#tags since this does have a lot of that on it

[aureatelys]

hotch being super touchy with bau!reader during a night out with the team and like cannot wait until they’re home or something ? (idk if this helps!!)

citrus

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader w.c. 1.5k c.w.: fluff!! suggestive content, established relationship, mentions of alcohol, needy touchy hotch <3

a/n: thank you so much for the request! i realize now while typing this that you may have been asking for horny hotch but instead i give you needy hotch with a touch of horny. not my best work but i hope you like it <33

You first start to suspect something’s wrong when Hotch sits next to you on the jet.

Not that Hotch sitting next to you was an abnormal occurrence, however ever since you two came clean about your relationship with the rest of the team, both of you made the effort to maintain as professional as possible. Which meant not sharing hotel rooms even though you’re sure the budget manager wouldn’t complain, no favoritism, and no PDA.

The no PDA rule was particularly difficult for you because, how could you not touch him?

The team had just finished up a kidnapping case in Florida. Nearly two weeks of suffocating in the humidity and dealing with swarms of mosquitos every time you stepped outside of the precinct. The relief from being in a familiar setting and the working AC is tangible when you plop down into a window seat facing the front of the cabin.

When you notice Hotch approaching you and taking the seat next to yours, you barely hide the surprise on your face. Hotch just merely raises an eyebrow at you before he jumps into debriefing.

Afterwards, when everyone has either fallen asleep or victim to playing chess with Spencer, Hotch knocks his knee against yours.

You look up from your book, a question forming on the tip of your tongue, when you notice Hotch hunched over his files and eyebrows creased in concentration.

It must have been an accident, you think. Except he does it again.

“You okay?” you ask, placing your bookmark and setting your book aside. It’s not like you were paying attention anyway, having had read the page at least two times by now.

“Fine,” he mutters, not unkindly, before scribbling something at the bottom of a file and moving onto the next one.

The past two weeks had been difficult for everyone, and the week before wasn’t any easier. You assume that Hotch was just itching to go back to your shared apartment to check on Jack before passing out in your bed.

And then he bumps against your knee again.

You don’t say anything this time, instead picking up your book and hitting your knee back against his. You just barely catch the corners of his mouth quirking up.

-

You could’ve sworn Hotch was going to decline tagging along with you when you decided to go out to O’Keefe’s with the rest of the team as soon as you landed. You were even expecting a glare, silently telling you that everyone needs to go home to get some rest and that he is driving you two back to the apartment whether you like it or not.

You start to think Hotch is really up to something now when he shrugs and agrees to tag along with you, promising just one drink.

And then, Hotch rests his arm on the console while driving, his hand worryingly close to your thigh despite Reid and JJ sitting in the backseat. Then, he’s placing a large hand on the small of your back when you’re walking into the bar, causing a shiver to run up your spine despite the warm evening air. Then, he sidles up next to you in the booth, thighs pressing against each other and his wide shoulder brushing against yours. It’s a lot of touching, which you’re clearly fine with, but touching from Hotch, at work, several times in the span of 30 minutes?

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask, having to lean in to be heard over the music even with his good ear.

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you over his drink. “I told you, I’m fine.”

And it’s like you’re able to see the idea form in his head, having spent so much time with him on and off the clock that you’ve luckily gotten better at reading him.

You still nearly jump out of your seat when Aaron places his warm hand on your thigh, underneath the table where nobody else was able to see.

You’ve gotten used to how touchy Aaron can be behind closed doors. At home, he’s constantly touching you—an arm around your waist, a finger tracing the curve of your jaw, or a kiss pressed at the crown of your head.

But this? A hand on your thigh at a bar in front of your coworkers?

You can feel the heat of his palm seep through your pants, annoyingly close to where you really want him the most. Is that what this is about?

“You two lovebirds alright over there?” Emily calls from the other side of the table, looking spectacularly sober despite you witnessing her downing shot after shot.

The sudden weight of 7 different pairs of eyes on you has you even more frazzled because Aaron’s hand only squeezes the flesh of your thigh while he glances at you casually, his free hand wrapped around an old-fashioned.

“Just talking about how I need another drink,” you say, hoping that your voice doesn’t sound as strained to them as it does to you. And technically it is true as you shake your glass to emphasize the ice cubes clinking around with no fruity drink accompanying it.

When you notice Garcia’s mouth open to volunteer to come with you, you scramble up out of the booth, glad that you chose the outside spot, and weave your way through the crowd to the bar. You try to ignore the way the right side of your body suddenly feels colder without Hotch’s body pressed up against yours.

You’re waiting for your drink when you feel a hand snake around your waist. The only thing keeping you from spinning around to maybe unethically flash your badge is the familiar weight of Hotch’s palm pressed against your hip and the citrusy smell of whiskey on his breath against your ear.

A giggle bubbles out of you, instinctively leaning back against his chest. You’re secretly glad that he left his suit jacket in the car, leaving you to ogle the way the crisp white dress shirt stretches over his shoulders. “Seriously, what is with you today?”

His lips ghost over your ear, the low tone of his voice making your knees weak. “I’m not allowed to touch my girlfriend?”

Girlfriend. You don’t think you’ll ever get tired of hearing that.

You lean even harder into him, one of your hands coming down to grab at his toned forearm as you reach for your finished drink. “Of course you can. I just can’t remember the last time you’ve been this touchy in front of everyone, or ever really.”

“I don’t hear any complaints.”

“I might start if you don’t kiss me.” And it’s mostly to just poke fun at him because Hotch hasn’t even held hands with you in front of the team, much less kiss you in a crowded bar with them undoubtedly watching and whispering amongst themselves.

You’re expecting Hotch to huff a laugh against your ear, letting go and stepping away from you. Maybe even him holding your hand while he leads you through the dance floor and back to your booth to humor you.

You don’t expect Hotch’s free hand to come up and cradle your chin, tilting your face towards his almost uncomfortably to press his lips against yours. It’s soft, chaste even, but the fact that he’s kissing you in front of your colleagues and strangers, in a crowded bar with the loud music nearly thrumming through your veins, makes you feel hot all over.

His arm tightens around you, spinning you around until you’re facing him, and he swallows the gasp you unintentionally let out as he deepens the kiss, your mouth instinctively parting. You’ve been dating for months but kissing him still feels like that very first time in his office, the hard edge of his desk digging into your hip and the glow of the sunset highlighting the clear affection in his eyes.

When you pull back, you notice a pink tinge high on his cheeks and the way his tongue peeks out to lick his lips, as if chasing the taste of your fruity cocktail. “What was that for?”

“Just letting you know that I can’t wait to take you home,” he says, pulling you until the entire line of your body is pressed against his. Your hand unconsciously comes to rest on his chest and you’re not sure if you can feel the bass line for the song playing or the thudding of his heart.

His hands start trailing down to your ass and you seriously wonder how touchier he can get.

But, like you realized earlier, it’s been weeks since you’ve had alone time with Hotch. So, you untangle yourself from him despite his protests and slip your hand in his pocket to retrieve the car keys. You grin when it’s Hotch’s turn to jump.

“I’ll meet you at the car?”

“I already said bye to them for us, let’s go.”

And then he’s pulling you towards the exit with his thick fingers wrapped around your wrist. You barely have the chance to peer over the moving crowd to see the rest of your team waving at you, wearing shit-eating grins.

[angelltheninth]

You know how guys have the happy trail? What do you think the MCU men's is like?

Gonna tell you something Anon, I love it when guys have that. It's cute and attractive.

Pairing: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Clint Barton, Thor, Loki, James “Logan" Howlett, Remy Lebeau, Kurt Wagner, Tony Stark, Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, suggestive, body worship, teasing, muscles, established relationship

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Probably one of the most attractive things on guys. At least to me. Other than strong hands.

Steve keeps himself very neat, not really because of you, not at first, it's just a habit that he still has from his army days. That being said he didn't miss the way you look at him when he does it. He knows you're looking so he takes his time.

Bucky is a bit more clumsy with it since losing his arm. His new one is good but it's cold on his skin when he needs to groom himself and be nice. But... maybe you can give him a hand when he needs it.

Clint doesn't bother with it much because he doesn't have much of a visible happy trail. It is there when you really look or run your hand down his abs. That being said he doesn't quite see why you like it so much, it's just body hair.

Thor never quite cared to keep himself overly well groomed or to cut down on any body hair. When he tried his hair grew back rougher, which you can feel as you touch his stomach. To him it was never something he had to think about, besides you like it.

Loki brags about how good he looks. Every part of him, even the happy trail which he always keeps well maintained. As he gets ready for bed he might take it slower, to give you time to look.

Logan has always been covered in a lot of rough, bushy hair and his happy trail is no different. For him it's like a path that you can follow as you kiss his body. In fact he has referred to it as that numerous time, making you blush at the implications.

Remy often gets asked if his hair is red everywhere, and yes it is. He chuckles when he tells you that you should check for yourself. Despite how he may seem he does keep himself well trimmed, from his belly all the way down.

Kurt does have a bit more hair there and it's quite soft and fluffy. It's one of the rare parts on his body that's not as cold as the rest of him. But it is quite dark, almost black in contrast with his blue skin.

Tony wants you to look at him as he gets changed. He wears his pants a bit lower when he knows he can work from home. Seeing you ready to kiss every inch of him won't make work easier.

Peter has a happy trail but it's a bit sparse. He doesn't have much body hair on his belly and is a bit ticklish when you touch him there. It's one of his weaknesses so he always blushes when you do it.

[d3v1ls4dvocat3]

Doomed

James “Bucky” Barnes x Fem! Reader Smut

Summary: When Bucky notices the new neighbor, he can’t seem to get her out of his head! Whatever will he do?

W.C: 1600

Tags: Smut!, pervert! Bucky, panty thief! bucky, guilty bucky?, mentions of lingerie, AFAB! Reader, age gap but it’s not specified, male masturbation, breast fixation, nipple fixation, p in v? kinda? it doesn’t actually happen, Bucky POV, mentions of steve, mentions of war and Buck being the Winter Solider

MDNI!! Let me know if I missed anything!!

He remembers the exact day you moved into the apartment across the hall.

It was only a few days before the new year. Everyone on the floor had seemingly left to be with family, not that he bothered to keep track of his neighbors whereabouts, but he had noticed the overall lack of people when he made the unfortunate trip out of his apartment to see his therapist every other day.

That made your appearance even more noticeable.

Bucky liked to keep track of everyone he saw day-to-day anyway, it helped calm his nerves (rather he told himself it calmed his nerves) and luckily enough for him, you didn’t want to stop and introduce yourself.

Over the next few weeks, he only saw you a handful of times. You both never said anything, barely even looked at each other. It was nice.

Of course, nothing lasts forever. His therapist was sure to tell him that, much to his distain. Strangely enough, it was on one of his trips coming back from another session with Dr. Raynor that he found you cursing to yourself standing outside your apartment.

A part of him wanted to just walk by, and avoid the headache altogether. But he could hear a quiet voice in his mind that sounded a lot like Steve telling him to man up and help a poor lady in need. He sighed mentally and cleared his throat to grab your attention.

You looked up with slight shock and embarrassment. “Oh.. uhm, I’m not in your way am I?” You asked.

He frowned. “No, sorry. You look like you’re having some trouble there?”

Your eyes seemed to light up. “Is it that obvious?”

Bucky chuckled lightly and stepped closer to you, offering a hand of assistance. You gladly handed him your key.

“This building is old. These keys get stuck all the time. You’ve gotta know how to turn it to get it to unlock,” Bucky said as he fidgeted with your lock.

You watched him with unwavering eyes. Unknowingly to you, he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. This was the first time he’d really gotten a good look at your face. You were young, way younger than anyone he’d talked to recently. Most likely a college student. You held yourself with confidence but not in a way that made you seem cocky. You just had a sense of determination he hadn’t seen in a long time.

It was refreshing. Reminded him of sunlight.

He immediately frowned at that thought and focused his attention on your lock. Within a moment a quiet ���click’ sounded through the small hallway. Your face lit up with a smile so bright he almost had to look away.

“Oh my god, thank you! I seriously thought I was fucked there,” You exclaimed.

He nodded and stepped back. “No problem. You can come get me if it does it again. I’m pretty much always home.”

You smiled again, gentler this time. “I will. Seriously, thank you. I really appreciate it.”

He watched you escape into the comfort of your home. He smiled, unbeknownst to himself and turned to his own apartment.

Cute.

_____

The next time he saw you was only a few weeks later.

Since the door fiasco, Bucky couldn’t get you out of his head. He wasn’t sure why, but something about you was like a breath of fresh air. He felt almost addicted to it, to how he felt at that moment.

So when he opened the door to the laundry room he was understandably surprised to see you. He was also even more surprised to see you in nothing but pajama pants and a very very small tank top.

And no bra.

He was going to turn around. Laundry could wait. Just as soon as his hand hit the door knob, he heard an intake of breath.

“It’s you!”

He sighed.

Bucky turned back around and smiled. “It’s me.”

You were smiling that same damn smile. He felt weak in his knees.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” You said happily.

He nodded. “I don’t get out much.”

You hummed in understanding. “I get that. I’m still getting used to the city myself.”

It was quiet for only a moment, before you noticed Bucky’s small basket of laundry. You quietly moved over and motioned to the washing machine.

“I’m almost done with the dryer,” You said. Bucky muttered a quiet ‘thanks’ and began throwing his clothes into the washer. Once he was finished you both sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“I don’t think I ever got your name…?”

Bucky himself was surprised at the question that came from his mouth. You also seemed surprised for a second before grinning.

As you said your name, he watched your lips form the word. Your name fit you, he thought. He whispered it to himself, trying to commit it to memory. Although, he was sure just like everything else about you, he wouldn’t forget it.

“James,” He said in return.

“Nice to officially meet you, James,” You practically purred. He felt his knees go weak again. He feared that might be a common occurrence around you.

As the silence fell over you again, Bucky began to struggle with his most recent thoughts. He questioned why he was acting like a teenager with a crush again?

Bucky had been through more than twenty men combined. He’d done things so horrible he couldn’t even speak about it. He’d seen things that would make anyone want to commit suicide. So why, out of all things, was a girl making him feel so weak?

He quietly looked over at you again. He traced the outline of your figure. Your hair down to your eyelashes. His eyes moved to your lips, plump and wet from where you’d licked them while talking.

He continued trailing down until his eyes stopped on your breasts. He felt guilt wash over him immediately at the practically sinful sight before him. He could perfectly make out your tits. The cold air in the room had made your nipples perk up just enough to poke through the already thin tank top.

Bucky glanced away quickly as the buzzer from the dryer sounded. He turned slightly to hide his tightening pants. You bent over to grab your clothes and he practically called out to god to strike him dead right there before he made a fool of himself.

It felt like years before you were up again and leaving the room. Before you closed the door, you waved bye to him. Bucky had to force every once of what he’d learned as an assassin just to seem normal enough to wave back.

Once the door closed behind you, he groaned and put his face in his hands. He tried to calm his breathing, using some of the techniques Dr. Raynor had taught him in one of their very first sessions. It was probably close to ten minutes before he felt okay enough to remove his hands from his face.

Bucky needed to calm down. You were just a girl. There was absolutely no reason to be feeling like this.

He repeated that to himself as he took his clothes out of the washing machine. As he went to throw them into the dryer, a small bright red thing caught his eye.

He grabbed it before he could even process what it was. He held up the laced piece of clothing he wasn’t sure would cover anything and knew he was doomed.

“Fucking dirty girl…”

_________

He was a pervert.

