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hyuneflix · 3 months ago

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THE CURE 0.2 • Bang Chan

sex therapist!chan x client!reader after years of unhappy endings, your friend suggests a trip to sydney's most up and coming sex therapist. you hadn't expected much, least of all to discover the cure you'd been looking for all this time was your therapist himself.

word count: 13k << back to dash // next episode >>

CONTENT WARNINGS

𐙚 - female masturbation, mutual masturbation, vibrator use, guided masturbation, dirty talk, use of "slut" and similar terms, chan is called sir, light degradation, light spanking, slapping, more orgasm denial, fingering, oral both female and male receiving, sub!reader, soft dom!chan but some hard dom too, slightly possessive chan, praise, very tiny breeding kink in the form of chan pushing his cum inside her.

! - inappropriate relationship dynamic (chan is her sex therapist), reader is written to be neurodivergent though it isn't explicitly stated, therapy talk/setting, descriptions of self help and healing, brief mention of toxic positivity and dissociation, very brief description of reader having a difficult childhood, talk about hopelessness and feelings of defeat. like last time, everything is intentionally vague but approach with caution all the same.

episode two - a cure for self-dissatisfaction

You couldn’t believe it. You couldn’t believe that you were actually here, again. Making another appointment had sounded so promising in the after-glow of your first ever orgasm–or, at least, the first that felt like that–but now that you were actually here you questioned your sanity. How could you possibly face him after that phone call? Sure, it had been an entire month since then, plenty of time to get over it or just cancel the one-hour slot. You never did, though, and you still couldn’t quite decide why. Was it him that you wanted to see again? So entirely unable to close this chapter of your life now that he’d suddenly made its contents more interesting; turning the pages of your life from dull shades of black and white into hues of technicolour.

Or, maybe it was just that. He made things interesting and you needed interesting.

You weren’t sure when it had happened, the manner with which your fairytale life had twisted and morphed into something so mundane. You had the fancy beachside apartment, the dream job with the fun co-workers. You had the nice clothes and the sparkling jewels to go with them; large wardrobe full to the brim with rare pieces and garaments alike. Even your dating life had been exciting, meeting famous faces and well-off suitors in the upscale establishments you frequented with your friends. But it wasn’t enough. You feared nothing would ever be enough. Nothing exciting enough, glamorous enough, expensive enough to fill the growing feeling of indifference that threatened to paint your entire world grey.

A part of you liked familiarity, needed it, even. Clung to it in the same way you gripped the straps of your favourite tote bag. It was comforting to ease the unknowns of life with something habitual and constant. But when you did settle, when the anxiety did dissipate, it was like you almost missed it in its absence. It was the adrenaline you craved rather than the anxious wracking of your brain; the adrenaline that followed every redundant fear your mind conjured up; the push of chemicals through your veins as you murmurred ‘oh fuck, am i going to miss my train?’, ‘shit did i leave the stove on?’, ‘did i have a meeting today or was that tomorrow?.’ The bubbling of nervous adrenaline, it was like a shot of espresso, or the abrupt sound of your morning alarm clock. It forced you back to reality, tore you from the prison your restless thoughts built around your consciousness.

Chan had been that too in a lot of ways, a rude awakening of sorts. He had astounded you in more ways than one, tearing you from normalcy and forcing you from your comfort zone in the process. No longer just floating through life while your mind hummed with restless noise. Perhaps that was why, despite every anxious part of you that wanted to run away from him, a deeper, unheard part refused. You’d regret it, wouldn’t you? Walking away from him, vowing to never see him again. You’d regret it almost instantly no doubt, the tick of your apartment’s clock taunting you as it reminded you where you should’ve been on the day of your cancelled appointment. Your mind would trap you again, filling your head with thoughts of what could’ve been, should’ve been, if you’d just pulled yourself together.

That was of course without mentioning that you indeed remained uncured. You were still very much afflicted with the same inability to get yourself off no matter how hard you tried. You’d done it once, you so foolishly believed from that moment onwards it would be easy. It was not. Even with the vivid memory of that night playing over and over in your mind like a song caught in a loop, you were back to square one. You needed the dark to find the light. How true that had turned out to be, how unfortunate that your infatuation for your therapist was turning out to be more practical than whimsical. You really did need him.

The timing of your appointment meant that within moments of your arrival, the doe-eyed receptionist was already hurrying off for her lunch break, insisting that you wait for Dr Bang in his office instead. Dr Bang, hearing her say it almost pulled a laugh from your parted lips; what a suitable name for someone in his profession. She didn’t join in with your amused half-chuckle as she gathered her purse and coat. You didn’t blame her, you were sure she’d heard the stifled laughter a million times before. Thanking her one last time as she motioned you toward his office, you pushed open the door expectantly.

Immediately your eyes fixed on the black oak desk situated in the foreground of the furthest wall. The room was empty, no muscular figure tucked behind the neat workstation, nor situated in the same leather chair he had been a month prior. You breathed out a sigh, your throat finally releasing a breath you hadn’t even realised you’d been holding until you accounted for his absence. You made your way inside, letting the door close behind you with a clack. It felt eerie being in the infinite silence of his abandoned office. Not even the sound of the AC lulled in the background as you wandered throughout the space, taking in the details as if it were your first time being here, and in a way, it was.

During your last visit you’d been so distracted by Chan you’d been unable to focus on much else, let alone the intricacies of his office. The much too large windows were the first thing you’d noticed, both today and the last. Unlike a month ago they were covered by enormous blinds, the afternoon heat so unbearable today that having the sun exposed would be as sweltering as standing on a shadeless street corner. The lack of AC left the office tepid, and the vacancy of natural light shadowed the once bright room. You felt as if you had stepped into the embrace of a warm hug; one that sucked all the sound from the atmosphere until all that remained was the thumping of your heart.

You could hear it now; your heart. It beat with uncertainty as your eyes trailed across the shelves upon shelves of awards and personal photos behind his desk. You felt like you’d snuck into a secret place you weren’t supposed to be, taking in every detail of someone’s life without an inkling of what any of it meant. One frame held a picture of a smiling boy, a younger girl tucked under his arm in a near chokehold. Judging by the look of disdain on her features, and the mischievous expression on his own, you figured they were siblings. Another picture captured an older version of that boy, one that now more closely resembled Chan. He knelt on the grass, a dog, who’s white fur was blotched with copper-tones, smiled up at him, pink tongue spilling from its mouth. You knew Chan’s life hadn’t started when he met you, but it still felt strange to see it all play out in front of you now.

The office door opened with a clatter, your body spinning round at the intrusion; trusty tote bag slipping from your arm in the process. You caught hold of the strap before it could fall from your rigid limb completely, eyes settling on Dr Bang himself. He seemed frozen in place, palm clutching the door handle with bleached knuckles. His nervous disposition suggested he’d been preparing himself for this moment, to no avail, and if that were true, you were thankful. At least then you’d be in the same boat. In a second, a mere tick of a clock’s hand, he was back to his usual self, pushing a large smile atop his pillowy lips.

“Hello, y/n. How have you been?” His voice was soft as he closed the door behind him, the hand that wasn’t clutching a stack of papers flicking on a second set of lights. In an instant the room was engulfed in pale yellow hues, your eyes blinking to adjust. He walked the distance from the door to his desk, letting the pile of papers fall down with a dull thud.

“Could be better, could be worse.” You murmured, still feeling like a deer in headlights. He nodded at this, almost as if he silently understood, agreed even. You didn’t know whether you should stay rooted beside his desk or take a seat, body itching for another of his commands. You hated how badly you wanted him to tell you what to do and how to do it, no matter if it were a simple seating arrangement or one of his filthy, guided masturbations.

“That’s a start, hopefully by the end of the session we can turn it around?” He spoke, tone as level as it had always been, though you noticed how quickly his eyes seemed to wander. It had been impossible last time to look anywhere but him, that intentional and scrutinising stare holding yours for what felt like eternities. His gaze was scattered now, moving from your face to his desk and back again, fingers re-arranging his already neat desk as if attempting to regain control.

But, regain control of what? His thoughts, his racing heart, his body? You wanted to know. You wanted to crack him open, let the secrets spill from him like yolk. You wanted to study his mind the way he studied you. It was intoxicating, the mystery that still surrounded him. So intoxicating that you were starting to find you didn’t need to get lost in the shadows of his stare, only needed to be close enough to feel the palpable energy, the magnetic charge, that radiated from him like the sun’s unbearable warmth.

“Should we get started?” He asked, brown eyes leaving the surface of his immaculate desk to search your expression. You nodded, pushing a smile atop your lips as you moved toward the leather chairs, slouching into yours right away.

You noticed he wasn’t wearing that same dark suit this time, instead he wore a crisp white dress shirt with a few too many buttons undone at the top. The bottom part of it was tucked half-hazardly into a pair of tight ebony trousers. It didn’t remain that way for long. With a raise of his hand–fingers combing through dark curls–one side fell from its confines, a slither of pale skin meeting your hungry gaze. You swallowed, drawing your eyes from his figure as it drew nearer to you, stopping only when he reached the chair opposite you.

“Shall we start with an update?” He questioned, taking a seat while his hand tightened around that same large ipad. “How have you been doing, did you manage to climax again?”

“No.” You admitted right away, head shaking in disappointment. It was hard to hide how frustrating it was, even more now than before. At least prior to your first happy ending you were none the wiser to how much greener the grass truly was on the other side. Now you’d grazed in it, tasted it, felt it between your fingers and toes. How could you ever return to astro turf after you’d experienced the real thing?

“No?” Chan looked surprised at this, chin tilting to the side as he drank in your expression. You were sure you looked anything but pleased, brows furrowed as you shook your head no once more. “Okay, did you follow the routine?”

“I did, yeah.” You mumbled, digits playing with the pleats in your skirt.

“What do you think was different?” He asked, looking genuinely curious by your dilemma.

“Do I even have to say it?” You released a huff of air, heart jumping nervously behind its skeletal confines.

“It would help if you did. Guessing games can lead to miscommunications.” HIs smile was back, dimples pressed prettily against his plush cheeks. How badly you wanted to cup them, how badly you wanted to let the pads of your thumbs brush against the indents that dotted them. How badly you wanted him.

“I just… I feel like I need your help, you helped so much that time… ever since I haven’t managed it, I mean, what does that tell you?” You asked, heart racing a little faster now, hands growing clammy; thoughts scrambling as you felt your frustration grow. Your situation felt so hopeless, so entirely unfixable. It shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It always would.

So many past relationships flashed across your mind, so many times when you’d watched the partners in your life walk away. Their promises that you’d never be too much, that there was no storm you couldn’t weather together, ground to dust beneath their retreating steps. There had been other issues that ended the relationship of course, not this one, never this one. Yet it still seemed so unbelievably ironic how, try as they might, they never could fix this little problem. How laughable it was that Chan had managed within hours of meeting him.

“You- you need my help with climaxing?” He seemed taken aback, his innocence almost sending your eyes rolling. How could he be so surprised? Had he not been on that phone call with you after all, had that all been a vivid dream?

“I think so, yeah.” You opted to speak instead, fingers still playing lazily with your clothing in search of some relief from the awkwardness of the conversation.

“I’m sure you just need a little direction and practice.” He shook his head, ever the dismissive party out of the two of you. But you knew better now. You’d heard the way he fell apart, heard the things he’d said when all resolve had vanished. He was just as depraved, just as desperate and needy but he hid it well. He cowered behind fabricated boundaries, crossing one and then inventing another. He pushed, and he pushed, but he always found a new way to hold back. You wanted to test that, wanted to make him snap. Was that bad?

“I’m twenty-five Chan, I think if practice was going to do it I’d have done it by now.” You shook your head, tone uncharacteristically sarcastic as you let your frustrations slip. He winced at this, taken aback by the change in your tone. Easily your annoyance dampened, sigh falling from your lips as quickly as your apology “I’m sorry, that was– I’m just– I feel defeated.”

“It’s understandable, you don’t need to apologise.” Chan offered you a comforting smile, eyes glimmering with a patient understanding that had you thawing instantly.

“Can’t you just, I don’t know, tell me what to do. Like give me some direction or something.” You asked, trying to pry more solutions from his all-knowing brain.

“Like on the phone?” He questioned, palm gliding across his thick thigh as he spoke. You couldn’t help the way your gaze followed its movement, long fingers instantly taking you back to that night. You pictured them wrapped around his length, the wet sound of his desperate, thrusting grip, too much to think about right now. You squirmed in your seat, thighs pushing together in momentary distress.

“Yeah like then, is there more I can do?” You asked, trying to hide your growing weariness behind another frustrated huff.

“Perhaps you need to focus on finding ways to relax, maybe you have a problem switching off, moving from one task to the other. If you’re still tense when you’re masturbating then it can be hard to let yourself go.” He was so composed, seemingly so unaware of the way you were breaking down internally. How did he do it? How did he look at you with such easy indifference after that night. Maybe he was just that; indifferent. Maybe you’d been looking at this all wrong.

“Okay.” You shrugged, barely listening by now.

“You don’t look happy with that.” Chan pushed for an answer, clasping his apple pen a little tighter in anticipation of your response.

“I’m not patient enough. I guess I just hoped that it was fixed. But, now I have to get used to the idea of this being some long healing journey as if I haven’t had enough of those. As if I haven’t–fucking–read enough–fucking–self-help books or listened to enough ‘all you need is recharged rose quartz and you’ll be fine’--fucking–influencers.” You felt your hands grip at your forehead in defeat, palms attempting to erase the tension that settled there through half-hazard motions. You wanted to laugh at the way you got so easily wound up, but the idea of starting yet another ‘healing era’, felt suffocating, impossible even.

How much more growing was there to do? Some people say it never stops, but you’ve had a lifetime of it. A lifetime of people pointing out your flaws, telling you what was wrong or what needed fixing. You’ve had a lifetime of changing everything about you until something felt right, like a puzzle piece clicking into place. A lifetime of trying to do everything right just to be told you were doing it wrong, anyway. You weren’t emotional enough, then you were too emotional. You were loud, then too quiet. You were rude, then you were compliant. It took reaching your twenties to realise you didn’t really care who you were, or how you acted, as long as you were happy with yourself.

It felt freeing, so entirely exhilarating to feel as if you were done changing, morphing and growing into someone else’s idea of a normal human woman. It matched you well, but it was also tiring. You’d grown to be independent far younger than you probably should’ve, your therapist said it built character, you thought that was stupid even at ten years old. Having a childhood built character, having healthy relationships and good role models; that was what you needed. People’s incessant criticisms had felt like the only freedom from your independence for so long; the only time you weren’t thinking for yourself. Bittersweet was the lingering feeling that remained for a few years after your new found self-assurance.

It was stupid, to crave something that had been so toxic, but that was just so unequivocally you. Hate something with every fibre of your being when you had it just to miss it when it was gone. Didn’t matter how much it hurt you, didn’t matter that it damn nearly killed you, only the good parts of it remained in its absence. The ghosts of memories even your unrelenting, self-sabotaging brain forgot. Were those the causes of your dissociation? The fragmented memories of times gone by, the missing pieces still stashed away in some untravelled corner of your mind?

“These things do take time, yeah.” Chan pulled you from your thoughts, tugging a sigh from your lips as you shook your head in defeat.

“Fuck that, there’s gotta just be something in me that doesn’t work, right? Like there’s just a part of me that can’t do it and I’m gonna have to just live with that.” Your arms raised in exasperation, frustrated rambles not phasing him in the slightest. You figured that shouldn’t surprise you, despite everything that had transpired between you, despite how unlikely it sometimes seemed, he was a therapist. A person you were paying to listen to you speak. A person you had essentially paid to make you cum. Jesus.

“But you did.” He countered.

“No, you did.” You reminded him, his brows rising at the implication.

“That was all you, I just helped.” He shook his head, dismissive once more.

“Can’t you help me again, then? Just tell me what to do, show me. Make that part of me wake the fuck up and realise it has a job to do. Fix me again.” You murmured helplessly, searching his mind for something, anything that could ease your anguish.

“You want that? You want me to teach you? You want me to fix you?” He spoke after a beat of silence, plump mouth emphasising your latter sentiment. A switch had seemingly been flipped in him, reminding you of his faltering resolve from a month ago. You were sure it was your imagination–after all he was so quick to collect himself–but that was expected, you didn’t know him well enough. You didn’t know how badly he yearned to ‘fix you’.

There was a saying that went along the lines of this; therapists need therapy the most The first part of their adult lives were dedicated to learning the secrets of the mind, just to spend the rest of it fixing other people’s. The perfect distraction; fix others so you don’t have to fix yourself. Yeah, that was him. Finding distraction after distraction to avoid the complicated mess in his own brain. But that wasn’t just it. No, Chan was a people pleaser, a man so desperate to be needed that he put his heart in danger every single fucking time.

He’d lost count by now, the amount of times he’d run in blindly; falling for a pretty girl with pretty problems. A pretty girl with a pretty smile and a pretty big hole in her pretty heart. He did it every single time. He’d never mixed work with self-sabotage though, this was unchartered territory. But that was then, one slip up, one mistake made in the heat of the moment. How could he not? You were so pretty, sounded so pretty pleading for him to help you. Not even he had the patience for that.

