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worldsover · 3 months

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The Strongest Man Alive

~4k words, oral, gentle dom!Irene

The moon—a weak thing—casts a soft glow through your curtains, illuminating the tangled sheets and two figures and eight limbs entwined. Bae Joohyun. Yours. And yours, she tastes of soju. You push away the curtains of her dark brown hair. You must do better than the moon if you want to see her face.

You don't want to see her face. How weak. Want can't be enough. Want is the moon whose light could never push.

Of course, it's need, this need above gravity—you will fly under your own power to see her gentle eyes shaped like almonds, the scrunch of her petite nose, or the tinge of pink on her cheeks. Such a tinge, you've pulled into her milky skin with each kiss.

Of course, it's need: if you could draw something so symmetrical as the oval of her face, you would be putting your work in galleries. Instead, you find yourself here, marveling at the slope of her jaw. At the slope of her jaw, your lips dance, taste one bead of sweat. Then, you're latched to her neck, making her moan.

Her body yearns against yours. Arms around your neck, your stomachs press together like puzzle pieces (more like magnets: two separate things now one). Her legs, those endless legs, lace around your hips as if they've been there your whole life. They've been there for twenty-six days, if you were to start counting from when you first asked her out. They've been there for five years, if you were to start counting from when you first met her as a friend of a friend. They'll be there forever, because why would you bother counting down when you could count up.

But you couldn't count up how you got here. The nights you shared in your bed or Joohyun's bed were innocent, simple: movies, warm kisses, cuddles. You had expected even slower than that. The lurid moans or the hands on your ass weren't part of the plan. There never could have been a plan. You didn't understand how fate penciled in you and Joohyun as a couple. The woman eight years your senior, aloof and intimidating and introverted. You'd overwhelm her with energy. She'd scare you with an icy glare.

This isn't Joohyun.

Love and care as a person is closer to your real Joohyun. As you aspire to redden and purple her sensitive neck with your lips, her gaze into you is as a stronger light, the morning sun, whose warmth is true and full. The air too, whatever is left between your bodies, crackles with heat, making sleep and a timeful waking for work both distant dreams. Your hand runs down the back of her neck, over thin layers of sweat on her skin, before slipping under her shirt to explore further.

Asymmetries and imbalance—you're understanding these are inescapable parts of you and Joohyun, the longer you count the time together. She's the leader. You're the follower. She might be examining your gluteus maximus like a butcher inspecting meat, pulling you by the chin to kiss your lips again, but you have to ask her: "Do you mind if I touch you lower?" See, gravity is the moon is weak is if as if gravity is not Joohyun's, and in her orbit you float and careful to stay, you seek permission even when you don't need it.

Float higher. Joohyun giggles. It's an often sound, not often enough. "Of course, handsome." That's Joohyun's voice playful and light and airy as a cloud; this is Joohyun dark and dangerous and knife in hand—"Touch me wherever you like."

Because if she says it like that, like she's honestly out to kill you, honestly out to stab you in the heart and in the brain and in the nerves until she's carved out everything that isn't just primal reaction and until something gets cold and hardens and presses against her midriff—and when she does it again, "Go ahead, touch me," and she grabs your wrist and makes you place your hand on her asscheeks—then how are you supposed to react when she says:

"How do you feel about… letting me suck your dick?" Lip bite and all?

This isn't Joohyun. It really isn't Joohyun. Not those eyes, not this soon. Not the woman who dressed modestly, who kept her distance from other men, who fiercely protected her female friends. Your Joohyun would ask for patience. And you were content with your Joohyun. But then, your Joohyun was an image, based on an external shell of a woman, and you can't imagine the real, soft, fleshy bits exposed more than Joohyun right now. And this Joohyun, were you less or more content with this one? Man, take the blowjob—you, an idiot, instead ask, "Now? Suck? T-tonight?"

"Yes, honey," she replies, but her voice is not so sweet. It refuses to let up, to let go of the boning knife; it stays deep, twisting your stomach. "I didn't ask for tomorrow."

Nothing more that you want, but unable to answer, you kiss her again with newfound urgency. Your fingers sink into her ass, and you taste her moan on your tongue. A breathless noise, a hint of a cloud, as if this might tip the balance or untwist the blade. And then a mote of a daring idea in your mind blossoms to sudden action without thinking. "Only if you beg for my dick," you say, with a seriousness that keeps your mouth open. You were not the weakness and the unweight of a pithy satellite.

Joohyun raises a brow. It's over. It's all over. Goodness. You had one chance with the prettiest woman, and now what? But then she grins wide. "Oh, look at you. How bold." This is a smaller knife, used to pare the skin off of fruits, and the pride off of men, so you pout and she pets your head, and you feel better and you feel smaller. "No, I'm kidding, baby. That was really hot. Do it again."

You look down. You are the weakness and…

"I'm sorry, I swear, you did great. I would gladly beg for your cock any day." Joohyun sits up against your hardwood headboard, looks at you through her long, fluttering lashes. "Please? Pwease? Pretty pleeease, can I suck your cock?"

This isn't Joohyun. And this isn't a paring knife, nor a boning knife, nor a playful cloud of words. This is a spoon that eats ice cweam. She pushes her chest together, tempting with cleavage peeking out of her bra top.

In response, you let out a soft whimper.

"Aww, does that mean yes?" she asks.

"Mhm," you say, a shy nod in addition.

"That's my man," she says. That must be the natural truth already. Joohyun said so.

As you sit up to copy her, she pushes you back down using a gentle hand on your chest.

"Just relax and let me take care of you, baby. Be a good boy and trust me." This knife… it cuts your sandwiches in a diagonal, and you think maybe this time, there is a hint of honey in her voice. She coos as she slides between your legs and tugs down your pants with her teeth. When your ankles are free of the pants, Joohyun returns her head by your thighs, and says with a sigh, "Ahh, it's like unwrapping a present. Look at that pretty bulge of yours."

You understand this as a rhetorical command, but still, you look, because by that pretty bulge rests Joohyun's face, and you shudder at its proximity. And while the knife metaphor is over, the mouth literal is more evocative than ever. She trails fingers down your chest and stomach while lips linger on your underwear. When she laps at your bulge, even if she only uses the very tip of her tongue, saliva's wetness seeps through the fabric. Even if the tip of her tongue is scalpel-precise in tracing your cock's outline, your own pre-cum must be seeping too. Her every motion is subtle but effective; you're already mewling loudly, already writhing beneath her.

"Looks like someone is excited." Joohyun uses her teeth again, now fully freeing your arousal from its confines. Your cock springs out and nearly hits her face, and she lets out a delighted squeal and takes control of the unruly actor with her small fingers. "I'm excited too. Gosh, it's so cute how hard you are."

As you lay there, breathless and trembling with desire, Joohyun gazes with adoration and palms along your hardened length. "Please," you say like you don't know what you're asking for.

Contented, Joohyun purrs, grazes her nails on your shaft, traces sinuous patterns down your pulsing vein. "You're so precious," she whispers. Then, stricter (more knife): "But I don't hear enough begging yet."

You're pathetic, weightless, suspended on four strings for each of your four limbs and Joohyun is your puppetmaster and Joohyun is your everything so with your everything, you say, "Please, I need it so bad. Need to feel your mouth on me, n-now. I'm a good boy, please, I'll be good for you, I'll do anything for it. You said you'd take care of me, p-please, I need you to…"

Joohyun places a finger on your lips, and you gulp.

"Aww," she responds with a soft chuckle, soft kisses traveling up your length. "Anything? Hmm…" With each deliberate swipe of her tongue, especially as it crosses the ridge to your cockhead, the most concentrated bundle of nerves, unexpected sounds escape from deep within your throat. Nothing, it seems, is ever in the plans, but especially not the low, throaty, bubbly noses, or the high whiny pitches you make. As her lips ghost over the tip of your cock, you want to grab her hair, to command her to suck—no, you don't.

This isn't you.

If Joohyun expects you to wait, whether it's the next few seconds or until the next moon phase, you will wait.

So you wait.

Now the warmth of her breath is like the warmth of her skin is like the quiet warmth of a distant star, only felt in the deepest calm of the night.

Her dark eyes pierce you with their gaze, dark as to match the inky blacks that surround such a faraway body.

Outside, the wind hums low, like it too is aware of the moment between you and Bae Joohyun. But no one, not even nature, can understand truly.

It's all so hot, so bright, so loud.

After a moment too long and not a moment too soon, Joohyun closes her mouth over your cockhead. It's slow, so slow, like she's tasting this inch and considering the merits of its flavor, then she's savoring the next inch, where she compares and contrasts its mouthfeel. Embarrassingly loud, you groan as she takes more of you in, creating a vacuum seal with her lips. And as if the wet sounds aren't enough, she hums around you, sending vibrations that might start at your cock but cascade through your body. Every now and then, her tongue darts out to flirt around your frenulum while her equally adept hands twist your shaft and fondle your ballsack.

Suddenly, her sucking becomes fast and urgent like a storm rolling in on a sunny day. Her eyes narrow in concentration, a look you've only seen during arcade dates or board game nights—she's trying to win something, and the prize lies in your balls.

You shut your eyelids like you don't want tears to escape, clench your thighs like you want her to lose for once. "Fuck, wait," you grit out through your teeth, "wait, wait, I'm gonna cum if you keep going like this."

Joohyun hesitates for a moment, as though her blowjob is a runaway train. But then she composes herself and pulls away from your cock with a playful smack of her lips. "Aww? Already?" she asks, and you're unsure if she's teasing as usual or in genuine dismay. "Thank for letting me know, sweetheart. I'll slow down."

She adjusts her pace: her lips linger on the base of your shaft, waning crescent, or your sensitive cockhead, waxing gibbous, and her hand has settled on a firm grip of your testicles—and none of that bodes well for your endurance. Joohyun knows exactly what she's doing to you; whenever she makes eye contact, the corner of her lips tugs into a sly smile.

"Think you can handle more?" she asks, low and husky. "I don't wanna push you too far."

She might—she will. Nevertheless, even more unbearable is the mere thought of the lack of her warm and wet ministrations on your member. "Please, keep going. It's okay."

"Promise?" She sticks out her pinky finger. You interlock your finger with hers. Though her hand is small and delicate compared to yours, the weight of the deal is not so. You've just signed a pact with the devil, but all your blood has already rushed to your cock so there's no way you had enough ink. It seems hell's denizens have no respect for legal authority: Joohyun's mouth rushes back to a vigorous rhythm along your shaft, this time allowing more foamy spit to escape the sides of her mouth. Like a sloppy drunk, she talks with a mouth full of you. "I want you to enjoy thih... but I also wanna be a little selfish and worship your cock, pwopehly—" she coughs. "And I can't do that if my precious man cums too early. So I need you to be brave and strong. You'ww be bwave, wight?"

You mouth "I'll be fine" and you've just lied to Joohyun. You wouldn't be surprised if you suddenly filled her mouth with your load, though you'd feel guilt at the lack of forewarning. You find yourself growing louder and more desperate with each pass of her lips.

"That's it, moan as much as you want, babe. I love hearing you."

"Nngh, fuck, you make me feel so good," you say, groaning, grunting, panting.

Her eyes shine with admiration, with honesty: she truly loves every sound she extracts from you. "Well, you make me feel more than just good. I think I'm in love with sucking your cock. No, I know I am. The way it pulses in my mouth, mmm, fuck... it makes me dripping wet." She licks her lips. "I wanna give you all the pleasure in the world. You deserve it."

To prove her point, Joohyun takes a break from your dick and focuses on your testicles instead. She engulfs them one by one, sucking and licking like they are the ripest, juiciest fruit; you must be incredibly delicious because her teeth graze and tug carefully at the loose skin, making you feel heavy and lightheaded simultaneously. Despite your length resting heavily against her forehead and nose and the mess of saliva across her face, Joohyun remains the epitome of beauty.

"No one else gets to see me like this, my love," she says, winking—usually, that'd be deliberate, but you wager it's the sticky saliva and pre-cum dripping from your cock onto her face. Despite the debauchery of the moment, she still manages to look adorable with one eye closed and the other half-open as if she's trying to perfect her winking technique.

Your hands instinctively tangle in her hair, unable to restrain yourself any longer as the intensity increases, both balls in her mouth.

"Close again?" she asks, releasing you from the confines of her mouth with only her fingers remaining on clean-up duty: first, she takes care of the frothy mess on her face and untangles wet strands of hair; then, she collects the sheen on your cock before licking each digit clean. She crawls up the bed, her petite form hovering above you until her face is right next to yours again. You could have never signed a deal with the devil because this is an angel. The angel presses her lips to yours, a tantalizing and bittersweet combination of her saliva mixed with your own juices.

"Does that feel better, babe? I know how much you love to taste my lips."

"Mmm, I do, thank you." Even more than that, however, the kiss is a welcome reprieve from the constant barrage of ecstasy at your genitals. Like earlier tonight, your hands roam over her body. However, now you don't just stop at her smooth curves and pert behind. Your fingers trail lower, finding their way to the warm, wet space between her thighs. As you trace her slick slit, she moans into your mouth, and you realize she wasn't lying. Her cunt is soaked. You're jealous of how much pleasure she can derive from giving pleasure. There is little resistance for your digits to glide inside, a knuckle deep, then two. In a frenzy, her hands roam as well, exploring your every dip and muscle, save for your throbbing erection and twitching balls. Again, you welcome her prudence, though you pay her in kind with a fingerfucking that accelerates.

"Mhm, yes, that's it, touch me like that." Joohyun's gasps interweave each kiss. "You're amazing, such a good, good boy. I'll make you cum such a big load in my mouth soon, I promise."

The thought of it inspires you: you bring your fingers to your lips and taste the remnants of her pleasure, salty and tangy and addicting. She watches you with a mixture of amusement and desire, her cheeks flushed.

"Is it really that good?" she asks, her voice betraying her usual confidence or playfulness as she breathes heavily.

"The yummiest," you reply with a lustful grin, already planning to tongue-map every inch of her cunt later. For now, your focus is fixed on the pleasure Joohyun can bring you elsewhere on your body. Your mind races as her rosy lips part in happiness and glisten like freshly picked strawberries. To say your dick is throbbing is an insult to throbbing; it's a bundle of fireworks ready to set off at any time. "Can... can you suck me again?"

"You sure?" Joohyun asks with a gentle stroke of your cheek, a slight pout, raised brows. There's genuine concern in her tone, however mild, but it quickly falls back to cheeky. "Maybe I should just keep kissing you again." Her pillowy lips press against yours, your jaw, your cheek. Sucks on your neck. Nibbles on your ear. Isn't enough.

You plead, your voice raw and exposed, "No, I need it. Need your mouth on my cock again. Need to cum."

Joohyun's eyes light up with mischief and she leans in close, her sweet breath caressing your face as she purrs, "You're so fun to play with. And it's adorable how much you want this."

Suddenly, her demeanor shifts and she becomes stern once more. "Say 'please' if you need it that bad," she demands.

You comply forthwith, the word slipping from your mouth like a sigh.

Before any of your reactions can inform your brain, Joohyun's lips and tongue envelop your aching cock. Then all the information comes all at once. Light as the fastest hits first as your eyes capture the determination in hers, the way her brows furrow in concentration, how her hair flies about in the sudden action. Then comes the heat, as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth, and the sound of glucks and other carnal oral noises reach your ears last.