He knew he was a pervert. He felt guilty and ashamed and terrible.

However,

The thought of you wearing nothing but those red laced panties and a matching bra had been plaguing Buck’s mind. He couldn’t stop. He’d tried. He’d done everything he could think of.

He’d taken a cold shower.

He’d gone for a run.

He even tried to watch some of the movies that Steve had written down in his journal of things he “absolutely needs to watch and listen to” or whatever the blond had said.

Nothing could get that image out of his head.

It was three in the morning when he was fed up and aching and he needed release. He hadn’t meant to grab them. He was simply caught up in the moment. His hand stroking up and down his cock. He moaned and stroked faster.

Once the soft fabric touched his tip, he had to stop himself from instantly cumming.

“Oh fuck…” He moaned. Bucky wrapped the thong tightly around his hand. In his mind, he imagined your hips rubbing up and down his hard on. Teasing him in every way you knew would rile him up.

“Something wrong, Barnes?”

He groaned. He was fucking up into his fist now. He imagined flipping you over, grabbing your hands with his metal one and using his other one to squeeze your breasts.

He imagined kissing down your stomach until he got to those red panties and slowly, sensually kissing down them until you were begging to feel him. Begging him to touch you.

“Say my fucking name, doll,” He moaned.

He imagined your hands wrapped around his back and he mercilessly pounded into you. He imagined your soft lips wrapped around his full length, with your bright eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him.

He cursed.

“Nice to officially meet you, James.”

Suddenly he was cumming into his fist. He continued to stroke his cock until he was spent. As he calmed down, he looked down to see the mess he’d made with your undergarments.

“Fuck.”

He was seriously doomed.

[littlemisssilvermoon]

Reader is implied to like feminine things, though gender identity is kept ambiguous.

Damian was a good brother. That’s what he always told himself. He was a good brother, a good son. He was cold, rude, and erudite, but he was able and willing to help anyone who needed it.

When he arrived at Wayne manor, Bruce told him the general run down of why you were to be avoided when it came to anything vigilante related. You were still pure, a year younger than Damian but without any of the pain. The only one in the Wayne manor that could have a shot at becoming a normal person. Damian envied that, but kept it to himself. His anger often boiled to the top, drops of green venom dripping from his mouth when you tried to annoy him into spending time with you.

Your complaints of him ignoring you was scalding water on his already raw nerves. Why would you complain about not being the center of attention for five damn seconds? He would trade anything for the life you had. A life where you could lay around after school and never worry about a rogue bullet lodging itself in your arm, or a poisonous plant releasing psychedelic spores into an open wound.

You could and would never join the Robins. You were weak; it was in your blood. Always sickly, always the pacifist. You wouldn't survive a day in his life. And you weren't living his life; you were living his dream.

But apparently the effort the family was putting in wasn’t enough.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that the manor felt… off about two weeks before the fight with Joker. He couldn’t trace it for the life of him at first. When he realized by the second week that he hadn’t spoken to you in days, or really seen you around the manor at all, he wrote off the worms writhing in his stomach. You must’ve been busy with a class assignment and had little time to annoy him with your demands of time together.

After the fight, however, he was a war of a thousand emotions. How dare you leave them? Why would you turn away an easy life fat on nepotism for a group of murderers, con men, the dredges of Gotham’s society?

Were you truly that desperate to be acknowledged that you’d turn your back on the family who did everything for you? He hopes you’re happy there, since you were clearly so upset at not being given attention.

Over time, however, things start to change. A few days after Jason made a full recovery, Damian looked at one of the drones Tim managed to get a chunk of code from. It took a lot of trial and error, and the development of an entirely new program to grab some of the code before it bricked itself, and enough all nighters and energy drinks that any doctor would faint, but it was managed. The code was dense, optimized to work with the least bloat possible, well tagged variables, and even a handful of comments in the code.

//Buy Bane those Boston Donuts from the donut shop on 5th //Why does this code need to be here so it doesn’t auto brick itself. What is in the code protecting it from the wrath of God //Louie likes Texas barbecue ribs. Possible treat? //DO NOT FEED THEM WHOLE RIBS. COOKED BONES BAD. //SINCE WHEN WAS THIS VARIABLE A STRING??? IT WAS AN INT 5 LINES AGO //Help the hopeless lesbians get together. //Would Harley and Ivy dating make Harley my mom or Ivy my big sister? Both???

His eyes skimmed the retrieved comments, laughing at a few. It seems that Bane, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn were the most common subjects of the notes, though a few mentioning the Iceberg lounge asking what non-alchoholic drink you’d like added, or Riddler offering you another puzzle to keep your mind active. Even Joker was mentioned, though it seemed mostly transactional.

It was strange seeing you in this light. You seemed to have a lot of spice in you, but a heart made of gold. You were definitely surprised whenever one othe villains offered to take you on some trip to amusement parks, regular parks, even just willingly watching anime with you. It was odd to see. Surely someone at the house did those things with you? He didn’t but he was extremely busy with school and vigilantism. Jason was legally dead, so surely he had all the time in the world.

“How was I supposed to relate to them? They’re what, 12 and into shit like that one with the cat looking dog thing and the robot girl. I have shit to do. Y’know, managing Crime Alley?”

Well, Dick had come over to hang out plenty of times. Surely he’d spent at least a few hours with you every now and then? “I have an entire team and criminals to manage of in another city, Damian. I don’t have as much time as you think to do whatever it was with them they’d wanted to do”

Maybe Tim? “I have college and stuff, Damian. And I don’t have the energy to put into hanging around them. I’d probably just be sleeping most of the time.

Bruce? “I have to manage you, Gotham, and the Justice League, Damian. I barely have time for myself.”

… Alfred? “I tried, Master Damian. However I’m constantly pulled thin between so many tasks. Besides, all you have is school most days, and you’ve had summer vacations and weekends. Shouldn’t you’ve had plenty of time to spend with your younger sibling?”

… He did have the most time outside of vigilantism. And it took him a week to realize you were missing.

You had to realize that they were under extreme stress though, right?He couldn’t spend all his free time with you. He had his own friends to hang out with. How were you two even supposed to relate?

One day at dinner, the thoughts were thrashing in his head, slamming against soft tissue and tearing through brain matter. He aimlessly poked at the food on his plate.

“You alright, replacement?” Jason asked, pausing in his extremely rare dinners with everyone else. Alfred had promised him a tray of fudge to take home this time around, and nobody made fudge quite as good as he did.

“… They were gone for two weeks.”

Everyone stopped eating as he continued.

“Two weeks. Two full weeks before they showed up at that fight. Did anyone here even know? I only noticed after a week and assumed they were just holed up in their room with a class assignment or something.” He was rambling. Everyone was quiet and looking at each other. How did it manage to slip past everyone? They were detectives, for Christ’s sake.

They were your family.

—

Dinner ended with guilt wrapping around their throats and pulling.

Eventually, all of them found themselves in your room. It had been emptied, but showed no signs of struggle. All the small items, the comforter, and your clothes were gone. But what was taken left something behind. Copies of photos of you winning state level competitions, letters requesting your attendance at seminars, photos of gold medals and blue ribbons spread across the floor. Most damning of all was the most recent photo. A certificate by some big time tech company being handed to you. Edward Nashton stood behind you, a firm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

When had this happened? They never remembered hearing of something like this. A news clipping on the back told them it was maybe a week before you left.

“The Wayne prodigy stated that their family had more important things to see to than such an occasion. I can’t imagine something more important that either of my kids being recognized by a multi-million dollar tech company! I remember postponing an anniversary with my husband to celebrate our child placing second in the science fair. But I guess that’s just the Waynes for you!”

That’s just the Waynes to you.

But it’s ok. He can make it better. He can be a good big brother. He can spend time watching anime with you and decorating your room with lace and fairy lights and go makeup shopping with you. You just need to come home. Now.

---------------- Taglist! Ask to be added!

@jjsmeowthie , @jsprien213 , @ladyrosemone

[hivemuthur]

If it’s okay to request, may I request hcs or something with Viktor where he’s dating an autisc reader?

Okay, first of - I have no idea what I have done to be granted such trust, thank you so much Anon! I have been provided amazing advice from @rennethen while writing this and done some research and I hope, I hope, I hope it meets expectations.

ViktorXAutistic!Reader HeadCannons

viktorxgn!reader mature, fluff and again: Viktor setting impossible standards for real-life men

author’s note: I have decided to not include tics, as they come in so many variations and I didn't want to impose anything upon Readers, but I can imagine Viktor being a total sweetheart about them.

word count: 1,4K

—

Since your first meeting, Viktor has been smitten with your bluntness and your ability to take his acrimonious jokes apart without a hint of incredulity in your voice. The way you keep asking subsidiary questions until you dig through the layers of his sass to the actual thing he meant to say  leaves his soul naked as day, every single time. Finally, an inquisitive mind, he thinks to himself, as you go for the killing blow:

“So, what you’ve meant to say is that you find me attractive?”

“Eh, I suppose that is what I meant,” he admits dumbly, scratching the back of his neck. “Though usually I tend to be a little bit less straight forward.”

“I prefer straight forward,” you tell him with wide eyes.

“I… I shall remember that.”

Viktor soon realises that being asked a lot of questions makes him blush in a funny way and his chest gets all fuzzy. So, he begins to share every little aspect of his work with you. The more questions you ask, the warmer his heart gets and somehow the way you get excited about his ideas is worth more than any other academical pat on the back he ever received.

Before asking you out for the first time, Viktor conducts a thorough research, not very different to the ones he conducts for the sake of a thesis. He finds out what are your favourite places and favourite spots to sit. He books two reservations, just in case.

He does the same thing when you try out a new place. Just in case. It has proven useful only once.

As a man who values routine, he finds it absolutely endearing that good things remain in your orbit for a long time and discovers that being greeted with his own name by the barista is actually a nice little feeling.

When he asked you if he could kiss you for the first time, he held his breath while you were reconsidering. He found it hard not to laugh stupidly and nod his head a couple times too many when you responded with the same question.

He cupped your face and brushed his thumb on your lip tentatively. At first, he just rubbed his nose against yours. Then, his cheek, as he pulled you closer. You decided his hair smelled nice and that he could proceed. You didn’t know what to do with your hands at first, because he was wearing an incredibly itchy jumper, so you settled on his neck, and he took it as an invitation to kiss you deeper.

When you told him about it he gave the jumper to Caitlyn, and even though the sleeves are not long enough for her, she wears it often. Gradually, Viktor is in the process of exchanging his wardrobe to touch-friendly materials, currently he is half-way through. He wears the offensive clothes to meetings with Jayce, because Jayce will hug even a hedgehog.

You teach Viktor the value of comfort, not just in the clothing department. Suddenly he finds that his blankets are softer and that his flat increased the base number of cushions.

He religiously cuts the tags out of your clothes and his work is so precise it’s as if the tag was never there in the first place.

Viktor will still periodically ask for a permission to touch you, only to hear “Yes, please.” And it still makes him blush.

He keeps two notebooks—one on your current food fixations. He writes down a start date of each and marks every little alteration. He examines the lifecycle of each dish, as you eat it every day for a month and suddenly stop, to move on to the next one. On the back of the notebook he has a list of old reliables.

The second notebook, he treats more seriously—it’s a journal of stimming. He makes a note of each gesture in order to recognize your emotions better. After a while he is able to tell if you are feeling overwhelmed, just excited or trying to concentrate.

He is completely bemused by the fact that you always know what entered the bowl first—the cereal or the milk.

When you unconsciously repeat words back at him in his accent he makes it intentionally heavier, because he finds in unbearably cute.

After some time, he’s learned to recognise when you are masking. When it happened for the first time, he allowed himself a pinch of panic. Only when you unravelled at home, he sighed, partially relieved, and made a note of it in his journal.

Viktor carries a pair of noise cancelling headphones when you go out together. He puts them on you if you get overstimulated and presents you with something else to shift your focus into—a tight hug, a smell or he presses gently on your shoulders to steady you.

If you happen to have a meltdown at either of your homes, he wordlessly prepares you your favourite food and stays close enough for you to reach. Sometimes, he does a full body scan with you, to see which part requires the most attention.

There are certain sounds that Viktor makes which you particularly like—the click of his tongue, the intercepting ‘ehs’ and ‘ahs’—and once he connects the dots between him making those and a smile that always blooms on your face, he produces as many as he can, while still sounding natural.

He enjoys just existing with you. Sitting in the same room, while he works, and you read is his definition of a happy place. Just glancing over to you, your tongue filling your cheek as you read something particularly interesting, the small sounds you make at turning points in the story make his heart flutter.

He finds himself involuntarily memorizing the lyrics of the songs you play on repeat. He has no idea who the artist are, but he knows their songs by heart now. It makes him feel old, in a funny way.

It completely disarms him, when you return his gifts. After three futile attempts to give you something of popular romantic demand, he scolded himself for not changing the method soon enough. Instead of jewellery, he encourages your special interests, through getting you books on the topics or taking you places that embody your passions.

On the other side of the coin, your gifts are deeply appreciated. Every little pebbling trinket has it’s special place in the box on his desk. He takes them out periodically and counts how many times a tiny detail in the chaos of the outside world has made you think of him.

For dates, Viktor chooses times and days in which the world is less crowded. Instead of a busy Saturday night, you go out in the middle of the week. After a particularly failed attempt of gifting you perfume, Viktor takes you to a balm perfume workshop, where you can make scents for each other that are buildable and unoffensive to sensitive skin.

He’s built an intimacy with you that is based on trust and constant checking. He takes care of the mood and gives you enough stops to reconsider on the way.

You both talk a lot during sex. A change of mind is natural and there is enough space made for it. He has learned a lot about himself, and his self-esteem strengthened, when he realised that, ‘I don’t like it,’ doesn’t mean ‘I don’t like you.’

If, for whatever reason, the communication turns nonverbal, you both have come up with a system of pats that signals where each of you should direct your attention.

Your inquisitive mind helped him find three additional positions, in which he feels comfortable and painless, and it eludes him entirely how he could have missed them.

Viktor’s favourite part of aftercare is cuddling you naked. He adores the way your warm body melts into his. If you add head scratches to it, he will fall asleep in your arms. He breaths in the smell of your hair and his heart beat evens out with yours.