“Yes.” You breathed out, eyes turning wide and expectant beneath his weighted retort. There you were again, looking hopeful, as if he really did have the power to cure you. But he didn’t, Chan had learned that again and again; he couldn’t change the last girl, or the girl before, or the girl before that and he couldn’t change you. Not like this anyway, not through lust or–heaven forbid–love. Growing attached, letting them be dependent, it was bad in the end; always bad, never good like he’d intended.

“I can’t, you’re not broken.” He assured you, not a drop of insincerity mixing with the honey sweet tone of his soft voice.

“Then pretend I am and fix me anyway– break me just to put me back together again– I don’t care, just please do something to make it stop.” You felt a little frantic now: he wasn’t giving you the answers, wasn’t providing solutions. Was it really that hopeless? Were you really this cursed? Knowing that the cure was right in front of you, within arms reach, but too far to hold. Too distant and closed off, too unwilling to give you what you know you needed.

Were you crazy for thinking he wanted it to, were you delusional for thinking you could see the fire in his eyes every time you reached for him with words? The air around you didn’t lie though, did it? Or were you the only one feeling that constant chemical reaction that surrounded you both. That fizzle and burn, that electric fever that drove you crazy; depriving you of clean, pure air with every breath. It was filling your lungs with hot embers, you could feel it, could feel the way it choked you of all sense and left only desire in its place. Could he really not feel it too?

“Make what stop, love?” The nickname wasn’t lost on you, its presence sent a ripple of hope across your skin, igniting goosebumps in its path.

“I don’t know, everything I guess. The boredom, the anxiety, the noise, the frustration, the emptiness; all of it went away that night and I’ve been trying to get back there ever since.” You admitted, teeth gnawing at your lip, brows scrunched together in frustration. Chan thought you looked utterly pitiful in the hottest way. Was that possible? To look pathetic and undeniably attractive all at once. Yeah, it was; you were.

“I can’t cure you, you know that right? You have to do that on your own.” He insisted. It was true, wasn’t it? Historically speaking, practically speaking. People can’t change other people, that was how it worked right? They had to change on their own, grow alone, love themselves before they could learn to love someone else. If they didn’t, they’d be forever codependent, clinging to the sun that helped them grow into a fully flourished person. But the sun went down, it didn’t stick around forever; he couldn’t stick around forever.

“But what if…”

“I can’t.” He was quick to cut you off, not wanting to fill your head with pointless sentiments of hope. Whether he wanted to or not, whether you wanted to or not, you had to stand on your own two feet. He knew this to be true more than ever when it came to your own pleasure. You couldn’t depend on him for that; he couldn’t fill the void. He’d fall in love too easily, catch feelings in an instant. How could he ever make it out of that alive? It wasn’t right, you deserved better. Deserved to know your own body, how it felt, what made you feel good.

“Try?” You spoke, voice barely above a whisper, eyes wide and pleading.

“I can’t.” He huffed through gritted teeth, jaw stiff with useless restraint.

“Please?” You looked at him as if he held the world and all its mysteries in his grasp, ready to hand them over if only you could wear him down enough. It wasn’t not working, he hated to admit.

“Don’t… don’t do that.” He shook his head, eyes dipping to the ipad in his grip as he drew mindless patterns across its slick screen. It was enough to distract him for a moment, but not long enough.

“So, I just, I just go home and try the same shit again then is that it? Another month of nothing? Or can I call again, would you pick up if I did?” Your words had his cock twitching, palms growing clammy. That night haunted him. It felt so wrong, so completely fucked up. He lay awake for nights after that wondering if he should resign, turning his dream of owning a successful therapeutic clinic into a distant memory with the same stroke. But more than that, he wondered if you’d call again. Would you need him some more? Would you lean on him a little longer? Was it really true that he was the missing piece? That only he could make you cum.

“You know I would.” He responded in an instant, too quick in fact. “I’m surprised you didn’t call, to be honest.” He chuckled, attempting to seem unaffected. As if he hadn’t been waiting by the phone every evening, as if he hadn’t checked and re-checked for missed calls when sleep didn’t come to him easily.

“I wanted to try on my own; I’m really trying.” You half-whined and that sound alone was enough to have every noise from a month ago flooding his mind at once. His hips shifted, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

“I know, baby, you’re so good.” He sighed, resolve slipping; gaze darkening along with it. You saw it happen right in front of you, pupils dilating, mask slipping from his handsome face. “How about this… You show me how you do it at home and I’ll see if there are areas for improvement?” Chan suggested, against what he knew to be his better judgement. Fuck it, though, right? He could cross another line, just one more, find a new one to draw between you to keep you at arms length. You’d seen right through him in that regard, knew exactly how he justified each gradual crawl toward your eagerly awaiting form.

“You want me to… now?” You blinked, fireworks erupting in the pit of your stomach signaling an internal celebration of what you were almost sure was a triumphant victory.

“Isn’t that what you want? To make a mess of my chair? To cum again?” His words sent a jolt of something electric and sweet straight to your core. Your teeth felt like blades, threatening to draw blood from the plump flesh of your bottom lip as you nodded wordlessly, too turned on at the prospect of getting to climax again to formulate a coherent sentence.

“Why don’t you lift that little skirt of yours and show me how you pleasure yourself.” His voice was low, impossibly dark gaze studying you with an almost predatory stare. Your nerves stood alert like the hairs of your arm, hands moving at their own accord. You moved the hem of your skirt up the meat of your bare thighs, his eyes following your motions closely before fixing on the sheer fabric of your damp panties.

You felt like an imposter in your own skin as you spread your legs, circling the pads of your fingers across your clothed clit in compliance. You tried to stop the heat from rising in your cheeks, from pulsing through your blood like lava, the molton toxicity wetting your panties even more. You were helpless to it; the growing intensity of your lust. It was strange, the combination of embarrassment mixed with desire. It felt like a dangerous cocktail, one destined to leave you with a hangover unlike any other you’d felt; a banging headache, a sick feeling, a desperation for a wellness you could never reach without it.

Was that what this was? A growing addiction? An inability to feel better without him, or an unwillingness to find an alternative cure? You pushed the thoughts from your mind, easily too with the help of his sultry voice, though all the same the bubbling of nervousness remained.

“This is how you do it? What’s rule number one? What did we do last time?” He asked, too put together considering the pornographic movie that was playing out in front of him. His eyes told a different story though, hungry and feverish as you moved your fingers clumsily.

“Umm, take my clothes off?” You managed between huffs of impatient air, wanting nothing more than to skip to the part where your toes were curling, head tipped back in reticent ecstacy. You moved your hands away from your clothed cunt, starting to remove the tight fitting crop top a strap at a time. You watched his jaw grow slack at this, your confidence growing in place of the initial uncertainty.

You put on a show for him, suddenly abandoning the idea of being taught the ways of your pussy in favour of winding him up. Both straps fell past your shoulders, the rough material of your tiny top grazing your perky nipples as you dragged it down your chest, letting your plump breasts spill out from beyond its fabric confines. His brow twitched, lips faltering along with it as he watched the bounce of your tits.

“Mhm and start with your nipples, make them feel good, work yourself up.” Pulling your top off completely, you followed his demands, fingers tugging at your hardening buds. You remembered his advice from the last time, making sure to wet your digits with your tongue in a slow sinful motion. This earned a half moan from the man, his body shifting as he hid his faltering confidence behind a closed fist. With his chin resting against it, he gazed at you through his lashes, watching every pinch and tug with a hawk-like intensity.

“I’m already so worked up.” You groaned, unable to hold his heated glare any longer. You lulled your eyes toward the wet patch growing in your panties, pussy clenching around nothing at the sight of it.

“I make you worked up?” He mused, leaning forward in interest. Leveled as his voice remained, his restless form gave him away; dilated pupils darting between your hard nipples and your soaked underwear. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, moan designed behind a cough at your response.

“Yeah, so bad.” You mewled, one hand traversing the expanse of your smooth skin until your fingers met with the pool of sticky wetness between your thighs. You pulled at the band of your panties, sighing at the feeling of the tight fabric squeezing against your sensitive clit. You watched his expression as you drank in every movement, the obvious stiffness mounting in his crotch area not going unnoticed by you.

You wondered what it would take to have him desperate for his own release again, enough to disregard every one of his frivolous boundaries until his head was too clouded with intoxicating lust to draw a new line between you.

“Don’t focus on me, focus on yourself and your body.” It was almost like he knew, as if he could read your mind; could sense the way it reeled with thoughts of him and him alone. You tugged at your panties again, focusing on the movement of your fingers as they swirled around your excited nipple. “That’s good, don’t be shy now, you weren’t shy last time.”

“You couldn’t see me last time.” You murmured, the tips of your ears and apples of your cheeks the same shade of crimson.

“You’re beautiful, don’t be embarrassed.“ Chan shook his head, shifting in his seat once again. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get comfortable, not when the growing ache in his pants became harder and harder to ignore. “Now do what we did last time, feel what works best for you, take your time.”

“This?” You questioned, fingers pulling your panties aside as strings of sticky cum followed suit. You touched your bare clit with care, jolting and wincing with each caress. You were so sensitive, so turned on by the intent stare he fixed on your soaked cunt. You traced a finger down the seam of your pussy, rubbing the thick, juicy substance across your bundle of nerves in a clockwork motion.

“Yeah, that’s right, feel yourself.” He drew a breath, tongue darting across his lips, hands not sure what to do with one another as he watched the sight play out in front of him. “That’s good, does that feel good?” Chan questioned, slouching back in his chair as if the increased distance would afford him some alleviation from your mesmerising performance.

“Yeah, I think so.” You retorted, repeating the back and forth between your clit and dampening folds. You teased your entrance with the gentle prod of your fingers, tight clenching accompanying each experimental push.

“Do what makes you feel good, learn what you like.” It was unbearable how calm he was, a whine leaving your lips as his professional tone.

“How.” You murmured, the strumming of your clit increasing in speed as you felt a pleasurable sensation begin to wash over you.

“Try new things, keep touching yourself–why don’t you take those panties off and give your pussy a slap.” You nodded, eagerly complying with his wishes as you pulled your panties down your legs letting the sheer fabric pool at the base of your chair. You placed your skirt there too, completely bare save the pair of kitten heels snug around your feet.

“What?” The second part of his statement had you puzzled though, or perhaps it was just the intense feeling of being exposed in front of a person who was not only fully clothed but seemingly unbothered. Yeah, maybe that was it; that would be enough to have anyone confused and uncertain.

“You like it rough don’t you? Smack your pussy, give your clit a spanking for me.” His words had your hips shifting, a moan tumbling from your lips. Everything sounded better coming from his full mouth, the gravel tone interlaced with his thick accent–it was unbearable.

“Like this?” You questioned, landing a smack against your sensitive clit. Both of you moved in sync, hips shifting at the shrill noise your palm made abusing your sensitive nub. Your face screwed up at the feeling, the delightful sting accompanied by another wave of self-satisfaction.

“Harder.” He growled, moan mingling with his next words. “Yeah, you like that? I can see how wet you are, keep spanking your pretty little cunt.” You complied, strings of whines and groans following each harsh slap.

“You’re making me this wet.” You mewled, expression still contorted in pleasure. Chan wasn’t sure how he’d expected to make it through this entire ordeal, that had been foolish thinking on his part. He hadn’t expected you to be so brazen though, both nervous in your disposition but shameless in your filthy words and actions. His cock was impossibly hard in his pants now, hand itching to relieve the tension.

“Fuck don’t say that, gonna have to learn how to make yourself cum when I’m not around.” He insisted, though in truth you were saying all the right things to morph him into malleable putty, substance perfect for the palms of your hands; mass supple enough to wrap around your finger. “That’s good, yeah that’s good fuck you’re clenching around nothing.”

“Wanna be full.” You whined, pinching and rubbing at your clit with a rise and fall of your hips. You could tell the chair beneath you was drenched by now, the surface becoming slippery beneath your clammy thighs.

“Fuck yourself with your fingers, start with one and keep adding as many as your greedy little cunt needs to feel full.” His resolve was slipping, you could tell, could connect the dots from that night a month ago. It filled you with confidence, had your heart racing and limbs squirming as you rubbed your clit more furiously.

“Not gonna be enough.” You shook your head, hoping, so intensely, that he would just give up and finish you himself. You could practically sense it, the way his fingers would make you feel, the sharp rush of intense white light that bubbled up with every thrust of his skilled digits. How perfectly they’d fill your tight hole, stretching you open as if preparing you for his fat cock. You slid a finger inside, feeling empty despite the new intrusion.

“You just need to learn how to make yourself feel good baby, curl your fingers, do a scissor motion, whatever makes you feel the best.” He was still instructional in his method, but he looked anything but the calm teacher he’d been previously. Chan was leant forward now, tongue poking out his mouth, elbows propped on his knees as he watched you intensely.

“How?” You questioned, brows scrunched.

“How, what baby? Use your words.” He asked, his palms rubbing together in a useless attempt to distract his mind from the ache in his pants.

“How do I make it feel good, sir.” You elaborated, pushing another finger inside your convulsing pussy.

“Fuck, god, gonna make me crazy if you keep that up.” He run a hand through his hair, hips rising from the chair. His dark hair looked a mess by the time his fingers were done combing and tugging with restraint. You didn’t think it was possible for him to look any sexier, but his disheveled appearance proved otherwise.

“Please.” You implored, the steady back and forth of your fingers slowing to a standstill at his next words.

“You want me to show you, yeah?” He licked his lips shamelessly at you, hungry eyes awaiting your response with uninhabited lust.

“Yes, please, so bad.” You mused, squirming in your chair at the prospect of his fingers tucked snugly inside your needy pussy. You hoped this wasn’t a dream, that you weren’t about to jolt awake to the shrill sound of your alarm clock.

“Beg, show sir how badly you want his fingers inside you.” He murmured, jaw clenching at the sight of your pussy as it squeezed around nothing. “Keep circling your clit, yeah, keep going.” He commanded you, and without hesitation you followed.

“Please, please, want you to fill me so bad, please sir- please.” You keened, fingers toying frantically with your bundle of nerves.

“That’s it baby, keep getting yourself off, you're doing such a good job on your own.” He licked his lips again, chest heaving with every circular motion. You pushed your fingers back between the snug walls of your cunt, moving your hips to accompany the thrust of your digits.

“I need more, please.” You wailed, the edge you’d wanted to revisit so badly gradually inching into view.

“You really want my help, baby?” He asked, almost as if he were undecided. That couldn’t be it, though. There was no conceivable way Chan could doubt your desire to have him, in whichever way he was willing to give. He wanted to hear you beg some more, didn’t he? Wanted to hear just how badly you needed him, as if seeing it wasn’t enough.

“Please.” You gave him what he wanted, putting on your best forlorn expression to better your chances. It worked, a little too well judging by the haphazard way he fell to his knees in front of you. Whatever glimmer of self-discipline he’d been clinging to, it was gone now, and in its place: a man starved.

“You’ll tell me if you wanna stop, can you do that for me?” He looked up at you with hopeful eyes, his final attempt at giving you an out. An insincere part of him hoped you would, that you’d be the one to grasp ahold of your better sensibilities and put an end to your affair. But you didn’t, of course not, you never would, would you? He doubted it, not when your gaze exuded a level of desperation he was sure he’d only seen in wild animals. Instead, you nodded, teeth claiming your bottom lip as you did so. “Good girl.”

Chan wasted no time sliding a finger inside your warm walls, a drawn out groan falling from his lips at the spongy grip that took a hold of his digit. His hips shifted compulsively as you tightened around him, a second finger inching its way in as he studied every rise and fall of your expression. Another moan from your lips–another half-grunt, half-groan from his own. He pushed his digits deeper, thrusting them in and out at a steady pace, letting his knuckles brush against your velvety clit.

“Ugh, that’s good.” You practically screamed out, head tipping back with a wide open-mouthed grimace; face contorted in unimaginable pleasure. How was it possible to feel this good? You thought you’d reached the maximum capacity for bliss that night, but Chan was showing you an entirely new palette of gratifying hues.

“Barely touching you, darling. So desperate, hmm? Not been able to get off without me? Need me that badly?” He mewled, lips pressing wet, desultory kisses to your shoulder and collarbone. Your body twitched and seized beneath him, eyes rolling back at the sensation of his plump mouth against your hypersensitive skin. Every nerve felt as if it were going haywire, every brush of his bony flesh against your clit feeling like a rush of adrenaline. It was then that he did something truly toe-curling, the sudden feeling of something prodding at just the right angle inside of your tight walls; it had your spasming wildly beneath him.

“Yeah I need you, need you to make me cum–need your cock in me, want you to stretch me out.” You sang in between moans, hands clinging to his clothed shoulders, nails latching onto him harshly.

“Fuck, baby, slow down. Gonna take my time; you gotta take your time.” He panted, dark eyes finding yours in among the thick haze of lust that consumed you both. It had you moaning even louder, the combination of his intoxicating stare and that unidentifiable sensation threatening to push you over the edge prematurely.