Your replies have devolved into incoherent babbling by now; the only word you can repeat is the one she's made you say, and as much as you echo "please", she swallows your dick at just the right pace—just the wrong pace. Fast enough to make you whip your head back, slow enough to leave you on the brink of climax.

"Keep begging all you want, you're not cumming until I've had my fun. You want to explode into my mouth, don't you?" she taunts—look at the stripe Joohyun makes with her tongue. Is she cleaning the saliva on your shaft or covering it further is a question that's repeated ten times for the ten licks between the hundred dips of her mouth. "You want to pound that perfect cock into my throat and coat it with your load?" Wow, it's like she's in your head. Incredible. "Okay. Yeah. I can do that." And with a deep swallow, your head's in her as she takes you all the way down, and holds down, long enough for a single tear to swell in her eye.

Joohyun's nose jams against your stomach, and her eyes twitch—it's the wink again, or so you'd think if you didn't feel your tip jab the back of her throat. A bubble of thick saliva becomes bubbles as determined as she is to ignore her own need to breathe. With every clench of her throat around you, sparks course your nerves, or maybe it's not just the pressure, but the sight of the distension at her neck. Either way, you're unsure how lightning has yet to strike your rod. Every gag seems calculated, designed to make you squirm, and she has an uncanny ability to recognize the approach of your climax. As though through the pulse of your cock vein, she knows when to pull back just when your hairs start to raise, when the goosebumps form. The buildup of static denied its discharge. You would try to thrust your hips into her, regardless of whether you should or shouldn't but should's or shouldn't's are aren't's when she's holding your thighs down. Joohyun manages to treat your cock like a toy to tease and please herself with, despite her fucking her own face into it.

"You must be trying so hard..."

Joohyun pauses momentarily, breathes out through her nose, before another deep swallow.

"Not to explode..."

One more swallow.

"Into mommy's mouth... right?"

And then it happens. With a primal cry, you release everything you have into Joohyun's waiting mouth, her eyes widening in surprise before she eagerly swallows every last drop. Your body trembles with pleasure as she continues to suck you clean, your mind blissfully numb. Even after you finish Joohyun continues to suckle gently on your cock, sending aftershocks of hot bliss through your body; however, the overstimulation is a bucket of cold ice that has you gripping the sheets and begging through loud groans: "Please, please, ahhh."

"Please, what?"

You shake your head as your thighs clench and your eyes roll back. You're still pulsating, still unloading onto her tongue as her lips pucker and lock around your dick. "No, t-too much," you say.

"Sensitive? Aww, baby." But there's a glint of mischief in her eye that makes you question her. Before you can protest, she takes you back into her mouth, working her tongue around the underside of your shaft and suctioning with her lips, pushing herself down into your root until she has wrung you out into her stomach.

When she eventually pulls herself off your sore and spent member, Joohyun's mouth stays open. "Wow, I've never done that. I'm so, so sorry... I swear, I'm not some crazy nympho obsessed with your cock or anything."

You're not sure you believe. You are sure you forgive her. As you catch your breath and bask in the afterglow of mind-altering bliss, Joohyun's head weighing on her thigh, you wonder if what's so irresistible about your cum to her—she's still playing with a glob of it in her mouth. When she gulps, she lets out a satisfied sigh.

"Hmm... seems like you really, really liked when I said a certain word. Or at least your dick did," Joohyun suggests, flicking at and toying with your softness, making you jump.

As her eyes captivate yours, she poses a question that rocks your world.

"Would you like me to be your mommy—" "Yes."

#kpop smut #red velvet smut #male reader #reader insert

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helluvapoison · 3 months

Note

How do you think Adam x reader x Lute(poly) work work out? Because I don’t think Adam would mind having a poly relationship if it’s with Lute because they trust each other, but I wonder how it would even go down to begin with

Adam x Reader x Lute

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

• Honestly? It could go either way starting with Adam and you or Adam and Lute. He’s a greedy bastard, one lover isn’t enough for him! He’s owed it actually! Considering you know who stole his first two wives

• (This is a lie. Deep, deep— seriously however deep your thinking, it’s deeper— down he doesn’t feel like he deserves any)

• Regardless, Lute doesn’t care for you. She tolerates you for Adam’s sake but the difference in how she treats you both is enormous. He can get away with murder— literally! Where you can’t make a smoothie without doing it wrong

• In a way Lute sees all her sisters as potential, future competitors. She rivaled with Vaggie over Adam’s attention until she finally had it all for herself. Who’s to say that won’t happen again? That she won’t be the one to be tossed aside next time? Then you came along and made her fear so much more plausible. So you’re no different than them

• Except you were

• When Adam asked you to bring food, you never failed to ask what Lute wanted. You set three plates during date night or made reservations for three. You bought a third controller for Adam’s game that she never wanted to play in case she changed her mind

• When Adam knocked both of you out of bed in his sleep, twice, you sat up with a smile aimed right at Lute. Flaring, she was ready for you to banish her to the couch. You didn’t. You joked that you three would need an even bigger mattress. In the darkness of night she saw you in a new light, gently illuminated by the stars peaking in through the window

• Adam was fucking ecstatic to see you both having coffee that morning, throwing his arms around your necks, “Fucking finally! Aww, look at my two hotties getting along!”

• Lute didn’t open up overnight but immediately her treatment of you took off. Turns out she did have manners and used them in a much kinder, more genuine tone instead of sarcastically and only when Adam told her to. She praised you for little things even you didn’t notice, walked you to and from wherever you needed to go. So this is what it was like to be on her good side?

• Adam calls you two Double Trouble when you “bitch” at him

• You’re better at shrugging off his retorts

“You love us.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love you more if you didn’t nag me,” He mumbles

Lute’s head snaps in his direction, “What was that?”

“I said yeah, I love you! Fuck, get off my dick already.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel #lute x reader #lute imagine #lute headcanon #hazbin hotel adam headcanon #hazbin hotel adam imagine #hazbin hotel adam x reader

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dawnoftime22 · 6 months

Text

just a little jealous.

| N.R

Warnings: None!

Summary: Natasha comes home to find out Liho has been taking her spot for you.

Word Count: 1.4k

Category: fluffy fluff <3

| Started on 12/10/2023, 6:45 AM |

| Finished on 28/10/2023 7:29 PM |

Masterlist

"But you are the first thing on my mind, always.

Does that count?"

"Traitor." - Nat, aou

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

"Детка (baby), I'm home!" Nat calls out into the house as she closes the door on the way in, but all that greeted her back was the quietness the place had.

"Детка?" She says yet again, questioning if you just hadn't heard her, because she knows you get a little too lost in your music at times.

She checks the living room, nothing but the tv remote still in its original place since she was last here, then the kitchen, and still nothing.

Then, something else greeted her. Black paws quietly ran across the room and a soft meow makes her look down. Liho was pawing at her legs, and Natasha bent down to grab her, the soft fur instantly making her relax.

"Hi there." Liho curled up against her when she pulled her to her chest, the feline closing its eyes at the comfortable spot it's in.

"You know where Y/N is? Hm?" Her hand goes up to pet Liho in between her ears, and while it started purring against her, Liho started to move her head, making Natasha move her hand to let the little one look wherever it's wanting to.

When the yellow eyes stared up the stairs, where supposedly, is in the direction of your shared bedroom with Nat, she gets what Liho was trying to say.

Nat walks towards and up the stairs, her legs leading her off to your shared bedroom together. The quietness that still stayed had Nat waiting in anticipation on what exactly you were doing. If you were watching a movie, she would have heard it by now, with how close she was to the room.

The door was open just a crack, so you could only see a glimpse of the inside, but just her seeing even a small strand of your hair made her a little calmer.

She steps inside, pushing the door gently with her hand but it still welcomed her with a soft creak. Although she was hoping to see you on the bed, safe and sound, she also wasn't expecting you to be sitting opposite of how someone would usually lay down in a bed.

You laid on your side, an arm and a leg half hanging off the bed, with your feet just below where the pillows are, and your head resting on a folded blanket. She wondered how exactly did you make yourself comfortable in that position, but had gotten distracted by the adorable pout you had on your face. You seemed spaced out.

When you heard the creak and noticed Nat walking in the room, your face brightens.

"There you are." The both of you said. Yes. The both of you at the same time. It would make sense for the widow to have said it, but when she heard the words echo back to her from your own mouth, she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.

Then, Liho let out a meow and jumped off from her arms, landing gracefully down to the floor to go over to you instead. You opened your arms up, wanting the floof against your skin again.

Liho settles herself beside you, and when you finally, as Nat thought, looked up at her, she had her mouth slightly open in shock at how you almost didn't say hi to her first and wanted to cuddle with the cat.

You had a smile on your face already before giggling at how shocked Nat looked. "Hi," you say softly, as if you hadn't just absolutely betrayed her.

"Don't 'hi' me!" She still stood at the door, lifting her hands up in made up exasperation until she shook her head with a small smile, walking to you, (or so you thought) no, walking by you, to grab a pair of comfortable clothes from the closet.

Now you were the one surprised. But the both of you were smiling all the while. You lift yourself up to sit up slightly, leaning on your elbows. "Wait, I only greeted Liho first because she wasn't here when I woke up from my nap!"

"I wasn't either!" She claims, and although it was undeniably the truth, you did sleep while Liho was next to you, and she was off at work, until you woke up with the black cat gone, similar to the morning you had with Nat's warm body missing next to you just a few hours ago. Missing black cat, missing black widow.

"I'm sorry, okay? But hey, I still greeted both of you!" You say in defense. She raises her eyebrows at you, grabbing her towel to hang it on one of her shoulders. Her mouth, almost making out a small pout. But you bet she's trying her hardest not to let it show much.

"Should've been me first." she mumbles, turning around to head towards the bathroom. You just barely hear her, and it took everything in you not to laugh or aw at how jealous she was.

"What was that?" You ask, taunting her with a smirk that you're glad she couldn't see

"Nothing! Nothing." She huffs, walking off to the bathroom to clean herself off from today's work with her hands swatting in the air towards you without looking, as if signalling you to stop or go away.

When you hear the door closing with a click, you let out a quiet laugh, leaning back on the folded blanket you laid on.

"Did you hear what I heard too?" You whisper to Liho, petting her soft fur. The curled up cat didn't answer, and only purred with its eyes closed from your gentle hands.

You soon heard running water come from the bathroom, and although you loved teasing Nat, you were glad she's home again.

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

Once Nat got back in the bedroom and put her clothes on, she sits down next to you, while trying to keep a small distance between the both of you.

"You know you're jealous over just one of the smallest, adorable beings on the world right?" you raise a brow at her, a smile ghosting your lips.

"Shut up." a chuckle comes out of you at her quick response, and you pull up the covers to cover up the both of you, making sure Liho didn't end up completely under them and suffocating or something. Nat's face softened slightly at the gesture as the covers warmed her up.

"You shouldn't be. You're the same, just more adorable." It clicked in that moment, that you were implying she was another small but most adorable thing in the world. Honestly, if she wasn't so in love with you, you'd probably be dead by now.

Natasha rolls her eyes playfully, and still a little annoyed, but the feeling doesn't stay much longer when you cuddle closer into her. Her heart can't resist making her arms put theirselves around your body.

Even if it was her heart, she kept her eyes focused on Liho, her hands slightly tightening around you, as if protectively keeping you away from the small unharmful cat.

You wriggle a bit out of her grip, which made her loosen her arms just a little, but watches you as she lets you turn around to make eye contact with the curious yellow eyes as Liho made its way to you.

Before Nat could pull you back closer to her, Liho unexpectedly, at first slowly reaches up with one paw on your shoulder, and then boops your nose with her other paw gently, making you let out a soft giggle and scrunch your nose. Natasha's heart melted, and as if the scene to look at wasn't just adorable enough, she had to hear your little laugh.

You then turn back to snuggle against Nat, but then lean up to put a small soft boop on her nose, too.

"Hey!" Nat splutters out lightly in surprise as she laughed along with you, warmth enveloping the both of your hearts, and maybe even Liho's, though she might just be confused at what the two of you are laughing about.

While you both calmed down, the black cat pads over to Nat's side instead, laying down and flipping around to stretch then show Nat her stomach. She pets Liho's head, her hand straying down away to it's body covered in soft fur.

Although she had to admit she was jealous, she still loves the feline friend even though it almost seemed as if it was trying to steal you away from her. But of course, what she loved most was seeing your adorable smile.

---------------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@notevenanna @ludasgf @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @justanotherteenpoet @fxckmiup @dmenby3100 @natsbraids

#🥀 dawn’s collection #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff comfort #soft natasha romanoff

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buckyysdoll · 10 months

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— 𝐝𝐚𝐝!𝐛𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐜𝐬 —

જ⁀➴ — summary: self explanatory; a/n: i’m down SO bad for him <3 -> @bakersbucky + @jvanilly — tagged for ur comments on the dating bucky hcs! <3; cw: light allusions to smut, canon-typical ref to bucky’s nightmares/trauma; pairing: bucky x f!reader

MAIN MASTERLIST

• of course he cried when you told him — he never thought he’d have OR deserve a happy ending :’)

• he secretly wants a daughter so he can spoil both his girls, and he’s privately dreamt for years about the family you’d one day have

• but there’s just something about him seeing your face reflected in his little girl’s 😭 and knowing she’d have your eyes, your smile, and all those parts he adored

• “she’s gonna have your eyes, and your laugh. and i’m gonna love the two of you until i take my last breath on this earth” *😭*

• and so as your baby grows within you, you two stay up late at night in bed talking — he’s tracing the curve of your stomach so softly with his ordinary hand as he’s saying, oh she’s definitely a girl.

• or the conversation goes something like this:

— b: [whispers] i just can’t wait to meet her

— you: [smiling like a lovesick idiot] her? you think she’s a girl?

— b: of course she is, doll, i can feel it.

— you: [smiling even wider] yeah? and how could you possibly know?

— b: i’m a super soldier sweetheart. call it instinct😌

• talks to the bump, sleeps with a hand on your stomach, mother hens you so much

• bucky’d be very precious with you when it came to sex because of his strength - saying “what if i hurt our little bump?” - when meanwhile you’re laying there horny as fuck

• and so you say, “sweetheart, as much as i love you for this i am begging you to take off your shirt”

• at first, he also won’t touch you with his vibranium arm when you’re pregnant

• and with you being you — his wife — of course you notice

• and so you gently take that hand in yours and lay it on your bump and he just weeps that he can have this after all he’s seen and done

• bucky also definitely tries to make up random diy baby bits in the middle of the night

• and you tease him for how frustrated he gets with this furniture from “fucking ikea”

• especially when he then accidentally underestimates his strength and snaps the damn thing in half

• he carries you everywhere — “bucky i’m pregnant, i still have legs” // “and you also have a husband that can do the walking for you”

• gives you massages every night, wherever u want them [;) <3]

• reads literally all the baby books he can get his hands on and gets in a panic at the slightest pain or cramp — frets, “it didn’t say this in the book” or otherwise, “just breathe, doll, alright? i’ll hold you through it”

• the darker, more possessive side of him that he never quite lost (and that you loved) absolutely thrills that you’re pregnant with his child, but he tries hard to bury that part of him — though you absolutely fold at that look on his face

• in truth, he went so quiet and inward when he found out the news and u thought he wasn’t happy

• when really he’s just so fucking scared cos after all this time he still doesn’t see himself as safe

• he’ll stay up hours refusing to sleep so he can just count your breaths, and protect you. his Winter Soldier past came back full force, and hence so did that protective, defensive side. he would’ve killed for his girls.