[kristiliqua]

[read this after reading the tags because fuck i hit the tag limit LMFAOO]

— and jason (n the bunch) definitely makes fun of him for it because holy shit you absolute tryhard (he copes and seethes every time tim manages to snipe his slow ass dynamo — which is basically every fucking time tim is there . he has to rush tim like a fucking madman in order to actually splat him , and then usually dies right after bc he rushed into their base , tunnelvisioning tim and tim only , as a fucking Dynamo . tldr he calls him a tryhard to cope)

(and do Not get me wrong ; its not as if jason’s a thoughtless or bad player [i hate ppl calling him a brute . like istg he’s smart too] . its just that dynamo vs charger is a horrible matchup for him , as the dynamo . he Does manage to get tim without rushing him sometimes , but he needs coordination with his team distracting tim or smth in order to get the advantage he needs , since theyre both equally skilled pretty much . but a 1v1 is just Hard in this matchup [said by a dynamo And charger main . trust me on this one LMAO] , and he usually just gets sniped in those situations — its either a trade or death for him most of the time . thats not a jason thing ; its a charger vs dynamo thing lol)

golly i’ve been talking abt this too long (esp abt tim and jason when tim is nowhere to be found in the og post LMFAO Uhm .! i just like them . jason n tim are my boys) . in fact im going to yap more bc i feel i havent given dami enough appreciation

jason would totally love rolling damian over while dami’s sharking him . he’d laugh in his face and clip it on his switch , before saving the clip on his phone or smth just in case damian attempts to delete it

see it as a punishment for trying to shark a dynamo as a splatana/octobrush instead of just ,,, outmaneuvering the dynamo . bc both splatana and octobrush have good enough range to easily take down a dynamo (he outmaneuvers a lot too ofc ; he just tests his luck sometimes by sharking around jason , wanting to surprise him lol)

they are a Unit on the same team tho . damian as the faster splatana/octobrush supporting jason’s slower dynamo/stamper (he’d play that too . def didnt start playing it bc it pairs rlly well with [damian’s] splatana ,, no siree ,,,) as they both kill the enemy team with terrifying efficiency . (i’d say they’d be extra good with tim making callouts in comms — bc ofc im still thinking abt tim too istg 😭 — but i also feel like neither of them would listen to him half of the time . and take joy in his misery whenever they lose , ignoring their own misery from losing in favor of making fun of tim and blaming each other for losing [like “if you hadnt died when they started pushing we could have defended successfully , todd !” / “oh MY BAD that i TRADED with their stupid quick-respawning motherfucker and couldnt paint under my feet to get away from their bomb because im a fucking DYNAMO —” (can you tell i definitely main dynamo and have experienced similar situations . WHY is it so FUCKING BAD at PAINTING UNDER YOUR FEET . MY GOD .)])

anyway holy shit thats it im done Fucking Hell . here’s your essay op ! i love the art . it has clearly stirred my love for batfam and splatoon (im sorry LMFAOAO)

is this too niche

[elodieunderglass]

100% of my jockey knowledge comes from reading Dick Francis books, have you read any/do you have any Thoughts on them?

TBH despite knowing nothing about horse racing I love his writing and plots, they are my comfort read! I especially enjoy how all his protagonists are Stoic Deceptively Intelligent men with high pain tolerance who fall in love with the female love interest at first sight... Original self insert Mary Sue lol

I thought, this is extremely funny, I will write you a funny little pastiche to show my stylish skills in mimicry and make you laugh!

I did actually feel pain, and I didn't think I liked being shot, but it didn't seem to matter much. In the past two years since the racing injury that had destroyed my hand in an unbelievably horrific way, I had only been able to listlessly pick up the rudiments of the most useless things: a master's degree in forensic pathology, unrivalled proficiency in one-handed lockpicking, an entire secret identity as a hard-hitting financial investigator, a deeply informed background in turf maintenance, international one-handed chess-playing fame, a one-handed pilot's license not relevant to the narrative, a full career arc as a noir private detective, one-handed photography skills, a stint as an undercover basketweaving instructor and a working knowledge of ancient Etruscan.

None of them mattered, because they didn't have horse racing in. Nobody wanted me, because I didn't either.

I didn't have any horse racing at all in me any more.

But then I was up all night with the toddler, and pastiche comes really fast for me, and it stopped being a Bit and started being A Lot. Maybe too much.

So I also became, apparently, the first person to use this tag on ao3:

And wrote you this:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62461696

Which is of course a full parody of the whole 1965 Dick Francis thriller, “Odds Against,” and which I mostly wrote because the accordion joke struck me as shatteringly funny.

DOES THIS ANSWER YOUR QUESTION, I HOPE IT DOES.

[harpieisthecarpie]

looking at how Goro Akechi became a foil of Akira Kurusu thru their childhood (attachment styles)

(Content Warnings for discussing all the stuff in Akechi's childhood specifically, bad parenting, neglect, mental illness. Take care of urselves)

waking up to the tags @1derpu2 added on another post of mine about Akechi ("#I don't think I could survive in his position") had me thinking of a 15-16 year old Akechi, and how survival even feels to him.

Because arguably Akechi has been in survival mode since he was born. Even with a mother doing her best to provide, poverty fundamentally rewrites the brain especially at such a young age−

(Tangent: Akechi's dessert blog actually reminds me of Brennan Lee Mulligan during the d20 Misfits & Magic actual play discussing his character [Evan Kelmp, an unhoused orphaned kid] ordering from desserts at restaurants in order to maximize caloric intake for his money bc stuff on the dessert menu actually tends to contain the most calories– ANYWAYS)

–and he also can feel the underlying tension in how his mother is treated, how he himself is treated, how there is no support network for them. I can imagine that's part of the lure of an ensemble kid's show like Featherman: reliable companions who take your hand rather than slapping it away.

I've done a lot of reading into attachment styles and attachment trauma (bc it's interesting and also haha ;] trauma) and it is a really cool lens to view the differences between our two Wild Cards Akechi and Akira.

adding a reblog with an attachment theory rundown! actual discussion of akechu attachment stuff below cut

There is no better fit for Akechi than a Disorganized Attachment style after finding his sole caregiver and financial (his mother) dead by her own hand after years of her focus being split by the work she needed to do for them to afford survival, before being passed around by distant relatives who viewed him with contempt, if they acknowledged him at all.

The world treated him and his mother like vermin, so of course no one else is trustworthy, of course the people who take advantage are evil. Of course everyone takes advantage. Just like his father, who is the root of this whole horrible thing (the thing being Goro's life, the thing being Goro)

His mother left him violently, voluntarily (from his pov, suicide & mental illness are complicated), so he must be someone repulsive. Incapable of being loved. If he wants others to love him, and he must in order to get close enough to his father to kill, then he must be anything other than himself.

One of the symptoms of disorganized attachment and attachment trauma is the inability to regulate emotions, leading those with it to feel things with an intensity they can't control, soothe, or explain that can fluctuate between emotions rapidly.

And doesn't that markedly fit with a kid who has awoken such disparate personas that are both him? His entire relationship with the world (there must be justice but there is no such thing as justice) and his inner psyche does explain why he brings up Hegel. If you have both Loki and Robin Hood inside you, thesis and antithesis, then isn't it a comfort to know their existence somehow makes sense? That you are synthesis rather than just chaos and pain.

Meanwhile, from the little we hear about Akira's parents and how Persona 5 frames the adults around him, the Avoidant attachment style fits best. He is fiercely independent, with such a strong sense of identity despite with the masks he wears for others that he has the true Wild Card ability. He stands his ground with his morals, even when everyone around him is telling him his life would be easier if he gave up.

He has a strong internal moral center because he was never attached enough to his caregivers that they'd be able to influence his cognitive assimilation. Why trust someone's moral judgment when you can't even trust them with your vulnerability?

This is why Akira and Akechi are so fascinating as foils, as rivals, and as people who know each other better than anyone else could. Akechi walks around as a fake, appealing version of himself that Akira sees through clearly. And Akira likes the bitter, vicious, angry version of Akechi because it's honest. That is the underlying intensity of people he knows is hidden behind the masks adults are convinced are their faces. (Where's your rage? RISE RISE RISE)

Akira and Akechi match so well not because they have a hidden ugliness, but because they view the pleasant masks people wear to excuse or ignore injustice as what are truly ugly. And their difference lies in Akira's belief that there is good in people while Akechi's upbringing has him convinced that humanity is rotten to its roots.

And Akechi wants Akira's beating, caring heart between his teeth because there is still a lonely little child in his own chest who loves Featherman and just wanted a better life for his mom. And who won't fucking die, no matter how Akechi tears the world apart to match his perception of it.

Akechi has spent years trying to kill his heart, which has done nothing but soaked his masks in his own blood.

Akira looks Akechi in the eyes, straight through those masks, and steals his heart from off the chopping block. And he keeps it close even as Akechi turns the blade on him in a rage borne of fear.

They're gay as hell thanks for coming to my ted talk. might improve after work

[ebsmind]

⏾ MEET ME AT MIDNIGHT | jack hughes x singer!reader smau

summary : trying to struggle releasing a new album and doing press can be too much, are people starting to speculate that it’s taking a toll on your relationship?

warning(s) : break up mentions (poor reader 😕), a couple of cuss words i think idk,

a/n : AHHHH HERES THE FIRST CHAPTER i’m so excited to start this series!! i did create this series around midnight (if the shows fits) and i just knew i needed to get this first chapter out ASAP so here it is!!! im taking each chapter slow and steady since ive never done any type of series before. i also wanted to lyk that each chapter is named after a song but most won’t have a lot of correlation to the songs! also ik jack isn’t in this one (spoiler sorry) but he will soon! i promise i have a vision 😋 i hope yall enjoy and i love you!

series masterlist

liked by taylorswift, gracieabrams, vincedunn and others

ynuser surprise! Midnights out on october 21st! 🌌💜✨

view comments

user1 OMG OMG OMG ITS HAPPENINGGGGGGG

user2 CLAIMING LABYRINTH

taylorswift So proud of you my little bird!! Thank you for having me featured on an amazing album 💜

❤️ by author

user3 sweet nothing is def about vince 😋

yourbestfriendsuser she put blood, sweat, and tears into this!!! ya'll better not do her dirty EVERRRRRR

| ynuser clock it

user4 the album cover EATSSSSS

user5 DOES THIS MEAN UR GOING ON TOUR???

gracieabrams OMG (i knew about this for months)

| ynuser the best secret keeper EVER

yourmomsuser So proud you honey!!

| ynuser i love you mom!❤️

user6 taylor being featured on snow on the beach YESSSSSS

user7 KARMA IS MINEEEE

sabrinacarpenter ALBUM OF THE YEAR I FEAR???

❤️ by author

user8 what’s it like carrying the music industry on ur back queen?

| ynuser i need to see a chiropractor immediately

vincedunn 💜💙

on the Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon…

liked by jimmyfallon, vincedunn, taylorswift and others

ynuser kicking off midnights press with the best tv host ever!!

tagged : @/jimmyfallon

view comments

jimmyfallon It was great having you on the show!

❤️ by author

user1 a duo i didn’t know i needed

user2 sweet nothings being the first song written and with vince 🥹

vincedunn sick asf babe!!

user3 i can’t wait another week for this album OMG

user4 why hasn’t she been liking vince’s comments :(

| user5 oh bye that is not our business

user6 her writing all the songs around midnight I LOVE THIS WOMAN

user7 am i the only one that notices that her eyes don’t light up anymore when she or anyone mentions vince???

| user8 oh ur REACHING

liked by yourbestfriendsuser, yourmomsuser, vincedunn and others

ynuser breaking news! Midnights is out now! maybe stay up until 3am for a little surprise!

view comments

user1 I LOVE THIS ALBUM SO MUCH

user2 u took my heart out of my chest and squeezed it with ur bare head with YOYOK

taylorswift Congratulations!! I can’t wait to see you at the Grammy’s this year 😉

user3 crying this is my album

user4 SNOW ON THE BEACH WITH TAYLOR??? EATSSSSS

yourbestfriendsuser TIME TO GET OUR SPARKLY DRESSES ONNNNNN

user5 we want more taylor pls

user6 KARMA IS THE GUY ON THE SCREEN COMING STRAIGHT HOME TO ME 💃💃💃

yourrecordlabel 🔥🔥

user7 bejeweled is THAT GIRLLLLL

user8 wait vince wasn’t at the midnights release party??

| user9 omg they better not have broken up istg

| user10 let’s not spread false information….

user11 THE OUTFITS CHANGES HAHAHA

| ynuser listen…i couldn’t decide

liked by yourmomsuser, vincedunn, _quinnhughes and others

ynuser cats out of the bag!! i wrote an extra 7 songs and created a 2nd version of my album ✨ welcome Midnights (3am Edition) 💜

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[aziraphales-library]

Back to bug you again! Randomly thought about "there was only one bed" and then immediately randomly thought "lol there was only one body" as in for some reason I was secretly starving for possession fics? Not a lost fic ask. Just a "got any for me?"

Read a great one, Tether by Gingercat a while back.

But it is a crime that "there was only one body" does not seem to be a tag.

Basically I mean I'm ISO fics with any unfortunate events that cause either Az or Crowley to have to possess the other's body. And most likely it devolves pretty quickly from there.

There is not a 'there was only one body' tag, but there IS a sharing a body tag. Here is a selection for you...

Possession by spunknbite (E)

“So my idea, and please don’t dismiss it offhand - ” Aziraphale settles back against the pillows, “I think you should possess me.” “That’s a terrible idea,” Crowley says flatly.

And I Would Hide My Face In You by amerande (E)

It had been six thousand years, more or less, since Aziraphale had last been without a corporation. He'd forgotten how different some things were. OR: The one where they share a body.

Bonded by Guanin (T)

Aziraphale had almost died, almost fucking died, and now he was sharing Crowley's body, his spirit surrounding Crowley, a loving, pulsing presence right in the very heart of him. He had never been this close to Aziraphale before, had never dreamed that it would be possible. He was sorely glad that he didn’t need to breathe, for he wouldn’t be able to manage it with Aziraphale’s presence making him feel drunk and mellow. It was a miracle that he could drive at all. Aziraphale had grafted himself onto Crowley’s soul, the border between them permeable and merging at the edges a little more with every second that passed by.

I've Got You Under My Skin by redundant_angel (E)

Crowley must possess Aziraphale in order to prove to Hell that he's worthy of keeping his demonic powers. Aziraphale agrees to help. ------ “Regulation demands that you must prove to us that you are worthy of your demonic status by possessing another being and having them bend to Satan’s will.” “Oh, is that all?" said Crowley.

Meanwhile… by TheTalkingPeanut (M)

My alternative take of these scenes/the near-ending of the 6th episode (and that one from the 5th). I got a 'what if' in my head after I heard these lines: "I just need to find a receptive body. It's harder than you think. I just need to find a body...pity I can't inhabit yours." To which MY mind added his response: "Why not? Who said you can't? I'm right here, Aziraphale. Take me."

A bit snug by fenrislorsrai (T)

“I do need a body. Pity I can’t inhabit yours. Angel, demon...probably explode…” --- And there was only one bed body. They can't be made to fight if they're both in the same body. It's the surest way to cancel each other out and make sure they won't have to face each other at Armageddon if they can't stop the end. They may not explode, but there's definitely other consequences. Not least of which is getting to know the parts of each other they hid from each other or were too afraid to admit to. What can they learn from each other's experiences? What ARE bodies? After all this time, they're finding their ideas of such were perhaps too limited by what they'd been told. What is Self and what part of it is defined by other's perception of you? and what if that Other is now with you? Can you still deny you are worthy of love when you must direct some of it back at yourself to love another who’s currently part of you. Which is all very serious but also they bicker a lot, flirt with someone in same body (awkward), have Opinions about how to take their tea, make a demonic pact, and confuse Gabriel with math.

And the one you mentioned...

Tether by Ginger_Cat (E)

Aziraphale, Supreme Archangel of the Heavenly Host, is just minding his own business. Really. It's not like he's trying to get summoned to Earth during highly important archangelic duties. And Crowley's not trying to summon him, he swears, but somehow it still keeps happening... Now, if they could only figure out why?

- Mod D

[spideyanakin]

dancing, with tears in my eyes (c.s)

summary - district twelve! reader, when corionalus goes back to panem from the districts he has a simple rule, forget his past. But the universe does not seem to wish that, no when you get chosen for the 11th hunger games. [w.c 1.4k]

a/n - this is short I know!! and Im so sorry--but more will come if you guys like it hihi

coryo masterlist

back to main masterlist

Coriolanus could describe himself as a lot of things.

Ambitious. He knew his need for success only grew stronger with each breath he took. Fully conscious that his constant search to climb higher up the ladder of Panem was yet to reach a stalemate.

Handsome, or so he heard. He had lines of girls ready to bend their knees upon any requests, and his looks only grew with the momentum he was gaining.

