus brandaris part. 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k

part 1

summary: a small act of kindness leads to a rather peculiar confession

A/N: Okaay, some people showed interest in a sequel to this and I thought I'd do it, I hope you like it enough. Oh and we are still with baby Spencer, later I will write about the second and third seasons (and as I progress in the series, lol)

taglist: @the-ginger-draws @skievers @c-m-stuff

The days passed, the cases continued, and the level of trust in the friendship between you and Reid only grew. Working at The Behavioral Analysis Unit was complicated and exhausting in many ways, which sometimes made you wonder how he managed to put up with all that, because, although you weren’t an old woman, you did have two years more experience compared to him. It's also not like it was your fault that he was a genius and he went to work for the FBI at an extraordinary age. So every time something happened, you were there for him and he was there for you. The whole team really cared about the two of you (and JJ, the third youngest) while still trusting in your abilities to face challenges. And just like in a family, everyone could also notice the existing tension between you and the doctor, because although, at least on your part, the feelings had been there for a long time, they had become more obvious to the rest since of the trip to Miami.

"Good morning" you had greeted part of the team that day, a few weeks after the trip, more energetic than the others would have expected. Neither Hotch nor Gideon were around, for obvious reasons, so it was only when you passed Reid's desk that you stopped, running your hand affectionately through his hair “Hey, Doc.”

"Hello," he responded immediately. Spencer didn't like it when his hair got messy, but he could take it if it was you, just as he could take your constant hugs or the drawings you sometimes made on his hand when you were bored during meetings. Of everything that happened between you, little managed to bother him, almost as if the interactions he avoided with others were something natural with you around.

Although he had stopped wearing his scarf daily, he still wore it at least once a week as a reminder of how special it was to him, and fortunately that day was the chosen one.

“Do we have a case? Or do I just bury my nose in these reports?” you muttered to the others, but they denied "What of that do you say no to?"

"Today they will be documents" JJ spoke kindly.

"Why do I have so many?"

“Because I passed you some of mine,” Morgan sneered and you gasped, completely offended. You whispered something accusatory in his direction that made Spencer laugh from the next desk, and then he reached over to take just under half the folders.

"I will help you"

"Oh no, no, Reid. It's okay,” you said, your voice softening noticeably, as you placed your hands over his to try to stop him.

"It's nothing, I'll finish them in a jiffy"

"Why don't you ever offer to help me, huh?"

“You manage pretty well on your own,” Spencer teased at your friend, now making you laugh. You still had your hands on his under the excuse of collecting your reports and, perhaps unconsciously, both of you postponed the moment for another few seconds, looking into your eyes with a small smile until he finally managed to keep the material that he had stolen from your desk.

"Thank you," you said, so softly that only he could hear you.

Looking at your coworker had already become something of an obsession. You liked his gestures, how he looked away when he spoke, his nervous ramblings, and the straight hair that he apparently was letting grow, but what you liked the most were his hands. When he was explaining a profile, he always communicated a lot with his body language and honestly, the swaying of his hands, combined with the tranquility in his tone of voice, was very hypnotic to you, as if keeping the attention of others was something inescapable for him, although it was probably easier to keep your attention specifically. Right now, while everyone was minding their own business, you were watching sideways as he ran his middle finger over the printed lines. It made you nervous to see the delicacy with which he moved across the sheet of paper and inevitably your mind traveled to inappropriate corners related to that movement, which embarrassed you to the point of blushing. Thank heavens he was too focused to notice you, so you forced yourself to work on the few reports Reid had let you keep.

The days were very rare when no cases appeared, but you were grateful that they existed because sometimes it was necessary to take a breather. Seeing so many bodies, so much blood and so much inhumanity was something you never quite got used to, although having good teammates in your unit made it more bearable. So that night nothing stopped you from finishing right on time, with a little back pain from sitting all day, but also quite calm.

"I'll see you tomorrow, rest"

"Are you going to your apartment?" Spencer asked, rushing towards you with his coat in hand and the briefcase slung over his shoulder, and you nodded Can you wait for me to go together?”

You looked at him, more confused than you wanted, but you said yes. It's not that you were upset or that you didn't want company, but that you were curious as to why he might have offered to do it.

"Thanks again, for earlier," you said, once both of you were outside. You lived a few streets from the office and you could get there in less than 20 minutes by taking a subway station, which fortunately was the same one he took.

“Okay, they were too many for you. I mean, it's not that I think you can't do the job, you're very capable, it's just that I thought it was too much workload for just you and I… well, I could help you so I did it” with that Reid held up a hand to downplay the matter and smiled at you.

“Why have we never thought about walking to the subway together?”

"I don't know either," he said. You felt a gust of wind hit the both of you so you hugged yourself to try and get some warmth and even though Spencer wasn't the best at reading social cues he managed to figure out what you had and what he needed to do 

“Here” he murmured, as he spread the coat and put it on your shoulders.

“Oh no, no, no, Reid. I'm fine"

"In fact, if you don't use it you can catch a cold and although there are very few cases in which there are complications that lead to death, the symptoms last about a week and you can infect several people during the first days, so you not only you would be taking care of yourself but also the rest of the team” he informed you. That made you smile, and you found that behind all his scientific mumbo jumbo, he was trying to take care of you.

"It's a little big on me," you laughed, reaching into the sleeves with some help from him.

“You look pretty” he blurted out from his lips, completely entranced by you “Well, the… the coat. It looks good” he tried to fix, but you laughed at the compliment that you definitely wouldn't pass up.

"Aren't you cold?"

“No, my shirt and vest help,” Spencer replied, showing you the long sleeve of her white shirt. “I also have my scarf, did you forget it?”

"The best choice in all your outfits" you joked, reaching out a hand to feel the soft fabric of the garment and looking at him, with that cute shy smile "What will you do when you get to your apartment?"

“Huh, probably get some sleep. I haven't been resting properly in the past few days."

"Nightmares again?" you sadly asked. Spencer had talked to you superficially about it a few days ago, although you thought that he had suffered from this disease for much longer than he wanted to admit. He didn't answer verbally, he just nodded his head and you thought he didn't want to delve into it “I think I'll spend a while in the bathtub and then I'll sleep. I'm exhausted"

“You close doors and windows before you sleep, right?”

"I do," you assured him.

“Do you also take your cell phone with you to call in case of emergencies?”

"Huh, yeah"

"Good. Take care of yourself” he insisted. Those didn't sound like random recommendations and that puzzled you a bit.

"I do, Reid," you replied softly. When you noticed that the concern in his features did not leave him, you thought it would be prudent to ask him why that was "Are you worried about something?"

"No, it's not that" he hastened to answer. You still had a few blocks to go to get to the subway and only a few passers-by walked the streets, besides you.

“Are they unsub then? Anything in particular that worries you?"

"It's nothing like that. It's just…” he gasped, still unsure to continue, “if I tell you, you'll think it's silly”

"Of course not. Tell me, what is it?" you asked. He was internally debating if he should tell you what he was thinking and he was convinced a little when he felt your hand on his arm, as if prompting him to speak.

“Yesterday I…” he started to say “I had a nightmare. I dreamed when I arrived at the office I found out that something bad had happened to you. And… I don't know, it felt very real and I couldn't get it out of my head” he admitted. You understood that perhaps it was the reason he had wanted to accompany you, as if he feared that someone might stalk you on the way.

“Spence” you murmured gently, as you pulled him a little in your direction to place one hand on his bicep and the other on his forearm “Don't worry, nothing's going to happen to me. My apartment complex has a good security system and I always carry my gun, if something happens on the street, I will know how to deal with it. They're just bad dreams, I have them sometimes too” you said to reassure him. You felt quite comfortable walking in that position and you continued a couple of steps holding him like this, looking for some negative sign from him, but it never came. With the closeness he managed to feel a little less fear, reminding himself that what tormented him were fantasies of his own mind, that if they were analyzed with a little more detail they were an unconscious reflection of how much he feared losing you.

"I told you it would be silly"

"It is not. It's quite sweet, actually,” you smiled, moving your thumb up and down as you smiled at him. In that position your face was at the height of the boy's shoulder and it was enough for him to turn his head to reach your forehead, so he wondered how much you would bother if he left you a kiss there. He wanted to, but held back.

“I just thought I should tell you. For you to be careful"

“Same to you, Reid. You have a rather peculiar ability to get into trouble” you exclaimed accusingly, because in a couple of cases the man had already managed to get on your nerves.

The position turned out to be cozier than you expected and you continued walking the rest of the streets towards the subway in silence. He concentrated on the feeling of your body so close to him and your hands gently holding him, while you lost yourself in thought wondering what you really felt about your coworker and what he felt for you. Spencer would look at you from time to time, analyzing your gestures and enjoying the sight of you wearing his clothes, something he didn't think would affect him the way he did.

“Did you know that railway suicides have a very small percentage in the country's suicide rate?” he told you, while the two of you looked at the subway tracks that you were waiting for. You had had to distance yourself to be able to pay the pennies for the ticket and you had decided to place your hands in the pockets of your borrowed coat, caressing the lining fabric with your fingers.

"I had no idea" you muttered. You were a little surprised that he always had an interesting fact about literally anywhere you were and you loved hearing him tell you “It must be horrible. And very sad"

"Even the government allocates certain resources to pay for psychological therapy for drivers who witness these suicides"

"Well, at least it comforts me to know that part of my taxes ends there," you joked bitterly and the train stopped just as you finished saying it. Reid let you first into the nearly empty car that would take you home, and along the way you continued to talk about less unfortunate things, like the dinner choices you were planning or the TV shows that were likely to be airing when you arrived.

Having those little quiet moments with him made you feel lucky and the laughs he managed to get filled your chest with joy, making you completely forget everything related to work. The voice in the wagon warned that your stop was next and an anticipated sadness invaded you.

“Be…”

"Be careful, I know" you smiled. Since you were already on your feet, so as not to miss your stop, you crouched down to give him a quick goodbye hug “See you tomorrow. Try to sleep and if you have nightmares you can call me, okay?" you muttered. He nodded from his place as he watched you leave towards the platform and leaned out the window to see your figure disappear into the distance.

Neither of you two realized that you had kept his coat until you got home.

As of that night, that coat returned to see the doctor's closet on very few occasions and the purple scarf went on to have joint custody. He had found out that if he loved anything more than wearing the clothes you gave him, it was seeing you wearing them, causing him to come up with totally pathetic excuses to accomplish that. 

"It's a bit cold" "Purple matches your clothes" or simply "keep it, it looks better on you than on me"

It soon became a habit. During the cases, when you two were apart, it was a little comforting to have something of him with you and when he came home, he would enjoy breathing in the smell of your perfume impregnated on the fabric.

After a few weeks you realized that, without a doubt, you were so in love with him. And when he realized the same thing, he was completely terrified.

“Reid” you greeted him one morning, catching up with him as he poured himself a coffee and analyzed a piece of bread that had surely been sitting there since the day before. Hugs when seeing him had also become a habit, quite nice from the man’s point of view "I have something for you"

"Again?"

"Oh yeah," you smiled. Lately you had been filling him with small gifts and most of them quite rare, but which he kept suspiciously in his desk drawer. And it's not that he didn't appreciate it, but that he was beginning to feel guilty for receiving so many and not having given you any yet. "Give me your keys," you asked and he obeyed without even questioning you. Once you had them in your hand, you took a strip of colored beads from your pocket that you added as a key ring, while he looked at you with some confusion.

"What's that?"

“My friend asked me to babysit her daughter this weekend and we went crazy with crafts. So I thought I'd do this to you” you muttered. He took a closer look at the keyring and noted that you had included his favorite colors, purple and green, as well as a heart-shaped bead at the end. "I know it looks like a preschool kid's creation and if you're embarrassed to wear it you can throw it away”

"No, I like it. It's pretty,” he smiled, running his long fingers over the beads. Satisfied with the answer, you took out your own keys and proudly showed them to him.

"I have one just like it," you said happily. That was true, only yours was made of pink and blue, and the way you said it completely touched the man.

"You make me think that there is still goodness in this world, you know?" he exclaimed, so sincere and without thinking that he surprised you "I loved it, thank you very much"

"Now that I think about it, it's like one of those friendship bracelets you make at summer camp”

“I never went to a summer camp”

"I don't know why I'm not surprised" you laughed and would have continued the conversation if it hadn't been for Hotch's interruption.

“We've got a case. Conference room in 5”

Sometimes you forgot that the real reason you were there was the criminal profiles and not seeing Spencer Reid every day.

You just woke up one morning and knew you had to tell Spencer how you felt about him. As you said before, Spencer seemed to have a special magnet for trouble and proof of this were the cases in which he had to perform dangerous tasks that you knew no one else could do. When he had to get on that train with Ted Bryar you'd gone crazy and last week when he'd watched that cult boy on Massanutten Mountain threaten Reid with a gun you decided you'd had enough.