• “what if something happens? *his voice cracks* what if i hurt our child?” 😭 and his nightmares now reflect this new fear — night terrors have him up at night, eyes wide and skin slick with sweat.

• so when he has them and you need your sleep the further along you get, he sneaks off into the living room to sleep on the couch instead

• and you’d wake up every time and seem to sense that he’s not there — or your baby kicks as if she wants to tell you bucky’s gone

• cos you know he’s not the only one that’s protective of the love of his life <3 — n you say “who’s the super soldier now, huh? you can’t get away from me that easy <3”

• because the morning then finds him with your arms around his middle as you’d scooted to lay behind him on the sofa, your bump to his back.

• your marriage was a two way street and you’d be damned if he didn’t let you comfort him, too. and it’s only when your baby kicks hard at your stomach at the moment that his metal hand was on it, that he’s convinced at last — even if only a little bit, yet — that before she’s even born, his daughter trusts him

• cos it turns out he was right that she’s a girl, his babygirl <3

• bucky’ll come home from a mission and drop his bag straight to the hardwood floor, asking “how are my girls?” with tears in his voice, before kissing your lips, then your bump*

• he gets incredibly soft and clingy — even more so than normal — every time he gets home. He’ll bury his head in your neck and just listen to your heart, hear the proof that you’re with him

• he loves her to bits even before she’s born, and he’s such a total girl dad already. he even loves her more than life when you’ve almost hit full term, and while kissing his way down your body she deliberately kicks — cockblocking her daddy.

• you laugh and you’re so so in love when he leans down and whispers, “excuse me, little one. this is a moment between me and your mother.” but it’s just no good cos every time you get closer to that point, you’re interrupted.

• he always gives in to your weird cravings, and will run to the store no matter what the time is. and if he ever gives you that look because you’re eating pickles straight from the jar, you’ll fix him with a look of your own and say, “honey you lived through world war two, i know you ate weirder shit than this”

• you always wear his shirts around the house with just your undies, and dear god it makes him so. fucking. horny

• it gets him so so proud, so protective and possessive

• speaking of, those aforementioned missions he goes on from now on? he’s absolutely insufferable

• sam teases him no end for it, but really his heart warms for his friend. especially when he’s on the phone mid-fight asking you to put the phone to your bump so he can talk to his little girl

• it’ll either be, “i just needed to hear your voice, doll”// or conversely, “i want her to know my voice” -> the two of you are his whole entire world

• so within no time at all, he flat out refuses to do them at all — he semi-retires and sam understands; he’s secretly proud of him too, just like you.

• bucky is genuinely the world’s most amazing father and you’re so, so honoured to call him the dad to your little girl

• you’re always walking in on tea parties between the two of them, and you’d be jealous at how close they are if you didn’t adore it so fucking much. she’s a daddy’s girl through n through, and who could ever blame her? you were bucky’s girl too <3

• in fact, you once walked in (it’s happened often) on her fully doing her daddy’s makeup, sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor when you come home after a shift. you couldn’t help but just stand there in the doorway crying happy, happy tears at this new life that you’d made

• it was such a far cry from the darkness you know that he’d felt for so much of his life

• and if he still takes on some missions when he has little choice, once his daughter is born? he proudly goes off to fight fascists with the remnants of pink nail polish on his fingers

• or better still, sometimes there’s glitter still left on his cheeks from the makeover he’d gotten the night before

• calls your baby “sweetheart” n has nicknames just for her — “babygirl”

• he lets you sleep with a soft “i’ll get her, love” when your daughter can’t yet sleep through the night. and you see him, the White Wolf, the ex-Winter Soldier with that smile on his face, rocking his daughter in his arms and you just think — who ever would’ve known?

• your love, your beautiful husband, had come so far from the person he’d been. bucky had healed, day by day and step by step with you walking beside him

• idea from that post i saw yrs ago on pinterest — she grows up thinking her mom’s name is “doll” because that’s what she hears her daddy call you. and it’s hilarious the first time it happens, cos she’d only just really begun to talk — and what does she say when you fill up her bottle of juice? “thank you, doll” in that little baby voice.

• bucky just burst out laughing, and you joined him. that absolute smartass <3

• your daughter grows up to you two being those parents that are embarrassingly, sickeningly in love, but that are a safe space in the home that they’ve made for her friends, if they need somewhere to stay.

• and being an ex-avenger who looks the way he does 👀 you’d be lying if you said he hadn’t become a well-renowned dilf to her friends

• his arc with you is exactly just like bucky by the end of tfatws🥲 he goes through so much growth and it’s so, so beautiful. he’s so beautiful

• and he does the arm thing, where your little girl just clings to him like a koala. she’ll giggle like hell and that’s just why he does it — so he can see the smile she inherited from you in his beautiful girl.

• even if the first time you walked in on it happening, you just were a little like 😵‍💫 honey, why are you swinging our daughter around?

• he carries her on his shoulders around the house just because she loves it <3

• and he loves you both enough that he soon starts to love himself <3

✪ ✪ ✪ ✪ ✪

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sweet4roma · 2 months

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SWEET AROMA

pairing: stepsis!giselle x fem!reader

wc: 0.7k

warnings: smut, stepcest, pussy eating, cum eating, aphrodisiac usage

Not being able to go out at the weekend was the worst. Especially since your parents were out of town so you could go wherever you wanted with whoever you wanted. That unless your parents made you babysit your step sister, Giselle. Which was stupid, since she was the same age as you! Their only excuse was that she and her mother had just move in with you from another state.

Unfortunately for her, she became the victim of your anger issues. It wasn’t that you were mad at her, but at the situation. So you couldn’t help but scream when she asked you how you were, making her flinch as you complained. “I’m sorry you are stuck with me. Would some hot chocolate make you feel better?” she looked at you sweetly and went to make some as soon as you agreed.

You had to confirm that your step sister was beyond beautiful. Her overly bleached hair would look horrible on anyone, but she somehow managed to pull it off beautifully. Her unique style of makeup made the best out of her features, but she looked as stunning without it. It had seemed like the gods blessed her with a curvy figure that you were secretly jealous of. So how could you be mad at such an angel girl?

It seemed like only her looks were angel like as her intentions were the opposite. Giselle managed to sneak a special chocolate from her home state, thanks to her friend that worked at a sex shop. She melted a generous amount of it with the normal chocolate, creating a sweet and dangerous concoction. Her core twitched in excitement as she brought the two cups to you.

“Well, drink up! Tell me how you like it…” she smiled at you from the other side of the couch, eyeing you up and down. Your guts were telling you not everything was alright, but what could be bad in a hot chocolate? So you downed it quickly.

Not long passed until you started feeling a burning between of your legs. The room felt as if it had heated up and you became sensitive to every touch. There were no mirrors nearby but you knew for a fact that your face was as red as a tomato

“i’ll go upstairs…” you excused yourself, making your way to your room. Plopping down on the bed, you slightly pulled down your panties, revealing a pool of arousal dripping down your legs. The moment your fingers made contact with your aching cunt, you let out an alarmingly loud moan. You hoped your sister wouldn’t hear you, but she was actually listening from outside the door.

“You okay, sis?” before you could tell her to stay out, she already made her way in, sitting between your opened legs.

“Oh, my. does this hurt? I’ll help you” Giselle leaned her head in and licked a stripe uo your pussy. she looked at you with her tongue full of arousal and the sight alone could make you go crazy.

“Fuck- eat my pussy…” you knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help but push her blonde locks into your core, having her immediately lap at you. “you smell so good…” she kissed your folds “your pussy has such a sweet aroma” her words made your cunt pulsate, which only excited her more.

Her tongue felt cold against of you hot self, and her hands flew to your thighs, almost splitting you open.

Giselle thrusted her tongue in and out of your hole, maintaining eye contact the entire time. You were so turned on you couldn’t help but grind on her beautiful face, hoping your cunt suffocated her. Thanks to her occasional sucks and bites here and there, you quickly came on her face, your white substance filling her mouth.

“wow, sis. i didn’t know you were so dirty..” she lifted her face from between your legs and headed for you face instead, where she captured your lips with hers. You didn’t bother fight for dominance as you let her tongue explore you mouth. In the meantime, you pressed her body against yours, feeling her wet pussy on your thigh.

It was only normal to return the favour, so your fingers started pumping at her as you continued to make out. The though of how disgusting everything was brought her closer, eventually coating your fingers in her cum. You brought your fingers up and watched them disappear in Giselle’s mouth.

“You’re the dirty one, Gi” she just smiled at you, both of you knowing it wouldn’t be the last time you did that.

#sweet4roma #giselle x reader #aeri uchinaga #giselle smut #wlw #wlw smut #aespa smut

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underdark-dreams · 2 months

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This fic will explore the fanon of Tiefling rut/heat cycles: specifically, what happens when a stressed, overworked, sexually pent-up wizard is confronted with his own biology and his feelings about a certain hero all at once?

Thank you @rolansrighthorn for kindly beta reading this chapter!

Rolan x afab!Tav

Birds and Bees - Ch.1

The new Master of Ramazith's Tower hasn't been feeling well. Rolan isn't quite sure what's wrong with himself, but when Tav arrives back in Baldur's Gate, things get much worse.

Tags: Tiefling Ruts, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining | Word Count: 3.4k [Read on AO3]

Rolan awoke feeling sick as a dog.

He pulled his legs over the edge of the mattress with a wince. The dull ache in his muscles was something he hadn't felt since those first weeks on the road out of Elturel.

He'd slept like hells the past few days; no doubt that was the cause. Once again, bizarre nightmares had left him gasping awake before dawn, covered in a clammy sheen of perspiration.

The dreams featuring Tav, however…

Rolan’s tail shuddered and flicked over the bedsheets behind him at the memory. He pushed those thoughts forcefully from his head. Tav was due back in Baldur’s Gate today—that was the last thing he should be thinking of when she arrived at Sorcerous Sundries.

She’d been away for over a week this time, gathering her materials in the Underdark. He wondered if that meant she'd have enough work to keep her in the city for longer, too. The thought encouraged him enough to rise and dress for the day. He should make sure her alchemy station was prepped and ready for her at the back of the shop, at least.

Down on the main floor of Sorcerous Sundries, Rolan’s improved mood was instantly tested. Cal took in his face wide-eyed.

“You look awful.”

“And good morning to you,” Rolan responded irritably.

“Is it?” Cal trailed after him as he unlocked and threw open the wide front doors. “Rolan, maybe you need a day off. You look like you barely slept.”

“I'm fine,” Rolan said, voice firm. “Where’s Lia?”

Right as the words left him, a teacup appeared at his elbow.

“Had a feeling you might need it,” Lia told him. “Looks like I was right.”

Too tired to combat both his siblings at once this early in the day, Rolan accepted the tea with a begrudging sigh of thanks. The smell of bitter herbs hit his nose before he took the first sip.

“Doctoring me with folk remedies now?”

Lia waved a dismissive hand as she moved behind the counter. “Yeah, yeah, we all know you'd rather get fussed over by Tav. Can't have you dragging your tail and embarrassing us in front of her, though.”

Cal walked off with a snort.

Rolan shut his eyes and wished he could return straight back to bed. Instead, he drank his tea down in silence and said a prayer for an easy day of work.

He did find himself perking up after a while. It was difficult to stay sullen on such a glorious spring day; clear sunlight streamed generously through the high windows above, and the flow of customers milling into the shop settled into a pleasant, familiar hum. Rolan fell into the rhythm of assisting them here and there, locating scrolls and giving advice on spellwork.

It certainly wasn’t the prospect of seeing Tav again that was improving his mood so much. That’s what Rolan kept telling himself, at least.

Another breeze drifted in through the open atrium behind him, bringing with it the fresh scent of spring wildflowers. Rolan was taken with a sudden fancy to move closer to wherever it emanated from.

“Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Tav stood beaming at him from the doorway, despite the full-to-bursting pack slung over one of her shoulders. Clearly he wasn’t the only one affected by the irresistibly nice weather.

“It rather is,” Rolan agreed. Ignoring her usual protests, he unshouldered the bag from her with a tug; its weight made him question whether she’d stuffed it entirely with minerals.

“Ugh…thanks.” Tav stretched her arms back appreciatively. She was wearing a lightweight tunic, carelessly laced, and the motion strained the fabric over her chest.

Rolan averted his gaze, feeling rather warm all of a sudden. He instead led Tav back to her workstation near the stairs.

“Looks busy in here,” she remarked with approval. “Business good?”

“Can’t complain. I take it your travels were as successful?” He punctuated the comment by landing her pack on the desk with a heavy thump. Tav laughed.

“Brilliant, actually. I've got a lot to show you, if you can spare the time.”

“Just give me a few minutes,” he answered, turning back to her.

Tav didn’t reply right away; she was frowning at his face. “Rolan, are you ill? You look flushed—” And she reached a hand as if to feel his forehead.

“Of course not,” Rolan answered, a bit too swiftly. Casting for an excuse to create some distance, he moved to the nearby reference shelves and began shoving the mess of books back into their correct cubbies. “Cal, could you grab another stack of the beginner’s Weave series? We’ve sold through.”

Cal looked up from his work rolling scroll pages. “Er, sure…which wing is that again?”

“Nevermind,” Rolan sighed. “I’ll get them myself. Let me know if your station’s missing any supplies,” he added to Tav, letting his voice soften a bit. It earned him a dimpling smile.

Rolan strode away from her toward the portal, feeling that annoying ache in his legs return as he did.

—

Tav watched Rolan’s figure trudge up the staircase with another twinge of concern. Then she set to work connecting all the equipment on her alchemy station. Lia appeared at her side before long, asking after her week’s travels in the Underdark and catching her up on news and gossip from the Gate. It was so nice to have friends like Lia; ones you could pick up right where you left off with.

Tav had emptied her bag onto her desk and begun sorting the small mountain of herbs into separate piles as she listened. “How’s Rolan been doing with everything, really?”

Lia was turning over one of her shards of laculite, idly catching the sunlight in its facets. “Mostly happy. And stressed, and overextended. And completely neurotic about organizing every shelf in the library. You know, typical wizard stuff.”

“I just hope he’s looking after himself,” she said down to her work. The words left her mouth easier than she wished.

Lia leaned a hip against her desk with arms crossed. “You sound interested in helping with that.”

The quake in Tav’s stomach made her feel very caught out, then very stupid. She let out an exhale of laughter instead.

“Rolan’s made it pretty clear that he is not,” she replied. Her fingers began stripping the blooms from her pile of dried mugwort with more force than strictly necessary.

“Between you and me,” Lia mused, “I don’t think Rolan’s anywhere near clear on that subject. Smart people can be real idiots, you know.”

“Who can?”

Rolan was headed from the staircase with an armful of books; he stood behind Lia with a suspicious look. Tav immediately wondered how much he’d heard.

“Rich people,” Lia answered at once, still leaning casually against Tav’s desk. “Lady Whitburn’s handmaid keeps coming in asking for spell scrolls that I’m pretty sure don’t exist. You think she’d get the picture by now.”

Rolan let out a long-suffering sigh and held out the stack of volumes to her. “Take these. And just send Cal to help her next time, that’s why she keeps coming back.”