He would also like to describe himself as powerful, at least becoming. His place in the university, Dr Gaul's recent request that he joins as game master for the 11th hunger games, and let's not forget the cash-in of the plinth fortune. All of those things managed to open a door or two that he was more than willing to go through.

But forgetful wasn’t a word he would choose to fit in his autobiography.

And it pained him that as he was looking at the line of soldiers parading across the streets of the Capitol, he started to believe that 'forgetful' wouldn't be such a bad choice of adjective to add to his collection.

Maybe he started to believe the lies he had fed to the sergeant and his grandma'am when they both asked about his dog tag.

'I must have misplaced it back in the district', the simple answer that he had started to believe was slowly picking at his gut--haunting with ghostly images of its true location.

Everything in his life was finally taking its rightful place. He was proud of what he had come back to, and he would be a fool to even think of letting any crumbs of it go. He would be a fool to let himself get distracted by fantasies of what now felt like a distant, other lifetime of his.

And he surely couldn't let something as silly as affection, love--distance him from glory. Let alone love stolen from the districts.

And that was the lie that had been repeating in his mind for the past year. What he had spoken to himself every day since he had left District Twelve and the memories that accompanied the journey.

And yet, even if he had hammered it in his mind. When his eyes closed for the final time tonight--like every night as of late; the thoughts of you haunted him.

The memories of his hand in yours as you dragged him across fields. His head resting against the plush of your thighs as you both rested beneath a tree. The way your lips felt against his as you leaned for a kiss, feeling you smile when he lifted a hand to your hair, gently cupping the back of your head to pull you further in.

God, he almost wished he was back there right now, in the haven of the forest, lodged in your embrace. A place where nightmares were laughed at, where paperwork and infantile gossip did not exist.

And like every time, the dream turned into a nightmare.

Coriolanus pressing chaste kisses to your lips before pulling his dog-tag over his head, your giggles and melodic voice as you questioned him. Wondering what he was doing before he placed the item securely around your own neck, muttering a promise.

Now Coriolanus was known to be a man of his word, and as he kissed your lips for the last time, hand firmly gripping your waist and the other brushing the stray tear away from your cheek, he meant it. He truly meant it with every fiber of his being.

He would be back for you.

As his touch became stronger, hungrier than usual as he attempted to remember every shape of you, every scent, everything that he could grasp as to remember you, he promised he would do anything he could to get back to you. That once he had finished his training in District Two, he would find a way to be with you again.

But the train led him back to Panem, not to district two, and when he gazed at the passing trees--it seemed that his promise was coming to a compromise.

So Coriolanus woke up with a cold sweat, again. Like most mornings he attempted to calm his jumping heart, trying to drain the panic from his lungs.

A cold shower. A cup of coffee, single, no sugar, and the sweetness of your lips faded into distant bitterness again. He was ready, ready to live by his ambition, charm, newfound power, and now more so, forgetfulness.

~

The reaping.

Your last year eligible.

You had made it this far, you thought as you twisted the hem of your dress. A fine pink summer dress; Coryo's favorite, you remembered as you ironed it this morning.

You hadn't worn it since. The color had seemed less bright after he left... All colors did. It pained you to remove the wrinkles on the skirt, as if yet another part of him was disappearing. As if the memory of him crawling on top of you, kissing you silly as he fisted your skirt would vanish. Like the ghost of his fingers would sizzle out of your bones.

But when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you realized that maybe you were grasping at straws.

It would be ok.

He would be back, and he would be more than happy to wrinkle all your dresses again.

So you breathed a big puff of air, closed your eyes, and took the last ounces of courage left in your bones.

You felt suffocated as you stepped foot outside of your home--your body taking through the dingy pathways towards the square as if you were on autopilot.

The crowd felt different and yet somehow similar. Just like every year, the new wave of youngest children, finally of age were there, shoved towards the front as the eldest fell back further away in the crowd; tired and finally soothed from the years of nerves.

This would be your last year of it all. Of anxiously washing and scrubbing every last inch of you, finding the perfect dress and the perfect pins for your hair. Your last year of twisting the hem of your dress as you waited amidst the tight crowd. As your mother held your arm while she bit the inside of her cheek--relieved every time it wasn't your name.

You could not say that the years made you use to it.

You watched as a women, dressed in a fine crisp blue suit, freshly shipped from the capital itself walked over the stage.

Everyone realised things would be different this year. She announced it in all her perfectly manicured glory. Everyone would be chosen by someone from the capital.

She introduced herself. Perky voice floating in an echo of anxious vibrations. You barely noticed the man beside her, wickedly grinning just as much.

Her perfect, long blue nails reached towards the bowl of names.

You looked down. The pebble on the floor felt more interesting. Sighing, your eyes closed by themselves, and suddenly the smell of flowers and the sound of pebbles being thrown in the lake flooded your senses.

Your shoulders relaxed, and suddenly Coryo’s eyes were staring back at you. His hands were grazing your arms, grasping at you, pulling you forward. His lips were on your forehead, and a smile pulled over your mouth.

peace.

soon, you thought. very soon.

"Y/n L/n"

Your head shot up, breath stuck in your lungs.

Everyone was staring.

"Y/n L/n! Come on now here darling."

You heard a scream; your brother maybe, you couldn’t make it out through the ringing in your ears.

You held your head high, trying to blink out the sting in your eyes. But maybe that wasn’t enough because you felt a hot streak cross your cheek, vision blurring.

The crowd had moved around you, and suddenly you felt a push on your shoulder. Peacekeepers.

Their hands latched around your shoulder and your legs followed their movements as they accompanied you to the stage, not as graceful as Lucy Grey. It was a miracle your knees didn’t buckle under their movements.

Your eyes caught the one of your left, and suddenly the grayish blue suits made a whole new other world collapse under your eyes.

Coriolanus.

He promised he’d be back for you. Promised you’d spend the rest of your days together, wherever it was that would allow the two of you to be.

Maybe he was just as terrified as you. Watching you get pulled away from the large tv as he attended another district’s reaping.

District 2, you remembered.

[callsign-sucker]

//Sucker\\

So. Been a while since I shared my opinions on a mech.

So let's talk about the Nelson, and, because of its history and association, Albatross.

So, the Nelson is a highly mobile skirmisher chassis meant to conduct a variety of high-tempo operations. Specifically the kind of operations that IPS-N likes to conduct when on the offensive, and is, for their use, meant as a compliment to the Blackbeard in situations where ballistics are a non-starter.

On a qualitative level, I think the Nelson is decent. It does what it's designed to do well, as is the trend with IPS-N frames. However, the Nelson is one of the few times IPS-N uses paracausal tech.

The Perpetual Motion Drive onboard the Nelson serves to make it move faster, and make it shiftier, making it better at what it already does. Move fast.

Because of this drive, as well as it's manuverability, the Nelson tends to outshine the everest in conversations of fastest mech, and while the everest is faster, the Nelson isn't far behind.

And then they strapped a ramjet onto it! Because it wasn't fast enough apperently!

Now, This mech has become synonymous with Albatross, and for good reason. IPS-N makes a whole lot very good frames with a decent price tag, combine that with the agreement the two organizations have had since before thirdcom, and some people make the mistake of thinking Albatross is subordinate to IPS-N.

They're not.

Albatros cooperates with IPS-N on convoy security detail, both as an augment to IPS-N's own in-house security teams, like the ever ignominious Trunk Security, and as subject mater experts, as Albatros will often engage pirates on their own and often without any input from IPS-N.

Now, remember when I said Albatross predates thirdcom?

They were the spark that lit the Thirdcom revolution. Seccom had them listed as a "Terrorist Organization" due to their saunch anti-authoritarian position, and their willingness to act on that.

Yes, IPS-N unofficially backed them in this period, but that was because for most of the lead up to the Thirdcom revolution, IPS-N were fence sitters. They saw the writing on the wall, that there was going to be a revolution, and so the curried favor with both seccom, and the revolutionaries to hedge their bets.

Notice how IPS-N's formal agreement with Albatross only happened after it became clear that Seccom was losing.

The relationship between IPS-N and Albatross on the surface seems to be like they will always have eachother's backs. That's IPS-N lying through their teeth.

From having spent some time with Albatross on my way out of HA space, Albatross, especially the veteran leadership, many of whom are older than Thirdcom itself, views IPS-N with the same trepidation as anyone else who knows of the shady shit that they got caught doing. They would never let their organization become subordinate to such a group.

//For Cogito Ergo Sum\\

(OOC: A lot of this about albatross is because many here in the fandom make the mistake of seeing Albatross as an extension of IPS-N. They aren't. They would sooner tell IPS-N to get bent than let themselves become an extension of that which they fight against. That doesn't mean that they won't be misled, but they would never willingly or knowingly become a tool for IPS-N to expand its influence. (not to mention, IPS-N has a gameplan akin to that of the imperialist-era Dutch. They have nowhere near the territorial ambitions of, say, Harrison Armories. IPS-N is perfectly happy being space UPS/Fed-Ex, they just want to be the only game in town. That's why they have Trunk Security. To do all of that shady shit people think IPS-N has Albatross do for them.))

[luckyroll3]

Quid Pro Quo: Chapter 2

Masterlist and Summary

Warnings: This work of fiction is intended for 18+ audiences only. Includes explicit sexual content, graphic language, some violence, etc. Author chooses to not extensively tag in order to preserve some elements of storytelling.

Word Count: 10,816

The scent of coffee mingles with Chan's cologne as you lean over his shoulder, watching him scribble furiously on the practice exam. His brow furrows in concentration, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor. 

"Time's up," you announce, plucking the paper from his hands. Chan groans dramatically and leans back in his chair, running a hand through his tousled blonde hair. You sit next to him and pull out your red pen. 

As you grade his exam, curiosity gets the better of you. "How’d it go with that girl from the bar?"

Chan's signature dimpled grin appears. "Oh, you know. She invited me back to her dorm. We had some fun."

You roll your eyes but can't suppress a smile. "Of course she did. Who could resist all that cocky energy and swag? What kind of ‘fun’ did you have?"

“The kind of ‘fun’ that you and I have had, but also the kind of ‘fun’ that we haven’t.” He smirks. You shake your head as you continue grading. "What about you and your boyfriend?" Chan asks, his tone surprisingly genuine. "How's that going?"

"It's good," you reply, a warmth spreading through your chest at the thought of Changbin. "Really good.” You place a couple of checkmarks on the paper. “Actually, he knows you. From the Saturday soccer games? Changbin?"

Chan's eyebrows shoot up. "Binnie? The loud, super swol guy from the frat? Really? That’s your man? Small world."

“Yup.” You circle an error and add a question mark.

“Sooooo, you’re the Virgin Mary. Ha!” Chan slaps his thigh and stamps his feet as he laughs it up.

You stop grading for a second to look at him, your eyes questioning. “Excuse me? The what?”

“The Virgin Mary,” Chan repeats, still chuckling. “That’s what they call you.”

“Bin doesn’t call me that. He better not call me that,” you say sassily. “I'd kick his fucking ass.”

“He doesn’t, but his douche-ass frat bros do. They always make fun of him for all the cold showers he has to take.” Chan continues laughing at your expense. 

“I’m sure they call me lots of things. It’s not even very original. Do they think I’m saving myself for Jesus?” you snort, shaking your head before turning your attention back to his practice exam. “But they’re also not the brightest people; I don’t know if Bin would be in that frat if he wasn’t a legacy.”

He chuckles. “Very true.” He pauses, studying you, taking in the turquoise floral sundress currently hugging your frame, one of the thin straps hanging off your right shoulder. His eyes land on your cleavage for a bit before returning to your face. "So, why does someone who looks like you and has such a cool personality so... inexperienced?"

“Someone who looks like me?”

“Yes. Let’s not pretend that you don’t know you’re fucking hot. And I say that totally respectfully.” He lifts his hands up as if in surrender.

You feel heat rising to your cheeks. You’ve gotten this question before, though you usually ignore it. You’re not sure why you feel compelled to answer when Chan asks. "I am fucking hot,” you say casually with a smirk that makes Chan’s grin widen. “I've been focused on school. You think engineering is hard? Try majoring in astrophysics! And NASA only interviews the top 1%. Guess how many of those are women? Getting to NASA has been my only priority for years; since I was 15.” You notice Chan listening attentively in your periphery. “There also weren’t many guys that I’ve been interested in. I mean I went on dates and stuff, but I never cared to do more with them. For a while there, I thought I might be asexual. And then Bin came along and….”

“And you started tingling in places?” Chan finished for you in a sing-song voice. 

“Ha! Yes, I guess you could say that. I started tingling in lots of places. Changbin's the first guy I've ever really wanted more with." You wonder why you’re being so open with Chan. The only other person you’ve shared any of this with was your best friend from back home.

"Hmmm. And how's he been dealing with the whole no-sex thing?" Chan leans forward, genuinely curious. "I can go without for about 2 weeks, but then I’m dying. Guy must be a saint."

You laugh, nodding. "He is. He’s a fucking saint. I’ve had guys try to guilt me into more or even attempt to force themselves on me. Not Binnie. He’s the most respectful guy I’ve ever met. He’s super cuddly and affectionate. He's been so patient and kind to me and he’s never asked for more. It's just one of the many reasons I'm falling in love with him."

Chan's eyes widen. "Love? After a year? Without any intimacy?"

You shrug, feeling a bit defensive of your relationship. "We haven’t said the words yet. But we're emotionally intimate. We share everything except our bodies."

Chan shakes his head, chuckling. "Not my style. Ugh, fuck feelings. I prefer to keep things purely physical."

You slide his exam back across the table. "Well, to each their own. Being a fuck boy works for you and being the reincarnated virgin mother works for me. You only got 5 out of 20 wrong. Not bad, Channie."

Chan's laughter fills the room as he spots the gold star sticker you've added. "Really? A gold star? What am I, five?"

“It’s motivation! There’s more where that came from,” you say waving the sticker sheet in his face.

As he grins at you, dimples on full display, you can't help but wonder if there's more to Chan than his playboy facade. 

Later that evening, Chan continues your lesson on foreplay, introducing you first to fingering. His hands are strong yet surprisingly gentle as they caress your inner thighs, teasing you with featherlight touches before moving his hand beneath your dress, then slowly sliding your panties down your legs. He slips a finger inside you. You gasp at the new sensation of being stimulated by fingers that aren’t your own.

"Just relax," he says softly. "I'll go slow."

Chan adds another finger, curling them expertly within you until you're trembling with pleasure. His eyes darken with lust, but his expression remains tender. 

"How does that feel?" he asks softly.

You manage a breathless, "Amazing."

You gasp and squirm as Chan's fingers stroke your most intimate parts. His touch sends tingles radiating through your core and your body craves more of it.  

"Does Changbin know about this?" Chan murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His fingers slide deeper as your back arches into his touch. “Me ‘tutoring’ you, I mean.”

"N-no," you stammer, flushed with arousal. You've kept these private lessons secret. 

Chan hums thoughtfully, working you with steady, skillful fingers. "Think he'd be jealous, knowing I touch you like this?" 

You bite your lip, holding back a moan. Chan notices.

“Don’t hold back. Let it out. Let me know how you feel.” You follow his instructions and moan loudly. “Good girl.”

You think back to his question, letting your mind imagine Changbin's potential reaction to all of this. He rarely gets angry and he’s not really the jealous type, but this is a very unique situation you’ve placed yourself in. “I’m not sure,” you finally answer in between your moans. “But since there’s no feelings involved here, I don’t think he’d be that upset.” 