“Oh god, so much better.” You whined, tears filling your eyes, forehead shifting to press against his own as you clung to him for dear life. The warmth that radiated from his body was like a balmy embrace, the rousing scent of his cologne only adding to the numbing of your senses. He smelled incredible; expensive and masculine but with an undertone of something musky and thrilling. You wanted more of it, more of him. Wanted to taste him, to feel his cock pushed so far past your walls you could feel him rearranging your guts; the head of his member visibly prodding at the pit of your stomach. You wanted his mouth on yours, tongue exploring the inside of your mouth until he’d discerned every inch of you, top to bottom.

You felt safe beneath his strong body, the hand that wasn’t busy splitting your open prying at your thigh until he managed to hook a leg over his shoulder. You felt your head fall back again, eyes squeezing shut as he sped up his pace, the room filling with the sound of your drenched pussy. The squelching was so lewd, so loud that you were sure you’d cum from that alone. Could feel it in the way your cunt clenched again and again, sucking his digits in and refusing to let them free.

“That’s ‘cause I’m curling them. Feel the difference?” He murmured, tone the only thing calm about him now. Looking down at him, you saw the frazzled expression painted across his handsome face, the frantic look in his eyes underpinning that same predatory stare. “Mmm fuck– gonna find your g-spot; gonna make you scream.”

“Chan, fuck, please.” You wailed, hips bucking upwards in motion with his thrusts. He pushed you down with his free hand, cheek pressing against the meat of your leg as he watched you intently. His attentive stare didn’t last long, though, not when your pussy was putting on such a pretty show for him. His arm was soaked, the chair beneath you was drenched, juices pooling on the floor by your clothes.

“So hot–stay still for me baby, did I hit the spot?” You could only nod now, moans coming out in pitchy screams as you bucked against his firm palm, desperately trying to fuck yourself with his fingers. You couldn’t describe it, the pleasure that was building inside of you, the edge that was careening so close to your helpless, frantic body that you could taste your orgasm on the tip of your tongue.

“Yeah, think so, oh god, oh my god.” You found your words at last, whining disapprovingly when his fingers left your needy pussy empty in favour of pushing past his plump mouth. Your gaze drank him in as he did so, watching with narrowed eyes as he sucked on them. It was slow and erotic and downright torturous, a string of desperate moans tumbling from his glistening pink lips.

“Fuck you taste so good, let me taste you properly, please can I?” Apparently it was his turn to beg, his nose nuzzling against the inside of your thigh as he adjusted the leg propped atop his shoulder.

“Please, please, do whatever you want, own me.” You nodded frantically, wanting nothing more than to return to that blissed out state you’d been so caught up in.

“You want me to make this pussy mine, for real? Want me to fuck you rough like the slut you are?” You wanted him to mean what he was saying, but something told you he wasn’t. That was as a line you were certain he wouldn’t cross, not for now anyway, but you could live with that. A sentiment that rang even truer when you felt the rough texture of his tongue against your puffy, sopping cunt.

The reverberation of his moans only added to the intense wave of pleasure that overcame you, his frenzied ministrations causing your hips to buck, thighs closing around his head. He took it all, licking up and down your pussy as if lapping up your juices. Whatever lesson this was supposed to teach you about masturbation, you didn’t know, and you weren’t about to question him about it, not when you switched to burying his face in your leaking pussy, tongue fucking you with purpose as his nose prodded your swollen clit.

“Yes, please, sir–ruin me.” You grabbed ahold of his hair, earning another moan from the man as he continued devouring your drenched cunt. Every time he lapped at your sweet juices, more poured from your clenching hole, his tongue drinking up every last drop as he shifted between your entrance and your sensitive nub.

“Fuck this isn’t good.” He groaned, breathing out words in the short amount of time he spent away from your pussy; allowing him mere moments to suck in oxygen before he dove back in. “We shouldn’t be doing this, baby, you’re driving me crazy.”

“Ugh, that feels so fucking good.” This time he focused his mouth on your clit, lips wrapping around your bud as he pushed his fingers inside of you, thrusting in knuckles deep with a pace that bordered on animalistic. Your fingers gripped his hair just as aggressively, hips moving at their own accord as you felt the edge of your orgasm hurtle towards you.

“Good keep going, use my fingers fuck yes.” He moaned, breaths coming out in desperate pants against your sensitive clit. The gentle push of air paired with his relentless thrust of his fingers against your g-spot was enough to have you screaming, head falling backward, cunt convulsing as you felt that white light begin to encase you.“Shit you’re cumming so soon? Oh fuck, yeah, fuck, so messy.”

“Fuck, please, keep going– no why did you stop?” That feeling you’d been so frantic to chase, the bright, welcoming light that you’d been so ready to rush toward was ripped from you the moment his fingers exited your clamping walls. You looked at him in disbelief, body spent, skin aglow with sweat.

“It's your turn, do what I did.” He rejoindered.

“No, no please” You shook your head, tears welling over as you pleaded with him to give you release. This was bordering on mean, knowing how frustrated and desperate you were to feel that warm white release only to pry it from your begging hands.

“Come on pretty girl, you got this. Let me help you.” His palms ran comforting patterns across your skin, face still level with your pussy as his breath fanned across your sensitive core. You twitched beneath him, stare holding his own in hopes your beseeching eyes could reason with him.

“Not the same.” You murmured, shaking your head once more.

“Don’t be greedy now, come on.” He spoke, landing a slap against your clit in warning. Your hips jumped, sensitive pussy clenching around air as you greedily accepted your punishment. Despite your momentary disobedience, you followed his request, pathetic fingers moving down between you both to begin thrusting in and out of your weeping hole. “Good girl, keep going.”

“Need yours.” You sobbed, the feeling of your digits nowhere close to the pleasurable strokes of his thick, veiny hand.

“Hmm, why don’t we try a new toy? See if you can make yourself cum like that?” He suggested, and how he’d managed to maintain any semblance of his role as your sex therapist after annihilating your pussy with his pretty lips, you had no idea. Truly the man was a saint, he hadn’t even touched his hard cock once, too busy pleasuring you to even notice the impossibly tight feeling in his pants.

“Okay…” You agreed, body beginning to ache with fatigue.

“Keep playing with yourself, slap that pretty little clit around while I find a toy for baby girl to play with.” Chan commanded, and you obeyed.

You watched him walk the short distance to his desk, opening one of the cupboards to look over a collection of unboxed sex toys. The consistent branding told you it was probably a sponsorship deal, a collaboration of sorts. But you didn’t pay the toys enough attention to confirm this, no, instead you watched the way his back flexed, vein hands tugging at a box before returning it to its home. It was utterly unfair how even the back of him could drive you crazy; everything about him was thick, masculine and oozing sex appeal. Yet despite the plumpness of his arms, thighs and ass, his waist remained tiny beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt. You wanted to see what lay beneath his tight-fitting clothing so badly, the thought enough to have your fingers speeding up in a newfound wave of ecstasy.

“What about this? Long like my fingers, that’s what you like right?” He returned with a different vibrator. Unlike the other one, this had some sort of vibrating node for your clit; making sure to stimulate every inch of you it could touch.

“Lemme show you how this works, okay? Gonna use it just like the vibrator, push it up as far as your little cunt can bear.” Chan grumbled, tongue licking his lips as he lowered himself to his knees again. Removing it from its packaging with ease, he pressed the velvety device against your desperate cunt, quizzical gaze searching for any signs of hesitation.

“I can take it all, please make me take it.” You were quick to retort, squirming in anticipation of what was to come. You hoped, no you prayed, that this time he’d make you cum, not stopping till your body was limp and spent, eyes rolled back in your head and screams so pitchy not a sound came out. You wanted that, you wanted that so bad.

“Fuck, you’re so hot when you’re all wound up baby, you sure you want that?” His voice was low, free hand coaxing your leg back over his shoulder as he peppered kisses to your inner thigh.

“Please, pretend it's your cock. How would you fuck me?” You whined, hands shifting to pinch at your nipples desperate for any form of release.

“No, no you can’t think like that baby.” He shook his head dismissively, using the toy to push up and down your gushing pussy, chuckling wickedly every time your body twitched.

“You want it too, don��t you? Wanna know what it’s like to fuck me? So do–” You couldn’t even finish getting the words out before he was shoving the toy into your needy hole with force, a dark expression atop his faltering features. “Yeah fuck, like that.” You screamed out, your pussy barely able to sheath the toy with how puffy and swollen your walls were.

“That feel good, baby?” He growled, teeth gritted as he pushed the device in and out of you with fever.

“So good.” You whimpered, bucking your hips in time with his thrusts.

“Gonna have to take over, you need to learn for yourself.” He reminded you, your head shaking in an instant.

“Not yet, keep going please.” You sobbed tearlessly, moans coming out in broken, melodic strings of half-cries and curse words.

“Haven’t even turned the vibrate on and you’re already clenching like a whore.” He tutted, tongue spilling from his lips as he got lost in your pleasure. It looked like he enjoyed this almost as much as you did, his brows furrowed in concentration as he took in every change in your expression.

“Can I touch you?” You whined out, hips bouncing in time with his expertly timed thrusts. Your hands reached out, starting to undo the buttons of his dress shirt with a growing desire to see him naked and exposed like you were. He didn’t show any resistance, even shuddering beneath the graze of your nails against his bare chest as you opened the unbuttoned top. He looked delectable; toned muscles flexing with every thrust of his arm.

“No, then I really will wanna fuck you.” He murmured, setting another boundary you had every intention of crossing; his forehead leaning down to press against yours, bodies as close as they could possibly be given the current position. His lust-filled gaze sparkled in the shadowed confines of your close faces, the soft whimpers and laboured breaths that left his parted lips sending your body into overdrive. You leaned forward to connect your lips, mouth ghosting over his for a nanosecond before he moved his face away from yours. You whined, aching to chase after him but opting to pry a little more instead.

“Will you touch yourself when it’s my turn then?” You questioned, hungry eyes searching his for any signs of defiance.

“You want that?” He whimpered, free palm pushing you down against the soaked leather chair once more, trying to keep your quivering body still beneath him.

“Yeah wanna hear you moan again.” You yelped, clenching again and again around the silicon toy, wanting more than anything to replace it with his meaty cock.

“Does that turn you on?” Chan asked, proud grin on his lips.

“So bad.” You murmured, head rolling back as you felt him graze against your g-spot with the tip of your new device. “Wanna watch your cock make a mess– oh my god I’m so close Channie~” He didn’t let you finish, turning the vibrator on mid sentence. The sudden change in sensation caused you to shake and convulse beneath him, creaming the toy with every pointed thrust he offered your greedy cunt.

“Yeah? Take over for me baby, fuck yourself like the depraved slut you are.” You could barely think straight, eyes glazed over with unadulterated, carnal desire.

“Fuck you’d break me open so good, want your cock so bad.” You mumbled, taking the toy from his grip to try and match his relentless pace. You weren’t even close, too tired, too rigid to compare.

“God, bet you do, never enough for your greedy little pussy is it? Just want more and more.” Chan mused, the sound of his belt clattering drawing your attention to his lower half. You watched eagerly, excitement growing with every push of his hands. He pulled his cock out hurriedly, leg still propped over his shoulder as he fisted the base of his cock.

You whined at the sight, free hand clawing at his half-clothed chest before gripping the meat of his upper arm. You hoped, pointlessly so, that the feeling of his toned muscle beneath your hold would ground you, keeping you steady as you worked yourself with the toy. The sight of him jerking desperately at his leaking cock, though, was far too compelling. Moans fell from his mouth, curse words interjecting every sinful noise.

You’d thought his pointed gaze was enough to hypnotise you, but the image of his stiff member as it oozed pre cum transfixed you in an entirely new way. You couldn’t look away, couldn’t tear your eyes from his thrusting hips and eager fist as it worked its way up and down his length. You were sure you’d not seen a cock quite as pretty as his, either. It wasn’t overly large but it was thick and veiny with an angry red tip that you knew would prod your cunt in all the right ways. You wanted it, you wanted him so bad. You were salivating at the thought, mouth gaping wide open at the prospect of it.

“Bet you’d fuck me dry, so desperate you’d milk my cock of every drop.” He groaned loudly, hips bucking into his first with an air of impatience.

“Yeah, want that so bad sir.” You could feel your high approaching once more, the edge coming into view in new and improved shades of technicolour bliss.

“That’s it, good girl, you’re doing so well.” He praised you, head lulling back as he hissed, teeth clenching, face scrunching; the hottest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. His adams apple bobbed, thick neck glistening with sweat as he squirmed, face falling to rest against your leg.

“Cum on me, in my mouth.” You pleaded, trying to match the rhythm of his thrusts, imagination fixing on the idea of it being him fucking you like this.

“Fuck that’s so hot, you’re so fucking hot.” He instantly complied with your wishes, hand abandoning his cock momentarily in favour of getting to his feet. He gently lowered the leg once propped atop his shoulder as he did so, discarding his trousers and underwear properly when he was stood. He was frantic in his motions, wanting nothing more than to dump his load on your pretty face.

Hovering over you, he watched as you eagerly opened your mouth, head angled to allow him to aim the tip of his length toward your lips. He hummed at the sight, face scrunching again as he began to fist at his cock. The wet sound of his cum streaking the length of his member had you keening, tongue darting out to lick at his tip desperately. He bucked his hips at the new sensation, shoving his cock closer to your mouth in the process. You kept lapping at his head, enjoying the salty taste of his cum as it hit your tongue–the bitter flavour pulling pornographic moans from your throat.

“Oh god that feels amazing. Yeah, keep doing that baby.” He too moaned, pumping his cock relentlessly while you leaned closer to him, sucking the head of his twitching member feverishly. “Such a good girl, yeah, your lips look so pretty around my cock baby.”

“More.” You begged, the initial taste of his salty cum enough to have you craving more. You wanted all of it, wanted to feel his mushroom tip abuse the back of your throat, wanted to choke on his fat cock until breath became a necessity. You were positive you’d see the white, orgasmic light then, when you were deprived of all air, forced to take in every inch of him until he was done using you for his own pleasure.

“No, don’t be greedy. Take what I give you and say thank you like a good slut.” He landed a slap against your cheek, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to sting and fuck it felt incredible.

“Mmm, thank you sir.” You whined, complying instantly, pussy clenching around the toy still thrusting in and out of your numb cunt. Your arms were in a similar position, movements growing sloppy and slow as you tried to chase your high through till the end.

“Good, now you gonna cum for me?” He asked, fucking his fist with the same fierce pace he’d gifted you. “Yeah, fuck you’re so hot.” He moaned, watching you struggle to pleasure yourself, movements ragged and desperate as you became unable to control your limbs.

“So close, so so so– please.” You cried out, riding the toy with one final push of determined energy.

“That’s it, keep fucking yourself. You’re so close, baby don’t give up now.” He moaned out, his own high building with every snap of your hips, the noises your mouth and pussy were making so sinful it had his eyes rolling back. He resisted though, keeping his well-trained eyes on your abused cunt. You were struggling, he could tell, something in you not quite snapping the way you clearly wanted it to. It wasn’t your fault, he’d tired you out by now; he blamed himself for that.

“Come on, you can do better than that. Like this baby.” He abandoned his own pleasure again, hand leaving his cock to replace yours. His pace was exactly what you needed, your body convulsing the moment he replaced your sloppy grip.

“Oh god, yes, please keep going.” You cried, almost scared he’d deny you again.

“Yeah? You gonna cum? Look at the mess you’re making pretty girl, fuck, I bet it tastes delicious.” He growled, pushing the toy as deep as your puffy cunt would allow, angle directed toward the extra-sensitive spot you seemed to love so much. “You’re taking it so well, such a good little slut.”

“I’m gonna cum.” You wailed, hand gripping his, half-reacting to the sudden feeling of overstimulation that washed over you, the part of the vibrator pressed against your clit sending you into spasms with every hard thrust.

“That’s right, come on baby, good girls cum– you’re my good girl aren’t you? Gonna cum like sir told you to?” He growled, the possessive tone that had overtaken him sending shockwaves across your limbs.

“Yeah, yeah fuck! I’m-” You didn’t have time to respond to his pleas before you were thrown from the edge, same white light blinding you in the process. You lost all feeling, all consciousness as you came, the explosions errupting throughout your spent body going unnoticed by your fucked out mind. Your chest heaved as you started to come to, hand still clamped around his now motionless wrist as his voice broke through your heavy breathing.

“Shit, you squirted everywhere baby. Fuck that’s so hot.” You whimpered, scrambling to sit up in embarrassment. You looked at the chair first, the leather slick with your release, but it wasn’t until you gazed at Chan that you saw the extent of it. His white shirt was dotted with wet spots, looking almost like the splatter of something colourless. His hand and arm were soaked, chest glistening too.

“Sorry.” You frowned, suddenly embarrassed by the mess you’d made.

“Shh, don’t be sorry, you did so well baby; look at you, so messy, so pretty.” He was quick to assure you, abandoning the vibrator in favour of cupping both your cheeks. You took each other in for a moment, no words spoken between you as your eyes lowered to his lips. One of his hands moved toward your chin, tugging our gaze upward again; not letting you linger with the thought of kissing him.

“Lemme make you cum.” You spoke after a beat in time.