He had expressed concern for your well-being on multiple occasions, but what about his? Didn't you have the right to care about him just as much? every time he came back you wanted to throw yourself into his arms and whisper in his ear if he was okay, to maybe leave a kiss or two on his cheeks. But every time he came back you just cheered with the rest of the team and barely had contact with him beyond a squeeze on the shoulder and a sincere: I'm glad you're okay.

So you thought that if you wanted to have that kind of privilege over others the only alternative was to profess your love to him in the hope that he would feel the same way and you could work something out.

Spencer, for his own part, also had his epiphany and as much as he tried to avoid it he ended up asking Morgan for advice, who was the only person he thought would be suitable to talk about this kind of subject. Surprisingly, Derek behaved discreetly and really gave the doctor valuable elements to understand one of the few sciences in which science was almost obsolete: love.

Going back to recently acquired habits, walking together to the subway was another one of them. Sometimes this was interrupted because he or you stayed longer than the other, but except for those cases it was a regular activity.

So that night, when you two were walking to the station, your mind was immersed in remembering the speech with which you planned to tell your friend.

"You're very quiet today," Reid observed, taking you by surprise. In a few months he had already learned very well some traits that indicated that something was wrong with you.

“Sorry, I… I have a few things on my mind,” you apologized, but Spencer didn't know what to say because he also had his own things on his mind. He was desperately searching for a way to put into words what he felt, but he kept wondering, could that be explained? All attempts at reasoning became useless with you near him, maybe that's why he couldn't think of how to tell you "Reid, I don't think I've ever asked you, but have you ever had a partner?"

"Like… couple?" he asked, trying to make sure you were referring to the same thing he thought.

“I know it sounds weird, but it just… made me curious,” you exclaimed, shrugging and then crossing your arms in an attempt to comfort yourself. Reid fondly watched how your arms were on that purple scarf and felt a little motivated to speak.

“Huh, in that case, yes, something like that. I dated two people when I was in school, but it wasn't anything serious, just a few kisses” he explained to you and you failed to contain your laughter, maybe because of the way he had explained it. Spencer blushed to his ears and smiled reflexively at your smile. "Don't tease!"

"I don't" you defended yourself. Another person walked down the sidewalk and he reached out his arm to move you protectively in front of him, so when you came back to his side you took advantage of the distance between you, to the point where your shoulder brushed against his arm.

"And you?" he asked after a while of silence "Have you had many boyfriends?"

"The truth? not so many. With most of them I lost interest after the first date and the others left me when they found out I was in the academy. Apparently armed women aren't very attractive” you smiled. You had asked about his romantic history, and incidentally talked a bit about yours, only to open the topic and somehow feel that your confession would not be so out of place.

“There are studies that indicate that women take longer to fall in love than men, perhaps that is why you lost interest quickly. For you it takes about 6 or 8 dates to decide if you want something with a person, because you are more selective and better analyze personality traits in men. But they only care that the girls are… well, pretty” he murmured, with a smirk “On average it takes women 134 days to fall in love while men only 88”

“How long have you and I known each other?”

"It must be like... a year and a half now" he exclaimed, mentally doing the math "Why?" he continued legitimately confused. For the genius that he was, Reid was naive at times.

You looked down at him and for a second thought that even with those bags under his eyes and the stubble he hadn't shaved, Spencer was the most handsome man you'd ever met. Not receiving an answer, he looked at you and was surprised to see the sparkle in your eyes.

"Okay, can we stop here for a moment?" you asked. You knew you were probably going to chicken out if you didn't say it right then, even if that closed beauty salon you were standing in front of was an unromantic place. "I need to tell you something”

You had said it with determination, but once you were face to face, your mind went blank. You panicked: how were you going to tell him? What was the right thing to say? What reaction did you expect?

But Spencer, noticing the silence, decided to be the first to speak.

“Noradrenaline is a neurotransmitter that produces excitement and effusivity, increases heartbeat, blood pressure, causing sweating of hands and flushing. High dopamine levels generate a need to be with the person that releases it and is related to serotonin, which generates well-being, optimism, social closeness, and reduces discomfort and anger. Phenylethylamine makes everything more intense, makes us feel more motivated and optimistic and finally, oxytocin is the love hormone par excellence, it occurs when we have a bond of trust with people or when we feel a strong attraction. Sometimes it is also released when we embrace the reason for our affection” he had said that so hastily and waving his hands, that he could only show how nervous he was. He inhaled to catch his lost breath, then finally made eye contact with you, taking a moment before continuing, “What I'm trying to say is…you make me feel all of that. You alter my chemistry in ways I've never thought of and… and I… go all goofy and don't know what to say…”

"Spencer" you interrupted him "You mean you like me?" you asked gently, because you knew that when he started to wander sometimes you needed to bring him back down to earth. Reid looked at you tight-lipped and nodded slowly.

You were silent for a second, trying to process what he had just told you, and he got even more nervous than he was.

“But I think that after all this what I care to know is… if you feel the same way. Or in the worst case, if you think you might feel something like this”

“A total chemical mess for you?” you exclaimed amused. One of your hands went to his and you gently held it, taking a step closer to him. “I'm sorry, Reid. I feel it every time I look at you, that you hug me, every time I give you those silly gifts and see the smile on your face. Everything in you causes me that"

"Are you serious?" he asked, wanting to be completely sure what he was hearing. You laughed and wrapped your free arm around his neck, pulling him into a hug.

“Of course I do. Before you said all that I was racking my brain trying to find a way to tell you how I felt."

“Did you know that this is a phenomenon? There are those who call it the tuning fork effect, which is when two people connect the same idea at the same time, almost as if they had been thinking at the same frequency.”

You chuckled and buried your head in his neck, letting go of his hand so you could hug him properly. He wrapped both arms around your waist and buried his head in your hair, willing to say nothing more for fear of ruining the moment. All the fears you had had were being buried with that contact, because now you had the certainty that what you felt was mutual.

You stayed like that for what felt like hours, just listening to the gentle beating of his heart and enjoying the sense of security that being in the man's arms made you feel.

"I really like you" you broke the silence, with a whisper, making him smile.

"I think the most logical step from here would be to ask you out on a date, no?" he muttered. You pulled away enough to look at him, but still leaving your arms around his shoulders.

“I don't want to have to wait. Let's go for a burger"

"Don't you prefer somewhere more... formal?"

"Leave formal places for proposals, handsome," you said in a playful voice, caressing his cheeks with your extended palm and he made a mental note that this Italian restaurant he was thinking of inviting you to would be the ideal place to ask you to take the next step, when the time was right. 

“I still have to take you on at least 6 dates, to be sure”

"Fuck the statistics, I don't need that burger to know I'm in love with you," you said and he grinned from ear to ear.

“I know a place with an excellent health label and organic food, it is a few streets from here”

"I follow you" you answered cheerfully "On one condition"

"Which?"

"Let me hold your hand," you asked softly and Reid wasted no time in fulfilling your wish, leading you to the restaurant that way.

And at the end of the night, when you stole a kiss from him, he couldn't have felt luckier.

[subskz]

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 01

note: this is part 1 of a series (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5)

content: bang chan/reader, university au, strangers to friends to lovers, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, a bit of pining, kissing, slight suggestiveness but sfw (eventually nsfw)

summary: after the past three years you’ve had, whether or not you make it through the fourth all comes down to a single thread. fortunately, you find that thread, with chan on the other end. now, it’s just a matter of who needs it more—you, or him.

word count: 15.7k

By the time the spring semester of your senior year rolled around, you were coming apart at the seams.

It was subtle, not something anyone else would notice—you wouldn’t let them. Angling and maneuvering yourself so that it could never be visible to others was a skill that came all too naturally.

Still, you knew it wasn’t a question of if those seams would ever come completely loose, it was a question of when.

The past three years had been a near-constant fight to keep yourself afloat, with each one lining up to present a brand new, life-altering event tailored just for you. Two of which seemed like the end of the world, and one that truly was.

A heartbreak of your own volition. The loss of someone irreplaceable. Another heartbreak for good measure, also of your own volition. With the number of lessons the universe had packed in for you, you were certain that you’d be able to pass on to your next life without any problems.

Third time's the charm.

That was how the saying went, but for your own sake, you had to enter your final year of university stubbornly clinging to the hope that surely, fourth time would be the charm instead.

Incidentally, charm did come, in the form of Bang Christopher Chan.

It had begun with the most trivial of interactions. On the first day of your PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics course, out of breath and—despite the cool February air—nearly working up a sweat from racing around the physics building like some kind of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshman, you’d made the very innocuous decision to take the first empty seat you could find. Near the back of the class, close to the door; the perfect spot for someone looking to get their credits in and clock out.

What you’d failed to notice until after you’d sat down, however, was the brooding statue of a boy occupying the chair right next to yours, resting his cheek on his hand and staring at the whiteboard with a look so fierce you would think it had personally wronged him somehow.

Seo Changbin. You’d seen him around more than once, having shared a handful of classes with him over the years, but never daring to approach him. You weren’t exactly someone you’d describe as faint of heart, but something about his muscular build and intense gaze, always made darker by the shadow of a cap, had you wary enough to keep a distance.

Not that it was difficult to steer clear of him, anyway, when he was the last to arrive and the first to leave as soon as each lecture hit its designated time limit—and that was if he’d even shown up to begin with.

You still remembered the first thing you’d noticed after settling down next to him, that being, that he was surprisingly much shorter than you’d initially thought. All those times you’d spotted him from afar, tapping along to the beat of his music or killing time in the activity center between classes, had given you the impression that he was as gifted in height as he was in muscle.

That didn’t change the fact that his intimidating presence more than made up for it, and you had taken great care to not veer into his personal space when you slipped your notebook and pencils out of your bag to prepare for what was sure to be a grueling learning experience.

The second thing you’d noticed about Changbin, was that he himself didn’t have a bag—or any kind of work materials, for that matter. There he sat on the first day of class, with nothing but a caseless Samsung S23 Ultra, a pair of headphones, and a ridiculously large bottle of what you’d assumed to be some kind of energy drink. It was almost impressive, in a way, how he hadn’t even tried to fool himself into thinking he’d be productive this semester.

You’d heard horror stories from your upperclassmen about this Thermodynamics professor. His strict grading criteria and endless list of hyper-specific rules were enough to make anyone with your degree plan dread taking his course; the most notable of said rules being that he prohibited any and all forms of technology in his classroom. It hadn’t taken long for him to single out every student who had dared to present even the tiniest flash of fiberglass around him, and Changbin was no exception.

In retrospect, it should’ve been inevitable to you that twenty minutes into the introductory lecture, he’d lean over and awkwardly ask you if he could borrow a pencil.

Wordlessly, you’d nodded and passed him a complimentary sheet of paper along with your pencil bag, allowing him to choose for himself. To your astonishment, he’d reached for your pink, Sanrio-themed mechanical pencil without a single moment of hesitation, whispering his thanks.

You’d never thought a smirk could be described as shy before you saw his. It was unexpected, coming from someone who looked like he bent iron bars for fun, but a welcome surprise regardless.

What had been even more surprising, was that this strange affinity for cuteness wasn’t a one time thing for him—not even close. With every passing Tuesday and Thursday morning you spent in his company, you soon came to discover that the Seo Changbin you’d created in your mind and the Seo Changbin existing before you were two very, very different people.

“You’re here!” he piped, loud enough to turn a few heads in his direction. “I saved you a seat.”

The flimsy, neglected notebook occupying your chair as some kind of placeholder was such a pitiful sight that you couldn’t help but snort.

“The seat I’ve sat in every day since our first class?” you hummed. “Thanks, Bin.”

“You’d better mean that,” he complained. “This place is lawless, someone might get bold one day and take your spot.”

“They’d beg me to take it back after five minutes of your nagging.” You passed his notebook back to him with a grin. It was hardly used and horribly undersized for a course as rigorous as this one, but you still considered it an improvement over the sorry state he’d been in when you first met.

You slipped into the familiar spot, unzipping your bag and preparing your study materials. “Shouldn’t I be the one surprised that you’re here, anyway?” you pointed out. “To what do we owe the honor of Seo Changbin having perfect attendance in an 8:00 a.m. class?”

“You know exactly what,” Changbin shuddered. Beneath the visor of his cap, you saw his eyes dart towards the podium, landing briefly on your demon of a professor. “Besides, senior year and all. It’d be pretty sad to take an extra semester just ‘cause I slacked off.”

You made a small noise of agreement. “So, fear and pressure,” you dropped your pencil bag dramatically on the table. “Now you sound like a real college student.”

Changbin perked up as he spotted the coveted flash of pink amidst your sea of pens and highlighters. “There she is,” he breathed a sigh of relief. “Thought I’d have to make it through this quiz without my lucky charm for a sec.”

“You keep calling it that,” you mused, fishing the pencil in question out from your pouch. “What makes it so special?”

Solemnly, he took it from your hand, curling his fingers around the pink plastic with all the grace and delicacy in the world. He gestured for you to lean in closer, as if preparing to share some deep, profound secret with you.