Lia threw up a hand as if that only proved her point. “Like I said, idiots.” But with one last glance at Tav, she grabbed the books and ferried them away to the front of Sorcerous Sundries.

For her part, Tav resumed the work of preparing the week’s ingredients—there were several large batches of antidote to get through this morning. Rolan took up his usual spot at the desk in her periphery.

Ever since the first week he’d offered Sorcerous Sundries to her as a home of operations for her alchemy, Tav found herself spending many hours at work beside Rolan like this. They spent the time talking about her travels, or his latest studies with the Weave, or just discussing the last books they’d read. On busier days, he was called away to help customers for most of her visit.

Today, however, Rolan stood unusually silent next to her.

“Sure you’re feeling all right?” She glanced at his back, again noting the tense line of his shoulders.

“Just a bit tired.” Rolan tipped open his massive record of the shop figures. “Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I could make you something for that, if you like.”

He gave a low huff of laughter as he took up his quill. “From what I hear from my customers, I’d be out cold for days.”

“Really?” She couldn’t help a grin of professional pride, but focused on adjusting the flame under her distilling glass. “Glad they’re selling well.”

“I can barely keep them on the shelves, especially those remedial draughts you make. The last batch lasted three days.”

Though it was satisfying to hear, Tav felt a bit chagrined. “Damn…won’t have more of those for a while. I still need to track down a new materials trader in the Gate. My usual guy moved on to Neverwinter.”

There was a short pause in their little corner, filled only with the sounds of softly bubbling liquid against glass.

“You know,” Rolan said without turning, “you’re welcome to stay here, if it’s easier for you. The guest room’s always empty. That is, so you wouldn’t have to travel across the city on top of finding your new contact.”

“Oh—” Tav tried hard not to read anything into his offer. “Actually, I already left my things with Danis and Bex. But thank you, Rolan,” she added.

Rolan coughed lightly, back still turned. “Of course.”

There was another pause, longer and strangely awkward. Tav suddenly found she needed something more to occupy her thoughts than watching a flask boil. Reaching down for her pack, she pulled her research journal up to the desk.

It had been many weeks since Rolan brought up that subject. Why now?

Cal and Lia constantly reminded her of the long-standing offer of a room in the Tower anytime she had need of it. For unspoken reasons, she’d always found polite ways of declining.

It wasn’t that Rolan had made her feel unwelcome in any way. After all, he’d opened up the expansive resources of Ramazith’s Tower to her use, lending her all of the delicate and expensive alchemy equipment that she’d never be able to cart back and forth in her travels. She owed much of her current success to his generosity.

But Rolan had proven himself a generous patron for all kinds of arcane arts as Master of Ramazith’s Tower. Really, what made her think she was any kind of special case?

The fact that she’d very much like to be that to him…well.

That was something Tav tried not to think about. It only led her to dangerous territory, such as staring at his hands while he worked a spell and wondering what else they might be good for. Hardly conducive to a friendly, professional relationship.

And if she was any good at reading signals, friendly but professional was how Rolan wanted to keep things.

Tav shuffled through her notes a bit too briskly and almost scattered them. That was enough dwelling on that subject; clearly, Rolan had plenty to think about without worrying about unwanted advances in his own home. The least she could do to repay his generosity would be to continue respecting his boundaries.

“Noblestalk propagation?”

She glanced over her shoulder. To her surprise, Rolan had moved closer to peer down at the top page in her hands with curiosity.

“Most valuable thing in the Underdark,” she told him. “Even more than mithril. Actually, this is what I wanted to show you—”

Noblestalk fetched a high price for its alchemical power, certainly, but also for its rarity. The delicate mushrooms were notoriously picky about where they grew; it was part of what made them so hard to find.

Truth be told, she’d been running a little experiment on them down in the Underdark over the past few months. She ran a finger across the charted results as she explained them to Rolan, whose tension seemed to vanish as he listened on with keen interest.

“Obviously the spores took faster in high humidity. But look, they actually did better when I transplanted them in a really cold spot near the river here—which is so odd, most fungi need a bit of warmth—

“Have you tried recreating these artificially? Carrying a sample back to the surface?”

“Not yet.” She scratched her chin in thought. “I’d need to find somewhere underground to propagate it. And I’d rather not spend any more time in the sewers, after that little cult business.”

“Just do it here,” Rolan dismissed, as if it was the plainly obvious solution. “We’ve got quite a few empty vaults now. Shouldn’t be too hard to repurpose one as a greenhouse of sorts.”

As she turned her head to respond, she was caught up short.

Rolan was still peering intently at her writing. But in his concentration, he’d angled his body very close beside her. His chest nearly brushed her shoulder. She could’ve counted the freckles dusting his nose.

When he reached forward to flip over the page, she felt his other hand actually rest on the far side of her waist—the absent way you might touch someone very familiar to you when moving past them. Heat rose in her cheeks at the gesture.

Perhaps Rolan felt her tense. He blinked, and she watched realization dart over his features. He stepped back at once.

“Apologies.” Then he cleared his throat to add—“Your work is quite engaging.”

Coming from him, the words sounded much nicer than they had a right to. She felt her flush deepening, and quickly turned back to reorder her notes.

“Thanks,” she laughed, praying it didn’t sound as awkward as it felt rising in her throat.

Behind her back, she heard Rolan return to his desk on her left. Presumably continuing his work on the Sundries inventory; more likely trying to ignore her obvious fluster.

She clenched her jaw in an attempt to shove that same stupid, fluttery feeling out of her stomach, and returned to the practical work at hand.

—

Rolan stared down at last week’s sales in his ledger. The figures were a blur of meaningless scribbles in front of his eyes.

Was he feverish? Seriously ill? There had to be a sound explanation for the way he’d just…laid hands on her like that, unthinking.

He clenched the guilty right hand responsible, feeling its sharp nails press crescent moons into his palm. Idiot. He took a deep breath to regain his composure.

It only caused that lovely wildflower scent from before to fill his lungs more completely, pulling at his other senses. Perhaps it was emanating from one of the many strange ingredients Tav was always carrying back from the Underdark. Was that what had muddled his mind this way?

He found himself glancing back over his shoulder to where she was bent over her alchemy scales. The pink tip of her tongue was visible between her teeth, a gesture she often made when concentrating.

As Rolan watched, a lock of her hair slipped forward over her shoulder. She swept it absently back behind her ear. The innocuous motion caused another wave of something floral to brush past his face, stronger this time.

“Are you wearing scent?”

Tav glanced up from the powder she was weighing out, brows raised in question. “What?”

“Nothing,” Rolan said swiftly, shaking himself back to rights a bit. He felt very lucky she seemed to have misheard. He turned back to his work before he could say anything else strange or embarrassing.

With effort, Rolan forced his attention back to the comforting logic of sums and figures.

The time passed with blessed uneventfulness after that. The soft sounds of glassware and bubbling liquids from Tav’s alchemy faded to an idle lull at the back of Rolan’s consciousness. Nevertheless, he pushed through the past month’s numbers with more difficulty than usual, scratching through multiple errors as his quill moved over the page. He occasionally had to pause to rub at an uncomfortable crick building in his neck.

A laugh came from behind him. “Do you mind?”

Rolan raised his head to look. Tav was gesturing at the corner of her alchemy station with a bemused expression.

To his own confusion, he found that his tail had traveled there of its own accord sometime in the past minutes. It lay coiled on the wood, its tip flicking back and forth in her direction, as if seeking her attention.

With another chuckle, Tav’s fingers closed around it and lightly dropped the appendage off the edge of her desk.

An involuntary sound caught in Rolan’s throat. The moment her hand connected with his skin, a shock of blood rushed to his groin. He nearly tipped forward in alarm at the feeling.

The rapid redirection left his legs wobbling and bloodless. His knees almost buckled under him; he gripped sharp claws into the edge of his wooden desk to steady himself.

As the ringing in his ears cleared, he heard Tav reading under her breath behind him while she ground something against her mortar. Praise the gods that whatever just happened to his body had escaped her notice.

“Need a book from the library—”

Without a backward glance, Rolan stumbled toward the stairs.

Spurred on by the knowledge that any customers who might notice his urgent departure would certainly see the reason for it, he strode on double-time for the portal. Only once the swirl of Weave closed behind him, depositing him in the quiet of the Tower, did he release the breath caught up in his lungs.

Seeking to ground himself, Rolan glanced up to watch the golden dust motes drift through a beam of sunlight. It was the strangest sensation to be standing completely still and feel a sweat break out over his brow.

How did he not realize days ago? Muscle aches—difficulty sleeping—heightened senses. All clear indicators that his biology had finally caught up with him, albeit a solid year later than it should have.

Rolan gripped a hand to the back of his head with a groan of realization. Not perfume—it had been Tav herself he kept catching scent of this morning. That sweet smell that practically made his mouth water to recall now was nothing but raw instinct laid bare.

Well, he had no right to complain about the timing. Apparently many frantic months of escaping the Hells, surviving on the road, and battling back an invasion from the Astral Plane had done a lot to delay the inevitable.

But inevitable it was, and as of today, very much inescapable. There was never really a convenient time for this sort of thing, was there?

It could be worse—as the new keeper of Ramazith’s Tower, at least he found himself with private quarters to retreat to for the entirety of it. If he was lucky, it would all be over in a week, and then he could go on ignoring this unfortunate side effect of his Infernal heritage for a few more uneventful years.

Lia and Cal could manage the shop for a week without any major calamities, surely?

As Rolan paced the silk carpets of the Tower floor, he forced his feverish mind to finish scrabbling together the plan. His gaze fell on the desk by the window. In the next second, he was putting shaking quill to parchment. Something simple, just enough they’d understand—

Bad week for visitors. Please mind the Sundries while I recover. Tell Tav

The tip of his quill skipped as he paused, letting a droplet of ink bleed into the page.

Tell Tav what, exactly? That he was in his room rutting his brains out like an animal in heat? Likely thinking of her while he did?

That line of thought brought a series of unhelpful and very stimulating images to mind. He swallowed down a humiliating sound as the stiffness between his legs grew painfully hard in reaction. Merciful, bloody hells.

Tell Tav nothing, he finished in a scrawl. Rolan folded the note and deposited it on the floor just in front of the portal, where it would be impossible for his siblings to miss.

Then he turned for the staircase to his bedroom, already mad to rip these chafing gods-damned robes off his skin.

#spicy #rolan x tav #tiefling ruts #eventual smut #bg3 rolan #female tav #heat/rut cycles #rebgrrl writes #underdark-dreams #bg3 fanfiction #tiefling biology

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nohoney · 14 days

Text

pt 2 for this dragon king! bakugou blurb

the bride that bakugou had stolen becomes his concubine, having you whenever and wherever it pleases him. he could summon you to his chambers at night and you were to go to him. if he finds you in the garden and wants to fuck you in the grass, you weren’t allowed to deny him. he beckons for you, you obey.

and you do so with enthusiasm, never denying your king as he takes whatever position he wants to fuck you in.

bakugou doesn’t care much for your affection and adoration, only really finding it useful that he has an easy hole to fuck whenever he wants to seek out some relief. it doesn’t even matter to him when you thank him for when you cum during frenzied and unloving coitus. all that matters is that he fulfills his own satisfaction and he does not owe you any scrap of tenderness.

his coldness does not cool the warming affection that you so clearly have for him.

no matter the degrading names he growls at you when he has you pinned to his bed, the rough handling of your hair when he fucks his cock into your mouth, he hadn’t even preserved your decency when others would occasionally stumble upon you when you were with the king—no matter the lack of courtesy he hardly gave you, you never once showed any resentment to his treatment.

if anything, you were always grateful.

it truly shows how much you must have dreaded and hated the man who would have been your husband had bakugou not come on your wedding day to slaughter every person on sight.

there was never any complaint from you, not when bakugou pushed you away once he was done, not when he looked at you sometimes in bewilderment when you gave him lovesick eyes, and certainly not when he allowed the rare times of you sleeping in his bed so that he could fuck you again later instead of summoning you again.

he never gave any thought to you being more than a warm body for him to use. it was his right as king after all, to determine your worth and what value you were to him.

but there’s day he’s cut with a poison knife while he was out in battle, writhing sick in his bed and sometimes screaming from the agony from the burning wound. he was tended to in all areas needed, everyone fearing for the health of their king and praying to the gods to expel the poison from his body and to leave their king in health.

bakugou was bedridden for more than a fortnight before he was finally feeling some semblance of relief. the cut had left a scar on his body but his health had proved stronger. still, he was advised to carry himself carefully for the next few weeks.

“that girl you picked up, the bride, you know she almost tried to kill herself?” kirishima told him one day when they were in the caves to look over the new hatch of dragon eggs. bakugou eyes him from the side and says nothing, but he’s curious to know why you were trying to harm yourself. “she thought you were going to die. kept on saying that if you were no longer on this realm then there was no point of her existence as well.”

bakugou makes no comment, only quietly nodded his head and picked up a green dragon egg, still slimy from being expelled quite recently.

later that night, you’re summoned to his chambers, resuming your duties and riding on top of him. it’s a relief to know that he is alive, to feel that he is well enough to have his desires taken care of, that he still lives on and that death tried so hard to take his soul but had been unsuccessful. your moans are soft as you move your hips, grinding deeply as you fully sit on his cock and feel the tip press into that weakening spot that has your eyes fluttering.

“oh! oh gods…!” you groan as you move up and down on bakugou’s cock, bouncing on top of him and bring him to the plane of pleasure that he seems to have entrusted you to at this point. it was the only thing he seemed to assign you to and you were nothing but grateful to have this role.

you’ve never bothered to announce when you could feel an orgasm rising up in you, bakugou doesn’t fuck for your pleasure after all; only his own. it’s rising up though, making you dizzy with pleasure and has you riding harder, the wet little squishes and splashes from where you are connected to your king making you so happy. because when you’re cumming this much, he’s not that much farther behind you. and you want to make him cum, you want your king to cum, just about to hop off so that you can finish him off with your mouth—such as the routine.

instead you’re surprised when his hands grab at your hips, lifting you off his cock. it slaps against his stomach, shining wet from what you can see from the candlelight and you’re confused why he had taken you off of him. had he been unsatisfied? perhaps he was in pain and he couldn’t finish?

“c’mere, up here.” he mumbles and directing you with a nod.

you hesitate at first, unsure what he meant for you to do. “my king?”

“want to taste you.”

it’s a first he’s ever said to you. in the entirety of you belonging to him since he had stolen you from your wedding day, bakugou had never bothered about your pleasure. he only acted in ways that delighted him—choking you, striking your rear as he fucked you from behind, even occasionally pushing a single thick finger into your asshole. you had never asked him to service you in anyway, you would never dream of making such a request.

but you hesitantly obey, hovering over him and yelping when bakhgou’s strong hands force you onto his face. his mouth messily licks at your cunt and it shocks you how good it feels, gasping up at the high ceiling of his room and throwing your head back. your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth and his chin is slick from his saliva and your juices dripping from the pleasure.

an orgasm is rising up again, less intense than when you’re getting fucked but you recognize it getting ready to burst. you dare to grab onto his ashy, blond hair for stability. a drawn out, pitched moan is sung up to the ceilings as you cum. your body tenses and shakes, seeing stars litter your vision and you almost fall back but manage to catch yourself.

you try to catch your breath, blinking and keeping in your small little moans. and then you look down at bakugou, almost startled to see him just as overwhelmed as you. the flush on his face is something you had never seen before but you choose to make no comment. you slowly move off of him, still needing to do your duty and making sure that he’s satisfied but you find that he’s already done it himself.

his hand was on his cock, now starting to soften, and he had spilled his seed onto his stomach.