“No, no lovely girl, you need to rest a second.” He smiled, pad of thumb caressing your plump bottom lip before he shifted, seemingly ready to clean you up and send you on your way. You weren’t ready for the moment to end, though. Couldn’t bear the thought of not getting to see him like this again for another month, or, god forbid, longer.

“Then use me to finish.” You reached for him, grabbing ahold of his wrist before his back could straighten, reaching his full height.

“Baby, fuck.” He moaned, clearly battling with the idea of you crossing yet another of his lines. He couldn’t blame you, not wholly anyway, he let you do it easily every time. Deep down he knew they were nothing but silly justifications; a safety net to fall back on when he broke every rule in the book.

“I want you to.” You assured him.

“This is supposed to be about you.” He shook his head.

“Then do it for me, use my mouth.” Your persistence seemed to be enough for him, still-hard cock twitching excitedly at the prospect.

“Get on your knees.” His eyes darkened, turning to face you properly as he watched you position yourself on the floor, obedient as ever. “That’s it, good girl.” He swallowed thickly, guiding you toward his painfully hard length. He tapped your outstretched tongue with the tip, wordlessly ordering you to open wide.

“Tastes so good sir.” You mewled as he slid the base of his cock along your tongue, moaning at the texture of your muscle against his veiny member. His patience, or whatever was left of it, was slipping away with every messy lick of your tongue, his hand shifting to grip your hair.

“Squeeze my thigh if it's too much, okay?” Your nod was enough to have him pushing his length past your parted lips, cock giving you no time to adjust as he pushed his hips forward. “Such an obedient little slut, aren’t you? Touch your clit for me, want you cumming with my cock shoved down your throat.” He growled, pushing his length as far down your throat as your tight mouth would allow.

“Oh fuck yeah, yeah, yeah that’s so– ohmygod you feel amazing.” You moaned the moment he afforded you a few seconds to breathe. Your fingers toyed with your clit just as he’d requested, but you were far too focused on swallowing his member to focus on the tingling feeling between your thighs.

“Bet your pussy feels better though, doesn’t it baby? Filled all the way up with my fat cock.” He grunted, grip in your hair tightening as he thrust his length past your lips harshly. You squealed at this, sound muffled by the back and forth of his cock as he used your throat to chase his own release. It was hard to focus his gaze as he pushed his cock all the way to the base, your nose pressing against his toned flesh as you gagged, tears spilling down your cheeks.

“Are you crying? Yeah? Sir giving it to you too rough? This is what greedy girls get–a throat full of cock.” He growled, any hints of his prior softness dissipated with the tightening of your throat around his sensitive length. He started setting a pace, no longer mindlessly pushing you down his cock. Rather he pulled out of your swollen mouth, giving you a few seconds to breathe before he thrust in, repeating that motion again and again with a frenzied persistence. If he had any doubts about your feelings on the matter, your soaked cunt gave it all away.

“God your pussy is drenched, sounds so good. Does it feel good, baby? Getting mouth fucked while you play with your little cunt for me?” He moaned, fucking your face with a new found fever, his approaching high numbing his senses until all that remained was the sound of your wet pussy clenching around nothing and the feeling of your tight throat seathing his desperate cock. In all of the blissful chaos though, the man couldn’t help but take pity on you; the tears streaming down your cheeks, drool coating your chin, was enough to have him pulling out. You instantly gasped for air, forehead falling against his thigh as you caught your breath.

“Sit up baby, spread your legs. Gonna paint your pussy with my cum–gonna make it mine.” He instructed, helping you back atop the chair when you looked at him with pleading eyes. Your chest still rose and fell, gaze glossy with fresh tears as you whimpered, barely able to register the possessive way he wanted to claim you beneath your heavy fatigue.

“You gonna cum for me too, yeah? gonna fuck my cum inside you with my fingers while you play with your clit.” He was back to those sinful rambles, an apparent sign of his impending orgasm as he worked his cock, hovering above your spread legs while he watched you circle your clit violently. “Good girl, good girl, fuck.”

“Yeah fuck, mine, my good girl, looking so pretty for me.” His pace picked up, abs tensing with every twitch of his cock. His tip leaked with presumptive release, small bouts of thick cum running down the head, aided in its journey by the drying slick of your spit. “So useless without me aren’t you baby? Can’t do anything without me, need me so badly.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, oh god.” His words had you quickly barreling toward the edge again, consciousness slipping as you fell in and out of subspace.

“Say you’re mine.” He growled, face contorted in the hottest expression you’d ever seen. He looked determined, the first that fucked his cock thrusting at such a frenzied pace you wondered if it was painful. “Mmm” Was all you could manage, before a harsh slap to your cunt was enough to jolt you away from the fucked-out state you found yourself in.

‘Say it, slut.” He insisted.

“I’m yours, all yours; only yours. No one else can make me feel like this, not even me, this pussy belongs to you.” Your words were all it took, his entire body shifting, twitching and shaking at the sudden onset of his climax. His knees almost buckled, the half-awkward position causing his muscles to burn and tense as he milked his cock of its stringy cum. Moan after moan fell from his lips as he watched it splatter against your lower half, your hungry cunt clenching as the warm liquid painted your clit and abdomen.

Lowering to his knees again, he kept his promise, pulling your hand away from your puffy clit in favour of collecting up all the cum that settled on your skin, sticky substance coating two of his digits as he shoved it inside your overworked pussy. “Cum for me, come on. Don’t make me spank you again.”

You moaned out, shrill noise almost awakening his cock once again as he drilled your cunt with his fingers, pushing his cum as far into you as your swollen walls would allow. “Good girl, that’s a good girl; such a good little cum slut.” He cooed as you lost all control, body seizing beneath the weight of another orgasm; the wave of ecstasy so sudden and unexpected it stole the air from your lungs, the noise from your voice.

Chan rode you through your high, pressing kisses to every inch of your inner thigh, fingers slowing to a halt inside you. Sweet praises filled the air as he pulled his digits from your defeated cunt, palms rubbing soothing patterns against your skin. He kept this up until the ability to move seemed to finally return to your aching limbs, your body shifting to sit upright. Your breathing was laboured as his eyes leveled with yours, searching for any signs of pain or discomfort.

“Are you okay?” He asked, fingers back to tracing your skin affectionately; an action that felt just a little too sweet considering the events that had just transpired. You nodded, still not quite able to form words as you moved forward, pulling him into your embrace, desperate to lean on him for support. He let you, of course he did, arms wrapping around your fatigued body as he pulled you against him. Your head fell to the crook of his neck when you lowered from the chair, awkwardly positioned atop his kneeling form until he shifted to accommodate you.

For a moment you stayed like this, the sounds of your breathing the only thing breaking through the heavy silence. It gave you both time to think, to come down from your post-orgasm bliss and retrace the events of your appointment.

“Fuck, what are we doing.” Chan was the first one to speak, a heavy sigh pulled from his downturned lips.

“I don’t know but I don’t want it to stop.” You whispered, neither of you making any attempt to put distance between you.

“We have to.” His response was instant but insincere, there was no denying that now. Not even your anxiety could trick you into believing that Chan didn't want this.

“But do you want to?” You asked, making the first move as you pulled back to look him in the eyes. Maybe his mouth lied, but his gaze never could.

“...No. do you?” He said after a beat in time, large gaze studying you just as you did him. His palms moved to grip at your bare waist, a single hand shifting to run up and down your right side, tracing the curve of your hips as he waited expectantly.

You smiled, the fireworks that erupted behind every one of his caresses giving you the answer you'd been looking for: “Never.”

“Never?” Chan stared at you dubiously, hand stilling at this.

“Never.” You didn’t hesitate, head shaking. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, eyes flicking from feature to feature in search of any insincerity. He found none, only a flourishing of adoration that threatened to grow tucked behind your gaze.

He decided to believe you. You decided to believe it too–hoped so badly for it to be true–wanted so badly to have finally found the cure. Needed so badly for him to be the cure.

<< back to dash // next episode >>

taglist @mangojellyyy • @diekleinesuesse • @bahablastplz • @jeonginnieswifey • @skzittomebabyuhhuhx3 • @yaorzu-blog • @skzreader25 • @sseungmongi • @swaggylili • @geni-627 • @fun-fanfics • @channiesluvrclub • @iambangchanswife • @bluesungology

A/N: jfc i nearly didn't finish this in time oopsies! semi-unedited again so apologies for any sloppy writing in places. thank you all for 200 followers!! next chapter is due for release at the 350 milestone <3

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dimlylittorch · 17 days ago

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18+ drabble MDNI

simon with a sweetheart reader and he’s just surprised bc he’s never been with anyone that didn’t just want him for sex + reader is also neurodivergent and doesn’t easily pick up on innuendos :3

My Masterlist🌱

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x sweetheart!neurodivergent!pre-op!transmasc!reader (aka me)

Warnings: terms like clit, cunt, boycunt, etc.

He didn’t know what to do with you. He couldn’t recall ever having a boyfriend quite like you. Gentle and sweet, a little ray of sunshine. You didn’t seem to care about what other people thought of you. Or social norms. Or anything really. You were just.. you. And he wasn’t used to dating someone who wasn’t trying to be something. It was the genuineness that got to him the most. How could anyone be that honest? No hidden motives, no manipulation. You just existed. And you were happy with that.

He knew you were something special from the get go. But things changed when you started to stay at each other’s apartments. He’ll never forget the first time you invited him over- he was expecting what he’d gotten in the past. Rough sex, maybe a movie or a shower after. The usual. He had been fully prepared to pin you to the kitchen counter, ready to kiss you senseless. He wanted to. God, did he want to. More than anything else.

So imagine his surprise when you invite him in, only to have a tray full of snacks set up on your coffee table, a wide smile on your face. “I figured we could have a movie night!”

Or his surprise when you gave him a tour of your apartment, bringing him into your room and sitting him down on your bed with you. He was about to make a move, when suddenly you were holding up a stuffed animal. “This is McCoy! He’s a manatee. He’s named after my favorite Law and Order character.”

He had pictured himself in many places in his life. But never on a sweet boys bed, being told to pick out a stuffed animal to hold while he watches a movie for movie night. Okay, you didn’t want to have sex. Maybe you just wanted to make out? That’s what he thought- up until you brought him back to the living area, asking him if he wanted the couch or the chair. He picked the couch, settling in comfortably and leaving his lap open for you.

He hadn’t anticipated you would pick the chair. Leaving him on the couch by himself. But your smile never faltered, your joy never fading. You were perfectly happy simply being in each other’s company. It was.. new. He sat back on the couch with his legs spread, a stupid plushie in between his legs he actually liked it.

His fingers drummed on his knee as his eyes trailed over your form, your pretty eyes glued to the tv. Some romance movie he couldn’t care less about. Well- until he heard you sigh. And he saw your eyes soften. “Isn’t that so sweet?” You say softly, a content smile on your lips. He couldn’t help but sigh as well, his eyes glued to you. He wanted you. He knew he wanted you. But you didn’t exactly seem.. receptive.

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Every person he had dated in the past jumped his bones the second he got in the door. The movie watching and snack sharing was always an afterthought- never the main event. Now he was stuck on your couch, cock resting heavy between his legs only being hidden by your plushie he kept in his lap. For the first time in a long time, he felt a little.. perverted. For the first time, he wasn’t with someone whose mind worked like his; always going for sex first.

The two of you have had make out sessions, sure. But they were always too fleeting for his liking. A few gentle kisses on the lips, never making it down to your neck before you scooted away, sitting or standing at his side once more. It wasn’t that he needed sex from you. He just.. didn’t understand what you did want. People date to have sex- and be intimate. Right?

Once the credits of the movie begin to roll, he watches how you sit up and stretch, a content smile on your lips. “Hey, Si?” You asked sweetly as you looked over at him.

He hummed in acknowledgment, his eyes meeting your own. “Mhm?”

“Did you.. want to stay the night?”

Ah. There it was. He got it now- you just wanted to wait until you could be more comfortable. More intimate, softer. Just like you. “Course, love.” He says gruffly as he stands up, walking over to you with the intention of hauling you over his shoulder and taking you down the hall to your bed.

Before he can move to get a hold of you, you place the plushie you’d been holding in his arms with a yawn. “Why don’t you go get tucked in while I pick up?” You said sleepily, voice softer than ever.

He stares at you blankly as you pick up the snack plates, bringing them into the kitchen and starting to clean up. All his years in the special forces- and he’d never felt this disarmed. Frozen in your living room, holding a silly stuffed animal and trying to figure out what to do next. God in heaven- what did you want?

He slowly meandered down the hall to your room, tossing the plushie back onto your bed. He huffed, glancing at himself in your mirror. He never had to seduce anyone before; people usually just.. you know. Wanted him. Did you not think he was attractive? He knew that was a stupid thought- but the two of you hadn’t exactly explored that aspect of each other much.

That’s how Simon found himself stripped down to his underwear on your bed, leaning back in a position he hoped looked somewhat seductive. It was a little hard when he was surrounded by stuffed animals. His erection was clear as day, and he prayed to god that you’d want to do something about it. Fucking hell he sounded desperate. The thought made him cringe, rubbing his face tiredly. Since when was he the one chasing others?

Around five minutes later you pad your way down the hallway, pausing in the doorway of your bedroom when you see Simon mostly naked on your bed. Feeling your cheeks heat up a little, you quickly turn towards your dresser, pulling out one of your favorite shirts to sleep in. And for the first time tonight, Simon saw it. That little spark in your eye, the way your breath hitched. Bingo.

He slowly slips off of the bed, walking up behind you and resting his hands on the hem of your shirt. “Want some help, love?” He murmurs lowly against your ear, making your heart race. The second he sees you nod he lifts it up over your head, watching as you slip on the more comfortable alternative.

—

You were trying to be normal about this. You really, really were. But he was just so goddamn pretty. Muscular chest covered in curly chest hair, thighs as thick as tree trunks- god you were such a pervert. How could you think about him like that? It’s so disrespectful; what gave you the right to sexualize him like that?

The way his knuckles brushed against your sides when he pulled your shirt off, the way he sat on the couch holding one of your stuffed animals.. he was perfect. He was the perfect guy. And you were looking at him like a piece of meat. He deserved so much better. You couldn’t just.. think about him like that. Let alone when he’s in your fucking apartment.

You suddenly turn around, looking up at him as he loomed over you. “I..” you whisper, trying to find the right words. All the while he gazed down at you hungrily, thinking you were probably almost perfectly ripe for the picking. He’d flirted, teased- surely you had to be interested by now. “I think you should take the bed.” You finish.

He tenses, staring down at you blankly for a few moments. Fuck- had he gone too far? Pushed you too hard? “No- no, love, m’sorry” he starts to say quickly, his hands moving for your hips. “You don’ have to do that. I didn’ mean to-“

“You’re just so pretty” you choke out, tears welling up in your eyes. This was so embarrassing. “And my body is being dumb- you don’t deserve to be sexualized like that.” You explain in a flurry of words. “You should feel comfortable with me- and I’m ruining that.”

His hands fall away from your hips, moving to rest on his own as he stares down at you. “Love” he says gently. “Yer cryin’ ‘cause of that?” He asks incredulously. When he sees you nod he can’t help but smile a little, kneeling down in front of you so you have to look at him. “I’ve been teasin’ ya on purpose, sweet boy.” He muses as his hands move to rub along your outer thighs. “Been tryin’ to get you to touch me.”

Looking down at him, your head tilts a little with confusion. “Why.. why didn’t you just say that?” You ask innocently, genuinely confused. Honesty was the best policy after all. “I mean- I’m not mad- that sounded wrong” you quickly clarified. “I just.. you know you’re allowed to ask” you say faintly, reaching to cup his chin. “Right?”

Those words hit him a little harder than they should’ve. He was allowed to ask. Not everything had to be communicated through subtle; or not so subtle innuendos. “Yeah, love.” He murmurs, leaning into your hand. “Yer always right.. my smart little bird. You’ve got more common sense than the street put together.” He smirks.

Simon’s gaze shifts downwards towards your crotch, and he feels his heart rate spike. “Lovie” he murmurs lowly, his eyes becoming hazy. “Can I..” he starts to say, licking his lips as he tries to form the words. “Can I eat him? Wanna treat ‘em right.. wanna treat you right.” He never realized how humbling it was to actually verbalize what you wanted. He had always been a taker- saying what he would do to someone else. But never asking. At least- not quite like this.

He sees your eyes soften, and he can’t help but groan when you give him the go ahead. With anyone else he would’ve teased more; would’ve ordered a verbal yes. But he understood it now. Sometimes the words were hard as hell to form. “I don’t want you to bruise up your knees” you speak softly, the care in your tone caressing his soul.

He shakes his head no almost instantly, reaching up to tug down your sweatpants and briefs. “Want a bruise to remember this by, baby” he murmurs as he scoots forward, hooking under your hips so his breath was against your boycunt. “I’ll be thinkin’ ‘bout it for days” he groans as soon as he gets a whiff of your scent. “Prettiest thing in tha’ world.”

Before you could mention at least getting a pillow for his knees, his mouth connected with your cunt. You gasped, immediately reaching down to grab onto his hair; much to his satisfaction. You thought keeping yourself steady might be hard, but he had you pinned to your dresser making sure you weren’t going anywhere.