“It never runs out of lead.”

You nodded, putting on your best fascinated face. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d been the one refilling it.

“Plus, I’ve aced every quiz I’ve taken with it so far.” Changbin’s eyes gleamed as he continued. “It’ll get me through midterms for sure.”

You reached out mischievously, threatening to swipe it from his hands. “In that case, I might just use it for myself.”

“Don’t even joke about that!”

Though your mood was light, it still soured the slightest bit at the mention of grades. Of the three quizzes you’d taken so far this semester, Changbin had scored better than you on two of them. It was a silly thing to be bothered by. You knew by now that he wasn’t lacking in intelligence by any means, but you also knew that intelligence alone wasn’t enough when it came to this course—or astrophysics in general. Certain levels of discipline and hard work were just as essential to your success, and it was difficult to ignore the question of what you seemed to be missing in those departments, especially when Changbin came across as so carefree about his studies.

With the way everything else had been crumbling around you since you’d begun university, the last hope you could cling to was at least maintaining your GPA until graduation. It had been the one constant in your life, an oddly comforting escape that you could pour your focus into when all else failed. You couldn’t afford to slip up—to be anything less than exceptional—for even a moment, not when your field of study was so fiercely competitive.

“You’ve definitely been doing well for yourself,” you commented. “It can’t all be thanks to Cinnamoroll, can it?”

“Oh?” the corner of his mouth curved up into a smirk. “Is that your way of complimenting me?”

You rolled your eyes, immediately accepting that you wouldn’t get anywhere without buttering him up first.

“I just think it’s unfair to give my pencil all the credit instead of that genius mind of yours, that’s all.”

Your tone was far too sweet to be natural, and you were sure that Changbin could see right through it. Even if he did, he played along anyway, lifting his chin proudly and letting out a satisfied hum.

“It’s true, it’s true,” he boasted. “Keep going.”

“Beauty, brawn, and brains,” you marveled, throwing a hand over your heart to really sell the idea. ��You’re living proof that a guy can have it all.”

It was hard to describe the strange, high-pitched sound he made in response. Whatever it was, it helped your efforts feel just a bit more justified. Changbin scrunched up his nose, suddenly at a loss for words, and you were once again reminded of how utterly laughable it was that just two months ago, you’d found him intimidating.

“Ah, seriously,” he cleared his throat, trying to recover from the momentary lapse in bravado. “Alright, I’ll be honest. I get a lot of help from my friend.”

Your interest piqued, and you inched a bit closer. “Your friend?”

He crossed his arms, looking contemplative, and for a second, you thought he might demand more compliments before going into any further detail.

“He’s a couple years older than us, but still studying. He used to be on the astrophysics track before switching to music composition senior year.”

Your eyes widened a bit, half-perplexed, half-impressed. Astrophysics to music. It was a bold change to say the least, not one you could ever imagine yourself making, especially if it’d been close enough to his graduation that he had to take extra semesters.

A lightbulb flickered to life in your head, effectively cutting off whatever you’d planned to say next. “Wait a minute, music composition? Don’t tell me—?”

Changbin clicked his tongue, that same, sheepish expression creeping its way right back onto his face.

“Yes.”

“The same guy you—?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “Chan. The same guy I make music with.”

No matter how hard you tried, you could never suppress your amusement when you remembered the deeply unserious name Changbin and his friends had chosen for themselves.

“So, he’s one third of the famed 3RACHA,” you said it with a bit too much glee, your smile only widening when he shushed you as if the word were some kind of bad omen.

“Why are you embarrassed? The stuff you’ve shown me is really good.”

“I know.” A genuine compliment amidst your teasing only seemed to fluster him further, and he averted his eyes with a grumble. “Ah, forget it. Can’t believe I was gonna be nice and ask if you wanted to study with us.”

You paused. It was easy to forget sometimes that Changbin could be more observant than he let on. Still, you wondered if your earlier shift in demeanor had really been that obvious.

A part of you, the more prideful part, wanted to dismiss his offer right away. It would be like admitting that you were struggling with the course—which, realistically, you knew was ridiculous to care about when every one of your peers was going through the same thing. If the average class scores that your professor so proudly made known were any indication, it’d be a miracle if you weren’t struggling.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, however, the dull, lifeless voice of Dr. Choi rang out through the room, signaling the beginning of the lecture. You put away your study materials begrudgingly, cursing yourself for becoming too immersed in your chat with Changbin to get any last-minute cramming in.

Changbin, on the other hand, looked relaxed as ever, tapping your pencil lazily against the tabletop while the quizzes were passed out. You braced yourself, mind racing with all the knowledge you’d accumulated over the past weeks as a copy of the deceptively short quiz was slid over to you. It was a mere three questions long, but you’d be lucky if you finished them all in the time given to you.

Your eyes landed on the first Gaussian Probability Distribution word problem, and your head went blank. That was all it took for you to lean over to Changbin and whisper.

“I might have to take you up on that.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Noon couldn’t come fast enough.

Your Thermodynamics quiz, not to mention the lecture that followed, had effectively drained your energy before the clock had even struck 9:00, with a full day of classes and assignments still lined up on the horizon.

As anticipated, you’d barely managed to complete the set of problems, even with all your preparation and practice. It could’ve gone much worse, but it was still enough to solidify your decision to join in on the study sessions Changbin had proposed.

He’d eagerly sorted out the details with you after class, planning to meet later this week at his and Chan’s apartment. It hadn't dawned on you until that moment that the latter of the two would probably be expecting some kind of payment for his tutoring services. After all, him helping Changbin out was one thing, but you were a complete stranger.

Changbin, however, had shut the possibility down as quickly as you’d brought it up. According to him, not only would Chan not ask you for any compensation, he’d outright refuse to accept it, even if you tried.

“The only thing Chan loves more than meeting people is helping them,” he’d told you, sounding so sure of himself that you were inclined to believe it.

Even so, it was a bit odd. A former astrophysics major, making a degree switch as drastic as music composition, and still being willing to revisit the same, headache-inducing subjects he’d so narrowly escaped, for free? The more you learned about this Chan character, the more you began to question what kind of person he really was.

Your stomach grumbled, reminding you that you were, in fact, ravenous.

You picked up your pace, drawn in by the welcoming aromas wafting from the campus food court. The feeling of your cell phone vibrating against your thigh made your steps falter a bit, and before you even slipped it out of your pocket, you already had a good idea of who the caller might be.

“Hi, Iseul.”

“Where are you?” she sounded expectant and slightly annoyed, sending your brain on an urgent mission to recall if you’d somehow lost track of plans with her.

“In the student union?” you answered cautiously. “Why?”

You were met with a dramatic huff crackling through the phone speaker.

“I’m outside your place,” she said, as if it were obvious. “Please tell me you didn’t have lunch already. I picked some up for us.”

You blinked, thoroughly confused for what was neither the first nor the last time as to what this girl’s thought process could possibly look like. After two years of friendship, you could confidently say that you had no idea.

“Sorry, did you text me or something?” You pulled your phone away from your ear to open your messages.

“No,” came her reply, tinged with the slightest hint of defensiveness. “But is it so crazy for me to expect you to actually be at your apartment? Y’know, the place where you live?”

“At noon on a Tuesday? A little,” you said plainly. You chose not to bring up the fact that she had to be well aware of your schedule to organize this meeting the very instant your lunch break started.

Another huff. “Well, are you coming or not? There’s a million things I need to talk to you about and I don't know how much longer I can wait here before that security lady accuses me of loitering again.”

You checked the time. It was only a short, ten minute walk to your apartment complex, you could definitely make it before your next lecture.

“Alright, alright. I'm on my way.”

“You’re the best,” her tone changed so abruptly that you almost laughed out loud. “See you soon!”

The call ended before you could get your own goodbyes in. With how quickly she’d hung up, you’d think she had something else to do besides stand around waiting for you to arrive.

Regardless, you hardly felt irritated, well-acquainted with Iseul’s behavior by now.

Your friendship with her had blossomed by pure accident, even with some reluctance on your part. One too many times sophomore year, you’d encountered her in the computer lab at the same ungodly hour as you, battling an army of technical issues with no one around to solve them considering that even the lab assistants had long taken their leave for the night. The first two instances you’d spotted her, slamming her mouse against the desk and cursing violently at her monitor, you’d kept to yourself—albeit with a tinge of guilt—and focused on your own approaching deadlines. After the third time, however, you’d figured the universe was trying to tell you something, and decided to help her out before she rendered every piece of equipment in the lab unusable in her academia-induced fits of rage.

From there, she’d latched on to you in a heartbeat. After all, someone who could help with tasks as incomprehensible to her as troubleshooting Microsoft Excel was sure to be reliable in other areas. On top of that, her newfound interest in you had only doubled when she’d found out that you happened to be living in the newest phase of apartments on campus. Suddenly, she had made the executive decision that you were the best of friends, and that every waking moment of your free time should be spent together at your place.

You might have been offended by her comically transparent motives if you hadn’t discovered soon after that your floorplan was just a few square feet bigger than hers. What she probably wanted most, you’d figured, was a friend.

Your initial misgivings aside, you were grateful to have Iseul in your life. She was someone who could be kept at a safe distance. Not physically, (her constant barging into your space would never allow that) but emotionally. A bit too preoccupied with herself to ever delve into personal matters that you’d rather keep to yourself, but still considerate enough to care about you. At least, in the bare minimum of ways, which was really all you needed from her. She was convenient and comfortable, and you’d long found your rhythm with her despite many labeling her a pain to get along with.

As you began making your way out of the dining hall to meet her, the sight of someone entering from the far side of the building made your heart drop to your stomach.

You froze, suddenly rooted in your place, feet heavy as cinderblocks. It shouldn’t have come as such a shock to you. You were bound to see him again, eventually, whether on campus or through some other unfortunate crossing of paths later down the line. You’d known this and braced yourself for it, too.

Still, no amount of time would’ve ever been long enough.

A very specific type of dread crept up on you, one you hadn’t felt so intensely for almost a year now. But the way it filled up your chest and spread through your skin was all too familiar, like it had never left your system to begin with. Like the kind of person you were before was still inside you, lying dormant.

Resentment and remorse fought for their place in your mind. Somehow, they both felt unjustified. He didn’t deserve to be the target of those emotions, and you didn’t deserve to have them. He hadn’t done anything—that was exactly it: he hadn’t done anything.

You told yourself that you had no right to feel this way. But it didn’t change the fact that he embodied everything you wanted to forget about the past three years.

He hadn’t noticed you yet; at least, you hoped desperately that he hadn’t. You weren’t going to stick around until he did, either. You shook your head, as if to forcibly expel the thoughts before they took root in your brain, and spun on your heels, making your way towards the exit located as far away from him as possible.

In that moment, you were more grateful for Iseul’s impulsive tendencies than ever.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

You rubbed your hands together in an attempt to warm them up, praying that the clouds would hold out until you and Changbin made it to his apartment. It was an unusually cold day by April’s standards, and the sharp winds and ominous gray sky promised a rain that was sure to be bone-chilling for whoever got caught in it.

“Right there,” Changbin pointed at the building you were approaching, finger landing in the direction of a balcony on its third floor. There was a soccer jersey for a team you didn’t recognize hanging off the railing, flapping in the wind so wildly that you were concerned it may fly away altogether. “See, the walk isn’t so bad, right?”

It had been nearly half an hour. Granted, the journey home took longer than expected thanks to Changbin, despite having lived in this complex for two years, still managing to lose his way somehow.

“I’m starting to understand why getting to class on time is so hard for you.”

“I told you, I’ve never taken this route before!” he objected. “I’m just not used to coming from the east side of campus.”

You relented, deciding you’d teased him enough along the way. “It’s alright, it was a bonding experience,” you gave him a playful smile. “I just hope Chan won’t mind that we’re late.”

Changbin waved his hand dismissively. “Nah, don’t worry. He’s probably holed up in his room working right now. Doubt he even knows what time it is.”

It sounded like a dig at the older boy, but there was no hint of scorn in Changbin’s voice, just honest affection.

A strange feeling had been periodically bubbling up inside you all week, and at the mention of Chan, it made its presence known yet again. Whether curiosity or anxiety was at the root of it, you weren’t quite sure, but it grew stronger and stronger with each step you took up to their apartment. By the time you reached the third floor, you found it hard to focus on anything else.

Changbin fumbled with his keys for a moment before unlocking the door and swinging it open. You made note of the plated number on the wall next to you as he did. 8-325.

“Well, we made it in one piece,” he stepped to the side, inviting you in. You accepted with an appreciative nod, and as you slipped off your shoes, your eyes scanned over the living room and kitchen areas in front of you. They were surprisingly neat, with just a few stray socks and water bottles scattered here and there. Even the state of the kitchen sink wasn’t all that bad. No rotting food, no mountain of dishes, no overflowing trashcan.