“clean me up.” bakugou orders gruffly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. you find your discarded dress on the floor and use it to wipe down his stomach and cock. you start to get ready to put the dress on so that you can return to your chambers but you’re given another order, “put that down and stay here.”

you’re obedient, letting the dress drop back onto the floor and laying back into the bed. the softness of it feels good against your back and it’s warm thanks to the heat of bakugou’s body. in the dim candlelight, you can see the scar of the cut that almost killed him. it makes you emotional almost, the anxiety and despair that had almost swallowed you whole had he not survived.

you chance moving yourself closer to him, closer to your savior, leaving the smallest gap that you feel would not offend him. “rest well, my king.”

bakugou grunts in acknowledgment, his eyes shutting and listening to your breaths become even as you drift to sleep first.

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #dragon king bakugou

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erwinsvow · 8 days

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Ok but what about shy girl reader being really frightened by something to the point of tears and calling rafe but struggling to explain why shes upset only that she needs him while he’s going batshit on the other line worried about her

this was lovely ! rafe certainly has his own methods of calming down shy reader when she's scared ... hehe <3

of course it happens on a night where rafe's out of town, one of the first that he's not around since the two of you have started dating. you had become awfully accustomed to having rafe sleeping right next to you, ever since your third or fourth date, that had been the norm. if not, he was always down the street or a phone call away.

and really, you tried to keep it together. it was just one of those nights—kickstarted by the time you'd spent with your friends morning. you were only trying to keep yourself occupied while rafe was away, thinking they'd help pass the hours, but you'd all headed to the movies, and of course, it was a horror showing.

even in the broad daylight, you felt scared throughout the day the demon from the movie was going to get you. heading back home for the day, it didn't help that the only thing on tv was true crime documentaries playing back to back. the cherry on top was your parents heading out for dinner with their friends on the mainland, saying they'd be back tomorrow morning.

you tossed and turned for what seemed like hours. not even the gentle lull of your records and thirty pages of war and peace could get your mind to settle and put you to sleep.

what you really needed was your boyfriend. he could fix anything, make everything seem better. your fears needed his protectiveness near by to keep them at bay, otherwise they'd spill over and conquer like they were right now.

but you were trying to be good—trying to show rafe you weren't always so clingy, that he could have space when and if he needed it. besides for your replies to his periodic check-ins you hadn't much texted him today, knowing he was busy.

the final crack of a branch outside, cutting through the eerie whistling of the wind against your house and the sound of the waves far away had you scrambling up. you flicked on the lamp and checked that your door was locked for the tenth time that night.

deep breaths, you tried to remind yourself, like rafe would always tell you. you tried to head to the window to see what the noise was from but fear overtook, dialing rafe's number and listening to the rings while crawling back into bed, pulling your knees to your chest.

like always, he answers before it gets to three rings.

"hey. what'd you still doin' up? s'late."

"rafe-" and you can't stop the ramble that spills out, all in one breath. "um, we saw this scary movie today and the demon was outside the house and then it was in the house and then it possessed the girl when she was alone and now i'm home alone because mom and daddy left and there was this serial killer show on tv and i wasn't even watching but he killed girls home alone too and i just heard something outside and m'scared-"

"woah, woah. slow down. you saw a scary movie?" you try to catch your breath, but it's hard, picturing rafe wherever he was pacing around listening to you, instead of being next to you like he should be.

"i-um, i'm scared, rafe-" you finally get out slowly, and you sniffle, feeling hot tears run down. really, you shouldn't have gone to see that movie.

"hey, hey. s'fine. gonna be okay, just need to relax. can you do that for me?" you nod, forgetting he can't see you. "good girl. is everything locked? downstairs too?"

"y-yes..think so. i checked when i got home."

"even the back door? and the guest window, the one i come in through?" you flush at the memory of rafe sneaking in through that window.

"yes. mm-hm."

"alright, kid. no one's comin' in then. and those movies are crap anyways. y'need to learn how to say no to those friends."

"i know. it seemed like a good idea then-"

"yeah, i know. you got a light on?"

"my lamp."

"good. now get into bed. y'need to relax or you'll never fall asleep. jesus."

"okay," you mumble, sliding in and getting comfortable. "how do i relax?"

"how do you usually relax?" he questions, though your face flushes at the answer you want to give. there's only one surefire method of getting you to calm down when you're like this, something rafe is well aware of.

"um.. i don't know." your bedroom was cold a second ago, now everything felt warm and tingly.

"yeah. sure you don't. c'mon, get your clothes off. i'll help you relax."

"oh." it comes out like a little moan, soft. you comply with his instructions. "thanks rafey."

you hear him laugh, though he still sounds rough on the phone.

"yeah, y'welcome. gotta do everything, don't i? clothes off yet? good. now start touching y'self for me.."

#phone sex with rafe !! <3 #sorry babe i made this wholesome idea a little freaky at the end but sooo cute !!#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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frantic-fiction · 1 month

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May I request some Jealous!Fem!Reader x Astarion? Maybe one where someone from Astarion’s past makes an appearance and while Astarion sees this woman as just a friend, reader can see the woman blatantly flirting with her vampire spawn and she doesn’t like it one bit. ESPECIALLY if Astarion’s oblivious to the woman’s advances and innocently engages (because let’s face it, our boy loves being praised & complimented 24/7). Reader decides it’s her turn to stake her claim on our little sassy vampire and remind everyone who he belongs to ;)

Yes! Yes! Thank you for the request!

Jealous

Astarion x gn!reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.5k

Masterlist

It was nice being back in the city. Yes, there was still the ever-looming threat of the Absolute, but most of the party was back home, and for once, it felt like, for a moment, everyone could breathe. You had a fluffy bed to sleep on instead of a lumpy bedroll. And while Gale always made whatever perversions the party scavenged taste good, the warm, hearty tavern meals you've been treated to as of late were too good to beat.

But the best part of being back was taking any moment to drag Astarion out into the city to wherever he fancies so he can explore Baldur's Gate in the daylight without the darkness of Cazador. He wanted to visit the farmers market today, so you wandered the vendors' stalls, stopping to take moments and smell flowers and sample wares.

Astarion politely conversed with a tailor about the fabric quality used for a shirt he wanted. Frankly, they had been talking longer than your attention span could handle, so when your eyes wandered to a stall full of beaded jewelry, you wasted no time giving Astarion a quick peck on the cheek and telling him where you'd be.

The pieces were beautiful and skillfully crafted—brightly colored beads and gold inlays, gems of various minerals, all catching your eyes. The older halfling woman propped highly on the stool, greets you politely, and gives little details and facts about each one you set aside for closer inspection. Maybe you should get something for Shadowheart and Karlach? Probably not Lae—

"Astarion!"

A feminine voice has you snapping your head back to your partner. A frown instantly settles over your features when you see a tall, elven woman pull Astarion's hug. Her brown hair is intricately braided into a top knot decorated in sparkly chains. Her dress hugs her curves, framing her body perfectly.

Why are they still hugging?

"Oh Gods, it's been too long. You're looking amazing." Her nasal voice filters down the markets. "How are you, love?"

Astarion finally manages to break the hug, giving the woman an automatic flirtatious smile, the tailor long forgotten. "Eleanor, I've been well. I do hope the same can be said for you."

Dropping the beads with little care, you leave the stall, ignoring the halfling. You don't like this woman. You don't like how her hand still lingers on Astarion's forearm or how she leans ever so slightly closer as if daring him to kiss her.

"I've been fine, though I'm upset you haven't visited in quite a while. It's been rather dull without you." She runs her hand up his arm.

Astarion laughs, flicking his hand in the air and clearly enjoying the woman's words. "I could only imagine, my dear. Those brutes are fowl at their best. Who wouldn't miss me."

Your jaw clenches when her obnoxious laughter rings in the air. Pushing past a family of four throwing a half-ass apology, not paying mind, too pissed off. Who does this woman think she is putting her hands on Astarion as if he's hers?

"Astarion, you always knew how to make me laugh." Elenor ducks her head, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "If I'm being honest, I was always jealous of the ones you took home. But now that we're here, maybe…"

Oh, hell no! You practically jump the rest of the way and run into Astarion's arm. He lets out a breathy oof, arms tightening around your waist to keep you from tumbling to the ground. Pretending you weren't aware of the woman, you capture Astarion into a chaste kiss before beaming up at him.

"I hope you found what you were looking for, my love." Your voice is sickly sweet as you trail your thumb across his cheekbone. Then you turn your head and feign innocence, looking at the elf. "Oh, I'm sorry, Star. Who is this?"

Astarion gives you a look but recovers quickly. Clearing his throat, he speaks, "Darling, this is Eleanor. She owns a tavern I frequented. One of the only decent companies I've had before we met."

Moving away from Astarion's side, you reach your hand out in greeting, giving her your name, "It's a pleasure to meet a friend of my Star,"

Eleanor looks a bit taken aback, staring blankly at the two of you, clearly not expecting this change in her plans. You're internally preening. She takes your hand in a limp shake before dropping it and stepping back. Eleanor quickly wipes her hand on her dress slyly and chuckles.

"That explains why I haven't seen you in a while."

You sneer at her, wanting nothing more than to punch her. Instead, you drop your hand onto Astarion's chest, nuzzling warmly into his side. "Yes, sorry about that. I've been a bit selfish. Sometimes it hard to get out of bed."

"Right…" Eleanor says. Astarion, I never took you as one to settle down, especially someone as… unique as them."

"What is that supposed to mean?" The venom drips from your words, and Astarion has to keep you in place.

Eleanor smirks. "Oh, I meant nothing bad." The mocking tone alone reinforces that she meant this to be as insulting as possible. "I'm just stating you're rougher around the edges."

Astarion's hold on your waist tightens as you move to step forward, hand reaching for the dagger discreetly hidden against your thigh. There is no possible way this woman values Astarion in any way more than as a body to conquer. That thought alone has you practically baring your teeth.

"What the fuck does that mean!"

Astarion steps in before you can do anything extreme, "Eleanor, it was lovely seeing you again. We'll have to come and visit sometime for a drink, but I'm afraid my love and I must make our leave."

"Oh yes, of course!" Elenor says, her voice a bit too filled with fake cheer. Her smile is strained, and her eyes stare daggers into your skull. "I hope I can see you at the tavern sometime soon."

"Yes, we'll come down for a visit sometime soon. " Astarion calls over his shoulder, practically dragging you down the cobblestone. You think about ripping your arm out of his hold and turning back, but you let him pull you along with only a death glare sent toward Eleanor.

As soon as the two of you are in a secluded place, Astarion drops your hand and turns on you. "Darling, what was that?"

Picking at your nails, you shrug your shoulders. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Astarion takes your hand and, with a finger, tilts your chin to force you to meet his eyes. He has a shit-eating grin, and his fangs are even more prominent in his smile. "You were jealous."

Swatting his hands away, you step back. "I was not!" You lie and storm down the alleyway. You didn't get far before Astarion caught your wrist and spun you into his chest.

"You were jealous." He repeats. "But you really shouldn't be."

"She was all over you."

"It was a hug, my dear, from probably the closest normal friendship I had before the tadpole."

"Friendship? She was practically begging you to fuck her." You huff, fiddling with the lapels of Astarion's shirt.

Astarion chuckles deeply and presses a kiss to your forehead. "Gods, you're cute when you're jealous."

"Don't make fun of me, Astarion."

Ignoring you, he continues. "For argument's sake, if she was begging me to fuck her, as you so eloquently put it, who cares? I certainly don't, not when I have this beautiful, strong, incredibly understanding partner who knows all the darkest parts of me and still stands by my side?"

"Well, I am pretty noble for putting up with you when you're hungry." You smile, looping your arms around his neck, all jealousy draining from you like water from a colander.

"How could another soul handle me in that horrid state." Astarion runs his nose against yours. "I love you and don't plan on stopping soon."

You beam and kiss him breathlessly before mumbling, "I love you too," against his lips. "I think we should head back to our room."

Astarion chuckles under his breath, running his hands down the curve of your spine. "Oh, what for my sweet?"

"Well," Crawling your fingers up his chest, you press your lips to his ear and whisper. "If you'll let me, I want to mark every inch of your neck." "Mark me as yours, darling?" Astarion hums.

"Mhmm, we could go further, but" you continue. "Tonight, I want you to show me this tavern Eleanor owns. I think we deserve a date night."

"You are jealous."

"If I agree, will you take me out?" You lean in for a kiss.

Astarion presses forward, brushing his lips against yours. "As long as I have a necklace of your pretty love bites."

"Then yes, my love, I am very much jealous."

I've been struggling with inspiration lately. Moving was super stressful and I had to leave a hostile work environment very quickly so life's been a bit messy. But I've got my kitty cat and don't have to deal with a shitty boss so hopefully things will go up from here.

I'm kinda iffy on how I feel on this one but that might just be my current mindset. I hope you all enjoy it regardless, and stay tune because I plan on have something spicier posted soonish...possibly Astarion discovering his breeding kink 🫣❤️

Taglist: @heartfully10@ayselluna@marina-and-the-memes@anixson@canonicalchaoticneutral @toadsbitch @meulinkitten-blog @ambr4armr @lotusandcrystals @venussakura @synapticjive @skittleabyss@asterordinary@lariatbunny @whispering-depths@butchboi-chihuahua-slumlord@darkest-part-of-the-forest@queenofcarrotflowers-s@sessils @d20bunny@cherifrog@ophelia-ophelian@bgthree@darlingxdragon@mothynyx @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf@babyqnn @mmendez0124@kokoyu-art@lilah-asteria

Want to be added to the taglist? DM me please!

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #reader insert #astarion #bg3 astarion #bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion imagine #baulders gate 3 #fanfic #frantic fiction

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werecreature-addicted · 6 months

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hear me out right. Dragon women- dragon women with scales and body warmth perfect for napping with, dragon lady that does not mind pressing too warm hands onto your belly during ur period, calling you her treasure ! Also I love ur other works :!!!!

Big imposing dragon woman who squeals in delight when you put on little fashion shows for her. She has quite a collection of finery, expensive gowns, and furs that you could never dream of affording on your own. Of course, her favorite thing to see you dressed in is Gold. Sometimes she dresses you in nothing but gold jewelry and pounces on you, fucking you on top of her hoard.

Calling her "warm" would be an understatement. She's a space heater. It's lovely during the winter months when crawling into bed with her is like crawling under blankets that are fresh out of the dryer. it's a nightmare in summer, however. You wake up drenched in sweat, clothes sticking to your skin.

She suggests you just sleep naked as if that would help. You'll only wake up with a forked tongue between your legs instead of in a puddle of sweat.

if you're on your period she would of course be happy to be your heating pad, her hands are yours, so put them wherever you want. Also, consider, baths with a dragon girlfriend, the water would never get cold even if you spent hours in there together. Hot stone massages whenever you please. She lives to spoil you, so get creative.