Chan smiles and continues pleasuring you with his fingers. "No feelings involved, huh? That's good to know."

“Your rules, sir,” you barely get out under your breath. “I just live by them.” You let your eyelids fall close gently.

Chan laughs softly. “In my experience, boyfriends tend not to like other guys seducing their girls. Especially not by fuck boys with reputations like mine.” His breath ghosts across your neck as he leans in, whispering into your ear. "Have you ever had an orgasm before?”

You nod your head slowly.

“You masturbate?”

“Regularly,” you whisper. 

“Oh really?” Chan seems amused by this, his eyes lighting up. “So you know what an orgasm feels like.” You nod again. “But no one else has made you cum before?” His voice is low.

You shake your head. “No,” you admit verbally, the word barely audible. Your breaths start to quicken. 

“Getting to be your first will be an honor then.”

“Why are men always so fixated on being ‘the first’?” you whisper, curious about the male psyche.

��We’re genetically programmed to be conquerors,” he whispers back softly. “It’s literally ingrained in our DNA. You know, the sequence of genes on the Y-chromosome in most modern males that they’ve been able to trace directly back to Genghis Khan?” You feel like you’ve just been transported into a National Geographic documentary narrated by someone who does voiceovers for erotica audiobooks.

Your eyes pop open, wide with bewilderment as you stare at him. “Who the fuck are you?” you blurt out with a laugh.

He laughs, a deep and hearty sound that fills the room. “What? I read! Now stop getting distracted!”

“Stop distracting me then, Chan,” you retort playfully as you return your gaze to the ceiling.

He places his free hand on your face and gently brushes your eyelids down. “Close your eyes and enjoy.” And with that simple command, all thoughts and distractions vanish from your mind as you surrender yourself completely to him.

His fingers curl inside you as his thumb presses firmly against your clit before he starts rotating it in small, quick circles that have you seeing stars. You feel his other hand slip the strap of your dress off your shoulder to reveal one of your tits; seconds later, he starts to twist the nipple. Then you feel the warmth as his lips encircle it and he flicks it with his tongue. Your breath hitches, body trembling. Your climax builds, your moans growing louder. 

“No one is here. You can get as loud as you want,” he says as he kisses across your cleavage, encouraging you. His mouth returns to your nipple and he sucks gently.

Chan works you higher and higher until you cry out, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of blissful release.

As you catch your breath, Chan gently withdraws his hand and places a soft kiss on your neck, before he respositions the strap on your shoulder to cover your chest. "How was that for your first time?"

"Amazing," you pant, still tingling from the aftershocks.

“You said that already.”

You open your eyes and turn your head to look at him. “Sensational, extraordinary, phenomenal, stupendous, thrilling, wondrous, spectacular,” you tease with a smirk. 

Chan grins, entertained by your sass. "I aim to please." 

As the two of you sit next to each other on the bed taking a break, he invites you to ask him anything. He hands you a bottle of water.

When you finish taking a generous gulp, you decide to ask him a personal question. “What’s the real reason you’re hesitant about relationships?”

Chan looks thoughtful for a moment before speaking. "I guess I've just had some bad experiences in the past that made me wary," he says. He pauses again. “My high school girlfriend broke my heart,” he says finally after a minute.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was my first real relationship. We dated all through high school. I was so in love with her, I naively thought we'd be together forever. Dumb right?” He looks up at you for for confirmation.

“No. Not at all,” you say softly.

“Right before senior prom, she dumped me out of the blue. Then she showed up to prom with another guy; turned out she’d been cheating on me with him for a few months. I was devastated," he says quietly, looking down at his hands. “It messed me up,” he admits.

He pauses, taking a shaky breath. You reach for his hand, giving it a supportive squeeze. Chan looks up at you, his eyes glistening.

"After that, I promised myself I wouldn't let myself get that emotionally invested again. I just started hooking up with girls, no strings attached. No feelings, no way to get hurt.”

You listen intently, surprised at his openness. This is a more vulnerable side of him that you haven't seen before.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," you say sincerely. “She sounds like a bitch.”

"Thanks.” He gives you a small smile. “And she is a bitch. It's been three years, which feels like a lifetime ago, but I guess I still have some walls up when it comes to dating. I don't let many people get too close.”

"But sometimes the walls we build for protection can also end up isolating us," you say gently.

Chan nods slowly, his expression weighted with a mix of resignation and sadness. "I know.” His voice is strained with emotion. He looks away, sniffing as he wipes away the single tear that manages to escape his control. 

You reach over and give him a tight hug, holding him against your chest. You feel his body relax into yours, welcoming the protective embrace. He breathes against you quietly for a few minutes while you rub his back. You want nothing more than to just be there as a friend and soothe him, and he allows you to. 

“Okay, whoo!” he huffs as he pulls away, shaking his arms and head vigorously as if casting off all of his emotional demons. “Too many fucking emotions! No feelings involved, remember?” He chuckles softly as he attempts to recollect himself and lighten the heavy atmosphere. 

“Yup, I remember. Fuck feelings.” You smile at him, giving his hand one more squeeze to silently acknowledge his pain and the complications that come with emotions before letting go. 

“And not a word of this to anyone.”

“Not a word. Scouts honor.” You lock your mouth with an imaginary key and toss it over your shoulder. “No one will ever know that the notorious Bang Chan cried from a broken heart,” you say with a teasing smile.

A genuine grin spreads across his face as he recovers from the emotional moment. “Thank you.” He releases a relieved sigh. “Let’s get back to it then. Let me teach you how to give a hand job.”

Chan leans back on the bed, propping himself up on his elbows. "Alright, pay close attention," he says with a smirk.

He unzips his jeans and slides them down just past his hips, along with his boxers. His cock springs free, already half-hard. You can't help but stare, intrigued.

He lays back fully. You watch with curiosity as he loosely wraps his hand around his shaft. "Watch what I do," he instructs. Chan starts with slow, languid strokes, gradually increasing his pace. "See how I'm moving my hand up and down, gripping firmly but not too tight," he narrates. You watch, mesmerized, as his cock gradually swells and hardens in his hand. “And you can switch it up.” He varies his pace and grip, twisting his wrist on the upstroke. His breathing grows heavier as he pleasures himself. His head tips back and his eyes flutter shut as soft moans escape his lips.

You can't take your eyes off him. Seeing the usually cocky Chan so vulnerable and unrestrained excites you. He bites his lips as he focuses on chasing his release. The way his abdominal muscles contract with each stroke, the sight of precum beading at his tip, the rapid rise and fall of his chest… You feel yourself getting turned on just from observing.

After a few minutes, Chan's breathing starts to become more ragged. His hips rock up to meet the rhythm of his pumping fist. "Fuck, I'm close," he groans through gritted teeth. "That’s way too quick. I think I’m being turned on by having an audience... Here, you try." Chan takes your hand and guides it to replace his own. You wrap your fingers around his thick, hot shaft, mimicking his motions.

Chan hisses in pleasure, his hips bucking reflexively into your touch. "Mmm... yeah just like that," he encourages breathily. He covers your hand with his own, showing you how to stroke him. His cheeks become flushed. 

You gain confidence, pumping him faster, gripping tighter. He releases your hand and lets you work independently. Chan’s mouth opens as he pants, completely lost in ecstasy. His hips start to buck erratically. "Fuuuck, don't stop," he groans. Sweat beads on his forehead. 

You can feel his cock pulse in your hand. Keeping your gaze locked on him, you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, spreading the precum leaking from his slit.

"Oh god, just like that," Chan whimpers before saying your name. His whole body tenses, abs clenching. "I'm gonna... I'm gonna...," he chokes out before releasing a guttural moan. His cock erupts in your hand, spurting thick ropes of cum that coat your fingers and cover his lower abdomen.

You continue stroking him through his orgasm until he gently grasps your wrist to stop you. "Sensitive now," he pants.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Don’t apologize.” Chan lays there catching his breath, his chest heaving. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you. "Damn... you're a natural at that," he says with a satisfied grin once his breathing returns to normal. “Not bad for your first hand job.” He nods his head in approval.

You smile, feeling pleased that you were able to pleasure him. “Why thank you, sir,” you say with a playful bow.

Chan grabs some tissues from his bedside table. He cleans your hand off before cleaning himself and tucking his dick back into his pants. "I think that's enough for today's lesson," he says with a wink. “Want to get dinner?”

“Oh god yes! I’m so hungry.”

****

A few nights later, you join Changbin at his frat house for their monthly movie night in their backyard. As the movie starts, you settle into the large hammock with him, nestling your back against his firm chest as he drapes the fuzzy blanket over you both. 

The movie plays in the background, but you find it hard to focus on anything but Changbin, his familiar scent – clean laundry and subtle cologne – enveloping you. His arm wraps around your shoulders, fingers trailing lightly up and down your arm. You smile to yourself, enjoying his affectionate touch. You feel protected and comfortable in his embrace. Like always.

His hand gradually makes its way to just above your diaphragm, fingers splaying as he caresses you through your shirt. You place your hand over his, interlacing your fingers together. 

About halfway through the movie, you feel a spark of excitement run through you as his other hand settles on your lower stomach, his thumb just barely slipping under the hem of your shirt, grazing your skin. You place your free hand over his, guiding it lower, past the waistband of your leggings. Changbin hesitates, his breath hitching slightly.

"It's okay," you whisper, turning your head to meet his gaze. “I want you to.” You see the flicker of desire in his eyes as you guide his hand to where you need it most.

Reassured, his fingers brush over your clit, tentatively at first, gauging your reaction. A soft gasp escapes your lips at the contact. His fingers slide down your folds and enter you, gingerly gliding into your wetness. You slowly buck against his finger. He takes the hint, applying more pressure as he picks up the pace.

Turning your head again, you meet Changbin's intense gaze in the dim light. He leans in and presses his lips to yours in a slow, sensual kiss. You feel desire stirring within you as the kiss deepens. Changbin's tongue dances along yours as he pulls you tighter against him.

You have to stifle a moan into his mouth as he sinks deeper into you. Your tongues dance together as the pleasure builds. You release Changbin’s hand and reach behind you, slipping your hand into his sweatpants and wrapping your fingers around his rapidly hardening length. You stroke him slowly like Chan taught you. Changbin groans into your mouth at your touch.

Changbin’s fingers curl inside, hitting just the right spot, and he uses his other hand to stimulate your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You stroke him in time with the movements of his fingers between your legs. You break the kiss as you melt into his touch, leaning your head back against his shoulder as you bite your lip and close your eyes. 

The hammock rocks gently as you pleasure each other. Quiet gasps and moans are lost in the sounds of the movie and chatter around you. No one notices as you bring each other closer and closer to the edge.

Your hips rock together subtly. The tension builds deep within until you shatter beautifully around his fingers. You grip him tighter as you cum, stroking faster. He buries his face in your neck to muffle his own moans of pleasure; his teeth sink into the soft flesh making you yelp. You’re learning that Changbin is a biter. His cock throbs and you feel him spill over your hand.

You stay tangled together, catching your breath. Changbin kisses you softly on your neck before withdrawing his hand. You clean each other up quietly.

You cuddle together in the hammock, your body still humming. Changbin wraps his arms around you and nuzzles into your hair. 

"That was amazing," he murmurs. He kisses the top of your head and asks, "What's changed recently? It seems like you've been more open to exploring sexually together."

You turn in the hammock, careful not to flip the two of you out of it. You tilt your head up to meet Changbin’s gaze. "I'm ready for more with you, Bin. My heart belongs to you. I want to show you how much you mean to me. And I’ve been feeling more confident and open with physical intimacy."

Changbin smiles and caresses your cheek. "I'm so happy to hear that.” He presses a sweet kiss to your lips. "Look, I'm really glad you're finding your confidence, but I want you to know that I'm in no rush. I don't care if it takes another year or ten or twenty; I’d wait forever for you. Okay? I'll follow your lead."

"I know," you say, your voice catching in your throat. "And I... I really appreciate that." You lean in and kiss him deeply. As you pull back, you say, "You’ve been so sweet and perfect. It��s not lost on me what you’ve given up being in this relationship. That's why I want to reward your patience and understanding; I have something special planned for you for our anniversary."

Changbin looks deeply in your eyes. “I don’t need anything special babe, just you.”

****

As you wait for Chan to meet you in the student center, you receive a text message from Changbin.

Cuddle Binnie:

Can’t get you out of my head today.

Keep thinking about movie night. 

Hope your day is going well. 

You:

It is now. You always make my day better. 🥰

One hand job and that’s all you can think about, huh? 😉

Cuddle Binnie:

More thinking about my fingers buried deep inside 

you and the sounds you were making.

Would love to hear you moan like that again…

You:

Soon.

 Cuddle Binnie:

Any way you can change your plans tonight?

You:

Can’t babe. Tutoring session.

Cuddle Binnie:

I’ve waited this long. Guess I can wait another 

couple days.

You:

Why I adore you.

Cuddle Binnie:

I adore you to.

You bring your phone to your chest and sigh deeply, thinking about how much you cherish that man. When you look up, you see Chan enter from the cafe. A bright smile emerges on his face when he sees you. 

“Hey! Sorry I’m late.” He sits next to you, plopping his bag on the table. 

“Hi. Sooooo? How’d you do?” you ask enthusiastically. 

Chan grins, his signature dimples on full display. "Really well actually!” He zips open his backpack and pulls out a folder. He hands you the stapled pages from the center. “B minus! Up from an F! Thanks to you!"

"Channie, this is amazing!" you exclaim, smiling proudly as Chan beams at you, clearly delighted by his much improved exam score. “I knew you could do it.” You reach into your bag under the table and pull out a small, clear plastic takeout box containing a personal sized chocolate lava cake. You slide the dessert across the table to Chan. 

“No fucking way!” Chan exclaims as he pops the container open to take a big whiff. “I can’t believe you remembered this is my favorite. From Mamma’s Bakery?”

You grin and nod. “Yes. I do listen to you, you know.” You hand him a plastic fork. 

“Thanks.” Chan digs in eagerly, the warm chocolate fudge sauce oozing out as he takes his first bite. “Ugh, so good!”

“Of course! You’ve earned a reward for all the progress you’ve made,” you say warmly.

“I usually like my rewards in the bedroom,” Chan says with a smirk, his words laced with playful innuendo as he chews slowly. 

“Of course you had to make it weird. Don’t start with me,” you say with a side-eye, slapping his face playfully. “You’ll need to talk with one of your little friends about those types of rewards.” You start reviewing the exam. 

“What if I want to talk to you?” He teases, wrapping his full lips around the fork and pulling it out slowly. 

The action earns a knowing look from you. With a sigh, you reply, “Not cute. You know those puppy dog eyes don’t work on me.” It’s mostly true, but he’s just so damn charming. You return your focus to the exam, flipping to the next page and scanning over his work. 

“Why is that? It works on everyone else.” He eats another forkful while grinning at you mischievously.

You can’t help but to roll your eyes at his antics. “You’re just not as irresistible as you think you are, Bang Chan.” You ignore him and turn to the final page of the exam.

“Ouch!” He dramatically clutches at his chest in mock pain before eating another forkful of cake.

You place the exam in between the two of you. “All the points you missed were for really silly mistakes. I can tell you were rushing. What happened?”

"Yeah, you're right,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I got anxious during the test and spent too much fucking time on the first page. Before I knew it, there were only 15 minutes left. I fucking panicked, but I finished.”

"It's okay, we all make mistakes when we're stressed or rushed. The important thing is that you finished and you knew which concepts to apply where.” He nods in agreement. “And this just tells me that for your next practice exam, we need to focus more on time management.”