“Wow,” you murmured, impressed. “It’s clean.”

Changbin snickered at that, as if he’d anticipated your exact reaction. “Minho raises hell if we let it get any worse than this.”

Minho. You’d almost forgotten about their other roommate. Like in the case of Chan, you hadn’t met him, but you’d heard a few things here and there from Changbin. He was a year older than you—a Computer Science major, if you remembered right—but still an undergraduate due to him taking a gap year after high school to work. You wondered if Changbin was some kind of magnet for these people, with his unique balance of childish antics and emotional maturity giving any upperclassmen he came into contact with no choice but to take him under their wing, even sticking around until he graduated like true, responsible older brothers.

“Chan!” Changbin’s voice rang out through the apartment, louder than you thought was probably necessary. “Chan! We’re here!”

There was no response for a minute or so, and just as you shrank back in preparation for another ear-splitting shout from Changbin, you registered the faint sound of a door opening down the hall.

“Coming!”

For some reason, you held your breath.

Shrouded in a mass of black, from his hoodie, to his pants, to the beanie on his head, out shuffled Chan.

He was just an inch or two taller than Changbin, but similarly to him, he had a strong presence. Maybe it was the way his clothes made him look like a walking void, or maybe it was the way he appeared so friendly in contrast to them. His eyes were gentle and his face was weary, but kind. He looked like someone who smiled a lot.

“Sorry,” he pulled his headphones down, letting them rest around his neck. “I lost track of time.”

Changbin gave you a knowing look, as if to remind you that he’d told you so. “It’s okay, I figured.” He conveniently left out the fact that you and him had arrived beyond schedule.

Chan turned to you, tired eyes finding you for the first time. You introduced yourself with a quick dip of your head, and he did the same. You thought it would end at that, but to your surprise, he reached out his hand, wiggling it around slightly to push back the oversized sleeve that had been covering his palm.

“Nice to meet you!” he chirped.

You took his hand, unable to stop yourself from flinching the instant your skin brushed against his.

He was warm. Unnaturally so.

It set off every last one of your nerve-endings, seared through your veins. You might’ve attributed it to his clothing, but all three of you were dressed in thicker attire given the weather. Surely, he had to be cooking up a ridiculous level of heat in that hoodie for his skin to be burning the way it was. On top of that, he didn’t look sweaty or flushed in the slightest. There was just a natural, rosy complexion to his cheeks (which, upon second look, you noted were quite soft in comparison to the rest of his masculine features).

You blinked, realizing with a start how long you’d gone without returning Chan’s greeting.

Changbin bumped his shoulder against yours, and you cringed inwardly. That had to be some kind of record for how fast a first impression could crumble.

“Nice to meet you, too.” you tried to quell the awkwardness, but the way you pulled back all too quickly only seemed to make things worse.

Chan eyed you for a split second longer, his stare flickering down to your hand so briefly that you weren’t sure if you’d imagined it. He flexed his fingers once, then the look of concern on his face morphed into a polite smile.

It was an unfortunate moment for you to notice that he had dimples.

“Is it too toasty in here?” He angled his head towards the thermostat. “I can change it if you’re uncomfortable!”

Just a minute ago, you would’ve told him that you were fine. You’d been perfectly content with your body temperature up until you’d come into contact with the human furnace that was Bang Chan.

You had half a mind to question if he was the uncomfortable one, with all the heat that was practically radiating off of him, but Changbin spoke up first.

“Have you been outside today?” He shivered. “Trust me, this is perfect.”

At that, he strolled over to the kitchen table and plopped down his belongings, looking more prepared to learn than you had ever seen him in class. Chan's smile didn’t waver despite the fact that he obviously hadn’t been asking for Changbin’s opinion, and he exchanged a glance with you, as if you were old pals rolling your eyes over a mutual friend.

You smiled back at him, determined to let this guy believe that you were, in fact, capable of understanding social cues.

“I'm gonna grab my old notes,” he informed you. “Make yourself at home!”

You thanked him quietly, making your way over to the table and joining Changbin in the seat closest to him. As soon as Chan was out of earshot, he nudged you curiously.

“What was that?”

You put on your best neutral front. “What?”

Changbin squinted, eyeing you up and down. “You were acting weird.”

You considered playing dumb, but quickly decided against it. Knowing him, he wouldn’t stop pestering you until you gave him the answer he wanted.

“He was hot,” you shrugged.

“He was what!?”

You tensed up. “No, no, not like that. I mean he was hot, like, physically.”

His mouth hung open, and you weren’t sure what to be more annoyed with: your abysmal choice in words, or his seemingly deliberate misunderstanding of you.

“He felt hot,” you clarified. “Like, his skin. That's all.”

The explanation only seemed to tickle Changbin further, and you elbowed his side irritably, trying to shush his delighted cackles.

“Okay, so, you weren’t acting weird. You just are weird.”

“I'm serious!” you protested.

“He's not better looking than me, is he?” he continued dramatically. “You didn’t do anything like that when we first met.”

You exhaled, composing yourself before you grew defensive over something so ridiculous. “Because your hand didn’t feel like the surface of the sun.”

Changbin nodded solemnly as if he understood, but the look on his face was still completely unconvinced. “Yeah, yeah,” he clicked his tongue. “Just don’t go falling in love with him, alright?”

You snorted, not bothering to dignify him with a response.

That was the last thing you needed—the last thing you wanted, even. To spend another few years building something that you could already predict the demise of. Another few years constructing a tower that you would never even get to see completed, let alone make a home in. Because it was sure to crumble; that was the only thing it could do when its foundation was never fit to support anything to begin with.

The sound of Chan’s approaching footsteps snapped you out of your unpleasant thoughts. He'd taken longer to return than you’d expected, and you could only pray that he hadn’t overheard your conversation with Changbin. He did seem like the type, after all. To pretend like he was still in the other room so that you could be spared the embarrassment of getting caught in the middle of a conversation about him.

“Alright, let’s get started.”

Two notebooks, a laptop, and the colossal textbook required for PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—co-written by Dr. Choi himself, of course—were all dropped on the table before you. You felt a glimmer of hope. Chan seemed to be serious about helping out, so much that you wondered if this arrangement truly could be the extra boost you needed to finish the semester with an A.

He settled into the chair opposite you and Changbin. “So, next up is the midterm, yeah? I guess we should start from the beginning.”

“Inexact differentials, please,” Changbin requested. “I still don’t get them.”

Chan raised an eyebrow, lips twitching in amusement. “Since when are you so ready to study?”

“Since we got our new recruit,” he leaned back in his chair. “There’s less pressure on me now that your wrath is split between us.”

You let a soft chuckle slip at that, trying to imagine what it might take to anger someone who appeared as good-natured as Chan. Said boy cleared his throat, looking a bit embarrassed.

“I swear, I’m not that harsh.”

You nodded, fully aware of Changbin’s talent for exaggeration. “I don’t think anything can scare me after Dr. Choi, anyway.”

“That’s true,” he giggled. For how charming it was, it didn’t last nearly long enough.

You pulled your eyes away before landing yourself in another incriminating situation.

“Alright, inexact differentials it is.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Forty-five minutes into your first study session, you’d come to make two very important realizations about Bang Chan.

The first, being, that he wasn’t exactly the best at explaining things.

He’d typically start on the right track, but it wasn’t long before he’d veer off on tangent upon tangent, tacking on more and more information until it became a full-blown ramble, all loosely connected with a series of “um”s and “y’know”s before being clumsily wrapped up with a final “so…uh, yeah!”

You didn’t hold it against him. He was clearly a smart guy, and you knew firsthand what a nightmare these topics could be to teach to other people, especially taking into account that it had been two years since he’d learned them. Even with his less than articulate methods, you still found yourself grasping concepts exponentially better than you ever did in your thermodynamics lecture, and that was because Chan seemed to be gifted with what you could only assume was an endless supply of patience. He’d repeat himself as many times as deemed necessary, perfectly content with rereading his notes, checking the textbook, and even searching things up online until he was certain that both you and Changbin had understood.

The second realization you’d come to, was that your concerns about whether or not you might get to hear more of his laughter had quickly been put to rest.

He giggled at everything. At you, at Changbin, at himself. Sometimes, he giggled at nothing at all, just to fill the silence. It was admittedly fascinating to see the way his face would change, from the stern expression he wore when offering guidance, to the sheepish smile that’d appear when he stumbled over his words.

After hearing his laughter for the better part of an hour, infectious and melodic and, occasionally, ending with the faintest squeak, you still hadn’t gotten sick of it. Though, you did find yourself thinking that he had to be either an extremely self-conscious person, or an extremely giddy one for giggling to come as naturally to him as breathing.

“Does that make sense?” Chan tilted his head. “Let me know if you wanna go over it again!”

“I think I got it,” you smiled.

In truth, you didn’t, but it was a matter of dignity at this point. Enthalpy was one of the most basic properties you needed to know in order to build on concepts infinitely more complicated than it, and if you held up the review any longer to focus on something so mundane, you may not be able to show your face around this guy ever again.

It didn’t help that somewhere along the line, the looming clouds outside had broken at last, bringing about the downpour that you’d anticipated all day. Each explosive clap of thunder chipped away at your focus more and more, making you prone to stupid, easily avoidable mistakes that frustrated you to no end.

You thought your answer had been convincing, even making sure to look him in the eye when you’d said it, but Chan still didn’t let up.

“Are you sure?” he pressed.

“Oh my God,” Changbin’s voice turned up in a whine, his earlier enthusiasm nowhere to be found. “If you explain this one more time I’m seriously gonna go crazy.”

Before Chan could respond, the sound of keys jingling amidst the steady patter of rain caught everyone’s attention. You turned your head just in time to see the door creak open, letting in a violent gust of wind, and, with it, the lean figure of a stranger.

He was soaked. Dark hair plastered to his forehead, clothes hanging off of him like heavy drapes, and sneakers forming small puddles on the wooden floor.

“It’s raining,” he announced.

Changbin broke out into a fit of laughter, and you bit your lip to prevent yourself from doing the same. Chan, though clearly on the verge of losing it as well, still rose from his chair like a reflex and grabbed a hand towel from the kitchen. He tossed it to the other boy, who you could only guess was Minho.

“I was starting to wonder where you were,” Chan remarked, voice shaking with barely contained glee.

“I got sick of waiting for the rain to stop, so I made a run for it.” Minho dumped the water out of his shoes and shut the door in disgust. “Then I remembered why I don’t run.”

The small towel didn’t do much for his drenched state, and after a few moments of shaking it haphazardly in his hair, he gave up and let it rest around his neck instead.

“You should shower and dry off,” Chan told him. “You’ll catch another cold.”

Minho grunted in acknowledgement, but rather than following through, he strolled over to the kitchen. As he did, his gaze landed on you for the first time, giving you a clear view of his face.

Every striking feature of his was balanced out with a soft counterpart. Sharp, intense eyes with puffy bags underneath, a sharp, prominent nose between full cheeks, and sharp, catlike lips above a round chin. It was a delicate combination that not only made him attractive, but interesting to look at, as well.

He studied you for a moment too long, just enough to spark a sense of unease inside you.

“That’s no good, Changbin,” he clicked his tongue at last. “Don’t tell me you’re such a hopeless case that Chan had to find you a second tutor.”

“It’s a study group!” Changbin cried indignantly. “And what the hell kind of introduction is that? Say hi!”

The corner of Minho’s mouth curved into a smirk, like it was made to do exactly that. Similar to Changbin’s, it wasn’t sultry, but unlike Changbin’s, it wasn't shy. It was mischievous and playful, like that of a child’s cheeky grin.

His attention shifted back to you, and he gave you a proper greeting. It was surprisingly polite, all things considered, even ending with a short bow.

He popped open the refrigerator door, leaning forward in a way that had to be uncomfortably cold given that he was still dripping wet.

“I had a few pudding cups left in here. At least two,” he called out.

“Wasn’t me,” Chan piped with the speed of someone who was accustomed to being the first suspect.

Minho pulled his head out from behind the door, accusatory glare locking right on Changbin.

The boy shifted guiltily next to you, unable to hold eye contact with Minho for longer than a few seconds.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Minho shut the fridge with a hum. “That’s alright.” His voice was breezy and sweet, a complete contrast to what came out of his mouth next. “Just sleep with your door locked until you buy me new ones.”

“Hey,” Changbin whined. “That’s scary.”

He tugged at your arm as if expecting you to rush to his defense, and you settled for giving him a comforting pat on the back, not nearly familiar enough with Minho to joke around with him like that. Given how Chan was watching in amusement, you figured this was a regular occurrence for them, anyway.

Following Minho’s arrival, your review session more or less fell apart. The idle chit chat eventually led into a full on conversation, and when Changbin shut his textbook with a luxurious stretch, you knew there was no chance of getting him to open it again.