You knew he would be a passionate lover- you could always tell. But this? This was so much better than you could’ve imagined. His tongue slipping around your clit, thick warm muscle dragging down to your hole, pumping in and out. Although he was worshipping you, there was a layer of selfishness to it. Every movement was for him just as much as it was for you. Simon didn’t want to admit that within a minute he knew he was going to cum in his pants just from eating you out.

It didn’t take long for you to be practically sitting on his face, legs giving out as you whined and moaned on top of him. His hips bucked up involuntarily every time you tugged on his hair, his erection almost painful. Less than five minutes was all it took- hell, maybe less than three. He was working overtime to make you cum, knowing that feeling you soak his tongue would trigger his release as well.

The second you cried out, hips trying to ride his face, he swears he died and had gone to heaven. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as he helped you ride his tongue, his thighs shaking heavily the moment he felt your release. Lapping at your juices, he fruitlessly bucked against the air, moaning against your boycunt after a few seconds. He slammed his hand against your dresser as he came, muttering curses as he tried to keep the both of you stable.

After the fact he gently guided you back to a standing position, keeping your legs steady as he took deep breaths. He rested his head against your stomach, his eyes fluttering closed as he thought about how good it all felt. And all he had to do was ask. “You.. you don’t happen to have any extra boxers, do you?” He smiles lazily with a weak chuckle.

thank you for reading!! notes, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

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gold-onthe-inside · 2 months ago

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coffee for two

summary: spencer picks you up for coffee after a lecture. that's the whole fic. who? dad!spencer reid (s9/10) x history prof!reader content warning: references to undiagnosed neurodivergence and bullying, benji's arm fracture. word count: 3.2k author's note: opening event for spring-fest, hope y'all enjoy. thanks to @esote-rika for the margary kempe info

Spencer checked his hair for the umpteenth time in his reflection on the window, waiting by your lecture hall, debating whether to catch the end of your lecture or not. Before he can decide whether his desire to see you in action again trumped his aversion of distracting you at work, students spilled out of the door, carrying bags and laptops and fat chunks of reading material.

With class clearly over, Spencer managed to make his way into the hall to get a look at you… wearing a graphic blue t-shirt of Joan of Arc, holding a sword high with the words, ‘I am not afraid, I was born to do this,’ written underneath and tucked into formal slacks and a black and silver belt completing your look.

His grin is irrepressible as he comes down the ramp to join you as you collected your laptop and papers from the desk, taking off your mic and wrapping the cord around the transmitter when you looked up. “Hi.” Your voice is pleasantly surprised, smile matching his at his breathlessness. “Were you running?”

“You have a lot of stairs,” he explained, his gaze returning to the soldier on your torso. “Nice shirt.”

“Thanks, and they’re not my stairs,” you quipped back, gathering your things and walking with him through another set of doors. Another thing he likes about you — the way you can keep up with him. Not that he’s got a list in his head.

“Any chance going on a date with you gets me a pass to use the elevators?” Spencer asked, unabashedly cheeky, his hands stuffed in his pockets while yours are busy with everything — your laptop containing your life’s work, printed reading material including your copy and the students who hadn’t attended your lecture today, your blazer folding over your arm, the shoulder sporting a satchel less worn out than his.

“Ha, I knew it. There was an ulterior motive all along,” you cried, grinning at him as you walked him to your office.

“Yes, everything in my life has been leading up to this point,” Spencer replied, quite matter-of-factly. “To gain entry to the elevators of GWU.” You huffed with a smile, hands fumbling to retrieve your keys. “You have your own office?”

“Shared office,” you corrected, closing one eye as you dug through your bag for the key. “All the Depth and Comparative Studies profs share one office,” you explained, “and Devlin’s on sabbatical, which means I have to cover his syllabus along with mine- ha!” You pulled out the key triumphantly, moving to unlock the door.

“You never did tell me what it is you specifically teach,” Spencer pointed out, leaning against the doorframe as you get the lock to click free and pull the door open, Spencer’s hand replacing yours to hold it back for you, fingers briefly grazing yours. You don’t catch the brief swallow and bob of his throat, leading him inside.

“No, I was planning on leaving that for the small talk on our date,” you replied, setting your things down on your desk while Spencer took a moment to appreciate your office.

The things he’d do to make the BAU bullpen look like this. Old maps covered the walls, more rolled up maps lining the wooden cabinets underneath, literature lined up on the shelves attached to each cubicle. Organised chaos, he presumed, turning his attention back to your desk. You set your computer in the middle, organising notebooks hastily, leaving bookmarks in textbooks before putting them away, pens clattering in their cup, and then grabbed your bag, hanging the strap over your shoulder.

“Shall we?” you asked, looking up at Spencer who nodded, smiling ruefully. He couldn’t seem to stop doing that around you. “Did you have a cafe in mind?” you asked as you step out with him, locking the door behind you both and dropping the keys in your satchel.

“There’s one on M Street I like,” he answered, strolling with you instead of his usual brisk march. “They have great pastries.”

“Good, I don’t settle for anything less than great,” you remarked, and though he appeared cool on the outside, inside Spencer was jumping for joy.

“Is it true you have to go through a background check to date a federal agent?” you asked, tearing off a piece of your croissant, fingers coming away with buttery flaky pastry and warm, gooey chocolate that you have to lick off of your thumb.

“What? No, where’d you get that from?” Spencer asked, his voice jumping an octave as he asked, laughing quietly with his brow slightly furrowed. You shrugged, taking a sip of your coffee, frowning when it tasted bitter than you’d had it first. Spencer had taken the smarter move — coffee first, then his chocolate and sprinkle coated donut.

“Saw it on a show once, I think,” you explained, smacking your lips lightly, eyeing your croissant again. Spencer can’t help but think that you’d fail the marshmallow test when your hand moves to tear another piece off. “The guy was a con-man and he fell for a CIA agent, but neither of them knew what the other did, and he was kidnapped by ‘The Company’—” you use air-quotes, dramatist that you are, “— and submitted to a lie detector test. It’s how he finds out his girlfriend is a CIA agent.”

Spencer snickered quietly. “You think the FBI is gonna abduct you and submit you to a lie detector test?”

“The Bureau’s gotten away with a lot worse,” you quipped, tapping your nose, accidentally dabbing a light smear of chocolate that widens his smile. His cheeks are gonna start hurting any second now.

“Hold on, you got a little—” He does his best to gesture, but you miss, making it worse and he sighs. He’s a walking cliche, pulling out his handkerchief to wipe away the tip of your nose for you.

“Thanks,” you murmured, leaning back in your seat, a faint colour rising to your cheeks. “I’m clumsier than Benji today.”

“Is that how he broke his arm?” Spencer asked, watching your gaze drop to your coffee for a moment before looking up again.

“That’s what he says anyway. I’m not so sure I believe him,” you confessed, sipping your coffee, tsking at the taste again. “He said he fell off the jungle gym wrong.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed slightly in concern. “Do you have a reason not to?” He watched you let out a sigh.

“He’s… not exactly like everyone else in class,” you explained hesitantly. “He’s smart, but he gets distracted easily. Has niche interests, doesn’t have a lot of friends… He’s a vulnerable kid.”

“Ian’s mean to everyone,” Benji said, “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Spencer pursed his lips. “Has Benji ever said anything about Ian?” he asked, a hunch starting to form in the back of his mind.

“Uh… not often,” you remembered. “Near the start of the year. Said that Ian didn’t like him much.”

“Did you talk to the teachers?”

You just tsked. “They weren’t much help either. Benji denied any of it happening and without his admission, their hands are tied. They promised they’d keep an eye on him, though.” You scrunched your nose a little. “Sorry, that was a downer.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Spencer rushed to say, “I mean, it’s not fine, it’s awful, but that’s not on you and… I’m gonna stop talking now.” His gaze darted down to his almost-empty coffee.

“What about your kid? Emma, was it?” you asked, changing the conversation. “She seems bright.”

“Maya,” Spencer corrected, a fond smile spreading to his face. “And yeah, she is. We read together every night.” You rested your chin in your palm, sipping coffee, admiring him as he spoke. “In fact, studies show that parent-child joint reading is related to vocabulary aquisition and academic success, as well as motivation to read later in life, and that reading fiction books are really important in developing a child’s reading ability—” He cuts himself off, wincing at himself, even though all he sees in your eyes is warmth and an amused smile. “Sorry, I’m rambling again.”

You shrugged, absently spinning your cup of coffee. “I don’t mind,” you replied nonchalantly. “I get paid to ramble, so I get it. What did you grow up reading?”

Spencer sighed, shaking his head a little. “You’ll think I’m just trying to impress you.”

“No, come on, tell me,” you insisted, nudging his foot with your ankle, your smile dimpling your cheeks.

He let out a relenting sigh. “My mom used to teach medieval literature. So, naturally—”

“You grew up on medieval literature?” You raised a brow at him delicately. “Like Chaucer?”

“Chaucer. Margery Kempe. Interestingly enough, she was actually illiterate,” Spencer started explaining, unable to help himself. “She actually dictated it to two clerks from 1432 to 1436. It’s considered the first English autobiography.”

“Yeah?” you asked, smiling as you listened to him talk.

“Yeah, it’s focused on her spiritual journey, and how after her first child was born, she suffered a lot of pain, including visions of demons and how she was cured by a vision of Jesus Christ.”

Your gaze softened a little in surprise, a little touched by the passion on his face. You’d never met anyone who talked about something the way Spencer did; with such unabashed dedication. “And you read that as you were growing up?” you asked, your voice a little softer.

The change in your demeanour, the attention in your gaze, was not lost on Spencer, and he found himself unconsciously straightening his spine, his shoulders relaxing as he spoke. “Yeah,” he said, a hint of pride in his voice. “I was always pretty advanced, reading above my grade level, so my mom encouraged it, and she’d read with me, and…”Spencer trailed off, realising suddenly that he was getting carried away, and he flushed a little pink, clearing his throat embarrassedly. “Anyway, enough talking about me.” He smiled sheepishly at you. “What about you? What did you read as a kid?”

“Not nearly as impressive as yours. I grew up on a lot of Roald Dahl books,” you replied, shrugging, with your leg swinging a little.

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Spencer assured, tilting his head, thinking you looked very cute at the moment, with your chin resting in your hand. “In fact, studies have shown that the imagery used in Roald Dahl’s works is actually very stimulating and can help—” He stopped himself again, taking a breath. “Sorry, there I go, again. My point is, Roald Dahl is good.”

You chuckled quietly, sipping your coffee. "Are a lot of people bothered when you talk about studies?" you asked him, setting your empty cup back down.

Spencer paused, surprised that you’d asked. Usually, people just cut him off, and he’d never met someone who asked about him like that. “I… yeah, sometimes,” he confessed, a little sheepish. “I just… get carried away when I’m talking about something I’m interested in, and sometimes other people…” He trailed off, realising that he was rambling again and flushed, awkwardly scratching at the back of his neck.

"You don't have to cut yourself off with me," you told him, shrugging again.

Spencer was taken aback for a few seconds before he could gather his thoughts. You were… you were asking him to keep talking, to keep going. A smile pulled at the corner of his mouth, and he relaxed a little in his seat. “Are you sure? I can get a little carried away.”

"Can I tell you a secret?" you asked, leaning in closer.

Spencer was surprised by your closeness, and by the conspiratorial glint in your eye. “Um, sure?” he said, shifting in his seat, his gaze darting between your eyes and your mouth as you leaned closer to him.

"So do I," you whispered, grinning at him.

Spencer’s brows shot up, and he stared at you for a few seconds in surprise. “You… you do?” he repeated, almost disbelievingly, his brain stuttering.

"You should see my lectures," you huffed, leaning back in your chair. "I never seem to finish them in the allotted time. I have to set timers for myself to keep track of how long each segment should take."

Spencer’s eyes softened as he took in your words. You were like him, he realised, in this way, at least. A warm smile curved at his mouth. “I’ll have to sit in on one sometime,” he said, only half-joking, his voice a little quieter that time.

You shrugged. "Why not? Bring Maya if you want. She seemed pretty interested in the career day talk I gave. And you clearly know enough to fill in the gaps.”

It took Spencer a moment to realise that you were actually offering. He’d been half kidding when he said he’d sit in on a lecture of yours, but to know you were open to the idea of him and his daughter being there… well, it was a little surprising, but certainly not unwelcome. “Yeah,” he nodded, his smile growing a little. “Maya would love that.”

"And if she likes libraries, she's free to go ham on the Georgetown campus. I mean, she won't be able to check out anything, but if you want to make a day of it," you added, just spitballing.

You had no way of knowing it, but every word out of your mouth was making the expression on Spencer’s face grow more and more fond. He was just a little in awe; nobody had been as willing to incorporate his daughter into their life like this, so quickly. “Honestly?” he said. “That sounds great. She’d have a blast.”

"Plus, the campus looks so pretty this time of year, with the cherry trees in bloom," you continued.

Spencer could only agree. There was a particular scenic area around the quad where the cherry blossoms grew along pathways. He’d taken Maya there before with Alex, and they’d taken photos together among the blossoms. “Yeah, they’re beautiful,” he agreed, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Anyway, let me know and we can set it up," you said, shrugging. Cool and casual. He'd never met someone so easy going, someone who could unwind him like you.

He liked you. A lot. Spencer realised that with a jolt. It had been a long time since he’d met someone who he felt comfortable with and who made him feel so… at ease. It was a little scary. “Yeah,” Spencer nodded after a few moments, trying to control his emotions, which were beginning to run a little wild. “I will.”

His phone buzzed, a text from Penelope calling him into work and he sighed. “That… would be work, I… I have to go in. I’m sorry, I really thought I’d have time off today.”

“It’s okay. Work is work,” you said, grabbing your coat and bag. “I can walk you to the station.”

Spencer was a little surprised by your offer, but not in a bad way. He was quickly learning that you were just an unusually kind and accepting person, and his admiration for you grew with every interaction. “Sure,” he said, grabbing his own belongings before the two of you walked out of the door.

"So, you just get a text on your phone, and you get whisked away on a case just like that?" you asked, blazer folded over your arm as you walked down the street with him, tucking hair behind your ear.

Spencer hummed, nodding as he walked next to you, his long legs matching your pace. You didn’t even have to walk that fast to keep up with him, and that made him feel oddly pleased. “Pretty much,” he replied. “Sometimes it’s a call, sometimes a text. But yeah. We have to be ready to drop what we’re doing and go where we’re needed.”

"Huh, like Batman," you commented, grinning at him.

Spencer couldn’t help but let out a quiet huff of laughter at that. You kept surprising him somehow, with the way you spoke to him, with how you thought about things. “Yeah, I guess,” he mused, glancing over at you. “We’re like the B-team, though. I don’t think they’d let me wear a cape.”

"No, I think the cardigans suit you better anyway," you said, bumping his shoulder.

Spencer’s eyes darted to you, a surprised expression on his face. He’d been poked fun at for his cardigans before, but you seemed to actually like them, and it was a little jarring. He was a little embarrassed at how pleased it made him that you like his cardigans. “You think so?” he asked, his voice taking on a slightly teasing tone.

You nodded, repressing a smile badly. "Yeah, plus, you know, people like warm fuzzy things, so..."

The image of you cuddling into one of his cardigans was not one Spencer ever thought would have crossed his mind, but you put it there, and it was all he could think about for a few moments. He cleared his throat, shaking the image from his head. “Warm and fuzzy? Like me?”

"Is that not an accurate descriptor?" you asked, smirking as you reached the entry tunnel to the subway, leaning against the wall.

If Spencer was being honest, you were describing him with startling accuracy. He’d always prided himself on his intelligence, but had never gone so far as to label himself as warm and fuzzy. When it came from you, though… it didn’t feel like an insult. He shrugged, standing in front of you. “I don’t know if I’ve ever had my character described like that before,” he mused, contemplative.

"Well, I think it's accurate," you said, with a nonchalance that made his stomach flip. Why was that so attractive?

Spencer’s breath hitched at your casual confidence. There was no hesitation in your words, you just said whatever was on your mind, and it made him wish he possessed even an ounce of the self-assuredness you did. He swallowed, trying (failing) to keep himself from feeling flustered. “You do?” he asked, his voice a little hoarse.

"Yeah," you said, nodding with a smile.

Spencer’s gaze lingered on your mouth a little longer than it should have, and he felt a sudden and uncontrollable urge to step closer to you, to press you up against the wall— He caught himself, and he let out a long breath, looking anywhere but your face. He really needed to get to work.

"You have to go," you reminded him, still smirking at how flustered he seemed.

Spencer huffed a small laugh, embarrassed at how obvious he’d been. He stepped away from you, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” he said, his neck warm. He paused for a few moments, debating internally whether he should say what he was about to say. He took a chance. “I’ll text you later?” he asked, his voice soft and tentative.

"You have my number," you agreed, unable to stop yourself from smiling at him.

The corner of Spencer’s mouth pulled up at the sight of your smile. His heart was thudding hard in his chest, but he tried to act outwardly cool. “Yes, I do,” he agreed, nodding at you. “I’ll use it, though.”