#dragon x reader #dragon x human #monster imagine #monster #monster fucker #monster girlfriend #dragon girl

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silassinclair · 1 month

Text

Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CW// Possession, Obsession, Yandere Behavior, Jealousy, Suggestive Content, Gaslighting, Maddox has a housewife fetish (16+)

Masterlist

When Maddox first saw you hiding in your wardrobe after having killed your Father he was shocked to see such a pretty woman inside. He knew your Father had a daughter but he didn't know she'd be a fierce and beautiful young woman.

Maddox knew he had to have you. No way was he going to leave you in this bumfuck town in the middle of no where. You're too valuable.

He ties you up and takes you away from your hometown. You're his now so he's taking you with him wherever he goes. Having a pretty little accessory like you will give him bragging rights after all.

He takes you to saloons while he plays cards with his buddies. Has you sit still and look pretty on his lap while he drinks and plays. His friends say dirty things about you. Commenting on how submissive you are for Maddox. Maddox eats their comments up like a full course meal.

"You boys wish you had this fine piece of ass. But she's mine."

When you're at his temporary house he has you play housewife. You cook his food, clean his laundry, and most importantly you take him like a good girl and let him use you to pleasure himself.

"You like that yeah? You don't? Then shut your pretty little mouth n' take it anyway. Don't make me mad now."

But over the course of a few months and after spending more time with you he sees you less as an object to brag about and more as a companion. He sees you everyday so of course he develops feelings. Feelings he denies of course.

"You think cus' I'm being nice lately you can just skip doin' laundry? Well you've been a good girl this week so I'll let it slide... But you're doin' it tomorrow! No excuses!"

Maddox takes you to the saloon with him again as usual. This time the sexual comments his friends say make him see red. He draws his gun and shoots them all dead where they sit.

"I should have never let em' say that vulgar shit bout' you. Shoulda never let you in that shithole in the first fuckin' place. C'mon, we're goin' home."

Fucks you gently this time and prioritizes your pleasure over his. You're so cute mewling beneath him. Praises you instead of degrades you.

"You can take it princess, c'mon! Don't tell me to slowdown when I can feel how good you feel on me. Yeah that’s it, good girl. Doin’ so good for me… Ya’ feel divine~"

He slowly starts bringing you into town less often. When you ask why you can't come with him he simply says that you're safer at home.

A month goes by and you're tired of being holed up in his house. So you take the risk and leave while he's taking his afternoon nap.

Bad Choice….

"You thought you could leave me?! Baby I love ya', I really do but sometimes you're real fuckin' stupid."

Locks the doors, windows, and always has his eye on you. When he has to go out he keeps you tied to the bed by the ankle.

Every night he holds you close to him. He's a light sleeper, he'll feel if you move and try to escape him. If that happens he'll embrace you in a nearly bone crushing hug.

He’ll wrestle with you if you try and fight him, but he’ll never strike you. He’d never do that after seeing the abuse his Mother endured from her customers at the brothel.

Comes home one day with two golden rings. He wears one and forces the other onto your ring finger. It's a perfect fit.

"You're my wife now and I'm your husband. You'll address me as such, got it?"

No wedding, no priest, no judge, no documentation. He says you're his wife now and that's that.

"There's names engraved inside the rings.? That's just the name of the jeweler I got it from... Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

You two never get to settle down. You hop from one abandoned home to the other. After all he needs to always be on the run from the law. It's a stressful but exhilarating lifestyle. Danger lurks at every corner.

Loves calling you by his last name. Though your last name is still legally L/n; Maddox says that since you’re his wife you have his last name. After all you two are wearing the rings to prove it!

"Thank you for the meal Mrs. Graves, God you're perfect. Where have you been all my life?"

He adores your body. Doesn't matter what body type you have. Chub? He's kneading it with his hands while he praises you like the goddess you are. Insecure about how the outline of your ribcage is visible? He traces his fingers down to your tummy and then goes even lower... He can't keep his hands off.

Favorite thing to do is hug you from behind and just press your backside against him while you do chores. It feels so domestic and it makes him feel like he isn’t a wanted criminal for a moment.

Kisses? He loves to kiss you! His favorite spots are your ankles, tummy, and forehead. And your lips ofc!

Whenever you have to slip your stockings on he swats your hands away and does it. He’ll pull them up sensually and slowly, trailing kisses from your ankle up to your thigh as he does so.

“Your skin’s so soft princess, just wanna take a bite. You’ll let me right?”

He loves animals. His horse Jasper is his best friend. Jasper won't let anyone ride him except for you and Maddox. Anyone else gets thrown off and stomped on.

Since this is the 1800’s people don’t really bathe as often. But Maddox is different. He can’t stand having grime on him for too long after you called him stinky once. So now he bathes more often than most. And you bathe with him too. You have no choice in the matter.

“Mmm love it when you wash my hair sweetheart… Ya’ fingers feel like heaven..”

Maddox is a tough guy. He's taken bullets, stabs, you name it. He even survived a hanging once. If anything happens to you he'll fight God himself just to keep you safe. Even if it costs him his life.

"GET YA' MEATHOOKS OFF MY WIFE YOU FUCKIN' ANIMALS!"

Tells you he loves you everyday. And if you don't say it back? Well he'll just bug you until you say it. After your "marriage" he doesn't really punish you anymore. You’re his partner for life, you deserve the world.

Respects women. His Mother worked in a brothel so he witnessed how men mistreated women. He could never do that to you... Even though he did early in your relationship. But he'll never admit that! Bring it up and he'll call you crazy.

"Sweetheart I never harmed a hair on your head, quit talkin' nonsense."

Teaches you how to fire a gun just in case. Hopefully you'll never have to use the skill though.

Spoils you whenever he can. Maddox has a decent amount of money but it's still pretty tight. Buying you things isn't an option because being on the run means you need to have minimal baggage. So he treats you to dinners and cute little dates.

Overtime you get used to this life. You forget he ever even killed your old man.

Anyone is free to request anything! Don't be shy! I'm hyperfixiating on this oc so I'll happily write anything for him. As long as it isn't blatant NSFW :-)

#yandere #yandere x reader #x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #obsession #headcanons #yandere headcanons #maddox graves #western #fem reader

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monzabee · 10 months

Text

lean on you – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you learn to lean on Charles more than you thought you ever could.

Pairing: charles leclerc x medstudent!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: it’s been a while since i went to an actual hospital, so that, and also worried charles, mentions of sickness and vomiting, also mentions of food poisoning

Request: “Hiiii! I don’t know if you still accept request😅 but I have something in my mind if you are open to it, like the reader is quite sick before Charles’ race, he wanted to stay to take care of her but she insisted that he go on with the race and that she’ll be fine. But during the race, Charles’ got a call that she have been taken to the hospital by Lorenzo since she almost passed out. Charles went straight to the hospital and bit mad and angry at her being so stubborn. I just think Charles can be over protective and can be so upset or angry when he get very worried. Like how Charles will emphasise that she have him instead of being so independent all the time. 🤍🤍🤍 thank you if you will do it, but if not, it’s alright too! I just love and enjoy reading all your works!🤩 ”+ “Can you write a fic where the reader is a med!student with Charles? (definitely not projecting🫣)”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i loved both of these concepts and i though they’d go well together, because most of my friends who are also med students love diagnosing themselves?? i kind of wanted to based the reader off of bow from black-ish if you guys ever watched it, it’s my current watch and i love her so much!! it was very fun for me to write, and thank you to both of the anons for their requests! Feedback is always appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

“Are you sure you’re fine, mignon? You look worse than you did last night.” Charles lets his eyes look over your fatigued figure in your bed, worry etched into his eyebrows.

Giving him a weak smile, you do your best to reassure his worries by reaching for his hand resting on the side of his body. “I’m fine, love, I feel better than I did yesterday.” Charles sighs softly, his worry not entirely dissipating. He moves closer to the bed, his hand tightening around yours, and you squeeze his hand gently, relaying the message that you appreciate his concern. “I really am, you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

“You say as if that’s an easy thing, love.” He emphasises, giving you a small smile that still allows you to see the dimples on his cheeks. “I just don’t want to leave you alone, you seem worse than you did last night.”

Your expression softens as you recall the way he doted on you the previous evening, no matter how much you told him that you were doing fine. “I promise I’m feeling much better, it’s nothing but a stomach bug – and I promise I’ll rest today, too.”

Charles leans down and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You better keep that promise and rest, it’s doctor’s orders," he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I'll hold you to it.”

You chuckle weakly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “I promise, Charles. I'll stay in bed, take my medicine, and rest. I have some lecture stuff I have to go over, anyway." You pause, looking up at him with sincere eyes. "And you need to focus on your race. I don't want you to worry about me, be careful out there please.”

His lips form a mock pout, making your facial muscles to pull in an involuntary smile, “But my favourite part is the part where my doctor takes care of me,” his thumb draws a comforting circle on your hand, “your kisses help immensely.”

You blush at his playful comment, grateful for his affectionate nature even in times of worry. “I promise I’ll give you kisses when you come back, but only if you promise you’ll be careful.” You sigh deeply at the boyish grin he sends your way, “I’m serious, Charles.”

Charles's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet firm. "I promise, my love. I'll be careful. Do you need me to bring you anything before I leave?”

Your nod is sluggish and doesn’t go unnoticed by Charles, but he chooses to remain silent as he gives you a moment to think about your answer. “Can you just give me my computer and anatomy book, please?” You watch as Charles nods in understanding. He leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips before making his way to the desk where your belongings are kept. Retrieving the items you requested, he returns to your bedside, placing them gently on the bed beside you.

"Here you go, mignon," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. He notices the way you keep fiddling with the collar of his your sweatshirt – a habit you usually display when you’re sick because the clothing usually causes overstimulation in your mind. “Do you want me to bring you some water? Or maybe order room service?”

You shake your head to the either side this time, giving him a sleepy smile as you start talking, “I’m good, but thank you, darling.” You let out a small giggle at the unapproving glance he sends your way, “I promise I’ll order some food when I get hungry, Charles.”

Charles chuckles softly, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern at the way you emphasise the word. "Alright, love. Just make sure you take care of yourself and eat something nutritious. I don't want you skipping meals, even if you're not feeling well."

You nod, appreciating his reminder. "I promise, Charles. I'll make sure to eat when I need to. But for now, I think I'll focus on studying and getting some rest."

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "That sounds like a good plan. I'll leave you to it then, but remember to reach out if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," you reply softly, your eyes growing heavy with fatigue. "Thank you for taking care of me, Charles. I love you."

He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with affection. "I love you too, mignon. Rest well and take all the time you need. I'll see you soon." With that, Charles gives your hand a final squeeze and presses his lips to your forehead in a parting kiss before reluctantly pulling away and leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the task at hand, determined to make the most of your day even if you’re feeling a bit down.

It’s not easy for Charles to focus on his driving that day, not easy at all. He can’t seem to focus on the track when you seem to occupy his mind and linger in his thoughts. The people around him notices the way he seems almost detached at the garage that day, and also noticing your absence, thankfully they accommodate him and his aloofness the best they can. He keeps an eye on his phone the entire time before he gets in the car – something he usually never does before a race just in case you call him in need of assistance. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind as he prepares for the race. He knows he needs to focus, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. Concern and worry gnaw at him, making it difficult to fully immerse himself in the adrenaline of the race.

Before climbing into his car, he approaches his brother, who is thankfully standing nearby. He looks into Lorenzo's eyes and speaks in a hushed tone, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

Lorenzo, sensing the urgency in Charles' voice, gives him a nod, his own concern mirrored in his eyes. “Of course, Charles. What do you need? Is everything alright?”

Charles takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. “I need you to keep an eye on my phone, Y/N wasn’t feeling too good this morning, and i have a bad feeling about it.” He hands Lorenzo his phone, making sure to check one for one last time to see whether you’ve texted or called him, you haven’t.

Lorenzo's brows furrow with worry as he listens to Charles, but he understands the gravity of the situation and the significance of Charles' request. "Don't worry, Charles, I'll take care of it – and I'll let you know if anything happens. You focus on the race, and I'll make sure everything is handled."

With that assurance, Charles turns his attention back to the race ahead and quickly puts on his balaclava and helmet. He climbs into his car, adjusting his helmet and securing himself in the cockpit. The anticipation and excitement of the race surround him, but his mind remains consumed with worry for you as he tries to assure himself that you are fine and resting back at the hotel. The race begins, and Charles pushes the limits of his car, manoeuvring through the twists and turns of the track. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't fully immerse himself in the competitive spirit. Thoughts of you and your well-being linger, distracting him from the task at hand. His racing instincts seem dull, his reaction time slightly delayed, and he struggles to find his usual pace.

As the laps pass by, Charles notices that he's slipping further and further behind, unable to keep up with the leading pack. Frustration mounts within him, battling against his worry for you. The race that should have been a chance for him to shine becomes an arduous struggle to maintain his composure, as he struggles to keep up with the cars infront, the ones behind him seemingly passing him with ease and causing him to drop out of points. So despite his best efforts, Charles finishes the race with a disappointing result, far from his usual position on the podium. He steps out of the car, feeling a mix of exhaustion and disappointment washing over him. The familiar cheers from the crowd seem distant, overshadowed by his concern for you. His mind is occupied by imagining the worst as he gets out of his car, takes off his helmet and stumbles towards the team's garage. The once vibrant atmosphere now feels muted, as if the world around him has lost its importance. He can sense the curious glances and sympathetic looks from his fellow team members, but he can't bring himself to socialise with any of them.

His eyes hastily search for his brother, but Lorenzo is the one who finds him before he can spot him. Lorenzo's concerned gaze locks with Charles’, and he quickly makes his way toward him, his steps mirroring Charles’ urgency. Understanding the look in his brother’s eyes instantly, Charles asks, “What’s wrong? Is it Y/N? Is everything alright?”

Charles watches his brother expectantly as he places a comforting hand on his shoulder, making him want to slap his hand away, but the next words that come out of his mouth is enough to takes his breath away, “Carlos is on the phone with the hospital–”

“Hospital?” Charles interrupts Lorenzo, “Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par l'hôpital qui t'a appelé?” What do you mean the hospital called you?

“Calm down, Charles, laisse-moi t'expliquer.” Lorenzo gives him a pointed look, and gently steer him towards his teammate’s cousin, “Y/N called me from the taxi, she said she was going to the hospital because she wasn’t feeling well,” he raises a hand to stop Charles from interrupting again, “she also told me that she’d call me once she got to the hospital but she didn’t, I’m guessing her phone died and the hospital called me instead. But my Spanish is non-existent and Carlos is talking to them, so for the love of God, calme-toi un peu.”

Charles's mind races with a mix of relief and anxiety upon hearing Lorenzo's explanation. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he listens to his brother's words. The realization that Y/N is at the hospital sinks in, bringing a wave of concern to the forefront of his thoughts. Nodding in acknowledgment, Charles tries to calm his racing heartbeat and focus on the information at hand. “My girlfriend is at a hospital in a country she’s not familiar with, how do you expect me to calm down?”

“Just wait for a moment, we’ll have more information when Carlos is done talking to the hospital-people.” Lorenzo reassures him, and it helps Charles to focus on the current issue at hand – learning the name of the hospital and finding his way there as fast as possible.

Taking Lorenzo's advice to heart, Charles tries to steady his racing thoughts and focus on the present. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm and composed. The minutes feel like an eternity as they wait for Carlos to conclude the call. Finally, Carlos hangs up the phone and approaches Charles and Lorenzo, his expression grave but determined. "The hospital confirmed that Y/N arrived safely," Carlos begins, his voice steady. "They're currently conducting some tests to determine the cause of her discomfort. The initial assessment suggests it may be a severe case of food poisoning."