You didn’t mind, really. The three of you had covered a lot of ground in the time you’d spent studying, and you were already worlds more confident about the upcoming exam. Your main concern, now, was how you were going to get home. It was well past sunset, and the thick sheet of clouds had darkened the night more so than usual, not allowing even a single drop of moonlight to break through. That, coupled with the fact that it was still very much pouring outside, complicated your plans a bit.

Sitting there as the odd one out among the group of friends, you couldn’t help but feel like you were overstaying your welcome, but any attempts you made at suggesting that you brave the storm and head home were emphatically shut down.

“It’s okay,” you tried to convince them. “I really should get back and have dinner.”

“Have dinner with us!” Changbin didn’t miss a beat.

You hesitated, uncertain as to whether it would be more rude to accept or decline.

“It doesn’t look like the rain’s gonna stop anytime soon,” Chan reasoned. “Why don’t we eat first?”

Minho, in vengeance of his fallen pudding cups, loudly declared that he wouldn’t be cooking dinner for anyone. It became clear to you in that moment that he was probably the only thing standing between his roommates and malnutrition, because their go-to second option (if not their only other option) was instant ramyeon.

So, there the four of you sat, crammed together on their living room couch, watching some obscure superhero movie that Changbin seemed to know every line of, and slurping away at your noodles.

They had turned out tasty enough, with the extra spices and sauces you’d added to make the flavor a bit more appealing, but with the way Chan scarfed down his share, you might’ve thought it was the best meal he’d ever had. He was all satisfied noises and delighted fist shakes, looking happier eating instant cup noodles than you’d seen some people look their entire lives.

He was cute, you decided.

Though the movie lessened some of the pressure you felt to socialize, a faint air of awkwardness still lingered around you, only ever really ebbing when you and Changbin would interact in between his passionate lore discussions with Chan and his bickering with Minho.

Chan seemed to sense early on that you weren’t fully relaxed with the atmosphere; at least, you assumed as much judging by his periodic efforts to pull you back into the conversation.

“Everything good?” he’d asked at one point, leaning over so you could hear his whisper above the movie.

Even with Changbin serving as a buffer between you two, his persistent warmth still found you.

“Oh, yeah.”

Not your most eloquent response. To be fair, you hadn’t anticipated his question. It didn’t seem to have convinced him, but he’d given you a smile, anyway.

“Alright. Just know that you’re more than welcome here, yeah?”

You were grateful for his kindness, but at the same time, it had caught you off guard. It wasn’t a regular thing for you, being read with such ease by someone you hardly knew, and you couldn’t decide if you were just being uncharacteristically transparent that day, or if Chan was too perceptive for his own good.

Changbin was Changbin. That in itself helped you loosen up a bit, as well. He behaved in virtually the exact same way around the older boys as he did with you—albeit, leaning more into his childish side—and it filled your chest with a pleasant sort of relief. He considered you a friend; close enough to treat you with the same intimacy that he treated people he’d known for years.

Minho, on the other hand, was more of an enigma. Not rude by any means, but not overly accommodating, either. The one thing you were certain of was that he was incredibly funny. Witty, too. He didn’t speak as much as Chan or Changbin, but when he did, it was always something memorable. His voice had a playful lilt to it that never seemed to go away, like nothing he said was meant to be taken too seriously.

As the night continued and the four of you had all eaten your fill—or, several fills in Chan’s case—your reservations slowly but surely melted away. You spoke more naturally, joked with Changbin the way you always did when you were together, and even found yourself comfortable enough to make a few snarky comments about the film’s ridiculous plot and cringeworthy special effects, to which Changbin took great offense and Minho had let out a few laughs.

As for Chan’s laughter, another few hours of it still hadn't made it any less endearing. In fact, the more you heard it, the more hooked on it you became.

By the time the storm had passed and you could finally head home safely, you found yourself a bit wistful that your impromptu gathering had come to an end.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“So,” Iseul’s eyes twinkled. “What’s the verdict? Is he cute?”

Straight to the point. It was something you liked about her, usually, but in this scenario, you almost wished she’d never asked.

Ever since that day, you’d felt an inexplicable sense of…well, you didn’t quite know what it was. Discomfort, unease, foreboding; they were all too extreme to describe the feeling. All you knew was that something peculiar stirred inside you whenever you thought back to Chan. Maybe it was because of your clumsy first interaction, or maybe it was because of that nagging, uncanny belief that he could see right through you from the very first moment you met.

It was unfair, in a way, because you knew for a fact that he’d been nothing but friendly every time you’d hung out with him—a delight to be around, really. You could easily see why he was the social butterfly that Changbin made him out to be.

“Hello?” Iseul complained. “I'm not gonna stop asking, even if you ignore me.”

In retrospect, telling her about your new study routine with Changbin and his mystery friend—however offhanded it had seemed at the time—probably wasn’t your smartest move.

“Yeah. Really cute, actually.”

You may as well have told her that he’d asked for her hand in marriage with the squeal she let out. “I knew it, I knew it! Tell me everything.” She nearly knocked her drink over in her rush to scoot closer to you.

It was hard to keep a straight face. Even when you knew it was short-lived, her enthusiasm over the simplest of things was contagious.

“What’s there to tell?” you feigned nonchalance in a way that was sure to annoy her. “I go to him and Bin’s place, we study, I leave.”

“Come on,” Iseul pouted. “There has to be more to it than that. What’s he like? Do you have a picture?”

“A picture?” you echoed incredulously. “You take a commemorative selfie every time you study thermo?”

“Like, his Instagram or something!”

“He has three posts, and none are of his face.”

Iseul deflated at that, and you broke out into proud chuckles. You were being difficult, sure, but the part about his profile was at least true. A picture of his hand holding up a peace sign at the beach, a picture of what you assumed to be his dog back home, and a surprisingly clear shot of the moon; those were the three precious images Bang Chan had felt compelled to share with the world, with the most recent one being from almost two years ago.

“He’s got a nice smile,” you offered.

Iseul took the bait instantly, perking back up. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Dimples, too.”

“Cute.” She clasped her hands together, looking lost in a dream. “That’s it, I have to see him.”

“What’s got you so interested, anyway?” you mused. “Aren’t you talking to someone?”

With the way her face dropped right back into a grimace, you knew you’d touched on a sore subject. “No,” she said curtly. “I mean, am I? Does it count as talking when you’re lucky to get a reply every six hours?”

“You’re just clingy,” you teased, already bracing yourself for when her hand flew out to swipe at you.

“I’m totally low maintenance!” she cried. “Anyway, I don't even want Chan for me. This is about you.”

You shifted in your spot, that same, strange feeling twisting in your stomach, stronger this time.

“Me? What do you mean?”

Iseul put her chopsticks to the side, giving you a look that was far too serious given the topic.

“I’m finding you a boytoy.”

You nearly laughed out loud, only stopping yourself in the nick of time when you caught that she wasn’t joking in the slightest. 

“No, you’re not.”

“I am!” she insisted, bravely holding her ground in the face of your disbelief. “What are you gonna do when I settle down and don’t have time for you anymore? I gotta make sure you have someone to entertain yourself with!”

Your amusement wavered just a bit. You knew she meant well, but when it came to Iseul—or anyone, for that matter—trying to do things for your sake, you’d long accepted that you’d prefer if they didn’t even bother. 

“There’s no rush,” you pointed out. “You have to actually get a text back before you can settle down, right?”

“Oh my God! I'm trying to help you and this is the thanks I get?”

“Thanks, Iseul.” You reached out to give her an apologetic pat. “But I don’t need any help with that.”

Suddenly, her lips curved into a devious smirk, and you had a sneaking suspicion that she’d misunderstood what you meant.

“Oh, I know you don’t,” she drawled. “Never forgetting that dreamboat you had following you around like a lost puppy all sophomore year. What was his name again—?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you cut her off a bit too harshly, regretting it as soon as you did.

Iseul frowned. “It was just a question.”

“You’re right, sorry.”

“What ever happened to him, anyways?” she continued, apparently not taking the hint. “Things ended so suddenly with you two.”

You tried not to bristle. After your near-encounter in the dining hall the other week, he’d been occupying your thoughts far too often for your liking. That, coupled with those peculiar feelings that had sparked within you upon meeting Chan, had you unreasonably on edge ever since. 

“I told you,” you tried to sound casual. “It just wasn’t a good match. I don’t think he really liked me all that much.”

Iseul scoffed, not buying it for a second. “Please, he was obsessed with you.”

The urge to tell her everything right then and there was more tempting than ever. To unload all the bitterness, the guilt that had been building up and weighing you down for the better part of two years now. You knew you couldn’t, though, not when it meant having to break the very same news to her that had led to the end of your relationship. The chances of her reacting the same way that he had were slim, but even the smallest possibility was more than enough reason for you to stay quiet. You’d kept it tucked away for far too long now, anyway. She’d only get upset if she found out now.

“Obsession isn’t the same as love.”

Iseul grew quiet for a moment.

“I guess,” she mumbled.

She turned her attention back to her soda, as if the conversation had suddenly become too heavy for her tastes.

You didn’t blame her, but it further solidified your decision to leave what you’d wanted to say buried in your heart.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Several doses of caffeine were in order.

Anyone who happened to witness the unfortunate sight of you and Changbin stumbling out of Room 118 of the physics building, spiritually battered and bruised and barely able to process your surroundings, might’ve thought you’d just gone to war.

It wasn’t much of a stretch, considering the exam you’d just taken. You felt ridiculous for ever thinking the two hour time slot was overkill; in actuality, it had been a rare display of mercy from Dr. Choi.

“I’m dropping out,” Changbin declared.

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll do it,” he insisted. “Before I lose my mind for real.”

He slumped heavily against you, and it took all your strength to support his muscular body so that the both of you wouldn’t be sent toppling to the floor.

“After everything Chan’s done for you? You might just break his heart.”

Changbin seemed to take your joke a bit too seriously, a horrified look crossing his face. “Can you imagine how that would’ve gone without his help?”

“Don’t even wanna think about it,” you shuddered.

For how excruciating the thermodynamics midterm had been, it was more because of the psychological torture aspect than the difficulty of the content itself—though, its difficulty was nothing to sneeze at, either. The one positive that had come from this hellish experience was confirmation that choosing to study with Chan had undoubtedly been the right choice for you. Every topic you’d managed to review over the few meetings you’d had so far stayed fresh in your mind during the exam, so vividly that you could even recall the inflections in Chan’s voice whenever he’d sing his sentences at random. You weren’t sure if it was intentional, or if it was even something he was aware that he did, but you’d caught on to it right away.

Because his melodies helped you remember better, of course, not because you found it endearing.

“We really need to thank him,” Changbin bumped his head against yours. “Let’s bake him a cake.”

“You can’t even crack an egg.”

“Who told you that!?” he bolted upright, miraculously regaining his energy.

You kept your lips sealed, but it didn’t take long for him to narrow down the suspects.

“Minho…” he muttered. “Who the hell shares that story with someone they just met?”

“I agree that we should do something for Chan, though,” you tried to stay on topic before Changbin could get riled up about Minho. He was already sour on him after he’d bought replacement pudding cups as threatened, only to smugly be told that they were the wrong brand.

“I’ll think of something when my brain isn't fried.” Changbin shoved his hands in his pockets, looking contemplative for a second. “You never answered my question, y’know.”

“Hm?”

“About him being better looking than me.”

His words caught you so off guard that you actually stopped in your tracks, turning to give him a look of pure disbelief.

“Seo Changbin,” you said plainly. “You can’t be serious.”

“What?” his tone grew defensive. “This is important stuff! You’re supposed to be around the same level of attractiveness as your friends. It’s scientifically proven.”

You so badly wanted to hold your unimpressed stare, but it was impossible when the man in front of you was speaking without an ounce of shame.

“First of all,” you began. “I've told you a million times that it had nothing to do with his appearance.”

It was Changbin's turn to look unimpressed, but he waited for you to finish.

“Second of all, you’re a very handsome guy, Binnie,” you tacked on the nickname for maximum effectiveness. “So if I were to fall in love with anyone, it’d obviously be you.”

You truly meant the compliment, but a little extra flattery never hurt when it came to him. A wide, embarrassed smile spread across his face like clockwork, and he reached out to smack your shoulder, giggling at an unnaturally high pitch.

“Geez, don’t say it like that,” he complained. “I wasn't ready.”

You shook your head. “You’re so simple.”

For both Changbin’s peace of mind and your own, you hoped now that the issue would be dropped. You had enough confusing feelings about Chan already without Iseul and Changbin blowing things completely out of proportion.

“Wanna get some coffee?” you suggested. “There’s a really good kiosk on the first floor of the library.”

“I think I’m gonna head home and nap, actually. I’ve got another exam tonight.”

You let out a sympathetic hum. “That’s rough. Good luck, Bin.”

“Thanks,” he sighed dramatically. “Treat me for all my hard work once midterms are over.”

“Sure, I’ll even save up so I can afford your rich kid tastes.”