And with that, he made himself turn around and descend the stairs into the subway station before he did something ridiculous. Like kiss you.

comments and reblogs appreciated, xoxo

#spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x prof!reader #dad!spencer x reader #dad!spencer x prof!reader #rucha's spring-fest #my fics

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abbygracerecs · 2 months ago

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Tom Holland and Co Recommendations

❤️‍🔥 - Smut 🤰 - Pregnancy/Parenthood ⚠️ - Potential Trigger ♾ - Neurodivergent!reader ❤️ - Soulmate AU

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner - @waitimcomingtoo

Customer Service - waitimcomingtoo

Adventures in Cat Sitting - waitimcomingtoo

Would You Rather? - waitimcomingtoo

Don't Dream It's Over - waitimcomingtoo

BFB - waitimcomingtoo

Home For The Holidays - waitimcomingtoo

Sexy - waitimcomingtoo

Little Pink Distraction - waitimcomingtoo

One Man Cult - waitimcomingtoo

Old Friend Two - waitimcomingtoo

I Got You, Babe Series - waitimcomingtoo 🤰

While You Were Sleeping - waitimcomingtoo

Caffeine - waitimcomingtoo

Cool Kids - waitimcomingtoo

Princess's Orders - @shawnxstyles❤️‍🔥

Green and Gold - shawnxstyles ❤️‍🔥

Panic Wish - @jamilelucato ❤️

Boxing Lessons - @tommyhoelland2013 ❤️‍🔥

Who You Belong To - @hollandcrush ❤️‍🔥

Peter Parker

Baby, Baby, Baby - waitimcomingtoo

Dick's - waitimcomingtoo

Uranus - waitimcomingtoo

Once More To See You - waitimcomingtoo

Honey - waitimcomingtoo

Pants on Fire - waitimcomingtoo

Wrong Number - waitimcomingtoo

Like Father - waitimcomingtoo

Love Potion #9 - waitimcomingtoo

And I've Been Meaning To Tell You - waitimcomingtoo

Interception - waitimcomingtoo

Meet Me Behind The Mall - waitimcomingtoo

A Film By Peter Parker - waitimcomingtoo

This Means War - waitimcomingtoo

Sunflower Soulmate - @negasonicteenagemess ❤️

Fall For Me - negasonicteenagemess

The Last Of The Real Ones - negasonicteenagemess ❤️

Snacks and Roses - negasonicteenagemess

Webs - negasonicteenagemess

Chemistry - negasonicteenagemess

Best Friends - negasonicteenagemess

Memories - negasonicteenagemess

Midnight Talks Two Three - negasonicteenagemess

You're Dating Her - @lousimusician

I Know Who You Are - lousimusician

Rambling - lousimusician

Oblivious Two - lousimusician

Pierced Two - lousimusician ❤️‍🔥

Faking It - lousimusician ❤️‍🔥

Bad Timing - @tommyparkerr

Like A Date - tommyparkerr

Please, Call Me Peter - shawnxstyles ❤️‍🔥

Dream Walk - @sacredsorceress

Catch You When You Fall - sacredsorceress

It's A Match - sacredsorceress

Honor - sacredsorceress

You? - sacredsorceress

The Courage To Try - @brokebonewritings

Sweet - @cherrrydragon

The Wedding Date - @rosesradio

The World's Best Tour Guide - @pearlfeline

Final Piece Of The Puzzle - @queen-of-the-avengers

Don't Tell 'Em - @thollandneedy

Sex Pollen - @donttellpeterparker ❤️‍🔥

Thank God For Group Projects - @hannibals-favourite-meal ❤️‍🔥

Just For Tonight - @cloudybarnes

Paging Dr. Parker - @asonofpeter ❤️‍🔥

Tension - @rebeccccccaaa ❤️‍🔥

Autistic!reader - @timelord-winchester-22b ♾

Countdown - @oneshots-imagines-and-that ❤️

Deep Red And Crimson - @schonart ❤️

Handwritten Love -@jordanlahey ❤️

I Bet You're Joking - @holland-dazed

When I Hear Her Voice - @welcomethefears ❤️

Easy To Miss - @sarsmusings ❤️

3 Times He Wanted To Kiss You, 1 Time He Did - @peterparkerneverland

#tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland smut #fic rec #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut

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miss-multi45 · 4 months ago

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YAY!! i'm so glad you are gonna start writing for the lost boys!! would you mind writing some headcannons about what each one of them would be like in a relationship? like what their good qualities and bad qualities would be with a partner?

two seconds after I posted it. you were lying in wait and watching my lost boys reposts. cutie patootie

david

possessive, it's in a vampire's nature but even more so because, come on, it's david.

calls you stuff like kitten, puppy, pup, pretty, princess/prince, little monster.

if you're standing up in the cave he'll wheel towards you and drag you into his lap.

unconsciously squeezes your waist when that happens.

will carry you away fireman style if you've been talking to someone that isn't him for a lil too long.

the only other bike he lets you ride on other than his is dwayne's.

will give you hickies and bites in public and glare if anyone looks.

dwayne

shoves his face into your neck and bites you while you're doing literally anything.

nicknames he calls you are woman, girl, pretty, mama, baby.

we all know he's large, he'd defo put his hand on your lower tummy just to give you butterflies.

speaking of, the man is a tummy, ass and thighs man, you can't tell me he wouldn't appreciate a thick girl.

absolutely lifts you by your hips onto his bike.

kisses the back of your neck to send shivers down your spine.

his hobbies and interests include flustering you and making ur pussy wet.

please fuck me.

paul

drags his hand along your lower back when he walks past you.

calls you sunshine, babe, mama, baby, sugar.

crackhead boyfriend. not because him and the others sometimes do drugs but because he is so unhinged.

firm believer he is neurodivergent.

rests his head on your shoulder.

drums his fingers on your body to the beat of whatever song is playing in the cave at that moment.

tit man. will stare at them even if you're not wearing something that shows much cleavage and drool if you are.

if you're dating him you're likely also dating marko, so have fun with the terror twins.

marko

italian and oh my god he will praise you so hard in italian.

like it's so obvious through the white tank top he wears.

has really sexy arms.

nicknames for you are dove, venus, bella, sweet girl, baby, italian petnames i can't remember.

talks to his pigeons about you.

gently runs his nails along your thighs and sides if you're sitting next to him or on his lap.

you will wake up with his face nuzzling your neck.

#opeia rambles #the lost boys x reader #paul the lost boys x reader #marko the lost boys x reader #dwayne the lost boys x reader #david the lost boys x reader

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jaggedamethyst · 5 months ago

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circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part two)

tutor!jayce talis x reader college au

content: reader recently decided to get a physics tutor...it's time for the first session with jayce talis

notes: walk with me and suspend ur disbelief in the actual physics talk...i have to make it somewhat believable that they're actually having tutoring sessions so i dug into the crevices of my brain for old physics topics that aren't too hard if you know them...if you don't..hopefully jayce makes sense LMAOOOO. but i will try not to do too much physics that it takes you out of it, i just want to build the tension and relationship. just trust me.

again mentions of neurodivergence/adhd references but that’s it really

word count: 1.9k

series masterlist

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Ekko was your longest friend—the closest one you had. He understood your brain even more than Viktor did, which was saying something. Since the day the two of you met in middle school, you became accustomed to one another. You knew each other like the back of your hands—which is why you knew he’d be so upset right now.

Immediately after leaving the student center, you scrambled to the dining hall. You and Ekko had a standing lunch date every day unless one of you said otherwise. There wasn’t always anything to say, but the idea of each other’s company comforted you—comforted him. He had been adamant that even if you two sat in silence, worked on classwork, or simply watched something on your phones, that the time was well spent.

Ekko valued these meetings in particular after his last girlfriend. You didn’t talk about Powder much…but he was devastated when she left town. The three of you had been friends for a long time…she’d abandoned you too. Acknowledging how much harder it may have been for Ekko was hard. You were forced to pick up the pieces and it started with daily check-ins over lunch. They stuck.

You spotted him sitting alone, sipping on his drink through the glass. You tapped on it softly, getting his attention, waving.

He lit up when you approached the table, “Funny seeing you here.” Ekko looked at his watch dramatically, “Almost thought you couldn’t tell time for a second there.”

“I am so sorry.” You moved to sit, pulling out the chair across from him. “I got caught up at the student center, needed a tutor for physics.”

Ekko watched you reach and grab his bag on the table. He rolled his eyes knowingly—you were going for the fries of course.

You continued, “Viktor recommended this guy, his lab partner.”

Ekko nodded, “Thats great…but I’m also good at physics ya know?”

“Oh yes, I totally forgot to ask my best friend to be my tutor. My best friend who knows I cannot stay on topic to save my life…wants me to ask him to be my tutor…so we can definitely not work on physics for the entire session.” You paused, a fry just on your lip, “Besides, I didn’t really have a choice.”

“Okay first, I would be a great tutor! And second, what do you mean, didn’t have a choice?”

“Viktor kinda just…led me there?”

“So you didn’t have a chance to get yourself worked up and find a way to not go…great tactic on Viktor’s part.”

There was a silence, but never uncomfortable when you were with Ekko. You smiled to yourself at that, and then about how surprisingly well the first meeting went.

“He seemed nice…Jayce…my tutor.”

Ekko reached into his bag, grabbing his sandwich. “Am I sensing a but?”

“No, actually. He just seemed genuinely invested in me not feeling bad when it comes to sucking at school.” You paused, rubbing your hands in a napkin. “He said we could work on making it all seem more interesting…which I liked.” Ekko still hadn’t unraveled his sandwich, listening intently. You watched him observe you, but not speak up. “What?”

He shook his head, “Nothing…that’s great.”

The rest of your lunch was spent quietly recounting your days, not much of note happening otherwise. Eventually, you parted ways with an unspoken yet understood promise that you would see each other tomorrow.

Your first session with Jayce was also tomorrow. That was on top of everything else you had to do. So much to be done…such little time, you thought.

The following day came just as quickly as the previous had ended. You woke in a frenzy, almost always rushing to and from one class and toward the next. Then, to tutoring.

You stumbled in, looking for any familiar face. You were met with only one, Jayce’s. He stood quickly, grabbing a folder and his bag before approaching you.

“Right on time.” He turned, walking you toward a room off to the side. “This will be the office we use, I requested one with a white board.” He glanced back at you for affirmation before speaking again. “If you ever come for our meetings and don’t see me in the lobby, you can just come in here.”

“Sounds good.” Your lip curled at your voice coming out more weak than you expected. You had to admire your own consistent ability to embarrass yourself, truly.

He stepped back, allowing you to walk in first, again. “So…I printed these forms out for you.” He opened the folder, taking out some of the pages and spreading them on the table. “This is the basis for everything you’ll need to know about physics. There’s legends here, conversion charts, some of the greek symbols you’ll need to know, circuit diagrams, acronyms…everything.” You slowly sat in your chair, observing the filled pages. Jayce noticed you looking between the table and him with wide eyes.

“This is a lot of information…”

He finally sat down. “It is…but we have time to get you up to speed.”

“But there’s these quizzes.” You looked down at the table, tapping a finger lightly against the wood. “Every week we have to prove we understood the concept and I am already weeks behind so it just keeps building on things I didn’t even understand to begin with. I don’t have time, I have to pass the quizzes so I can pass the class and keep my scholarship. If I lose my scholarship, I can’t pay for school and I’ll have to drop out. And all of this over stupid fucking physics and a professor who seems to want to ruin my life specifically.” You finally took a breath, “I can’t do this.”

“I think you can.”

Your eyes snapped up, meeting his. The look on his face seemed sincere—as if he truly believed in the statement. Hardly knowing you at all, he had enough faith that you could, in fact, do this.

“So,” he clasped his hands together. “What’s this next quiz on? What’s the topic for the week?” He got up, grabbing a marker from the white board’s small shelf. He looked at you expectantly, a brow arching as if to ask you again.

“Vectors.”

He nodded, “Okay, and what confuses you about vectors?”

“Well, I feel like I’m pretty good at understanding angles. But as soon as we add in speed or velocity I am just…confused.”

“Let’s start there.” He wrote the words speed and velocity on the white board in broad strokes, leaving space beneath each. “What is speed? Don’t think about it too hard.”

“How fast something is going?”

“Exactly, like a car.” He drew a makeshift car, and an indicator of both miles and kilometers. “Velocity is different.” He sketched a quick graph, a simple y and x axis and an arrow. “Velocity indicates the direction of an object.” His hand followed the trail of the arrow he drew, emphasizing that it was in motion. “So, velocity is the only one that actually would be considered when you look at vectors. Speed is just a number…velocity represents a change in position…which is what vectors do.”

You grimaced at his attempt to make it make sense for you. The effort was appreciated, truly, but it didn’t stick. You feigned understanding, nodding your head in an attempt to get him to move on and explain more. This was common for you. Something wouldn’t make sense, but you wouldn’t want to hold everyone up, to be a burden. So you would sit in class, half listening, half in another world. After class, you’d be forced to scour videos about the very subject the teacher had spent class time explaining. Unfortunately that was a rabbit hole, too, as you would always end up on videos that had nothing to do with school.

His eyes narrowed, not believing that your nod was enough of an indicator that you understood. “Come with me.” He moved to grab the papers for you, stuffing them in the folder and sliding them to you. You followed without a thought, trying to match his steady pace. He lead you to a nearby park down the street and sat his bag underneath a tree. You copied, placing your bag down beside his. It was impossible to not feel awkward, and yet, he persisted.

“Okay stand here,” he pointed a finger to a random spot on the ground. Your feet stood perfect on the space where the asphalt and grass met, one foot on each side. “So just imagine that standing here, you are the bottom of a line graph along the x-axis. He moved his hand side-to-side, palm down, reminding you that this would be the horizontal line. Hotdogs and hamburgers. You remembered the silly phrase from elementary school.

“Okay, standing here…x-axis.”

He walked over to the grass side, “Okay, over here…in the nice green grass…this is positive.” He walked over to the asphalt, “I’m on your left now, on the asphalt…this is negative.”

“…Okay.”

He walked to mirror your position, one foot on each terrain. Then, he slowly stepped on the grass. “Without thinking about numbers, how would you describe what I just did.”

“You…” Your brows furrowed, “You walked to the grass?”

“Right, and that is-“

“Positive?”

“Exactly.”

In a split second, he darted over to the asphalt. “How bout now?”

“You ran to the…to the negative?”

He nodded, meeting you back at center again. He smirked at how quickly he’d even come up with this demonstration. “This is an example of how vectors work. When you think of me running somewhere, picking up my speed, but moving to the quote unquote ‘negative,’ this could also mean that from my original position-“

Your eyes lit up, “You moved backwards?”

“Yup, or even down. On a graph, I mean.” He smiled with each word, amused by how you caught on to his unorthodox teachings. “But if I move slowly and to the ‘positive’ side?” He waited for you to answer.

“You…moved up or to the right.”

“Just like a point on a graph.” He stood, hands on his hips.

You were on the edge of every word he spoke, analyzing his every movement. You knew it was inopportune, but it was rather characteristic for you to lose focus right then. Jayce’s eyes were…interesting. Your first instinct was to say that they were yellow. When you looked closer you noticed the border of dark brown, the flecks of hazel and copper. It was unlike anything you’d ever seen. You got so caught up, you missed his hand coming up—leaving it lingering in the air.

“What,” he questioned, “Do you not like high-fives as encouragement?”

You chuckled, finally meeting his hand with yours. “I actually prefer snacks as encouragement, but this works.”

It was his turn to laugh, then. It was short-lived. You followed his line of sight to see the same woman from the resource center, the one he’d been so enraptured by. Rightfully so; she was even more beautiful than you thought. The sunlight hit her skin just right, almost glistening. You gulped, somewhat intimidated by her presence alone.

She reached you both, immediately giving Jayce a hug before turning to greet you.

“Hey, how’s the tutoring going?” She nudged the man beside her, looking to you for an answer.

“It’s going well,” you glanced at your phone screen, shit. “I actually should get going, but today was really helpful, thank you Jayce, bye.”

You shuffled to grab your things as quickly as possible, avoiding the look of surprise on Jayce’s face. It didn’t really matter, though.

Ekko was going to be pissed, again.

part three

#jaggedamethyst #angst #jayce talis #arcane jayce #jayce talis x reader #jayce talis x you #arcane #arcane x reader #jayce x reader #jayce league of legends #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #circuit breaker

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arieswritez · 1 year ago

Text

puppy love

puppy love | yandere!mark grayson x afab!reader | MULTI-CHAP: 3

chapter 2

cw; DARK CONTENT!!! MDNI!!! reader is neurodivergent, ableism, growing up is messy & adults suck, angst, niceguy™/slight incel mark, childhood friend/bully!mark, mark gets his powers sooner, teeny tiny implications of pseudo incest (blink and you'll miss it), violent rape, threats of violence, & canon typical violence, stalking, implied murder, gender & body dysphoria, mentions/implications of disordered eating, mark teases reader about their body once, overall asshole mark, implied grooming (mark handles it but he's a lil bitch about it later), so, victim blaming, misogyny, the inexplicable horrors of being afab, objectification, sexualization

about; you don't know how long i could stare into your picture and wish that it was me i guess it's different 'cause you love him but i've got an interactive sick and twisted imagination and that's gotta count for something - not allowed (tv girl)

you'd found a boy that made your heart go thump thump, thump. and you knew very well how the rest of that story usually went.

your love was encompassing. asphyxiating and obsessive. and in the very first moment the two of you interacted, you knew, this could be it.

you didn't blame yourself.

you couldn't blame yourself.

blame the love stories.

the disney movies with the princes and the magic mirrors. breaking curses with true love's kiss. much like the fabricated sugary fantasies, your potential life with him unfolded before your eyes.

he could be the one.

true love's forever kiss.

you imagined it all.

movie theater dates, awkward parental meetings, proposals, a home, kids, pets. arguments. therapy, even. pushing through at the end. death. rebirth. trying it all over again in the next life.

all you had to do was get him to stick around.

you had to make him understand that you could be his true love kiss, too.

you had to be perfect.