“Okay.” He nods his head in understanding. 

“Okay. Go through each question where you lost points and fix your errors.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He slides you the container, half of the cake remaining. After retrieving a pencil from his bag and setting it aside, he gets to work. 

You grab his fork and cut a small piece of the cake, placing it in your mouth. The flavors are decadent and satisfying. “Damn this is good,” you whisper. 

“I know right? You can finish it,” he says with a smile. 

You hesitate for a moment before taking another bite, savoring every moment of this treat. “No, it’s yours,” you insist, offering the fork back to him. He chuckles and shakes his head, gesturing for you to keep eating. You can’t resist taking another bite, the fudge melting on your tongue. Then, with a playful smirk, you cut a small piece and hold it up to his lips. “Here,” you coo softly. He looks up from his work, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and opens his mouth, allowing you to feed him. You go back and forth, alternating taking a bite for yourself with feeding him until the cake is gone.

By the end of the hour, you smile at Chan, happy at his progress. The student center is quiet now, most of the other students having already left campus for the evening. 

"Good work. We should probably get going; it's getting late," you say. Chan nods and begins packing up his things.

The two of you walk in comfortable silence back towards your dorm. His arm brushes against yours occasionally as you stroll along the sidewalk. The cool night air is refreshing after being cooped up inside all day. You pull your jacket a little tighter as a breeze blows through the trees overhead.

Chan has his hands stuffed in the front pocket of his hoodie, looking relaxed as always. "So…,” he says after a few minutes, “how are things going with you and Changbin lately?" he asks, glancing over at you with a little smile.

You feel your cheeks heat up slightly. "Really good, actually. We've been getting a lot closer and more comfortable with each other."

Chan raises an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? Have you two... you know...," he trails off suggestively, his lips curving into his characteristic smirk as he holds up to two fingers and curls them in a come-hither motion.

You playfully smack his arm, trying to hide the small smile that tugs at your lips. “None of your business, sir!”  

“It’s absolutely my business! How else am I supposed to gauge the success of my lessons, know if they’ve been making an impact? Hmmm?” Chan's teasing tone is laced with amusement as he leans in closer, shaking his shoulders, eager for details.

“Oh, they’ve been making an impact…” You can't help but let out a giggle as you recount your recent escapades at movie night, feeling bold and exhilarated in sharing these private moments with him.

Chan's eyes widen in surprise. “Damn, that's kinda hot. Look at you!” He nudges your shoulder with his, a pleased grin on his face. “Already getting freaky in public. Makes me proud.”

“I learned from the best.”

“I am the best, aren’t I.” He flashes you that devastating grin. You roll your eyes. 

“How about you?” You playfully turn the question back to him, curious about his recent adventures. 

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. What escapades have you been up to lately?”

“Oh, this past weekend I had a date with a gymnast. She did some things that…. let’s just say I’ve never seen before.”

“Really? Like what?” Your eyebrows raise in interest. 

“She was riding me in a reverse cowgirl, while doing a backbend thing, so she was also kissing me at the same time. It was wild.”

You can’t help but wince slightly at the thought of the contorted position. “Sounds painful. I hope she stretched first.” Chan throws his head back as he laughs loudly. “Was it impressive enough that you’d fuck her again?” you continue.

He ponders for a moment before responding. “Probably not. Repeats tend to get….”

“Clingy?” you finish for him with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, clingy.” He can’t help but to smile back in response. 

“You know, there probably are girls out there who would be happy to fuck you repeatedly without allowing emotional attachments.” You watch him as he thinks about it.

“Eh, I’d rather play it safe. You start to see someone more than once, they start to think you’re dating. Nah, fuck that! One and done!”

“Keep it simple.” You get it. He doesn’t want to run the risk of getting hurt again, not that he’d admit that’s the real reason. 

“Exactly.” He nods. 

A few minutes later, you and Chan arrive at your dorm room. After putting down your bags, Chan turns to you and says, “I’m thinking that tonight we can focus on oral. Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah. I’m fine with that.”

“Alright. Might be a good idea for us both to shower first. I know I’m stinky.”

“You can go first then, stinky.” You walk to the closet, retrieving a towel and washcloth from the top shelf for him. “Here.” You toss them at him.

While you wait for Chan to finish his shower, you sit at your desk and delve into the novel you had stumbled upon at the used bookstore across from campus. Minutes tick by until finally, you hear the water stop. A few moments later, the door opens and Chan saunters out, looking like a Greek god in human form. 

The towel wrapped snugly around his waist accentuates every defined muscle of his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. His wet blond hair is slicked back, making his face look even more chiseled and handsome. The steam from the shower still clings to his skin, giving him an ethereal glow in the dim light of the room. As you take in his striking appearance, you realize that tonight will be the first time you see him completely naked. 

“I’ll let you take a picture so you don’t have to rely on memory,” he says with a grin when he catches you staring. 

“Oh, shut up!” You add your bookmark to save your space, then head to the bathroom for your own quick shower. Ten minutes later, you rejoin Chan in the bedroom, wearing your black, fluffy robe. 

Chan is reclining in your bed, his legs out long, crossed at the ankles, and your book in his hands. 

“I didn’t realize you liked horror,” he states as he turns the page, not looking up. 

“I’m a big horror fan: books, comics, movies.” You sit on the bed facing him. 

He closes the book and places it back on the desk. “Very interesting.”

“Why is that?”

“You just constantly surprise me is all. Favorite book?”

“It, Stephen King. Read it when I was 12.”

“Oooooh, that’s a good one. I read it in high school. ‘We all float down here’,” he quotes in a deep voice, doing his best Pennywise impression. He sits up next to you.

“’And when you're down here with me...’,” you start, deciding to share your favorite line.

“’YOU’LL FLOAT TOO!’,” you and Chan yell simultaneously before breaking out in laughter.

“Oh man,” you say through chuckles. “So fucking good.”

“A fucking masterpiece,” Chan agrees. “And the remake….?” The two of you start talking animatedly about your other favorite horror books and movies, realizing that you have quite a few in common. Once the two of you have caught your breath after a thirty-minute discussion, Chan turns back to the business at hand. “You ready?” 

You nod, eager to continue exploring and expanding your knowledge.

He takes your hands in his and directs you to kneel in front of him between his legs. “I’ll guide you through some different things to try. First and foremost is that you should always take the lead. If you want to give someone head, you unbutton and unzip and reveal. Don’t ever let some fucker push your head into their crotch; it’s just rude. Plus, women in charge, women taking charge, are fucking sexy.”

“Got it. Should I take this off,” you say, gesturing to his towel. He nods. You gently lift the corner he has tucked in at his waist and pull it open, allowing the towel to fall behind him on the bed. His length springs free, already hard and at attention. 

“Go nice and slow at first; don't worry about taking too much in," he says softly. You lean forward, heart pounding, as he gently directs your mouth towards him. His fingers brush your hair back tenderly.

As you take him into your mouth, he inhales sharply, eyes fluttering closed. "Mmm, just like that. Use your tongue to explore... find the sensitive spots… but watch your teeth, so you’re not scraping."

Chan talks you through different motions – using your tongue, varying speed and pressure. You feel shy at first, but the excitement is stronger. Coupled with Chan’s gentle coaching, you gain confidence.

"The key is paying attention to your partner's reactions, listening to the sounds they make, and adjusting based on that.”

You follow his guidance, moving your tongue around his length and finding the spots that make him gasp or groan. You tighten your lips, you take him deeper, you flick his tip with your tongue. With each passing minute, you gain more confidence in your actions. Soon, he is moaning, praising how good your mouth feels. 

Chan runs his fingers through your hair, stroking affectionately, as he guides you through this new experience. The sensation of his touch combined with the taste and feel of him in your mouth is exhilarating. You can feel yourself getting aroused as well.

As you continue to pleasure him, Chan's breaths become more ragged and his grip on your hair tightens slightly. 

“I’m close to cumming,” he whispers. “You need to decide whether you want me to cum in your mouth or not. If it’s a no, just remove your mouth and finish by jacking me off.” You think about this for a second and ultimately decide to get the full experience. 

You refocus on your task. Chan’s moans become louder until he finally reaches his climax with a loud groan. You feel his warm load spurt into your mouth, surprised by the saltiness. It takes you a couple of gulps to swallow everything down, but eventually you slide your mouth off of him and sit back on your heels. 

Chan opens his eyes, then pulls you up to sit next to him on the bed, a satisfied smile on his face. “You did great,” he says warmly, placing a kiss on your cheek.

“Thanks,” you reply shyly. 

“We’re not done yet though,” he says playfully. “Now it’s your turn.” He unties the belt of your robe, and pushes it off your shoulders before gently laying you down on the bed. 

Chan gently parts your legs and settles between them. His strong hands caress your inner thighs as he plants soft kisses along your hip bone, working his way down. You feel a rush of anticipation as his mouth nears your most sensitive area.

"Just relax and enjoy this," he murmurs. You feel his hot breath against your pussy just before he makes contact. 

The first touch of his tongue makes you gasp, the pleasure so intense you have to remind yourself to keep breathing. He starts slowly, with soft exploratory licks up and down your slit. He finds all the spots that make you squirm and moan. When his lips wrap around your clit, you cry out, tangling your fingers in his hair. You gasp and writhe at all these incredible new sensations. His strong hands grip your hips, holding you in place. 

"Oh god, Chan..." you pant, overcome by the building pressure. 

"Does that feel good?" he asks in a low, sexy tone. The vibrations from his voice make you tremble. 

You manage to moan a breathless "Yes."

"That's it, let me hear how good it feels," he encourages you. “The more sounds you make, the more you touch me, the better. It lets me know what’s working.”

He continues lapping at your clit, alternating between broad licks and tight circles. The pleasure is unbelievable; you've never felt anything like this before. You realize that the rumors about his 'magical tongue' are 1000% accurate. Your moans get louder as the sensation builds. 

He slides two fingers inside you, crooking them in the same come-hither motion he made during your walk as his tongue continues working your clit. He quickly finds your g-spot, sending sharp shocks throughout you each time he swipes it. You start rocking your hips, trying to force his lips closer, force his fingers deeper. The dual sensations quickly bring you to the edge and then tip you over – your back arches off the bed as the orgasm crashes through you.

You lie there panting, your body still trembling from the intense climax. You feel breathless and euphoric. 

Chan grins and wipes his mouth before kissing his way back up your body, making stops at your stomach, tits, and neck. Before he kisses your lips, there’s a pause as he looks directly into your eyes. For a brief second, his cocky facade seems to waver. There’s a flicker of something, a glimpse of vulnerability that makes your heart skip a beat. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone. The shift leaves you feeling curious about what he’s thinking.

Before you can say anything, his lips find yours in a rush of heat and desire. The taste of yourself and the cake from earlier mingle on his tongue. You lose yourself in the intensity of his kiss; it’s like having forbidden fruit, and you can’t get enough. 

You allow yourself to continue indulging in Chan's kisses. His lips are soft yet demanding. One hand trails down your back, pulling you closer; the other cradles your face before moving to caress your side, your hip, your breast and everything in between. You tangle your fingers in his hair, drawing him to you. The kiss deepens, becoming more passionate. All thoughts fade away except how good it feels to be wrapped up in Chan like this.

After what seems like an eternity, Chan pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. Something in his eyes seems different now. As he lies down next to you, you glance at the alarm clock and are amazed to see that the two of you have been making out for over an hour. You wonder how the fuck that happened.

The atmosphere in your dorm room feels cozy and intimate now. Chan trails his fingers up and down your arm absently as you both recover. You study his handsome face – the sharp jawline, the broad nose, the deep brown eyes beneath his dark brows, the full lips now swollen from pleasuring and kissing you. He really is unfairly good-looking.

As the afterglow fades though, you start to feel a bit awkward. This is supposed to be purely educational, no emotions, no entanglements. And yet... there's a definite connection between you two. An undeniable chemistry. 

You see a similar conflict reflected in Chan's eyes before he clears his throat and sits up slowly. "We should probably call it a night,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” you agree softly. From your perspective, you can acknowledge the connection because you know you really enjoy spending time with him as a friend. You hope it’s the same for him and nothing more, and that this make out session was just the two of you getting carried away in the moment. 

Chan rises from the bed and begins gathering his clothes. You take the opportunity to slip under the comforter to warm up your naked body now that his isn’t pressed against yours. As he pulls his shirt over his head, the muscles in his back and arms flex, and you take a moment to appreciate his athletic physique. He’s not as muscular as Changbin, but still nice to look at. 

He turns to face you while pulling on his jeans. "So, Saturday is…”

“Your birthday right?” you finish for him. 

He smiles. “Yeah. My 21st and my roommates are throwing a party at our house. It's gonna be lit – open bar, DJ, the works." 

You sense there's more he wants to say, so you wait patiently for him to continue. 

Chan runs a hand through his blonde waves in an effort to tame them. "Anyway, you should come.” He zips and buttons his jeans. He says it casually, but you can tell he’s nervous about asking. 

"I don't know Chan... I'm not sure that's such a good idea," you reply carefully. 

He nods, seeming to understand your unspoken concerns. "No pressure. I know it's complicated and all. But the invitation's open. I consider you a friend and it’d be cool to have you there.” He throws his backpack over his shoulder. “Feel free to bring Changbin too, if you want." You detect a hopeful note in his voice. 

You consider the invitation. Your thoughts swirl around your mind as you weigh the pros and cons of accepting. You break the silence with a hesitant response. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

A smile spreads across his face, revealing the dimples. "Great," he says, his excitement evident in his tone and expression. The corners of your mouth tug up into a small smile in return.

****

The bass from the rap song blaring through the speakers sends vibrations through your body as you enter Chan's packed house with Jess and Sam flanking you. The air is thick with the scent of beer and sweat, bodies pressed close in the dimly lit space. You weave through the crowd towards the backyard and the keg, your eyes scanning for people you know. Everyone is at this party; there are students from all the different schools and programs, as well as folks from the different social groups. You see several of Changbin’s frat brothers, who give you a nod as you walk by. Changbin decided not to come, choosing instead to continue studying for the MCAT. He was planning to take it in December. 

As you're refilling your red Solo cup at the keg, a warm arm drapes across your shoulders. You turn to find Chan grinning down at you, his dimples deeper than usual, his cheeks slightly red, and his eyes sparkling.

"You made it!" he exclaims, planting a sloppy kiss on your cheek. The scent of tequila clings to him. "I'm so glad you're here."

His kiss reminds you of your last encounter. You force a casual smile. "Happy birthday, Chan. Looks like you're celebrating properly." You tap your cup against his.

He laughs, the sound rich and inviting. "Oh, we're just getting started.”

“Here,” you say, reaching into your tote bag and pulling out a small, rectangular package wrapped in black and silver paper. “I got you a little something,” you say, offering it to him. 

He takes the gift with a grin, his eyes curious as he examines it. “Oh wow, you didn’t have to,” he says.

“Open it,” you urge him.

He places the blue solo cup between his teeth to free up his other hand, then gingerly slides his finger beneath the taped seam and peels the paper back to reveal two books – Desperation and The Regulators.

“Stephen King!” he exclaims, taking the cup from his mouth.

“Two of my favorites,” you explain. “I hope you haven’t read them before.”

“I don’t think so.” Excitement creeps into his voice. 

“Okay good,” you reply with matching enthusiasm. “Two different stories, with the same characters who are actually different people existing in separate dimensions but fighting the same evil.”