A certain degree of understanding and relief washes over Charles as he lets Carlos’ words sink in. He offers his teammate’s cousin a grateful look, “Thank you for your help, Carlos,” he nods his head in appreciation, “do you have the name of the hospital?”

Carlos returns Charles's grateful look with a reassuring smile and a nod, “It’s the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona, she’s a smart girl, Charles, it’s an international hospital so she shouldn’t have any problems communicating with the doctors.” He pats Charles’ shoulder when the latter gives him a confused look, “You weren’t exactly quiet, mate.”

Charles lets out a small chuckle, realizing that his worries may have been more apparent than he thought. He appreciates Carlos' attempt to lighten the mood and offers a grateful smile. "You're right, I probably wasn't the most composed person just now," he admits, "but I'm glad Y/N is in good hands at hospital and thank you for your help, I appreciate it."

“No need to thank me, I hope she’s doing okay.” The older man smiles and gives him a final nod as he makes his way towards his cousin.

“Charles,” one of the PR people starts as they make their way towards the duo, “you still have media–”

The look Charles gives the poor intern in return can only be described as a mix of exhaustion and frustration. He interrupts the PR person before they can finish their sentence. “Bill me.” He, then, turns to his brother as he shoots him an expectant look, “Can we go?”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Charles hears his brother’s voice, which causes him to raise his eyebrows and receive in return, “you’re obviously too high on adrenaline right now, let me drive.”

Charles, recognizing his own state of mind, doesn't argue. He nods in agreement and takes a seat in the passenger side, grateful for his brother's support, but because he is Charles, he mumbles, “You better drive fast,” under his breath as he follows his brother out of the garage.

As the car navigates through the busy streets of Barcelona, Charles finds himself lost in his thoughts – he glances out the window, his eyes darting from building to building, as if searching for answers that lie beyond the glass. The tension in the air is palpable, the silence between the brothers punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of horns from other impatient drivers. He tries contacting the hospital once again, but it seems like luck is not on his side as the operator speaks to him solely in Spanish, which makes him reconsider what Carlos told him earlier. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona comes into view. Charles feels a surge of hope mixed with anxiety as Lorenzo skilfully manoeuvres the car into a parking spot. Charles is out of the car before Lorenzo even turns off the engine, which earns him a scolding from his brother, but he’s almost halfway through the walk to the entrance as he waves Lorenzo off.

As Charles approaches the entrance of the hospital, his pace quickens with a mix of urgency and concern. The automatic doors slide open, welcoming him into the bustling lobby. The sterile smell of disinfectant fills his nostrils, and the sound of footsteps echoes through the halls.

He makes his way to the reception desk, where a receptionist greets him with a warm smile, and (thankfully) speaks in English, “Good evening, how can I help you?”

Breathing heavily, Charles tries to gather his thoughts and speak clearly. “My girlfriend was admitted through ER earlier today, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me her room number and how she’s doing?”

The receptionist nods sympathetically. “I understand your concern, let me check the system for you.” She begins typing on her computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. After a few moments, she looks up at Charles. “I do see her in our system, but I don't have access to that information. You'll need to speak with someone from the emergency department.”

Frustration wells up within Charles, but he takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay calm. "Can you at least direct me to the emergency department?"

The receptionist offers an understanding smile. "Of course. Head down this corridor and take the first right. You'll find the emergency department entrance on your left."

Thanking the receptionist, Charles follows her directions, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry. He walks briskly, determined to reach Y/N's side as quickly as possible. As he enters the emergency department, the sense of urgency intensifies – he watches the hustle and bustle of the hospital; how the medical staff rush by, attending to patients in need and people who are waiting to see their loved ones just like him. His legs aimlessly takes him to the nearest a nurse station and approaches a nurse who seems available. “Excuse me, Miss” he calls out, trying to catch her attention. The nurse turns to him with a professional yet compassionate gaze. “I'm looking for my girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me where I can find her?”

“Let me check her records,” the nurse smiles at him, an attempt to calm him and goes through the papers on the chart in her hands. “Here she is, it seems that she was recently moved – she’s supposed be in room 376, it’s on the third level, at the end of the main hallway.”

Relief floods over Charles as he receives the information from the nurse. He manages a grateful smile and nods in appreciation. "Thank you so much. I'll head there right away."

After thanking the nurse, Charles makes his way towards the elevators, following the signs that lead him to the third level. As he steps into the elevator, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. He makes sure he sends Lorenzo a text message to let him know where’s he’s headed, the ride to the third floor feels agonizingly slow, each passing floor adding to his impatience. When the elevator doors finally open, Charles steps out and finds himself in a long, well-lit hallway. He scans the room numbers, his eyes quickly landing on the sign indicating the direction of room 376. With determined strides, he makes his way down the hallway, passing by other patients' rooms and medical staff going about their duties.

Finally, he reaches room 376, and his breath catches in his throat. Taking a moment to steady himself, he gently pushes the door open, revealing a small but comforting space. Inside, he finds you lying in the hospital bed, an IV connected to your arm and one of your textbooks open on the bed beside you. He realises you’re asleep, however, as he watches you from afar. Seeing you lying there, Charles feels a mix of emotions overwhelm him—relief that you’re safe and being cared for, concern for your well-being, and a deep longing to be by your side. He approaches the bed with cautious steps, taking in your pale complexion and the weary lines etched on your face.

Gently, Charles pulls up a chair beside your bed and sits down, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest. He reaches out and lightly brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a tender smile gracing his lips as he watches you sleep. Gently, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, offering her a tender squeeze. "Hey," he whispers softly, not wanting to startle you. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

You stir slightly, your eyes fluttering open. A weak smile graces your lips as you recognise Charles. "Charles," she murmurs, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth. "You came."

Charles feels a surge relief wash over him, he leans in closer, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Of course, I came, I'll always be here for you, chérie. What happened? How are you feeling?"

“I’m better now,” your voice comes off hoarse, and it makes Charles cringe inwardly, “I just wanted to come to the hospital because i kept throwing up and thought I had all the signs of food poisoning – but, honey, what are you wearing?”

Charles glances down at his attire, realizing he's still in his racing gear. “I didn’t have time to change,” he explains, his head tilted to the side as he gives you a strict look, “I should have just stayed with you.”

“You had a race, Charles,” your eyes widen in recognition as you remember the race. “Oh my god, how was it? Did you–”

“The race doesn’t matter, Y/N.” Charles interrupts, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I wish you wouldn’t try to be so independent all the time.”

He watches as your lips form a pout, your voice coming off more vulnerable than before as you ask, “What?”

"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this sick? I could have been here for you."

You give him a guilty look, the pout on your lips becoming deeper. "I didn't want to worry you, Charles. I thought I could handle it on my own."

His frustration melts away as he takes in your weakened state. He moves closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "You don't have to handle everything on your own, love. I'm here for you, always. I would have been by your side if you had just let me. I should have been there with you today, not at some race when you were puking your guts out.” He pauses, his thumb caressing the back of your cheek soothingly. “I know you value your independence, and I admire that about you. But sometimes, it's okay to lean on others, especially when you're going through tough times. You don't have to carry everything on your own.”

You listen to Charles's words, and a mixture of emotions swirl within you. His concern and care touch your heart, but you also understand the frustration he expresses. With a soft sigh, you squeeze his hand gently. You shift slightly in the bed, wincing at the discomfort. "Being independent has been a part of me for so long, and it's hard to let go of that mindset completely. But I'm learning, slowly, to find a balance, and I'm learning to lean on you when I need to and to share my burdens with you." You give him the softest smile you can muster, “I promise I’ll try to be better, darling.”

His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. "You don't have to apologize, mignon. I understand why you wanted me to race, but your health and well-being will always be my priority. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to face things alone. We're a team, remember?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we are, and I’m sorry for worrying you, darling." You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, and with a soft sigh, you begin speaking again. "I promise that I’ll lean on you more and remember that we’re a team.”

Charles leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "That's all I ask, love. Just remember that you have me, and I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you."

As you feel his lips on your forehead, a sense of comfort and love washes over you. You gaze into his eyes, filled with gratitude and affection. "I love you too, Charles," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "Thank you for always being there for me, even when I push you away. I'm so grateful to have you by my side."

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

1K notes · View notes

thetarsier · 11 months

Note

Hiii I’ve been checking your blog and I love it, can I request secret relationship with Hotch? Like, Jack reveals your secret by accident by calling reader mom or smthn like that ❤️❤️❤️

a/n: I LOVE this.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings/notes: sickness (but like fever, not actually being sick), Derek Morgan being a little shit, not proofread

<3: aaron hotchner x reader

When you’d woken up that morning to Jack coughing and sneezing his little heart out, you’d known what kind of day it was going to be.

Seeing his condition, it was obvious that he shouldn’t be going to school, and once Aaron had woken up, too, he’d agreed. However, there was work to be done in the office for both of you, and you didn’t want to risk getting Jessica’s children sick, too. The only option was to bring Jack into the office. He could sleep on Aaron’s couch for the day, and then go home to bed straight after. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.

As usual, you and Aaron took separate cars to work, you parked nowhere near each other, and Aaron always waited at least five minutes after you’d exited your car to leave his. All countermeasures to keep the keen eyes of your coworkers away from the two of you and your well-hidden relationship.

It hadn’t been going on for long - just under a year - but things had moved quickly, and you basically lived with Aaron and Jack, only going back to your apartment occasionally when you and Aaron decided it would be best for him and Jack to be alone. You loved the both of them from wherever you were, staying with them was just a way to love them a little bit closer.

And, boy, was there love. Much to your surprise, Jack had called you ‘mom’ the other day by accident, which led to you going back to your apartment while he and Aaron had a conversation about Haley. You felt flattered that he’d felt so safe and loved around you that the name had been given to you, and Aaron assured you that he wasn’t upset about it.

When you’d gotten back, Jack had hugged you tightly around your neck and whispered: “My mommy is watching over me, and you do that, too. So you’re also my mom. Dad said that I could call you that if I wanted to.”

“Yeah? You want to, buddy?” You’d asked, fighting back your tears.

“Yeah! D’you want to come play?” He brushed off the issue as if it were nothing, pulling away from you and grabbing your hand instead, leading you into the living room where his toys were.

That lively boy had been replaced now by a quiet, sick one, and you tried not to be distracted by the sounds of him coughing in Aaron’s office. You had paperwork to do. You were supposed to be working. Jack had his father, and Penelope, who seemed to be making more trips to the water cooler today than she ever had before.

“God, it’s awful, isn’t it?” JJ’s words made you turn your attention to her from where you’d been staring at the door of Aaron’s office.

“Sorry?”

“Hearing children in pain. It never gets better. It’s actually worse once you have a child,” She shook her head, “I wish there was something I could do.”

“Yeah,” You said on an exhale, shuffling some of your papers to give your hands a task, “I might go and see if they need anything, actually.”

“I doubt it. Hotch probably has everything Jack could need right in there,” JJ patted your shoulder as she continued her walk past your desk, “You don’t want to risk catching whatever he has.”

You nodded, swallowing as you looked down at your computer. You had to focus. If you went in there, all of the secrecy that you and Aaron had worked for would be put under a microscope. If Jack found comfort in you, like you knew he would, if Aaron let you stay with him in his office when he’d kicked everyone else out within a couple of minutes, every separate car journey to work would be rendered useless.

Profilers were a nuisance. They saw everything, every minute shift in behaviour. They would definitely notice the signs of a relationship between you and your boss.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Morgan asked as he came up behind you, placing his hands on your tense shoulders, “You’ve been staring at your computer screen for a while.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m just distracted.”

He didn’t seem to buy it. Or, rather, he did, he just knew that there was a deeper reason as to why you were distracted that you weren’t mentioning. His fingers pushed into your shoulders as if he were trying to knead the secrets out of you.

“Oh, I get it,” He mumbled next to your ear and your heart rate began to pick up, “Someone’s got a new boyfriend.”

“What?” You squeaked, turning in your chair and forcing Morgan’s hands from you, “What are you talking about?”

“You’re checking your phone a lot, you’re distracted, you’re happier recently; all signs point to good sex.”

“Derek! This is a work environment.”

“You’re not denying it,” He grinned, leaning on his own desk that was right behind yours, “So you do have a guy.”

“No! No.” You squirmed under his knowing gaze, dropping your shoulders as you let out a sigh, “Okay, yes. Yes, I do. Now, will you leave me alone to do my work?”

He cheered loudly in success, but your worried glance around the space forced him to quieten down, and after he didn’t make any other noises for a few seconds, the eyes in the office that had been drawn to the two of you quickly left again.

“Just…” You turned back to your computer, “Don’t mention anything to anyone, okay?”

“Only if you answer one question: was I right? Is the sex good?”

You imagined what Derek’s reaction might be if he realised he was talking about his boss, the thought almost put a smile on your face. Instead, you glared at him over your shoulder, and he raised a challenging eyebrow at you.

“Hey, baby girl-” He shouted across the office while holding eye contact with you.

“No! Okay fine,” You leaned closer to him, speaking in a hushed whisper, “The answer to your question is yes.”

His shit-eating grin only grew wider at your answer, and when Penelope approached the two of you, Derek made an excuse of asking her out to lunch, and the two of them left the office together. You could finally relax.

Until the sound of Jack’s coughing punctured through the air again.

As much as Derek annoyed you (much like an older sibling), he was brilliant at distracting you from everything going on in your life. And even though you were sure that he was telling Penelope your secret at that very moment, you couldn’t help but be a little bit grateful that you’d managed to tear your mind away from the child in Aaron’s office.

It was scary to think about what could happen if the people in your office found out about you and Aaron. As a woman, it was undoubted that you would get at least one comment about sleeping your way to the top, and even though HR knew about your relationship in order to keep professionalism, you couldn’t imagine the kinds of issues that might arise with other agents if they all knew about your relationship. People could be made uncomfortable, or accuse Aaron of preferential treatment; your jobs could be on the line.

But, then again, it would relieve a huge weight off your shoulders. You wouldn’t have to worry about taking separate cars, waiting in the parking lot, or having to stay away from the person who brought you the most comfort when you were really in need of a hug.

No. No, you couldn’t be public about your relationship until either one of you didn’t work at the BAU anymore, which you were sure wouldn’t be happening any time soon.

The door to Aaron’s office opened, and Jack appeared, holding Aaron’s hand and a blanket that he hadn’t let go of since he’d left the house. You tried to seem unfazed, glueing your eyes to your paperwork, but your heart beamed out of your chest when Jack pulled Aaron to a stop right beside your desk.

“Hey, you feeling okay, buddy?” You asked, keeping your voice gentle. The burn of about a dozen pairs of eyes suddenly became apparent.

Which was why, when Jack held his arms up to be brought up into your lap, loudly exclaiming ‘Mommy!’ as you hesitantly pulled him up, you knew there was no way you could hide. Even if he hadn’t said anything, the way he melted into you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face in your neck, was probably a dead giveaway.

“Oh, sweetheart,” You cooed as you rubbed his back, looking up at Aaron, who was shielding you somewhat with his body as he leaned against your desk, watching you with a hint of a smile, “It’s okay, baby. You’ll feel all better soon, I promise.”