. . there was just one miniscule problem.

the boy so happened be on the same baseball team as mark.

it's the way the two of you had met.

despite the fact that you were supposed to be there for mark: your eyes were . . elsewhere. your eyes - then your focus - had gravitated towards him even before the first pitch. and you found yourself blushing as you watched him stretch: holding his baseball bat over his head.

you'd made it your only goal to attempt to extract as much information about it from mark as discretely as you could. and frankly, you should've known mark would be able to read you like the back of his hand.

because he found out what you were trying to do embarrassingly quickly.

and he was just as quick to shut it down.

you hadn't noticed the boy before. not really. but since the baseball game, he seemed to be everywhere. and you were excited to find that he was the new addition to mark's friend group. you knew this because you saw him and mark sitting together during lunch.

which meant they were at least acquaintances.

so imagine your shock when you came to find out. . mark didn't like him.

everything about him seemed to rub mark the wrong way. mark would clam up the moment you mentioned your boy. he'd change the subject. or his mood would just straight up sour. he'd go quiet and avoidant. and when you kept pushing, he finally snapped.

your boy was stupid.

your boy was shallow.

"don't say i didn't warn you." mark would mumble.

but warning you wasn’t enough.

your boy barely looked at you.

and you weren't sure if it was in part because of the way you acted. . the way you looked. maybe he was so out of your league that he'd completely removed you from his radar.

you'd watch him from across hallways and excitement would swell in your chest when you found that you'd be walking in opposite directions.

you'd see him coming.

he'd see you.

time would slow as you walked past him.

your heart rate would pick up.

but his eyes would remain forward and time would pick back up again as soon as you were past each other.

all it'd leave you with was the bitter taste of rejection in your mouth and a deep ache of anxiety bubbling in your stomach.

the only thing that sobered you up were the dizzying possibilities.

he hadn't seen you. he hadn't noticed the effort you'd put in.

but eventually, he would.

you don't know what it was that grabbed his attention.

mark was vehemently against introducing you two.

you were at a loss until you realized that you'd just have to try harder.

whenever mark left for the bathroom, you'd made it a mission to swipe mark's phone during study sessions. you'd go through his socials and send yourself screenshots of both his follower count and who he was following.

it was a long tedious progress but eventually, you'd found your boy's account.

thankfully, it was public. which meant the the decoy accounts you'd made to snoop just in case he was private turned out to be a waste of time.

you looked through his followers and did your homework on anyone he showed a particular interest in. you'd even made a list of the usernames of the people who’s posts he interacted with the most.

and soon you became a master of disguise.

you studied them top to bottom.

those that went to the same school were far easier to emulate.

you copied their mannerisms, the way they styled their hair, you changed the cadence of your voice, the way you rolled your r’s. your clothing grew tighter and your slouch was now an exaggerated upbeat gallop as you chased after the object your new affection, hoping one day he'd notice.

. . and the exact moment he looked into your eyes and did a double take. . you did one, too.

it was completely out of surprise before you caught yourself and continued to saunter away from him with butterflies in your stomach: flapping their wings so violently it felt like you'd be swept away.

his attention was the most excitement you'd felt. . in a long time.

and you knew you'd do anything to retain it.

it was a sickly sweet feeling: syrupy, sticky. clogging your vascular system to the point your head swelled. the lack of oxygen only heightened your fantasies.

the attention was addictive and so, so good you found yourself chasing that high all the time. going to extreme lengths to get his attention. even if they’d end up embarrassing you after.

you never allowed yourself to wallow in the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach when you did everything in your power to get his attention, though.

specially whenever it made a smile stretch across his face.

whatever you did faded into the background.

it was all worth it in the end.

something was wrong with mark.

and he needed to get to the root of the problem fast.

he was looking at you. . differently.

he talked to his dad.

nolan had said something about the changing moods having to do with his powers. how being intense and passionate was just in his blood.

he talked to his mom about it. albeit in a more discrete way. he'd never be able to live it down if she'd found out you were making him behave a certain way.

she'd just chalked it up to it being puberty.

mark didn't know who to believe.

he just wanted to stop thinking about you.

his nerves were shot to shit whenever you were near.

senses heightened: you were a fog blanketing his brain until your voice carried with it a technicolor vision.

he could smell you coming like a damn blood hound.

he could hear your pulse while sitting next to you.

something was wrong with mark.

he knew it when his teeth ached when you'd stretched your neck: raised your arms over your head and let out a little sound of pain and discomfort.

something was wrong with mark.

when the day's turned warm and wet. . and your clothing became more revealing.

he could see more of you.

freckles and moles, blemishes and scars, he hadn't noticed before.

he'd follow sweat drops rolling down your skin.

smooth. soft.

he'd held you, once.

when was the last time?

something was wrong with mark.

he'd lay awake at night staring up at the ceiling.

thinking about how you'd looked while you concentrated on a book. while you looked down at your phone. while you listened to music: smiling when a song you liked came on.

your little humming. . but not singing.

never singing.

mark noticed you'd stopped singing in front of him when he started to make fun of you for it.

that, too, was how mark knew something was wrong with him.

the way your moods would shift like tides under a crescent moon whenever he'd said something excited him. he felt pleasure - a violent zap of electricity shooting up and down his spice - watching your eyes light up or darken when he'd say something to you.

about you.

i like your hair today.

light.

you talk so goddamn much.

dark.

i missed you.

light.

your stories take fucking forever.

dark.

something was wrong with him when he found his own mood depended on fantasizing on how he'd make you feel that day.

if he was in a bad mood, seeing you in one, too, was a sure-fire way to make his day a whole lot better.

something was wrong with mark.

when he'd have to smother the sounds he made while imagining you -

something was wrong with him. . when red, hot anger consumed him when one of his friends made a smart quip about your body.

when he couldn't just laugh it off anymore.

something was wrong with mark.

. . or so he thought.

because he'd later find out. .

. . no.

something was wrong with you.

all of a sudden: mark was the one double texting.

triple texting.

mark was the one asking if he could hang out. . and when the fuck did he ever need permission?

mark was the one seeking you out.

something was wrong with you.

and he needed to get to root of the problem.

he picked his brain apart in an attempt to figure out what it was. you couldn't be under any stress. you looked fine. better than fine.

you looked happy.

fucking elated.

to the point where mark couldn't affect your moods anymore.

mark wanted to know what the fuck you were so happy about.

why the fuck you were so happy when he was falling apart at the seams. when his world was crashing down.

and there you were, completely fucking oblivious.

mark had always been curious.

and so, he went to see you.

the two of you were in your room.

you'd excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

and mark started looking.

you were predictable.

he knew where you kept your journal. despite how many times he'd found it and read it aloud - holding it above his head whenever you tried to snatch it away - he'd always managed to figure out your next hiding place.

it was easier that way.

he pretended he didn't know where it was.

you pretended to have some privacy.

he pretended not to know every single, minute, insignificant detail of your life.

of your thoughts.

thank fuck you were still so naive.

thank fuck for dairies.

he'd found it in a box under your bed.

and after flipping to the page with the freshest set of ink. . he'd found out what your problem was.

you'd found a boy who'd made your heart go

thump.

CHAPTER 4

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bunnyluvx · 6 months ago

Text

first kisses with overwatch characters! ♡

featuring: reinhardt, venture, mercy & brigitte x gn!reader. (all separate)

warnings: minors and ageless blogs dni regardless of content.

a/n: HI EVERYONE!! i have officially hit over 100 posts and thank you to everyone and anyone who has interacted with my content. thank you to my loved ones who have shown support through the time that i have had this blog, it truly means the world. happy holidays to all who are celebrating around this time of year, and have a good day if you're not!! enjoy some fluff!

date started: 4:15PM, december 12th, 2024.

date finished: 5:03PM. december 21st, 2024.

divider credit: hearts by @isisjupiter, support by @cafekitsune

wc: 2k | ao3

reinhardt ♡

the two of you have known each other for many years. you were in the crusaders together, and fought alongside one another for as long as you could remember. what used to be a crush turned into a deep-set yearning the more time passed by. you swear that no one you have never ached for someone the way that you ached for him, and he could say the same about you. the difference between the two of you is that he was always more vocal about his affections. you are the type of person who shows your love through actions instead of words, and while reinhardt has never hesitated to show you that he adores you, he was far more outspoken about it than you were. there were many times where he was boasting about how wonderful you are, the way that you would dote on him and just how lovely you are. you would get embarrassed and try to quiet him, which only made him laugh and become louder. you're a pair of adorable fools.

when reinhardt mentioned meeting his family for the first time, you were nervous. you knew that the lindholms were people that reinhardt adored, and that there were a lot of them, so you were very intimidated. you wanted to make a good impression and do right by reinhardt, but you had never let him down before. you were very quickly accepted into the lindholm family, and you came the love them just as much as reinhardt does. family is something that reinhardt holds close to his heart, so seeing you get along so well with everyone set into stone that you were the person that he wanted to be with.

it was the holiday season, and you were invited to spend it with the lindholms once again. the moon was lounging in the sky, the stars by its side when you and reinhardt were enacting a story for the children. of course, reinhardt was the knight come to save the day, and you were his royal in distress. you collaborated in narration with him while he battled pillows and stuffed animals, pretending that they were ferocious beasts that kept him from you. he fiercely defeated every enemy that blocked his path with a plastic sword, and when he finally reached you, you laid your hand over your heart and fell into his arms. he spun you around while holding you bridal style, laughter from all parties singing into the air. finally, the journey had come to an end, and the large man dipped you down and asked, "i don't suppose that you have a reward for me, your highness?"

you knew exactly what he meant, and you shook your head playfully at his antics. "but of course i do." you said, then turned to the children, "but should i?"

the tiny audience screeched for you to kiss him. you couldn't possibly deny them, so you leaned in and rewarded your diligent hero with a kiss. there was absolutely no hesitation from reinhardt, returning your gesture like it was the most natural thing in the world to him. his lips were dry, but he was ever so warm. the kids lost it and all began squealing and yelling excitedly as you wrapped your arms around his neck, strong arms pulling you closer to him as he slightly rose from the dip. you both agree that you would have loved to become official much sooner, but that moment was perfect. after all of the longing, there could be no moment more fitting for you to your devotion to each other.

venture ♡

i feel like venture gets really nervous when it comes to you. they don't find themself feeling so strongly about just anyone, so when they realized that they were developing feelings for you, they didn't really know what to do about it. you felt similarly, always tripping over your words when talking to them, laughing a little too hard at one of their jokes or taking note of every detail that you could retain about their interests. neither of you made any moves that were obvious to yourselves, but everyone around you was in agony.

venture's well-known way of showing affection to their loved ones is through pebbling. they'll find something that they think someone will like, and rush to give it to them. some of the overwatch team know this about venture and find it super endearing when they are on the receiving end of their gift-giving, but when they all noticed that you became venture's favorite person to gift to, they started to become suspicious. you returned their generosity by getting them any and everything that you could find that took to their interests, and they were always over the moon about it. they would brag to other members of overwatch about what you got them and talk for hours about it. neither of you are very subtle when it comes to your feelings, so they all figured out pretty quickly that the two of you were into each other and just never said anything.

you had been working on something for a long time, and when you finally finished it, you knew that you had to give it to venture as soon as humanly possible. you were hanging out in their room when you showed them a statue that you hand-carved of the two of you, and to say that venture was excited would be an understatement. they marveled at your creation, gently cradling it in their hands and admiring all of the little details that you added. they talked about the material that you used and gushed before setting the statue aside, opening their arms and blurting out, "I WANNA KISS YOU SO BAD!!!!"

upon realizing what they said, the archaeologist slammed both of their hands over their mouth with wide eyes. they started rambling apologies and you were just as surprised, cheeks growing hot on your face. you tried to console them before taking their hands in your own and telling them, "i want you to kiss me."

surprise spreads across their face, though it's quickly replaced by excitement. their eyes sparkle and they smile widely before wrapping their arms around your neck and kissing you. their lips were soft, a little chapped but you didn't mind, and their kiss was ever so tender. you felt so lucky that of all people, you are the person that they feel safe with. and everyday, they thank their lucky stars that you stand at their side through every adventure.

mercy ♡

poetry has always been the best way that you express your feelings. before becoming official with mercy, you were always telling her that she was the most beautiful, loving, unique soul that you had ever met. not to say that you didn't show your affections through your actions too, as mercy is the type of person who doesn't just want to hear things, she wants you to show it. and you did. time and time again, you helped mercy clean up after a hard fought battle, went out for coffee with her and listened to her when she needed you to. you had proven to mercy that you were serious about your feelings for her, you just like to express it through words.

so, when you finally decided that you wanted to make things official with her, you wrote her a poem. you spent a long time working on it, revising and sometimes even starting something completely new. after everything that the two of you had been through together, and because of how important she is to you, you wanted it to be perfect.

the night that you read it to her, she was smitten. you had become one of the most important people in her life, and hearing you express your deepest, truest feelings to her solidified it in her head that you are the person she wanted. your performance was exquisite, albeit a little dramatic due to your theatric nature, but that's just one more thing that she loved about you. she applauded once you were finished and chuckled, standing before approaching you and holding your hands. "ever the charmer, you are." she muses lightheartedly.

you chuckled and placed a hand on her hip. "am i charming enough for a kiss?" you asked, partially teasing and really not at the same time.

the woman chuckles and taunts, "just charming enough."

her lips felt like magic as they connected to yours. both of your arms come around her to encase her in an embrace, pulling her close to your body as you return her affection. her hands rested on your chest and she gratefully kept against you. you hadn't become official sooner because mercy wanted to focus on her career in overwatch, but the closer that you grew, the more that you showed her that you will always have her back. you came to her when she needed you most, and she always did the same for you. she believes that with you by her side, the chances of ending this war are far greater than none.

brigitte ♡

i imagine that brigitte is the type of person who is very private about her love life, due to one of her interactions with tracer. tracer asks if she's seeing anyone, and brigitte says that she'll tell her later. with that being said, i think romance is a personal experience for her, so she doesn't talk too openly about it. therefore, when you began to grow romantically involved with brigitte, she told you that she didn't want it to be too public. you both agreed to only keep it to you and a few of your close loved ones, and you were alright with this arrangement. so long as brigitte is comfortable, you are too.

this was your dynamic for awhile. around others, all interactions you shared were purely platonic, but when you were alone, you were able to flirt, snuggle and leave lingering touches to your hearts content. it was difficult sometimes, but in the end, it was always worth it to have time with her later on. many nights that you spent together were just sitting around and talking. brigitte has always been an easy person to talk to, and when you are with her, you feel as though you could tell her anything without any judgement. nothing is better than a conversation with her.

it was one of those nights that you shared your first kiss with brigitte. you were talking about the way that your relationship has progressed, and how every day, your feelings for her grew stronger and stronger. she was looking at you like you were her everything, a crooked smile tilting onto her lips. in that moment, no one else existed in her world outside of the two of you. she listened to you talk about how much you adored her, a little pink coming to her cheeks. never has she felt so strongly about anyone, and never has she been so sure that she has wanted something the way that she wants you. while you were rambling, you weren't upfront with what you were trying to say, but you didn't have to. because brigitte knew how you felt. so, she cupped one side of your face and confessed, "i love you too."

you swore that you felt like you were flying the moment that your lips touched. her lips were soft and the pressure was gentle. her hand was warm and rough against your skin, yet cradled you so carefully. so much weight, tension and longing lifted from your shoulders when she finally made her move, and you weren't hesitant to return the gesture. you took her face in both hands and kissed her hard, and her hand came up to hold your face while her lips returned your roughness. you were both finally put out of your misery after so much time spent yearning for each other. you would make your relationship official that night, and slowly became more open about it to everyone in your lives. though, none of this came before brigitte smothered you in all of her kisses and affection.

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xmads-omensx · 18 days ago

Text

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Neurodivergent!Reader

CW: mentions of info dumping, mentions of exhaustion

I do love writing the info dumping stuff because it means I can just info dump on all of you guys lmao

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @tosoundlessdarkistare @bloody-spades @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @dominuslunae @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @overmydeadbodysblog @illmakeyousaywow @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @dontwantthemoney @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm @death-ofpeace-ofmind @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @flowery-mess @athenexe @anything-more-than-human @oobleoob @dollieomens @astronoids @pipidoll @geminigirlfromfinland

You hadn't been dating Noah long when it happened.