“Woah, I must be drunk because I actually understood all of that,” he says with a laugh. “Sounds really fucking cool. Thank you.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders and gives you a tight squeeze. “This is really sweet.”

You can’t help but smile at his reaction. “You’re welcome,” you say softly, enjoying the feeling of his embrace. 

He releases you and looks over his shoulder. “Come on, I want you to meet my other roommates."

Chan guides you and your friends through the throng of people, his hand never leaving your lower back. You try to ignore the tingling sensation it leaves in its wake.

"You already know Min,” he says, ruffling Minho’s hair as we pass him and a couple other people lounging on the patio furniture. Minho shoves him away playfully in response. “Felix! Hyunjin!" Chan calls out when we reach the kitchen. Two handsome guys turn, raising their cups in greeting. "This is the tutor I was telling you about."

Felix, a freckled blonde with an infectious smile, gives you a knowing look. "Ah, so you're the one who's been occupying all of Chan's free time lately."

You feel your cheeks flush. "Just trying to keep him from flunking out," you joke weakly. Chan ignores Felix as he places your gift on the bookshelf.

Hyunjin, tall and striking, looking like he just came off of the runway at New York Fashion Week, smirks. "Well, whatever you're doing, it's working. He actually passed up on a date with one of the hottest sorority girls I’ve ever seen last week to study. I almost took him to the doctor!"

Chan rolls his eyes good-naturedly. "Alright, alright. Enough embarrassing me on my birthday." He walks away from his friends towards the kitchen island, grabbing a chicken wing from a large foil tray. He turns back to you and leans against the counter. “No Changbin tonight?”

“He’s studying. MCATs. He said he might try to stop by later if he gets far enough.”

“Hmmm, cool,” he says with a lazy smile as finishes the wing and reaches for another one. “I forgot he wants to go to med school.”

You chat with Chan for a bit as the party rages on around you. Despite the noise and crowd, it feels like it's just the two of you in your own little world. He seems relaxed yet focused entirely on you, asking about how the rest of your week went and your plans for the weekend. The conversation flows effortlessly. More than once, you catch yourself laughing wholeheartedly at his quick wit, lame jokes, and poor attempts at flirting. 

It’s not lost on you, though, that there are lots of eyes watching the two of you. Several women have passed by trying to claim Chan’s attention, but he’s brushed them off. And other friends have stopped by to give him their birthday wishes. He is always polite, giving them hugs and high fives and chatting for a bit, but always turns his attention immediately back to you. 

After a while, you notice Chan's gaze drop briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again with a hint of longing. The air seems to crackle between you. Just then, Minho appears.

“It’s shot o’clock motherfucker,” he says, clapping his hands on Chan’s shoulders. “Time for number 8.” He starts to lead him away.

“Alright, I’m coming,” Chan says with a smile. He turns to you, his gaze intense. "Save me a dance later?"

You nod, unable to form words under the weight of his stare. As Chan is pulled away in the direction of the bar, your floormates descend upon you, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Spill," Jess demands, practically vibrating with excitement. "What's the deal with you and Chan?"

“What? There's no deal.” You use a toothpick to retrieve a meatball, popping it in your mouth. 

“Oh, come on. We might as well have been invisible. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. There’s something going on between the two of you.”

You take a long sip of your beer, buying time. "I'm just tutoring him. Plus, did you forget about Bin?"

Sam raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Tutoring, huh? Yeah right! That was some serious eye fucking come from his direction."

You laugh, hoping it doesn't sound as nervous as you feel. "Seriously, guys. It's strictly academic. And he’s fucking drunk; he’s looking at everyone like that."

Jess leans in conspiratorially. "Well, word on the street is that Chan hasn't been making his usual rounds lately. People are starting to wonder if he's actually into someone."

Your stomach does a little flip. "I'm sure it's nothing," you say, more to convince yourself than them. "He's probably just buckling down on his studies. You know he's at risk of losing his scholarship if he fails this class."

As your friends continue to speculate, your eyes drift back to Chan. He catches your gaze and winks, raising his shot glass in a silent toast. You smile and nod back before turning back to your friends. Though, you can't help but wonder if there's more to his recent behavior than just academic dedication.

The pulsating beat of the music draws you back to the present moment. You’ve just refilled your fourth cup of beer. Jess grabs your arm, pulling you and Sam towards the makeshift dance floor in the living room. "Come on, let's dance!" she shouts over the music. You let her lead you into the mass of bodies swaying and bouncing to the beat.

You lose yourself in the music, laughing with your friends as you dance together. A new song comes on and you feel strong arms encircle your waist from behind. Sam and Jess both raise their eyebrows. You turn your head and see Chan, his blonde hair now a wild mess, grinning at you with that disarming smile. He pulls you back against him, his body pressed close to yours as you move in tandem.

"Told you I wanted to dance with you," he says, his breath ghosting the back of your neck. “I’m the birthday boy, so I get what I want.”

You can't help but chuckle. You turn to face him. "I'm impressed you're still standing. What number are you on now?"

"Fourteen," he announces proudly, holding up his fingers in a wobbly 'V' sign. "But who's counting?" You smirk and help him pull up his pinky and ring finger, so that he’s now displaying four instead of two fingers. He laughs at his mistake.

As the two of you dance, you marvel at how he manages to move with such grace despite his inebriated state. The scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol envelops you as your bodies sway to the rhythm.

"So, how's the night treating you?" you ask, trying to keep a conversational distance.

Chan's eyes sparkle mischievously. "Oh, you know, the usual. I've been propositioned by at least five different girls already."

You laugh. "Sounds like a successful birthday to me. Why aren't you taking them up on their offers?"

He leans in close, his breath hot on your ear. "Because the one I'm really interested in hasn't approached me yet."

"Oh? Well, maybe you should go talk to her. If you're not too drunk, that is."

Chan pulls back, his gaze intense. "Maybe I should."

As the song changes to something slower, you find yourselves moving closer. Your bodies align, fitting together like puzzle pieces. You can't help but notice how his muscular frame feels against yours, how his hands on your hips seem to burn through the fabric of your clothes.

Suddenly, Chan's lips are at your ear again. "Want to know a secret?" he whispers, his voice husky. "I'm waiting for you to proposition me. You’re fun, smart, and fucking sexy as hell."

You throw your head back as you laugh loudly, assuming he's joking. Hoping he’s joking. To your relief, Chan joins in the laughter, but something in his eyes makes you wonder if there was more truth to his words than you'd like to admit.

As you're processing this, your gaze drifts over Chan's shoulder, and your breath catches. There, standing in the doorway, is a familiar figure that makes your heart leap for an entirely different reason.

Changbin has arrived at the party.

Changbin’s eyes search the crowded room until they land on you, a cute smile breaking out on his face. As he makes his way through the crowd, you can't help but admire how he looks in his fitted jeans and dark, short-sleeved button-down shirt, clinging tightly to his muscles. He's holding a bottle of very expensive tequila.

Your radiant smile causes Chan to turn to see what you’re looking at. You disentangle yourself from Chan just as Changbin reaches you.

"Hey babe," he says, leaning in to give you a soft, sensuous kiss on the lips that makes you blush a bit and your knees buckle. His eyes flick over to Chan.

"Changbin!" Chan calls out way too loudly for how close the three of you are standing to each other. "You made it!"

Changbin grins. "Couldn't miss the big 2-1, could I? Happy birthday, man." He hands Chan the tall, slender, and elegant honey colored bottle.

Chan's eyes widen. "Damn, this is the good stuff. You shouldn't have. You didn’t need to get me anything."

"A little birdie told me it’s your favorite," Changbin says, his arm sliding around your waist.

Chan's gaze flickers to the point of contact before he grins broadly. "Well, let's put it to use! Shots with the birthday boy?"

Before you know it, you're knocking back shots 15 through 18 with Chan, Changbin, Jess, and Sam. The tequila burns a path down your throat, warming you from the inside out. You watch Chan and Changbin talking and laughing together. It makes you smile.

Chan gets pulled away again, leaving you alone with your boyfriend. "Dance with me?" Changbin murmurs in your ear, and you nod, allowing him to lead you back to the dance floor.

As you sway with Changbin, your arms around his neck, you can't help but notice Chan across the room. He's with a busty brunette now, her lips attached to his neck, but his eyes... his eyes are on you. The intensity of his gaze makes your skin prickle with heat.

"Everything okay?" Changbin asks, noticing your distraction.

You force yourself to look away from Chan. "Yeah, just... a bit dizzy from the beer and shots."

Changbin's hands tighten on your waist. "Want to get out of here?"

You nod, grateful for the excuse. As you're leaving, you catch one last glimpse of Chan being led away by the girl, disappearing up the stairs towards his bedroom. The image stays with you as you and Changbin make your way back to your dorm.

Once back in your room, Changbin's hands are on you immediately, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. You melt into it, the taste of tequila still lingering as your tongues meet. His strong hands slide under your shirt, caressing the sensitive skin along your waist and up your back.

Your hands slip under his shirt, tracing the hard muscles of his back. His strong arms wrap around you, holding you close as the kiss deepens. All thoughts of Chan and his intense gaze fade away as you lose yourself in Changbin.

Changbin walks you backwards toward the bed, his kisses trailing down your neck. Gently, he lays you down, his body hovering over yours. His eyes are dark with desire as he looks at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"I've missed you," he murmurs, his voice husky, nuzzling into your neck. 

You inhale his familiar scent, letting it ground you. “It’s only been a couple days,” you whisper back. 

"I know. Tell me what you want," he growls, his eyes burning into yours as his hand moves between your legs and slides up your thigh before palming your pussy. You whimper, arching into him.

You bring his mouth back to yours and kiss him deeply before pushing him away from you. When he rolls onto the bed, you climb on top of him. 

“I want to make you cum,” you say seductively, although your words are a little slurred because you are slightly drunk. You sit up and reach for the waistband of Changbin’s jeans. You unbutton and unzip, then quickly slip your hand inside his boxers. You’re eager to practice your new fellatio skills on him. 

Changbin moans as your hand wraps around his hard length, stroking him slowly at first. You’re amazed at how much thicker he is than Chan, although the lengths are about the same. He watches you with dark eyes, his fingers tangling in your hair as you lean down to take him into your mouth.

The alcohol has made you brave and uninhibited, and you let yourself get lost in the sensation of pleasuring him. Your tongue swirls around his tip before taking more of him into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down.

Changbin's grip on your hair tightens as he lets out a low groan. "Fuck." He says your name as he grunts, thrusting his hips up to meet your mouth. You continue to suck and lick him, figuring out exactly where to focus to make him unravel.

Changbin's moans spur you on, and you work him harder, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can. Your spare hand cups his balls, gently massaging them as you deep throat him. His salty taste fills your mouth, and the more he moans your name, the more turned on you get.

"Oh... fuck, baby... that's it," Changbin pants, his hips bucking to meet your every motion. His hand in your hair tightens around the strands while the other grips the sheets beneath him, his knuckles whitening with the effort of restraining himself. His breathing is ragged and uneven as he thrust his hips upwards, and you know he is close.

Soon enough, he reaches his climax with a strangled sound emerging from his throat, spilling his hot seed into your mouth as you swallow every drop. He pulls you back up to meet his lips in a passionate kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.

Breathless and satisfied, Changbin rolls over onto his side and pulls you close against him. "You are fucking amazing," he whispers in your ear.

A warm feeling spreads through you at his words complimenting you. And despite the alcohol still clouding your mind, it feels good to be desired in this way by someone who you have such strong feelings for.

As Changbin holds you in his arms, sleep soon takes over.

You wake a few hours later with a throbbing headache and an arm draped over your body protectively holding you tight. You smile softly, remembering the events of the previous night. When you realize it’s still dark out, you turn your body to rest your head on Changbin’s buff chest and fall back asleep.

When you wake again, you feel lips kissing down your torso. “Mmmm. Morning.”

“Morning, babe,” he whispers in between kisses. This is new, Changbin being proactive physically. But your adventurousness over the past few weeks has emboldened him. And you like it. 

“Can I use my mouth on you to make you cum now?”

“Yes. Please.”

Changbin smirks and continues on his southern journey. He tugs your shorts and underwear down, throwing them onto the floor, then settles between your legs. When his tongue finds your sensitive bud, you moan loudly. 

Changbin's tongue expertly flicks against your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your thighs as he continues to lick and suck you, his movements becoming faster and more intense.

You squirm under his touch, craving more. "Changbin,” you pant. He deposits kisses down your folds, and when he reaches your hole, he slides his tongue in and swirls it, causing you to jump from the unexpected intrusion. His grip tightens around your thighs, his fingers squeezing into the flesh, as he presses his nose against your clit then starts to fuck you with his tongue. It feels glorious. You can’t believe this is what you’ve been missing out on by taking it slow with Changbin. 

The walls of your pussy start to clench around his tongue, causing him to withdraw it, replacing it with fingers eager to thrust in and out of you. Simultaneously, he returns his mouth to your clit. He sucks it between his lips and alternates between flicking and nibbling until you can no longer control the motions or sounds coming from your body. Then your body suddenly stills; seconds later an explosion rocks through you, starting from your clit and spreading through the rest of your body. Changbin continues to suck your clit throughout the orgasm, causing you to see stars each time he pulls on it. Eventually, you have to push his head away from you. 

“Bin, please stop,” you whine in a whisper. He laughs, depositing one final kiss on the sensitive area before returning to lie next to you.

You turn on your side to face him, the two of you staring lovingly into each other’s eyes. The heat from his body seeps into yours. “I’m excited for more mornings like this,” he whispers, bringing his palm to your face. 

“Oh yeah?” You use your thumb to wipe your wetness from his chin. 

“Yeah.” A smile spreads across his face. “The prospect of waking you up every morning with an orgasm is exciting.”

“I wouldn’t say no to that.” You lean in and capture his lips in yours. The taste of yourself on him is intoxicating, and you can’t resist deepening the kiss, losing yourself in the moment.   

[astraule]

"What I Want"

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader Song: You’re All I Want - Cigarettes After Sex “We fucked so hard it left me faded for all you are.” Tags: 18+, first time having sex, teasing, fingering, PIV, guiding you through it. Y/N: She/Her virgin reader. Word Count: 1.7 K Summary: Dean called out for you as you hid. You had agreed to a game of hide-and-seek to keep him busy, but he quickly found you and reassured you in his bedroom, telling you that everything would be taken slowly. Next morning, resting in his arms, Dean felt immense happiness seeing you as everything he wanted. When gently waking you up, you looked up at him with puffy eyes.

3RD POV: (Bunker Kitchen)

"Y/N~" Dean's voice called out as you squatted in the pantry of the kitchen. While Sam was out looking for a solution to bring Dean back to normal, it was your job to stay in the bunker to distract him, to keep him from getting out.

He suggested playing hide-and-seek; if you won, he would listen to every word you said. But if he won, you'd be at his beck and call. "Come out, come out, wherever you are~" His voice echoed in your mind, quickening your heartbeat.

The corridors had been silent for a full ten minutes; apprehension began to set in, had he left the bunker? You didn't have much time to spend in your hiding place, where you had firmly decided to go and find him. "Gotcha," Dean said, the silence now broken, right next to you.

“Dean." your voice caught as you swallowed hard. "Do you remember our little deal?" he asked, the corners of his lips twisting in a smile. "Dean, I'm begging you." You looked at the hand circling your wrist-soft and yet unyielding.

(Dean’s Bedroom)

"There's nothing to be afraid of,” Dean murmured, his form looming above you, "I assure you, I'll go slow." You had no idea what you were getting yourself into when you agreed to his little game earlier, but now the reality of the situation was beginning to sink in.