Changbin grinned at that. “On second thought,” he pulled his hand out of his coat pocket to reveal your pencil; his lucky charm. “You’ve given me more than enough.”

He attempted to pass it back to you, but you nudged his hand away gently.

“Keep it. Maybe it’ll help with your next exam.”

From there, you and Changbin said your goodbyes for the day. You decided to head to the coffee shop on your own, in desperate need of some kind of energy boost so you wouldn’t crash the instant you returned to your apartment.

As you made your way over to the campus library, your mind drifted back to Chan. It seemed to do that a lot, recently.

You wanted to do something to express your gratitude to him, but it was difficult to decide on what when you knew so little about the guy. Changbin could always help in that department, of course, but then there was the issue of actually getting Chan to accept it.

Despite not having walked nearly long enough to work up a sweat, you felt strangely heated when you approached the library entrance. Not only that, your hands were clammy, and you had to wipe your palm on your clothes before reaching out for the door handle. The warm, addictive scent of coffee flooded your senses as you entered the building. You almost connected your sudden rise in temperature to its cozy atmosphere—that was, until your eyes zeroed in on a figure seated at the table directly across from where you stood.

He was hunched over his laptop, consumed by his dark clothes so that he was hardly visible to anyone passing by, but you’d already reached a point where you could’ve recognized that side profile anywhere. A distinctive nose peeked out from behind the hood pulled over his head, thumb brushing over his lips as he concentrated on the screen before him.

Driven by an urge you couldn’t quite place, your feet drew you in his direction, and you had to force yourself to come to a sudden halt. He looked busy—exhausted, too—it was probably best to leave him alone.

Just as you turned to continue over to the coffee stand, dark eyes flickered up to find you, as if on cue. Recognition flooded his face, lighting up with a smile.

You gave him a small wave, and to your surprise, he gestured enthusiastically for you to come over to him. You adjusted the strap of your bag, feeling unusually self-conscious, like you’d given too much away with just your stare. Still, you steeled yourself and padded over to his table.

“Hey!” Chan removed his headphones, hood slipping off along with them. “I was just thinking of you.”

You blinked. “You were?”

“Yeah, you and Bin had your exam today, didn’t you?”

“Oh, right. He just headed home, actually.”

He pulled out the chair next to his, inviting you to take it. You hesitated for a moment before accepting, giving him a grateful nod.

As you settled in next to him, it dawned on you that this was the first time you’d ever seen him without some kind of hat or beanie on his head. You hadn't even known that his hair was curly. It felt akin to a crime to have been robbed of the sight; soft, brown ringlets falling just above his eyes and swooping out at his nape, almost like the tail of a duck.

“How’d it go?” He tilted his head curiously. “Alright, I hope?”

“Well, let’s just say I understand why you switched majors.”

Chan’s laughter filled your ears, a blissful compensation for the past two hours you’d just had. He reached out to tap your shoulder lightly as he giggled, and you weren’t sure why it made your heartbeat pick up.

“That bad, huh?”

“It would’ve gone a lot worse without your help,” you confessed. “Thanks again for studying with us, you’re a lifesaver.”

“Yeah, of course!” Chan chirped. “I’m glad to help.”

“Are you sure there’s really nothing I can do in return? I hope you’re not holding back just ‘cause I’m Changbin’s friend.”

You were careful to ask a second time after your failed attempt at convincing him to accept some kind of payment—favor, anything—during your first study session. Just as Changbin had predicted, he’d brushed you off with a polite smile, insisting that it was the least he could do. Despite your best efforts, you’d ultimately stopped pressing the issue to avoid coming off as too pushy.

Chan waved his hand, dismissive, yet again. “Nah, you don’t have to worry about that. It’s no trouble at all!”

“How about I buy you a coffee?” You motioned in the direction of the kiosk. “Just one cup, and I’ll stop nagging.”

“Ah.” He scrunched up his nose in distaste. “Sorry, I don’t really drink it.”

You stared, waiting for some kind of indication that he was just messing with you, but it never came. Suddenly, his perpetually worn-out state made perfect sense.

“A college student who doesn’t drink coffee? They should study you.”

He grinned, looking a bit embarrassed. “If you need me as the subject for your research next semester, just let me know.”

“Thanks,” you giggled. “But then I’d owe you double.”

He seemed to be lost in thought for a moment, and you tried not to focus on the way his thumb came to run over his full lips again. You’d never seen lips shaped like his before; when you looked closely enough, they resembled a soft-edged heart.

“How about this? Give me your number and we’ll call it even.”

Your mouth nearly fell open. You hadn’t pegged him as the type.

“That way, we can say we’re officially friends,” he continued, completely oblivious to your shock. “And helping out a friend is normal, yeah?”

Friends. It was odd to hear him say that. You weren’t really sure if you could consider someone you’d spent just a handful of hours with your friend, but for what it was worth, he seemed to be speaking sincerely.

Your brief moment of panic melted away. Another case of unintentional flirtatiousness on his part, after all. It was relieving, in a way, because you could only imagine the effect someone like him might have on people if only he knew how to utilize his charm.

“Alright, you win. Just a warning, though, I’m not the best texter.”

“Me neither,” he admitted. “But if you ever need anything or wanna chat, I’ll be there!”

As you exchanged phone numbers, every one of your instincts called for you to be suspicious of Chan, to believe that, surely, he must have some kind of ulterior motive behind his eagerness to befriend you. But you knew what ill-intent looked like by now,—you’d be a fool if you didn’t—and there was none behind his eyes, just an honest desire to help in any way that he could.

It was almost foreign to you, something you’d never really seen in any other person but one.

“There! You’re debt-free.” Chan handed your phone back to you. He’d taken it upon himself to add a wolf emoji next to his contact name, and you shot him an amused look.

“My friends say it reminds them of me,” his voice turned a bit sheepish, as if realizing how silly it felt to say out loud.

You softened. “That’s cute.”

“You think so?” He reached up to fiddle with his piercing, and you noticed for the first time how red the tip of his ear had become. Probably a side effect of his concerning levels of body heat. “What should I put next to yours?”

“A flame?” you joked. “So you can remember me as the girl who sucks at thermo.”

Chan flexed his fingers. “I like it,” he giggled.

You stole a glance at his laptop as he edited your contact, met with a sea of sound waves, audio files, and incomprehensible icons taking up his screen.

“So, were you working on something?”

He perked up. “Oh, yeah! Just messing around with some sounds, really.”

You leaned in a bit closer despite not understanding much of what you were looking at. Even with your lack of expertise, you could see that whatever he was doing was more than just messing around.

“Is it for a class?” your interest piqued. “Or for 3RACHA?”

Chan’s breath hitched, loud enough for you to hear, and you wondered for a moment if you’d said something wrong.

“You know about that?”

“Bin’s shown me a few songs! You guys are really good.”

He ducked his head, the flush on his ears creeping up to paint his cheeks the same shade. Oh. He really had been flustered the entire time. It excited you more than it probably should have.

“Ah, thank you,” he chuckled breathlessly. “Sorry, I’m just a little caught off guard, I think.”

You considered changing the subject for the sake of his comfort. What he said next, however, quickly quelled any concerns you had. “Which one did you like the most?”

He lifted his gaze shyly, looking so hungry for approval that you made a mental note to ask him more about his music in the future.

“Zone!” you didn’t miss a beat. “I especially love the lines in Māori.”

His face broke out into a grin so wide that his eyes almost squeezed shut from sheer happiness. “I sing that part,” he beamed. 

Of course he did. You tried to imagine it—the bubbly, unassuming boy in front of you delivering lines with such power and confidence. It intrigued you, just like everything else about him. From the first day Changbin had described him to you, he was like a puzzle that you were determined to collect all the pieces of, to bring your understanding of him to completion.

Your original goal in coming to the library now long forgotten, the two of you stayed at his table for at least another hour, chatting about all sorts of things. You learned that while all three members of 3RACHA had a hand in composing and songwriting (a fact that you made note of for future, Changbin-teasing purposes) Chan played the biggest role when it came to arrangement. With a bit of prompting on your part, he gave in and showed you a snippet of what he’d been working on before you arrived.

Placebo was the working title. It had a hopeful, upbeat melody that made you feel light and strangely nostalgic. There were no lyrics yet—Chan was still waiting on Jisung, the final third of the boys, to finish up his parts. As it turned out, he was the wide-eyed, messy-haired junior you’d spotted hanging around Changbin all those instances over the years, and one of the first people that Chan had befriended upon moving from Australia. How they’d come to meet when Chan was three years older than him, you had no idea, but you figured this guy could become best friends with his prison guard if he really wanted to, so it didn’t seem worth questioning.

Even with its half-finished instrumental and lack of lyrics, you could already sense a potential new favorite in Placebo. Though, if you were being honest, given the expression on Chan’s face as he played it for you—earnest and giddy and biting his fist in anticipation—you might've said the same regardless of which song it was.

“Do you really like it?” He kept his eyes on the screen, but you could see the glee plastered on his face.

“I do! It makes me happy.” You slipped his headphones off and passed them back to him. “You have to show me when it’s finished, okay?”

It didn’t seem possible, but his smile grew, cheeks rising and dimples flashing. “Okay, promise.”

He held out his pinky to seal the deal. You hesitated, wincing inwardly when you remembered what had happened the last time your skin touched his. Even so, you were determined not to fumble another interaction with him, and you braced yourself before hooking your fingers together.

The heat was still very much there, though not quite as drastic as before. It didn’t jolt through your nerve-endings like it had when you’d first met; instead, it kindled at your point of contact and spread steadily along your skin, from your pinky to your palm until it warmed your entire body. Gentle and intense, all at once.

Chan looked like he had something to say, but just as he opened his mouth to speak, your phone buzzed to life on the table. Reluctantly, you unlaced your pinky from his and reached for the device, unsurprised when you saw Iseul’s name in glowing white letters.

“Sorry, one sec,” you excused yourself, knowing that if you didn’t take her call now, many more were to come.

“Hello?” your voice came out winded, and you swallowed hard to steady it.

“Are you busy?”

Your eyes darted to Chan. He’d turned his attention back to his laptop, humming quietly to himself.

“Kinda, is everything alright?”

“Oh,” she paused. “What’s up?”

“Just in the library,” you left out the fact that you were with Chan, not keen on fueling her newfound desire for matchmaking.

“I need help planning my schedule for next semester,” she sounded stressed, but you knew by now that even the most easily-solved of problems could be the end of the world in her eyes. “Literally none of these marketing sections work for me and I need this credit to graduate. I’m going fucking crazy trying to move my other classes around.”

There was no excuse for you to say no, other than the fact that academics were the last thing you wanted to think about after the midterm you’d just had. That, and, you were enjoying your time with Chan more than you’d like to admit.

“Alright, I can help you figure it out. I’ll just need some time to get to your place.”

"You’re the best,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “Hurry, please.”

At that, she hung up, probably to get right back to abusing her laptop’s trackpad with furious clicks. You slipped your phone into your pocket, and when you began gathering up your belongings, Chan’s gaze shifted back to you.

“Heading out?”

“Yeah,” you wished you didn’t feel so wistful about it. “My friend needs help with her fall schedule, she’s kinda freaking out.”

A knowing look crossed his face, lip twitching with the faintest hint of amusement. It wasn’t lost on you, and you raised an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“Nothing,” he hummed. “Just think I understand now why you wanted to repay me so bad.”

You had half a mind to be taken aback, but it felt strangely expected of him, like you’d known that such a minor detail would be enough for him to catch on. That tendency you’d noticed from the first day you’d met him, making itself known more and more each time you crossed paths. 

“Think you’re the only one who can do people favors?” 

“Course not,” his smile mirrored yours. “I hope things work out with your friend.”

“Thanks.” You rose from your spot, wondering briefly if you should say what was on your mind before parting ways with him. “It was nice talking with you.”

“You, too.” He held up his phone, wiggling it around as a reminder. “We’ll talk more soon!”

In the end, you left the library without a single drop of caffeine in your system, yet somehow, you felt more energized than ever.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Six weeks and several study sessions later, you had come to make two more very important realizations about Bang Christopher Chan.

The first being, that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d warned you about his texting habits. You’d always thought you were bad at responding in a timely manner, hell, you’d thought Changbin was bad; but when Chan said he wasn’t the best texter, he didn’t just mean that he could be dry or slow or forgetful, he meant that most of the time, he simply didn’t text at all.

Instead, he liked to call.

You didn’t really mind—you tended to prefer talking to people over texting, anyway, but you’d admittedly been stunned when, after a week of radio silence following your encounter in the library, he’d contacted you out of the blue for no reason other than to “catch up”. No warning, no opening text, just an unexpected call that ended up stretching into a thirty minute conversation before you had to hang up and head to your next class. Another short period of no contact, and then, it had happened again. This time, just a few days following your first chat.