Noah made you feel comfortable, happy, cared for. He was everything and more that you could have wanted in a partner.

You were sat on the sofa in his living room one evening after a day of hanging out together when you were trying to decide what movie to watch.

You landed on Jaws, with Noah saying that he was in the mood for "trashy and bloody chaos", which you agreed with with a laugh.

However, halfway through the movie, things took a turn.

You were conscious that you wanted to speak, but you were also conscious that you shouldn't.

Noah would get mad at you for interrupting the movie.

He would think you were weird for knowing all that random information.

He wouldn't like you anymore.

Your mind raced with negative thoughts.

"You okay?" Noah's soft voice whispered.

You nodded, frightened that if you opened your mouth you wouldn't be able to stop the words from coming out.

"We can watch something else if you're not into it." He suggested, moving to grab the TV remote.

"No!" You exclaimed, causing Noah to shoot you a slightly confused look.

"What's going on?" He asked, his eyes soft and reassuring.

You weren't sure what to say, so you just went for it.

"Did you know that Jaws was based off a bull shark and not a great white like the movie suggests?" You rambled.

Noah looked slightly taken aback by your statement, before his face softened.

"No, I didn't know that." He replied, making you smile wide.

"Yeah. You see, bull sharks are actually far more dangerous than great whites since they can move between fresh water and salt water so easily, while great whites don't." You continued.

"Oh that's actually really interesting." Noah replied.

"The two species are actually really similar in appearance, they often get mistaken for the other." You said, voice getting quieter as you realised you were rambling.

Noah's brows furrowed slightly.

"You know you don't have to be worried to talk to me right? I'm not gonna sit here and laugh at you." Noah said.

"Really?" You asked.

"Baby... you listened to me talk about Naruto for an hour last week... then asked questions about it when I was done. I'm not exactly in any position to judge." He laughed, pulling you close and placing a kiss on your head.

"Seriously, don't be scared to let your walls down. I've got you." He whispered as you snuggled into him.

“Now come on. Tell me about these bull sharks. I’m interested now.” He said with a laugh.

“You are?” You asked, genuinely surprised.

“Hell yeah.” He responded.

“Well… they’re infamous for their aggressive nature. Thats why they’re called bull sharks, you know, because they headbutt their prey before killing them.”

“Oh yeah?” Bob asked.

“Yeah. And most shark attacks on people near the shore is because of bull sharks. Like the opening scene from Jaws.” You gestured at the TV.

“So why is it a great white in the movie then?” Noah asked.

“If I asked you to picture a great white… what do you see?” You asked.

“Jumping out of water. You know? Like when it’s all teeth and gums.” Noah gestured with his hands as if that was helping him explain it.

“Exactly. You don’t see pictures of bull sharks like that. Great whites are unknown. They’re far away. Therefore they’re scarier.” You finished.

Noah kissed your head and snuggled back into the couch.

Your eyes felt heavy as the exhaustion from holding back caught up to you, but you didn’t mind.

After all, Noah liked you just the way you were. Shark facts and all.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fic #fanfic #noah sebastian bad omens #noah bad omens #noah sebastian x reader #Noah Sebastian headcannons #noah sebastian x neurodivergent!reader

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twistmusings · 10 months ago

Note

florid and (arguably) azujade are feasting this chapter update. congrats us

Honestly Anon, you're so right.

Chapter 7 is so interesting for Octavinelle - largely because we do get to see so much of how they think of each other and themselves, and we get to see so much of their relationship with each other. Honestly the shippers are thriving, but so are so many Jade and Floyd fans.

CW: Spoilers, Twisted Wonderland Character Shipping and mentions of Neurodivergence under the cut in case that isn't your cup of tea. It's very long and examines Floyd and Riddle's and Jade and Azul's dynamics throughout TWST and is sort of Character Analysis as well. Special note that there are Visual spoilers under the cut that will spoil some of the jokes from this chapter, so proceed with caution.

First, Floyd, who we see is outright distraught when everything goes right. Honestly at this point it makes me, as an ADHD person, struggle to not view Floyd as also having ADHD. I tend to not actually assign the characters neurodivergence or diagnose them, but honestly his characteristics really point to him being understimulated and just generally miserable because he's not doing anything and that's boring him. I have heard this from so many other folks with ADHD and have experienced it myself. I think, truth be told, that Floyd is a really good picture of a young person with ADHD. Especially as someone who was just properly diagnosed later in life - I would get these random, massive intense moods and would never be able to explain them until I began to suspect I had ADHD. If we consider Floyd's general characterization - he hates to be 'bored', he hates to force himself to do things that he doesn't want to do, he had random, intense moods, randomly struggling with some academics while really excelling in the things that interest him, comparing himself to other people and not understanding why he's different ... like, yeah, as a person with ADHD I relate to him so much. It's so interesting to me because Japan in general has a lot of medical bias against diagnosing and managing neurodiversity, so I think generally speaking, he's honestly a really well written example of someone who is struggling. I think his portrayal is probably so important for young people who play the game because it makes them feel normal and accepted, and I can't deny that.

And then Floyd and Riddle... these two are so funny. Like, if you had to ask me any character that shows having a crush on someone else canonically, I would probably point to Floyd and how he acts with Riddle. Considering that they're teenagers and we know neither he nor Riddle have any experience dating (none of the characters except Ace really do), I think it's really charming because like... are they annoying the fuck out of each other? Yeah, and I think that's pretty realistic for people who are 17 who have crushes on each other. Of course, I don't want to say I support people annoying or antagonizing their partners, but they are young people who are still learning how life works. I realize that teasing =/= having a crush on someone, but like...

In the recent stitch event they had this dialogue

Riddle gets so genuinely happy when Floyd praises him. Even Jack takes note of it. And then in Floyd's Labwear...

This interaction is so telling of the sort of relationship that they have with one another - first Floyd interprets their interactions as playing. Second, Riddle takes note that Floyd is in a bad mood which means that Riddle pays enough attention to him to notice when he's having a bad day. And then you have Jade over there just like 👀. It's so goofy but it's kind of wholesome also because it shows that in spite of everything, Riddle still shows concern for Floyd and Jade is a nosy sibling.

I don't know how many people have actually read the comic anthology, but there's a side story with Floyd and Riddle where Riddle is trying to study how to control himself better following his OB and Floyd, of course, comes to bother him and notices him reading advanced books and that ends in this interaction.

Like, is Floyd being a shit? Yes, of course, but he also doesn't take it back when he says that he thinks that it's admirable that Riddle works hard.

They really are the duality. Please enjoy this too-high effort shitpost I made.

And then add the fact that in the most recent story chapters the thing that gets Floyd to wake up is Silver and Jamil reminding him of the entrance ceremony where Riddle threw him through the air, and Floyd essentially being like "Yeah goldfishie is fun that was fun" and that being what snaps him out of it? Like these two are fated to irritate the hell out of each other by the story itself.

Also I think it's such a funny cute touch that the reason Floyd even started irritating Riddle is because Riddle couldn't control his temper and flung him. Floyd was just being curious, and while, yeah he probably should have asked before he touched Riddle's hair because he was curious if it would feel hot, Riddle immediately rose to meet his energy, and generally speaking we know that Floyd is a physically motivated person. He likes to fight, and he likes to test his strength. No one else caused a scene at the Sophomore orientation except Riddle. You know, the character that is almost entirely focused on not breaking rules? Riddle painted a massive target on his own back with his temper. And honestly, what I think does make it work is that even though Floyd teases Riddle literally all the time, he does respect Riddle. Riddle is interesting to him because he's strong and reacts when Floyd irritates him. As I said before, on Floyd's end at least, the antagonism is playful, and considering Floyd's relationship with Jade and Azul it's easy to see why. It's how he was raised to view affection from friends and peers.

Now, how about Riddle's side of things? Well, while we don't get a ton of canon crumbs from Riddle, there's at least a few things that we do get. We know that Riddle sort of resents that Floyd teases him, but he has been told multiple times by other people that Floyd is just trying to get a rise out of him. And yet, every time Floyd compliments Riddle and then immediately starts teasing him, Riddle falls for it. On some level, I'm sure it's because Riddle likes the attention just as much as Floyd, even if for a different reason. Riddle gets put down a lot - from his dorm and from his own mother. But even if Floyd teases him, Floyd also gasses him up because, like I said, Floyd genuinely thinks highly of Riddle. Riddle gets complimented and he gets smug about it because he thinks highly of himself, and it probably feels good to have that recognized.

Compare Riddle's interactions with Floyd to the ones he has with Jade, for example.

From the Spectral Soiree event.

There are a couple reasons why I feel like this is important to note. First, Riddle recognizes that Jade is making fun of him immediately. Riddle also misses Jade's sarcasm. Riddle isn't good at reading Jade - he finds Jade unpredictable and malicious, and interprets this as Jade making fun of him. In contrast, you don't see Riddle outright refuse a compliment from Floyd - he knows that Floyd is being upfront about how he feels when he says the things he does, but he doesn't know that about Jade. Riddle is also the butt of the joke here, whereas if we compare it to the similar situation that he went through with Floyd during the Tropical Turbulence event.

Floyd is teasing Riddle, yes, but in this situation he isn't making Riddle the butt of the joke, he's just causing a little bit of chaos. Floyd already has a plan in place, but Riddle the two aren't arguing with each other. It's also important to note that Floyd is one of the few characters outside of his dorm that Riddle really banters with comfortably.

The other thing is that though they compete with and annoy each other, Floyd and Riddle are actually genuinely pretty nice to each other otherwise. They both compliment each other pretty frequently even if they usually pepper in barbs as they do.

Floyd and Riddle are also pretty similar people, too:

At any rate, that's a lot of screenshots to basically say, yes they do make fun of each other and tease each other, but when they do get onto the same page, they work very well together and seem to have a mutual respect for each other even if they criticize each other. They can identify the aspects in each other that they can't identify in themselves and it makes their chemistry interesting because every time they share screentime it seems like they learn from each other.

Anyway, Florid fans eat well literally any time these two share screen time.

And then Jade and Azul... honestly those two cracked me up the entire time.

First you have Jade's dream with his god awful imagination. Jade literally gets the knockoff versions of Azul and Floyd as I said in the first post about it, but I think it's interesting to see how he perceives both of them. I'll be including images this time.

I'll start with Floyd because HOO buddy if I was Floyd and had to endure this shit.

This is an actual crime.

That being said, Floyd is noticeably more childish in Jade's dream than the actual Floyd is in reality, both in his rather immature visage as well as a more child-like way of speaking.

It's worth noting, in Floyd's dream, Floyd doesn't really pay much attention to where Jade is, and he doesn't really pay any attention to where Azul is either. He says "Eh, Jade's probably with Azul on land because the Mostro Lounge was succeeding." Floyd also makes a point of saying that it's a rule between the three of them - they don't have to stick together - if they don't want to do something, then they won't stick together and whoever wants to do it can do it on their own, or if they don't want to involve someone in something, they don't involve them in it. (Ironically, I would argue that this is one of the healthier dynamics for friendship in TWST that we see. All three of them have discussed and come to understand that if they need to separate ways, they will, they don't want to hold each other back from the things they enjoy.)

Jade on the other hand, and whether Floyd likes it or not, seems to view Floyd as a younger brother. We don't get confirmation as to whether or not Jade hatched first or if Floyd hatched first, but regardless of whichever it is, it seems like Jade views Floyd as his younger brother, and seems to have an instinct to coddle him, even if this portrayal of Floyd is deeply unflattering to Floyd and starts a whole fight.

It's also of note: Floyd didn't expect to be in Jade's dream at all. Floyd talks about how he figures that Jade has just dreamed about him in a similar way that Floyd had dreamed of Jade - off doing whatever he wanted to do. That's not true - Floyd is there, with Jade, and engaging in Jade's interests.

In Jade's official EN school uniform home tap he says:

Though some translations tend to interpret this line differently, and essentially instead say that Floyd is clingier than he seems.

The reason I'm pointing this out is because Jade is the only one of the three who's primary dream features all three of them together. This would seem to point toward Jade actually being the one who's clingier, and to being the one who's most attached to both of them. I can't really say for certain, but I almost wonder if Jade has a bit of a fear of abandonment with regard to Azul and Floyd and that's why his ideal dream world is one where they're both so reliant on him.

And then Azul...

Is Giorno Giovanna in the room with us?

Seriously though, I think it's kind of interesting to see how Azul is portrayed in Jade's imagination.

For reference, here's what Azul actually looks like in his mer form in the same pose.

The thing I immediately noticed is Azul's eyes. Sure, the image Jade has of Azul is a JJBA joke, but there's something else I want to point out about them in particular.

Azul's eyes are an entirely different, brighter color. In fact, it's also a different color from Azul's overblot eye color as well.

We know that Jade's limited imagination means he's working on his own impressions of Floyd and Azul and you're telling me that Jade's impression of Azul is that he looks like a character from a manga known for being about handsome, fabulous men and that he has ginormous, bright, shiny blue eyes that look like sapphires? Hello?????? Jade???

I think this is fascinating because had they just drawn Azul as like a normal old JJBA reference but kept his color palette the same, I could see it just being explained as "oh, neat, Jade thinks Azul is handsome when Azul doesn't" but follow me with this: Jade's imagination is painting them in broad strokes the way that Epel's imagination was doing in his dream. These are Jade's impressions of Floyd and Azul.

Floyd tracks - he sees Floyd as a younger brother and someone he inherently wants to take care of, even if it's not realistic. Floyd is a childish younger brother in a cartoonish way. Azul is motivated by money in a cartoonish way. These are the traits that stick out the most about the both of them to Jade.

So when Jade imagines Azul physically what he sees is Azul being handsome AND that he has these shiny bright blue eyes even if his memory gets the shade of blue wrong. Jade....... honey................ I need you to sit down when I tell you this..........

And then after he and Floyd fight, because Jade is too stubborn to wake up because he can't grasp that what he's seeing is wrong, the thing that finally triggers him to realize something is off is this version of dream Azul checking on him after the fight and being relieved he's okay and then saying that he's afraid he would have lost his "かわいい部下".

The thing that triggers Jade to start waking up is Azul calling Jade his cute subordinate (essentially his cute assistant). I am not exaggerating this. That is literally the phrase that triggers Jade. Jade even repeats it.

AND HE FUCKING PANICS

JADE. I AM BEGGING THE SECONDHAND CRINGE THIS MADE ME FEEL.

From there the dream Floyd of course says he's going to cry if Jade left him and like that just seals the deal. And everyone is super impressed because Jade realized it was wrong by himself and woke himself up.

I don't tend to insert my opinions much in my post but there is not a single person on this planet that is not going to make me believe that Jade did not just gay panic himself awake. I feel like most queer people have experienced something just like this. Jade literally wakes himself up because he's like "no, wait, hold on, Azul wouldn't say that, right?" and then Floyd saying he's going to cry sells it. Dream Azul essentially just fucking "baby girl"ed him and Jade was like "no, actually, that's too cringe for me to even dream about".

Then you have Azul's dream. Honestly there aren't a lot of crumbs there for Jade, but I think it's sort of sweet how even if they're sort of forced to, Jade and Floyd don't want to force Azul to do anything. They have a lot of respect for each other's personal boundaries, and they were fully prepared to let Azul stay asleep and allow him to work it out himself if he wanted to wake up. It doesn't end up working out that way, but it's not hard to tell that both the twins and Azul had respect for each other as individuals.

Another neat thing is that Azul is one of the few people who's dreams aren't inherently things he really wants. They're more of "what-if" scenarios. What if Azul was good at sports and ended up being a high school athlete? What if Azul actually got to follow through on burning that picture of his younger self and then opened a Mostro Lounge branch? I think it's interesting that Azul seems to be kept in these dreams because his imagination is vivid, and not because they're an ideal world perse. In a sense they are - but Azul himself admits that he doesn't really want either of them.

Azul gets so much growth shown in this chapter. He ends up wanting to wake up because he wants to live for himself, and not live for what other people think of him or having to rely on them. Azul still wants to succeed, but he wants to succeed for himself and not because he feels a need to one up the people that bullied him, and he wants to be fulfilled in himself. He's actually working on his mental health, I love that for him.

And, one more thing of note, I think it's so fucking cool that at the end of the book, Azul doesn't freak out about other people seeing him in his true form. In fact, he doesn't freak out about seeing himself in his true form when Idia makes a proxy version of him - he's just thinking about how cool it would be to have a second version of himself. I feel like most people have gotten the sense that Azul has a sense of self-loathing regarding his mer-form, but it seems like if he did at some point, he's made peace with it.

Anyway that's an unnecessarily long infodump about my feelings about the character relationships that we've got in the new update. Like obnoxiously long. So, uh... I'll just end the post with Azul's smiling sprite because I just think it's fucking adorable.

#answered;;#Anonymous #florid #jeiazu #twst #twisted wonderland #spoilers #twst spoilers #character analysis;;#Octavinelle is the dormitory where all of the queer folk go #I mean all of the dorms are but these three have a certain je ne sais quoi #In basically every test I've ever taken that sorts you into a dorm I've also ended up in Octavinelle so.... that tracks #welcome to Octavinelle we had good food and gay fish #twst shipping;;

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