As his thumb delicately drew circles on your stomach beneath your shirt, your mind was racing with ways to divert him from whatever it was he had planned. "Dean, seriously. We both know this isn't right. Sam could walk in at any moment," you protested. "What does it matter? Sam will understand," he replied with a teasing grin.

Dean smirked, his hands roaming over your torso beneath your shirt, sending a shiver down your spine. "Come on, I know this is what you've been craving since the first time you met me, the real me. You think you're good at hiding it? The truth is, you want me." And he wasn't wrong; that desire was there since the moment you first saw him. Yet, deep inside, you wanted to share this moment when Dean was truly himself again.

For Dean as a demon, you were just another body to warm his bed, but you had to hold onto that hope that somehow, somewhere the real Dean really did have feelings for you. "Come on, baby, don't hold back." His voice cut through your internal musing as he tugged your shirt over your head. The cool air of the room cascading down your spine.

You took a deep breath, realizing you had made your choice. If this was what Dean wanted and it was what you wanted, why hold back? As you wrapped your arms around his neck, you whispered, "Just be gentle with me." His smirk returned, playful and knowing. "I would never hurt you, Y/N. Believe it or not, you mean a lot to me, the real me.”

Dean, as a demon, had this attitude that felt like the real Dean, but it wasn't really. For one thing, he didn't have an ounce of morality on him. It sounded weird when he said he cared about you. The real Dean always kept things close to his chest, and Dean as a demon did that too.

"Can you imagine how long the real me has fantasized about you? You drive the real me crazy, do you know that?" Dean broke the silence; his fingers dug into your torso and left white imprints that seemed to disappear right afterward.

"Why not treat ourselves a little?" He grinned, lifting your leg onto his shoulder and trailing soft kisses down from your knee to your ankle, leaving you breathless. "I could never resist you, Dean; irrelevant who you're playing at the moment," you replied, your hand over your chest.

As he carefully slid your leg off of his shoulder, peeling off his shirt at a very sweet pace, you couldn't help but catch your breath when he revealed his perfectly sculpted four-pack. Although Dean wasn't nearly as obsessive about working out as Sam was, it would be a gross mistake for anyone to say he wasn't in top physical form.

He refocused on you, his hands sliding down your slender figure and finding their way to the softer curve of your stomach, where your uterus lay. "So soft, I love it," Dean muttered, leaning down to nip at that exact spot his hands had touched a moment before. The bite marked and slightly puckered.

“Dean, please," you whispered, your fingers gliding to his face, gently guiding him to meet your gaze. "Show me just how much you want me." A playful smirk danced across his lips as he made his way down, peeling your shorts away from your body along with your panties.

Dean smiled softly, his voice soothing as he said, "There's no rush, sweetheart. We can savor every moment." His fingers explored your warmth, which elicited a surprised gasp that you quickly stifled. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about," he reassured you, gently taking your wrists and guiding your hands above your head. "Dean…" you murmured, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. This wasn't how you had pictured your first time feeling like.

"Everything will be alright, love. You'll get used to it soon enough." He consoled, placing a gentle peck on your forehead that made your heart flutter with a tiny bit of comfort before his fingers started delving inside you once again, prompting you to close your eyes instinctively.

Dean leaned in closer, and against your ear, his warm breath whispered, "I gotcha, sweetheart. Just trust me and let go." His fingers continued to move deep inside you, a teasing prelude that sent a shiver down your spine, heightening your nerves for what was about to happen.

His fingers tormented you for what felt like hours, as you held on to the pillow, your wrists clasped tightly by him. He finally withdrew his fingers and brought them up to his lips, making sure to lick them off while staring intently at you.

Suddenly, you were filled with his hot, pulsating length, not even realizing when he had undone his jeans. As he released your wrists and placed his hands beside your head, your back involuntarily arched off the bed. Your arms clasped his neck again, holding him as if he was your anchor in the storm.

He wrapped an arm around your back, pulling you close to him while his other hand clutched the pillow beside your head. "I gotcha, sweetheart," he assured you. "Dean…," you whimpered, tears streaming down your face from the burning pain.

As he started moving inside you with the most delicate touch, more tears streamed down your face. "Shhh, you're doing great, love," he said in a whisper, pressing soft kisses against your cheeks where the tears fell, even as your cries grew loud. "It hurts," you whispered, your nails digging deep into his back leaving deep marks, which made him gasp in pain amidst his heavy breaths.

He whispered to you, "Trust me, you'll be feeling great in no time. Just let your body relax." As he loosened his hold on your back, he leaned in, pressing you against the mattress. Before you knew it, your tears turned to whimpering, then to moans that came deep from within, as your breathing grew quicker by the second. A smug smile spread across Dean's face as his thrusts quickened, slight groans escaping his lips.

You gasped, "Dean," your eyes fluttering as a wave of pleasure washed over you. "There’s the reaction I love," Dean replied, his lips teasing at your neck. His thrusts came faster, full of a desperate intensity, making the bed creak and sway beneath you.

You were so sure the bed was going to break under the noises it was making and from Dean's pace. You could only hold on to him, soft moans escaping your lips while silently hoping he’d protect you if the bed did come undone. "I've got you, don't worry," he reassured you as if his brain picked up your thought waves. He then captured your lips with his, your tongues dancing together while you both let out a symphony of moans and groans.

Your eyes suddenly widened, and your head leaned back, your lips breaking away from the kiss as an intense sensation began to rise up inside of you. Dean caught on in a second; a smirk began to spread across his face as he teased, "Go ahead, darling, let it all out. Show me just how good I make you feel." Before you could utter anything in return, you found yourself enveloping him with your warmth.

"Dean…," you panted, hoping he'd pick up on the cue as he slowed down, but then you saw that sneer creeping back onto his face as he sped up again. "No… it’s too much," you whined, your eyes fluttering shut as more pleasure washed over you. "I'm not there yet," Dean whispered softly in your ear.

Dean POV: (Next Morning)

As Y/N rested in my arms, her arm slung across my chest, and her leg thrown over my waist, I couldn't help but smile. She was everything that the real me had always longed for, and I was desperate to fill this want. If there was even the slightest chance that the real me could emerge from the depths of my soul, then I wanted him to have her by his side.

As I stroked her bare back, soothing her, she stirred a little in her sleep. "Hm. so warm," she murmured, still lost in her dream. I couldn't help but wonder, ‘Have humans always been this adorable?’ as she snuggled up to me closer. "Y/N, it's time to wake up," I whispered softly, running my fingers through her hair which made her flutter her eyes open.

"Dean…" she whispered, looking up at me with eyes a little red from the night before, and it stabbed me in the heart like an arrow. "I really am so sorry I hurt you, love; you just felt so good." I said, kissing the crown of her head softly, and she sighed happily.

She whispered, "I don't have the feeling in my legs," as her cheeks flushed a soft pink, and that made me chuckle soft and low. "No need to worry," I replied, lifting her effortlessly in a bridal carry, the blanket still wrapped around her. "How about I run you a nice bath, okay?"

I was literally kicking my feet and giggling while I put this together! In a previous post, I mentioned that TikTok was down in the U.S., which meant I'd be writing more frequently than just once a month. Well, guess what? It's back up and running! But don't fret, I don't think I'll be spending as much time on TikTok as I used to, so I will try my hardest to keep the writing flowing.

[anachronisticcrab]

Disclaimer: Don't like? don't read, don't engage. More in an edited section at the bottom of the post.

Tell me why my roommate is kinda aphobic and started crying when I call them out on it ONCE

So we had a stupid argument (so dumb. But also not cause it's based in him being aphobic) over him shipping Jayvik in arcane.

My issues with this (I have not seen arcane nor will I watched it cause one of the characters has my dead name and it makes me uncomfy to hear it seen and spelled the same way, this is just what I have learned through ppl who have seen it)

Viktor is asexual canonically. Like from the creators mouth, he has been ace and possibly aro since the beginning. Everyone that I see that ships them draws Jayce and Viktor fucking. Leave him alone, he's an ace guy, I have like 3 and u gays have 5 million twinks to draw getting railed

Jayvik shippers often draw art in ways that comes across as ableist, pedophilic and infantalizing of Viktor. It's always big huge Jayce carrying around a teeny tiny Viktor and it bothers me. (Lots of ships do this, it's always weird and gross. I'm not pretending I've never enjoyed that art, cause it's sometimes really well drawn, but it's still a little creepy and ableist) ((Edit: not calling Jayvik pedophilic in canon, I'm saying the way that I've seen shippers treat them as 'Big strong man and tiny fragile uwu boy' comes across as pedophilic to me))

This is the big one: Jayce is Viktors allegorical rapist. The scene where Viktor does, Jayce throws him into a void and forever changes Viktors body and life without his consent because Jayce thought it would fix him. Very powerful as a disabled plot line of able bodied people doing things to a disabled body in order to 'fix' them, but gets even more powerful with Viktor being ace. An allo character does something to an ace characters body without their consent, forever changing their life, because they thought it would 'fix' them is an allegory for corrective rape. It's corrective rape. Don't ship Viktor with his allegorical rapist.

So those are my issues. I've talked to a few ppl about it, my roommate included. They know my opinion on it, just not the details cause he has a habit of crying his eyes out whenever he's criticized and I don't have the energy to deal with a grown man bawling his eyes out all the time.

The only thing I've ever said to him was an argument we got in where he said that making Viktor ace was infantalizing disabled bodies and I got pissed at him and he cried

Today, my roommate decided to show me and 2 friends of ours fanart of Jayvik, with the weird size dynamic and Jayce carrying Viktor around and I said 'how is that not infantalizing but him being ace is?'

My roommate agreed, and then I started talking about how that, and the allegorical rape, made it awful to ship Jayce and Viktor and I said 'leave the aces alone, we don't ask a lot'.

Tell me why he shut down and then began crying, so I left the room cause I'm not apologizing for telling him to keep his aphobia in check, and when I came back he left and hasn't said a word since.

Tell me why I have to shut up when he says it's funny to see attractive characters as sexless cause its an inherently humiliating quality, that making someone disabled asexual is infantalizing and gross, that the few ace characters there are are definitely fucking each other cause they're human, when he says aphobic things 10 times a day, but he gets to cry when I call him out on that?

Plus now I feel guilty cause my friends keep shooting me looks since I'm not apologizing, and when they started trying to placate him I was quiet other than to say 'not just about you, but like. Yeah' l

Why are allo people the way they are?

Edit: I've updated the tags to remove arcane and anti Jayvik, ppl were right that I shouldn't have added them to begin with. In my defense for anti Jayvik, I didn't know u needed hyphens in tags now for it to work properly, I'm not really active on tumblr these days. Secondly, Just so y'all know. I don't feel like arguing with allo people anymore cause I spend so much of my time catering to allo people. If you're upset, don't read. If u comment upset about me being pissed at allo people for an opinion that I'm objectively correct on, I will be blocking you immediately cause that's how the internet works. Don't like, don't engage. Leave me alone, this is a vent post cause I'm sick of allo people being stupid Third, not claiming that this is my roommate being aphobic. Of all the things he's done, this is one of the least aphobic, it's just still frustrating. This post is mostly because he can't take any criticism on anything without crying and it's irritating, especially when I call him out on questionable behaviour. Fourth, do NOT try to educate me, a fucking aroace person, on aroace terminology and realities. I am aware that not all ace ppl are aro and that not all aro ppl are ace and that ace ppl and aro ppl both can date and fuck. I know that shit. That's not what this is about. Fuck off. Fifthly, no I have not watched arcane, I say that so early on in the original part of this post. I will not watch arcane, this post isn't really about arcane. It's a vent post about my roommate not being able to handle me pointing out that their mindset and the way they view things is aphobic. This is not an attack of arcane, it's an attack of people refusing to listen to aroace ppl when we raise concerns. Such as a number of ppl in the comments did within an hour of me posting this. Lastly, I'm not saying you can't ship JayVik, do whatever you fucking want. I'm saying that I have issues with it as a ship, and I am irritated at my roommate for immediately crying and running off when I tried to raise my concerns and opinions on the relationship, the concerns I have coming from the place of an aroace person who is fed up with them being blatantly aphobic in other contexts and things that they say. Update TL;DR: Don't like? Don't read, don't engage. Not for you. If you try to argue with me, you will be blocked cause I don't have time for that shit. This is a vent post, not an attack on fucking anyone and the opinion of one random tumblr user has no affect on you or your favourite show. There are more important things to yell at ppl for.

[onthewallwiththis]

its ma birthday! my gift to u are some of my fave quotes I've gathered from tlou fanfics!!

suitcase full of stars - @barlowstreet

"Three out of ten," he says, picking her hands up and rubbing them between his. "You're rating my bite?" she wheezes in disbelief. It's the first thing she's said besides apologies since they got to the hospital. "Didn't even break skin. You could do better.

one of my absolute fave foster fics!! and between such whump, this made me giggle.

A hopeful stranger - @two-birds-alone-together

A long-suffering sigh "I swear you were born contrary." "Nope." Joel glares at her as she waggles her eyebrows at him. "It's a finely honed skill, Joel. I've had a lifetime of practice. You'll never be as contrary as me." She grins up at him, giggling when he takes the now-empty mug from her hands. Joel snorts. "Now that I believe."

I <3 book shop AU, I also quote this particular one to myself DAILY

Oh mirror in the sky, what is love? - @boopernatural

"Joel." she sets her fork down and turns to face him, expression ultra-serious. "I solemnly swear not to get black out drunk, or have sex, or break anything valuable. I may do a bunch of drugs, it just depends on what they offer me." "Downers if we're lucky," he says, going back to his breakfast. "What does that mean?" "It means finish your eggs."

when I tell you i CACKLED

Ellie Williams' guide to teenage rebellion - @simoncowellstits

"You don't get to talk fake lawyer." she crosses her arms. "you're supposed to be winning my fucking legal case so I don't need to hang out with Kim anymore! No offence, Kim." "None taken." Kim says from her position near the door.

--

'questions about J-Dog.' do he and Tommy shit-talk me? did he forget how to laugh and/or smile in a terrible amnesia incident? does he know a lot of facts about the cold war or is that just his vibe? what makes him so grumpy? Is it just an old age thing? why is he so weird all the time??? why can't he just act normal and choose a personality? why does he care if I told frank I couldn't have sex with my vampire boyfriend on their honeymoon because he was too freaky with it??

This whole fic is so damn funny. In between some of the most heart wrenching story and crazy realistic characterisation I found myself in tears of laughter. I also quote the twilight reference almost daily.

Let me be your shelter - @messydepressy95

Not to be dramatic or anything, but she's a child of divorce.

--

Still, Joel continues to teach her to drive, and Tommy keeps inviting himself to their lessons.

BEST ONE LINERS IN THIS FIC

Inordinary - @heroes-fading

"Mhm," Ellie nods. "That's why every love song you've ever written has been depressing as fuck. All the mutual-ness."

--

"Just because it isn't seventy percent oat milk doesn't make it shitty, Ellie." "Thats homophobic," she tells him, and he rolls his eyes again.

the inordinary-verse is full of incredible quotes SO FUNNY

Lessons in wayfinding - @penandinkprincess

"Why so fucking nosy about it?" "Fatal flaw, I'm afraid," he says with a theatrical sigh. "Ask Joel. I had all the good gossip at family reunions."

Uncle Tommy is the root of most of my day to day happiness.

ANYWHO! I have so many more of these quotes saved, you'll never know when I'll strike again.

Pls lmk if you want me to remove a tag or quote <3