His calls, you’d also noticed as time went on, sometimes came at the most ungodly hours of the night. Once or twice, you’d woken up in the morning to find a missed call notification followed by an apologetic text a few hours later.

chan 🐺 (5:23 a.m.) sorry haha, didn’t realize how late it was

It left you perplexed as to when this man ever got a wink of sleep.

Even with your conversations being so sporadic, you found yourself looking forward to them regardless. He always had something interesting to share with you, from stories about people he’d met and the places he’d been, to music discussions and recommendations, to a vast array of space knowledge that he seemed to have neatly filed away in his brain. He talked about space a lot, like it was his friend. The moon, especially. It was undoubtedly your favorite topic of conversation, not only because it was a shared interest, but because the pure wonder and adoration with which he spoke of it stirred a warmth inside you like no other.

On top of all that, he always made an effort to check in with things on your end as well—in fact, it was always the first thing he asked about the moment you’d pick up, which might have been the most confusing detail of all. He was simultaneously the most absent and the most attentive communicator you’d ever met.

Once it had been made apparent to you that this routine may very well become commonplace with Chan, your curiosity had piqued enough for you to finally question him about it. His explanation, however, almost had you wishing you’d never asked, because nothing could’ve prepared you for his simple, sincere, “It’s just nice to hear your voice, y’know?”

That led into your second, more troubling realization. Somewhere along the line, you seemed to have developed a bit of a soft spot for Chan.

It had dawned on you some weeks ago, when the two of you had visited a new ice cream shop near campus that you’d mentioned was your favorite. When you’d recommended the place to him, you’d never once considered that he would take it as a suggestion for you to accompany him in trying it out. In the end, he’d ordered not one, not two, but all three of the signature flavors you told him you liked the most, detailing his thoughts about each one, with plenty of delighted hums and vocalizations in the process. Much to your horror, you’d listened to him chat passionately away with the most hopelessly endeared, involuntary smile on your face, knowing right then and there that your fate was sealed.

For that reason, your limited interaction with him was more like a blessing in disguise to you. The moment you’d discovered just how often your thoughts seemed to be preoccupied with him, your first instinct had been to distance yourself, to cut off all unnecessary contact until the pesky, ever-present daydream of his melodic laughter was forcibly expelled from your brain. Your regular meetings with him and Changbin, however, had made your efforts increasingly difficult, and you couldn’t shake the fear that, with how naturally Chan seemed to tune in to your emotions, it was only a matter of time before he noticed you behaving differently around him.

Today brought with it another moment of reckoning, another test of your resolve in the form of a two hour study session. You’d managed to get by the last few without any major slip-ups, making you especially grateful that Changbin was around to ensure you behaved more like your usual self.

bin 😑 (5:36 p.m.) oh, i forgot to tell you i can’t make it today

You stared down at your phone in disbelief, nearly coming to a halt in the middle of the road.

You’d texted Changbin this morning to double check that you were still on for studying this evening, even making sure to reach out hours in advance so he could reply before it was too late. Clearly, you’d have to give him at least a day’s notice from now on, because you were just a minute away from his complex when he’d decided to graciously inform you that he wouldn’t be coming.

you (5:36 p.m.) are u serious??? i’m almost at your place

bin 😑 (5:38 p.m.) sorry sorry it’s game night w/ minho and jisung lol. but chan’s home dw

you (5:38 p.m.) game night...you do realize this is for the final right? why isn’t chan with you guys?

bin 😑 (5:39 p.m.) relax mom i’ll come to the next one ;;; and he said he’s fine studying w/ you instead

A sense of dread twisted in your stomach. Regardless of how kind-hearted Chan was, you knew there was absolutely no chance in hell he would’ve preferred to stay home on a Friday night, tutoring you on the most demonic subjects known to man, while his friends hung out without him.

bin 😑 (5:40 p.m.) are you mad ㅜ

you (5:41 p.m.) ur a bad kid

bin 😑 (5:41 p.m.) huuuu ㅜㅜ

you (5:42 p.m.) i’m just gonna head home and tell chan we should reschedule

bin 😑 (5:42 p.m.) noooo don’t do that chan doesn’t care i promise lol

bin 😑 (5:43 p.m.) he probably prefers it this way tbh

You paused, hand resting uncertainly on the stairway railing.

you (5:44 p.m.) what do you mean?

A minute passed, then another, and still no response. You huffed, assuming you’d reached your Changbin text quota for the day, and you locked your phone irritably. If Chan was expecting you, you supposed you had no choice.

It’s not a big deal, probably. You told yourself as you trudged up the stairs. Still, it felt like one. The prospect of being alone with him stressed you out as much as it excited you. No long-distance advantage of a phone call, no Changbin serving as a bridge between the two of you; just you versus Chan and his accidental charm for the next two hours.

Taking a deep breath, you knocked on the door of unit 8-325. You wondered briefly if he’d even heard, considering his headphones were virtually glued to his ears most of the time, but you didn’t get the chance to worry much about it before the door swung open, much sooner than you’d expected.

“Hi!” he greeted cheerfully. “How’ve you been?”

No hoodie on today. It made sense, given how much the weather had warmed up, but you personally felt that the muscle tank he had on instead wasn’t really necessary. His curls were out, too.

So, it was safe to say you weren’t doing well.

“Powering through the end of the semester,” you flashed a quick smile, shuffling inside and slipping off your shoes. “You?”

Chan shut the door with a noise of sympathy. “Same here.”

Your eyes scanned over the apartment. It felt undeniably empty without Changbin’s steady, familiar presence next to you or without Minho slinking back and forth between his room and the kitchen, making sure to cause as many distractions as possible each time he did.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted out. “Changbin just told me that he wasn’t coming. If you wanna do this another night and go hang out with the others, that’s totally fine.”

He looked surprised for a moment, turning to look at you properly. “It's all good! They’ve been obsessed with that game for weeks, I got kinda sick of it, anyway.”

“Oh,” you frowned.

Chan sensed that you were still unconvinced—of course he did—and he gave you a reassuring smile. “I’m here because I wanna be.”

You knew it wasn’t his intention, but your heart still skipped a beat.

“That’s what I’m so confused about, I guess.”

He simply chuckled in response, as if that were enough to explain himself. Despite your lingering concerns, you decided not to press the issue any further, and you made your way over to the kitchen table as usual to set down your bag. You realized a moment too late that you had chosen the chair right next to where his laptop was placed. Just as you were debating whether or not you could get away with switching before he noticed, he slipped into the spot next to you, blissfully unaware of the impact it’d have on your psyche for the rest of the hour.

“I’m glad you came,” he commented, setting up his own study materials. “Feels like it’s been a while since we’ve talked.”

You wondered if that was his way of letting you know that he felt you’d been avoiding him. Well, avoiding was a bit of a stretch. More like limiting your exposure, taking him in moderation so you wouldn’t get addicted.

“It does,” you agreed. “And not just ‘cause you disappear off the face of the earth when I don’t see you in person.”

“Hey, hey!” It was defensive, but good-natured as ever. “I’m just not much of a phone guy.”

“Right, you’re more of a laptop guy.”

He grinned. “Exactly.”

“Speaking of,” you gestured to the device in question. “Have you made any progress on Placebo?”

He perked up, visibly brightening at your mention of the song. “A bit,” he chirped. “Actually, I rearranged some parts of it.”

“Oh?”

Chan’s eyes twinkled, and you got the feeling that something mischievous was brewing in his mind. “Not gonna show you yet, though.”

“And break our promise?” you feigned hurt.

“Our promise was for me to show you when it’s finished, yeah?” his grin was far too proud, like he’d been waiting for his chance to pull something like this. It was a newer side of him you hadn’t quite gotten used to yet—playful, cheeky.

“The fine print, huh?” you clicked your tongue in defeat. “Alright, you win.”

“That’s two for me, so far.”

With the way he giggled, it felt more like a win for you.

A good half hour had passed before the two of you began any actual studying, and it wouldn’t have bothered you—not in the slightest—if you weren’t already concerned about taking up too much of Chan’s evening. It didn’t help that he seemed to be a bit unfocused today as well, prone to veering off topic even more so than usual and leaving his attempts at explaining the material harder to follow than ever.

He pressed his lips together into an uncertain line, squinting at his laptop screen as he tried to make sense of the application of Sommerfeld expansion. Absent-mindedly, he crossed an arm over his chest to cup his neck, biceps bulging in the process. You’d learned from your talks with him that he was a swimmer, but you hadn’t quite expected him to look like that beneath the oversized jackets and hoodies that he wore so religiously. It was hard not to stare, to admire every toned curve and vein that protruded ever so slightly when he flexed his muscles. 

You wondered what it’d be like to touch them; if they were as firm and powerful as they looked, or if they were surprisingly much softer, just like his demeanor. You also wondered how they might look beneath you, held down by your grasp.

“Sorry,” he sighed at last, bringing you back to your senses. “I’m not really sure about this one.”

You tore your eyes away from his arms, face heating up despite not being caught. “No worries.” You put your pen down. “Do you wanna take a break? I feel like we’re both kinda out of it tonight.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” He looked relieved, and a bit self-conscious. “To be honest, I barely even understood this stuff when I was an astrophysics major.”

It was an offhand comment, but it caught your attention. You’d admittedly begun to assume as much after your second or third study group under his guidance, given the way consulted outside sources so often, but to have it confirmed brought about a whole new level of respect for Chan. And, maybe something else.

“Have you been learning thermo all over again just for me and Bin?”

His gaze fell, as if realizing in alarm that he’d inadvertently exposed himself to you.  “You could say that,” he chuckled awkwardly. “I actually think I’m studying more now than I ever did when I took this class.”

A part of you wasn’t sure whether or not to be bothered that you’d been tutored by someone who wasn’t exactly qualified for the past month and a half. But no matter how badly his act of selflessness could have ended up for all three of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything but affection for the boy. Well, that, and a bit of guilt for even putting him in this position in the first place. He’d gone out of his way to re-teach himself concepts that were by no means easy to grasp, solely for the sake of helping you and Changbin out. And he had. You knew for a fact that you’d not only seen improvement in your scores since meeting him, but in your confidence in the subject as a whole.

“You’re seriously too nice for your own good,” you murmured.

He reached up for his ear, tugging at his piercing. “It’s nothing, really.”

“It’s not,” you said firmly. “Not many people would do that, especially for a stranger. So, thank you.”

“Of course,” his voice was light. “We’re friends, after all.”

“Right.”

Friends. The first time he’d said it, you’d been doubtful—both in regards to whether or not you could actually call yourselves friends, and in his intentions in doing so. Hearing it now, you felt just as strange about it, but not for the same reasons. You could safely say you were friends, that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was, you wanted to be more.

“Did you like astrophysics?” you asked the question before you had the chance to say something else, something far more stupid.

“I did,” he sounded genuine, but tense. “Well, for the most part. It just felt like the most…practical thing I could do, y’know?”

“Can I ask why you changed majors?”

It was a detail that had been nagging away at the back of your mind since Changbin had first mentioned it to you. You weren’t sure why it felt so important to know, like an essential piece of the puzzle.

Chan paused, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. It barely lasted a second, but it instantly had you wishing you’d curbed your curiosity and said nothing at all.

“It’s kinda a long story,” he said slowly. You could tell he was trying to sound casual about it. His body language, however, was more than enough for you to see that he wanted to change the subject as quickly as possible. “I guess it was just something I needed to do at the time.”

“I understand,” you decided to drop it, for his sake. “No need to get into it, if you don’t want to.”

He gave you a grateful smile. “Some other time, yeah? Can’t be telling you my life story when I’m supposed to be helping you prepare for finals.”

You hummed softly in agreement, and just like that, the atmosphere was relaxed again.

Still, the question lingered in your mind.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

It was inevitable to you, at this point, that any and all sense of time would be lost whenever you and Chan got to talking. What you’d intended to be just a short break from studying to recharge, eventually morphed into another hour and a half of you two chatting away—with a few failed attempts to get back to work here and there. That was why, when the clock struck 9:00 p.m. to mark your third hour with him, you were hardly surprised.

“Why don’t I walk you home? It’s late.”

You tried to ignore the way his offer made your stomach flip.

“Oh, no you don’t have to.” The words were out of your mouth like an instinct. It was tempting, so, so tempting, but you knew that any more exposure to Chan was sure to make your soft spot for him develop into something much more troublesome. “It's a pretty far walk.”

He tilted his head, confused as to why the distance was even worth mentioning.

“Ohh, I see,” his voice took on that same, unfamiliar quality from before. “You don’t wanna spend any more time with me, is that it?”

You blinked, scanning his face for some sign of hurt or offense. Instead, all you found was a playful smile, eyes crinkling and dimples flashing.

He was teasing you.

“You got me,” you played along, throwing your bag dramatically over your shoulder. “I only spend my Friday nights studying thermo with people I can’t stand.”

Chan giggled. It was shy and cute; the giggle of someone completely unaware of how enamored with him you really were.

“In that case, making me walk there and back shouldn’t be a problem, right? Since you hate me so much.”

You relented. It was a losing battle from the start, anyway.

The air had grown a bit chillier after sunset, which, much to your relief, meant Chan had thrown on a jacket and covered up his criminally distracting arms. You felt a strange sense of peace as the two of you strolled along the sidewalk out of his apartment phase, stealing glances at him as often as the streetlights would allow. He had his hands in his pockets, swinging them with each step he took and swaying his head along with the breeze that brushed through his curls.

It was hopeless. You were so hopelessly taken by him.

“There she is,” you remarked, slowing your pace to gaze upwards. “That moon you love so much.”

It reflected a pure, white light among the sea of stars, owning the sky in all its Waning Gibbous glory.

“Beautiful,” you heard Chan murmur.

You looked over at him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his eyes illuminated by the moon as he stared up in awe. Instead, you found him staring right at you.

He seemed taken aback for a moment. Even so, for once, he didn’t look away. He simply smiled.

Warmth spread through your chest, and you knew this time you couldn’t blame it on his body heat.

“I think you have us both beat,” you said softly.

At that, he broke eye contact. He ducked his head with a shy puff of laughter, pressing his cheek into his shoulder to hide his face. You rode the high of it for the rest of your walk home together.

The two of you were mostly quiet as you neared your apartment complex, letting the silence hang comfortably around you. Despite the long walk, neither of you were in any particular hurry, and when you approached the front gate of your building, you couldn’t help but feel that the time had slipped away from you all too quickly.

“Thanks again for walking me home,” you murmured. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he grinned.

Your hand rested tentatively on the handle, not yet wanting this moment to end.

“Not gonna try to return the favor, are you?” His eyes sparkled in the low light. Even when he was messing with you, he still sounded seconds away from becoming flustered himself.

You smiled. “I’ve got something in mind.”

Before he could say anything else, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. It was quick and innocent, but it made his breath catch in his throat all the same. 

When you pulled back, Chan’s fingers came to hover over the spot your lips had been moments ago. You wished the lighting in the hallway was stronger, so that you could fully see the furious blush that you knew was spreading across his face.

His eyes flickered down to your lips. He didn’t say a word, he didn’t have to for you to hear him willing you to do it, begging you to do it.

So, you leaned in again and kissed him.

The heat that surged through you was different this time. It didn’t make you flinch or jolt back in alarm; it drew you in. However soft you’d imagined Chan’s lips to be—plush and heart-shaped and irresistible—the reality was infinitely softer.

Your hands reached up to cup his face. His warmth fed into yours, and vice versa, and somewhere in the back of your mind, it became clear that the fire had been coming from both of you this entire time. He sighed sweetly into the kiss, tilting his head forward, trying somehow to deepen it even further, like he wouldn’t satisfied until you were completely melded together.

The two of you might have stayed that way if your lungs hadn’t begun to cry for air. Reluctantly, you pulled away, leaving you both breathless and longing for each other’s warmth again. All the efforts you’d made to hold yourself back around him seemed so laughable now. You didn’t want him in moderation, you wanted all of him.

Chan’s eyes fluttered open, dark and dazed. The sight made you want to pull him inside with you, to take him apart bit by bit and put him back together again, over and over until you knew him inside and out.

Instead, you brushed your thumb over his burning cheek, touch harboring a gentleness that masked the ache inside you.

“Get home safe, Channie,” you whispered.

[teddynivvy]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ starry eyes

pairing: neighbour!ted nivison x reader

warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption. she/her pronouns used, use of y/n. 2k words.

a/n: the neighbour!ted fic is here hehehe!! fully intend on doing a part 2 so don't be too mad at me for this one. this is angsty!!! very much mutual pining trope. thank u to the anon who sent me this idea. it means so much to me if you reblog/leave comments/interact if u enjoy <3

⟡⟡⟡

when i'm alone i hear and feel you wish that i could reach right out and touch you but knowing you're the one to greet me, and meet me two alone in the dark, may it be.

“Hey, I’m having a few people over later tonight. You should come by.”

It’s said with a bag of groceries in his hand, silver frames falling down the bridge of his nose. You can see the packaging of the drinks out of the top of the tote bag, against the blue of his jeans, as your eyes travel up to meet his. 

Your neighbour, Ted, inviting you over for a party. The neighbour you’ve been crushing on for the better part of the last few months - you’ve cooked dinner in his apartment, had more movie nights than you can count, and shared all of your best stories with each other. It didn’t help that you could hear him through the extremely thin walls, offering more material for you to imagine about him, your hands between your thighs and picturing how his would feel in their place.

It’s easy with him, comfortable conversations under amber lamps in your apartment, and it was easy to imagine him slotting into your life. But you knew it was stupid to mess with your living situation and pursue something - this was the best apartment you’ve lived in since you moved to LA, and the last thing you wanted to do was jeopardize it.

So when he invites you over to his place for a party, to meet his friends, to be inserted into his life in some small way - you don’t really know what to say. He can sense that something’s off, that maybe you have plans, so he detracts.

“No worries if not, it’ll just be a small thing.”

You pull the keys from your lock and relax, turning back to look at him. Soft eyes, again, which allows you to breathe.

“Yes, sorry. Yes. That sounds fun. I’ll be there.”

The smile that spreads across his features as he dips too quickly into his apartment makes you blush furiously, letting your back press up against the wood of your door. Your purse finds its way onto the counter as you look at the time on the stove - mid afternoon, more than enough time to get ready. Ready in the way you look effortless - “just came over like this” type, even though Ted’s seen you in every outfit at this point. Taking the garbage out in your robe and not much else, getting home from work in a tight pair of black slacks and a button up that stretches across your torso in a way that forces his eyes to your waist, or in your sweatpants and sweatshirt when you knock on his door with a bag of microwave popcorn and a bar of his favourite chocolate. 

He knows you, more deeply and intimately than you may want to admit.

⟡⟡⟡

When Ted knows you’re coming to his get-together, he goes into overdrive. His friends had been over many times - seen the worst of his apartment, clothes strewn across the floor and piles of dishes, and he knows they don’t care. But he’s trying to make a good impression, despite the fact he’d probably consider you one of his closest friends at this point.

Something about having you over like this is making his head spin. He’s meticulously picking out an outfit, taking what he’s heard you call an “everything shower”, making sure his hair looks fucking perfect. He wishes he wasn’t so hell-bent on impressing you, but he can’t help but feel this is a bit of a litmus test of your relationship. Assuming you show up, of course.

Little does Ted know, you’re across the hall thinking the same exact thing.

Putting on a dress - taking it off. A cardigan and jeans - taking it off. Should you just wear fucking pyjamas at this point?

By the time you had picked something out, it was almost time to go over. You could hear the people funnelling into his apartment from behind your closed door, soft chuckles and the slaps of hands in high fives and handshakes as he invites people in. You can pick his laughter out of the group, deep and throaty, which you know comes from the small buzz he already has going. You also know that after a couple beers he gets touchy - a hand on your leg or a head on your shoulder on more than one occasion, usually when he’s falling asleep during a movie night. You don’t say anything.

You grab the unopened bottle of wine from your counter and check your hair and outfit once more, forcing yourself to leave before you started to overthink it. It's just Ted.

⟡⟡⟡

When you push open the door to Ted’s apartment, there’s more people than you thought there would be. Friends fill his kitchen and living room, some out on his patio sipping from brightly coloured drinks or taking drags from cigarettes. You spot Ted immediately, t-shirt hanging off of his body in the perfect way. It clings to his chest and arms, a soft tuft of chest hair peeking out from the neckline under his chain. His usual silver rings adorn his fingers, a beer pressed up against his lips as he makes eye contact with you. He earns a soft smile, tipping the drink from his lips and waving you over to where he was standing with a small group.

You put the bottle of wine on his counter and walk through the swarms of bodies, making your way over to him. The setting sun is bleeding pink and orange light into his apartment, illuminating him from behind as he towers over you. Flushed cheeks from the alcohol and a soft hand on your shoulder as he bends down, lips against the shell of your ear as he tells you how happy he is you came. “You look good.”

It’s enough for your cheeks to warm, embarrassingly so.

There’s two men across from him - who introduce themselves quickly as Charlie and Schlatt, with a small wave. You make small talk with them - learning that Schlatt had travelled from Texas to visit, hence why Ted was hosting this party. You told them that you were Ted’s neighbour, which earned raised eyebrows from both of them, a knowing look being shot at Ted. When you looked over and up at him, he was blushing furiously, awkwardly pressing the bottle to his lips once more.

Ted’s friends were easy to talk to, most of them having appeared in some of his videos (which you would never admit, you did do a quick Google search to watch - for research purposes, obviously). They all seemed to work in the same Youtube niche as him, with nothing but great things to say. It was making you fall harder and harder.

By your second glass of wine and an enthralling conversation with another friend of Ted’s - Eddy, and his girlfriend Chrissy, you were starting to wonder why you hadn’t seen Ted in a while. The fairy lights had come on on the patio, and they were bright against the smoggy night sky of LA. Your vision was slightly blurred, soft on the edges and hazy, as the music playing over the speakers blended into the background against the conversations around you. You stood up and excused yourself to the bathroom, hoping you might run into Ted on the way there.

And you did. Well, kind of.

Sliding past a group on your way up the stairs, Ted stood at the end of the hallway. He was talking to someone near the door of his bedroom, his eyes pointed down at a petite girl, with long brown hair and her eyes looking up at him like he hung the moon. You couldn’t help but stare for a second at the scene before you, a familiar pang in your chest as your breath hitched. 

The sinking feeling - embarrassment, awkwardness, disappointment all rolled into one. A girlfriend, maybe? A hookup? Whatever it was, you weren’t super interested in hanging around to find out.

You dipped into the bathroom just as Ted’s head turned to look at you, his gaze falling to the door. He swore he could see the pant leg of your jeans and the slight swish of your hair as he heard the door click. 

The girl in front of him had her bottom lip pulled between her teeth, glazed-over eyes from the alcohol as Ted’s blood ran cold, imagining what it must’ve looked like from your perspective. 

She put a hand on his chest and he gently backed away, muttering an apology and bounding down the stairs away from the situation. He felt stupid - sobering up damn near immediately at the thought of what he just did.

Ted had basically told all of his closest friends about his cute neighbour. Schlatt and Charlie hadn’t heard the end of it - goading him to just make a fucking move already. Schlatt had threatened to out him on the podcast, affectionately telling him to “stop being a pussy or he’d tell you himself.” He had invited you with the intention of making a move.

When Schlatt sees the panicked look on his face, his face softens as well. He meets Ted in the kitchen, putting his glass of whiskey on the counter with a gentle clunk.

“What’s up with you? You look like you’re gonna throw up.”

“(Y/N).”

Schlatt cocks an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“She saw me and Shae upstairs.”

“Why is Shae here?”

Ted sighs, letting his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “I don’t even know. I didn’t invite her.”

“Tell her to get the fuck out then!”

As Schlatt says it, she comes down the stairs. The aforementioned petite girl, with a roll of her eyes, as she slides her glass across Ted’s countertop and dramatically slams the door behind her. It earns the attention from a few surrounding people, who quickly go back to their conversations.

“What happened?”

“She saw us.”

“Ted,” Schlatt grabs him by the shoulders. “Saw you do what?”

“Nothing happened. She cornered me upstairs and started touching my chest and fuckin’… telling me she missed me and shit. I don’t know.”

“Dude… you gotta go tell (Y/N). I thought you were finally gonna fuckin’ tell her how you felt, you idiot.”

Ted rolls his eyes. “What do I say? Hey, sorry, you saw me with my batshit crazy ex but it’s literally nothing, also I’m in love with you and have been for months?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

There’s a beat of silence before Schlatt shakes his head, backing away from Ted to rejoin the party. “Don’t be a fucking idiot bro. You’re gonna ruin this before it starts.”

He heard foot steps behind him and turned around, seeing you descend the stairs. A small sniffle from your nose that you try to hide, meeting his eyes with a watery smile.

“We didn’t get to talk much tonight,” is what Ted says, which doesn’t seem like the right thing to say, and he realizes it the moment it leaves his lips.

“I’m gonna get going,” you choke out, attempting to hide the fact you’d just been unsuccessfully holding back tears a few minutes ago. “Great party.”

He opens his mouth to explain, but he doesn’t know what to say. “That wasn’t…” he starts. “That wasn’t anything.”

It’s left unsaid, what that means. Your hurt gaze was enough for him to soften, watching you step away from him. He can tell you don’t believe him.

He feels like a stranger suddenly, as you pull the door open and feel the tears brim your eyes once again. “Thanks for inviting me.”

The soft click of the door is enough for him to finally let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He wanted to punch a fucking wall, he felt sick.

The party thinned out quickly after that, people bidding Ted goodbye and thanking him for hosting. Schlatt was the last to leave - a somber smile and a clap on his shoulder. “Sorry it didn’t work out like you wanted.”

Understatement of the fucking century. 

⟡⟡⟡