“How soon is soon?” Jack groaned into your skin, and you kissed his hot cheek.

“Really, really soon, buddy, okay?”

You continued rubbing his back as the people around you pretended to continue on with their tasks. Aaron rolled Derek’s desk chair from behind his desk and pulled it up next to you and Jack, lips stretching into a thin line.

“He was upset, asking for you. I thought I’d rather he be happy than us protect ourselves,” He explained in a low voice, “I probably should have asked.”

“It’s alright,” You assured him, “I’m glad you brought him out, it’s been killing me all day. What are we going to tell everyone?”

“I’ll tell them to mind their own business,” He placed a hand on your knee, away from the view of everyone else, “We did everything right, telling HR but keeping it a secret from the team. It can be a sort of… relief that we don’t have to sneak around anymore.”

“Yeah, you’re right. We should get him back to your office,” Jack had fallen asleep against you, so you stood up carefully, keeping his head still with one hand cradling it, “Morgan will be back soon, and we should probably figure out a strategy to best tell him-”

“Oh!” Came a shout across the office as you and Aaron were halfway up the stairs. You squeezed your eyes shut, not believing in your bad luck, and Aaron turned around to look at Morgan, “Hotch is the secret boyfriend?”

“Watch your volume, Morgan,” Aaron warned, “As much as it may not seem like it, you’re still at work.” The ‘And don’t you dare wake up my son’ was implied, but Jack did nothing more than wiggle around in your arms at the loud noises.

“Oh, man,” Derek grinned as you and Aaron continued to walk up the stairs to his office, “I know something about you, Hotch.”

His taunts were blocked out by Aaron opening his office door for you and closing it behind himself, twisting the lock and pulling the blinds as you set Jack down on his sofa and tucked his blanket around him.

“What is he talking about?” Aaron asked once you’d stood up, hands coming to rest on your waist in a way they never had while you two were at work.

You relished in his touch, morphing it into a hug as you wound your arms over his shoulders. At home, he was always touching you, always somewhere close, but it was different - new - in his office, where the only things exchanged between the two of you were longing looks and papers.

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

#aaron hotch fanfiction #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fic #criminal minds

2K notes · View notes

subskz · 1 year

Text

ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 02

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

content: bang chan/reader, university au, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, themes of soulmates, slight angst, slight hurt/comfort, themes of death/grief over a friend, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, nsfw scenes

18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, soft smut, unprotected sex (no condom, but reader is on contraceptives), praise, body worship, riding, light choking, under-discussed kinks (both parties are consenting), light possessiveness, biting, teasing, lots of begging, aftercare

word count: 15.8k

You didn’t want to go home.

Final exams were just a week away, and summer break would follow soon after. For anyone else, it would bring about a much-needed relief, a moment to breathe after the grueling interim leading up to the end of the semester. For you, however, all that awaited was a looming, unshakeable sense of dread.

You hadn’t returned to your hometown for nearly six months now, choosing instead to spend all of your vacation time on campus, pouring yourself into assignments and studies far sooner and far more vigorously than required. But summer break would be an exception to this new, comfortably avoidant routine of yours. The excuse that you were busy became significantly less convincing when you had no classes to attend to, and you were certain that your parents wouldn’t let you get away with not visiting home for at least a week or two, especially when the trip was less than an hour by train.

It would be the one year anniversary soon, of the loss of your closest friend. The memory was still too fresh in your mind, the wound was still wide open and festering. You hadn’t given it proper time to heal—or, any time to heal, for that matter—instead having grown accustomed to slapping on a temporary fix and replacing it only when deemed absolutely necessary. Just enough to get by, to keep yourself together.

It wouldn’t be that easy to ignore once you returned home, though. Not even close. Every flickering streetlight, every newly blossomed tree, every crack in the sidewalk that had once been so reassuring in its familiarity, was laced with memories of her. They were memories that used to make your life brighter, warmer; like a glowing ball of light you carried around in your chest wherever you went. Now, they only stung.

The sound of your phone vibrating against the nightstand snapped you out of your brooding. You reached out aimlessly for it through the darkness of your bedroom, squinting as the harsh screen light nearly blinded you in the process.

A familiar flash of gray was all you needed to see to open the notification with embarrassing haste.

chan 🐺 (3:08 a.m.) let’s go here!

For a brief moment, you were at a loss, then, the link to a nearby bungeoppang shop followed.

chan 🐺 (3:09 a.m.) their custard is so sooo sooooooo good

chan 🐺 (3:10 a.m.) akskdnsnsksjsjsk

You were grinning before you even finished reading his messages, fondness flooding your chest in place of the heavy, melancholic fog that had been occupying it all night.

you (3:11 a.m.) yummy~ we can go during finals week as a pick me up!

chan 🐺 (3:11 a.m.) yuo’re awake,??

you (3:11 a.m.) that’s my line!

Just as you were typing out another response, your screen changed to signal Chan’s incoming call, making you scramble upright in bed. You should’ve come to expect it by now, but even so, it still felt just as new and exhilarating as the first time that wolf emoji had popped up out of the blue. Predictably unpredictable.

His greeting came the instant you picked up, oddly cheerful considering how late into the night it was.

“Hey!”

“Hi, Channie,” you said softly. “Y’know, I think I’ve got you all figured out.”

“Oh?” Chan sounded taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“You’re only a phone guy when you should be asleep.”

Confusion melted into amusement, and you could hear the grin in his voice when he replied. “Hm…maybe you’re right,” he agreed. “But what’s your excuse, then?”

You paused. “I guess I’m only a good texter when it comes to you.”

The shy giggles that filled your ears didn’t disappoint. They made you feel light, carefree; like everything that had been responsible for keeping you wide awake for the past three hours was suddenly so trivial in the face of his laughter.

“So, what are you up to?” you asked.

“Trying to trick myself to fall asleep,” he said it like a joke, but you could feel the weariness behind his words. It tugged at your emotions in a way that you knew all too well. The urge to help him, to take care of him.

Your heart welcomed it, but your mind rejected it, and you were more keen on letting the latter call the shots these days. So, as naturally as it came, you pushed it away.

“By thinking about bungeoppang?”

Another giggle. “Well, more like thinking about things I wanna do with you.”

You held your breath to avoid letting a reaction slip out, but there was no way to repress the butterflies that fluttered to life in your stomach. Thankfully, Chan didn’t seem to notice. It was the one thing about you he could never quite catch, like his obliviousness to his own charm stood in the way of an otherwise razor-sharp intuition.

“How about you? What’s got you awake?”

You could clearly envision the attentive eyes and curious head tilt accompanying his question. It almost made you want to answer without restraint, to share all the thoughts that you’d been needlessly torturing yourself with for days now, rotating over and over in your head until they snowballed into something out of your control.

You stopped yourself just in time. He didn’t need to hear something like that at this hour—or, ever, really.

“Just thinking about the summer.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, and you hoped it’d be enough to get past his scrutiny.

“Oh!” he chirped. “Are you excited?”

Absolutely not. “Kinda,” you were grateful he couldn’t see your expression. “More excited about it than finals, anyway.”

“It’ll be fine!” he said confidently. “Just two more weeks, and we’re free, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I’m gonna miss our study sessions.”

Chan had switched from the astrophysics track after his spring semester of senior year—cutting it close was an understatement—so any classes you’d be taking for your final term in the fall would be completely new territory for him. You didn’t doubt for a second that he might try to continue tutoring you and Changbin regardless, but after finding out how hard he’d been pushing himself to help you with subjects that he already had experience with, you couldn’t in good conscience allow him to do that to himself again.

Not that you needed the study sessions as an excuse to see him anymore, but still, you felt strangely wistful about it.

“Me too,” he hummed, as if his mind had drifted to the same place. “That reminds me, you left your sweater here the other day.”

“Oh! I didn’t even notice.”

“You must’ve been distracted by something,” he sang.

You let your chuckle slip out this time, more than ready to indulge him. “Well, there was this really cute boy there. Do you think he’d be willing to give it back to me?”

“Ah…” his attempt at teasing you backfired so spectacularly that he went silent for a moment. “He was cute? I don’t believe you.”

“Cute enough to kiss,” you confirmed.

You registered a sudden rustling sound on the other line, followed by the faintest squeak, as if he were physically unable to contain his giddiness. The thought of it nearly had you burying your face in your pillow yourself. You wished you could see him.

“Then,” he swallowed. “He might give it back to you, for a kiss.”

The memory of his lips on yours washed over you all at once, so vividly that you could even recall how his soft cheeks had felt cupped in your palms and how his shaky breath had fanned over your skin.

“Is that a promise?” You held out your pinky in the darkness. It buzzed with warmth, and you wondered briefly if he was mirroring your action on his end, or if it was just the lingering heat that he’d left on you.

“Promise,” he breathed.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

The final lecture of PHYS 408: Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics, more or less went exactly as you had predicted. No review for the final exam, no rundown of what to expect, and certainly no heartfelt announcement from Dr. Choi, letting you all know what a joy of a section you’d been to teach. If it weren't for the date and time of the exam scribbled on the whiteboard behind him, you might’ve thought he’d forgotten about it altogether.

He’d droned on for the first hour of class, delivering your last lesson of the semester with the same perpetual stiffness as day one, then had so generously granted the remaining 15 minutes as free time for studying amongst yourselves. Changbin appeared ready to bolt the moment the words left your professor’s mouth, but you’d stubbornly convinced him to stay just a bit longer and study with you. It was more for his sake than anything else, considering he’d only attended one of the two final exam reviews with Chan.

Changbin, it seemed, had other plans, as he hadn’t let a minute pass by without getting distracted from the task at hand and trying to start a conversation with you.

“By the way, you'll be at the get-together won’t you? Before the summer ends.”

You looked up from your notes, already sensing some kind of trap being set up.

“And by get-together you mean…?”

Changbin’s lips curved into a sheepish half-smile; caught, even with his careful phrasing.

“Well, I guess it’s more of a party.”

You made a face. You’d been to a handful of parties the past three years of your university experience, each one having been more unpleasant and suffocating than the last.

“I’m not sure, Bin. Not really my scene, y’know?”

“It’ll be your scene if I'm there, trust me.” Changbin lifted his head with a grin, and you might have rolled your eyes if his overblown confidence wasn’t so endearing.

“Uh-huh,” you played along. “Now I'm just itching to go.”

“Doesn’t the bond we’ve built these past months mean anything to you?” he whined. “It could be our last chance to really hang out!”

“It’s not like we’re dying, Seo Changbin,” you said, unimpressed. “I know for a fact that you’re taking the same Experimental Physics section as me next semester because we both put it off.”

Changbin clicked his tongue, shutting his book dramatically—which made no difference, really, considering he hadn’t read a single line of text from it. “Alright, fine. You’ve made it clear how little you value our friendship today.”

Just when you thought he’d accepted defeat, he continued.

“And of course,” a devious glint crossed his eyes. “It wouldn’t change your mind if I told you a certain friend of mine was coming?”

Ah. Despite your vigilance, it appeared you’d fallen right into his trap anyway.

“A certain friend?” you echoed. It came casual, but inside, your mind was swarming with countless possibilities. You hadn’t yet told Changbin about everything that had transpired between you and Chan, and you weren’t sure if Chan had mentioned anything to him either. The issue wasn’t so much that you were afraid of how Changbin would react, it was more about preparing yourself to deal with the theatrics of it all, the internal battle between horror and smugness that was sure to ensue inside him; because, on one hand, he’d been right, but on the other hand, he’d been right.

You could already picture it: scolding and teasing all at once, “I leave you alone with my best friend for one night and you kiss him!?”

You would never hear the end of it.

“A certain Bang Chan,” he elaborated, looking a bit disappointed when you didn’t give him the reaction he’d hoped for.

Knowing that Chan would be there admittedly piqued your interest, but not in the way Changbin seemed to think. You were more so curious as to what would draw him into such an environment—if he would be in his element, or awkwardly out of place. He was a social butterfly, sure, with a friends list that could probably fill up your entire Theoretical Methods notebook, but even so, a college party just wasn’t the kind of pastime you’d imagined him to indulge in all that much.

Still, you could be wrong. You simultaneously felt like you knew so much about Chan, yet so little. It was like you could envision the completed puzzle of him in your mind, but still didn’t quite have all the pieces in your hand.

With a start, you realized that Changbin might mistake your silence for something else, and you forced out a response before he could get too suspicious.

“Chan’s going?” you asked. “Is that his kind of thing?”

“Hm…not usually,” he tapped your pencil against the tabletop, as if it required deep thought. “At least, he’s not big on drinking and all that.”

The surge of satisfaction you felt in being correct came so strong that you were almost taken aback. It went hand in hand with that ever-present desire to know him, every part of him, better than anyone else.

“So, what’s the occasion, then? Because I know you’re not exactly a party animal yourself, Mr. Principles.”

“I’m the life of any party I go to.” He said it so seriously that you couldn’t help but snort, earning you a defensive swat to the shoulder.

“But, you do have a point,” he admitted once your giggles had died down. “It is sort of a special occasion.”

You leaned in, fully immersed now. He was being uncharacteristically roundabout today, and when that signature, shy smirk crept up on his face, you knew there was definitely something else brewing under the surface.

“It’s an event for the student music organization here on campus, so we get to do a little showcase.”

Your eyes widened. “We? As in 3RACHA?”

He simply beamed, the look of pride on his face speaking for itself.

“Bin! Are you serious!?”

For once, you were the one turning heads in you and Changbin’s direction, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel self-conscious about your outburst. “Like, a live performance?”

He wiggled in his spot, clearly basking in your excitement. “Just one song, but, yeah.”

“Still, that’s amazing!” you piped. “You should’ve just said that from the beginning, you know I’ll go if it means seeing you perform.”

“I know,” he scrunched up his nose, the embarrassment finally starting to get to him. “But I didn’t wanna flaunt. Modesty is key, after all.”

You shot him an amused look. “Is that one of your principles?”

“The most important one,” he said proudly.

Though you were less than enthused about attending a party of that magnitude, in that moment you felt nothing but delight bubbling up in your chest; for Changbin, for yourself, for Chan. You wondered what his reaction to the news had been like, if he’d broken out into that thousand-watt smile of barely-contained glee, or if the prospect of sharing his music in front of so many people had reduced him to a panicked mess, scrambling to get everything in order to put on the best performance possible.

The clock struck 9:15 a.m. to signal the end of your final lecture period. Naturally, you and Changbin hadn’t gotten any studying done, with his little announcement serving as the nail in the coffin for your motivation to work. As you gathered up your belongings and rose from your chair, an unexpected wave of nostalgia overtook you. It was likely the last time you’d be sitting in it, given that even the most absent of students would be showing up on the day of the final and taking any spot they could find. In a weird way, you were going to miss it. Some of your most miserable recollections from the semester were associated with it—stress, exhaustion, confusion, pressure—but it had brought about some of your most cherished moments as well; some of your most cherished people.

Changbin seemed to notice the sentimental expression on your face, and he gave you a gentle nudge as you strolled together out of the classroom.

“A lot has changed since that first day, huh?”

“Yeah,” you let your shoulder bump against his. “It has.”

You hoped, desperately, that it was the start of something better.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

In the end, you and Chan hadn’t been able to line your schedules up even once throughout finals week to make room for your bungeoppang date. Amidst the storm of projects, presentations, exams, and papers, the two of you barely found time in the day to fulfill basic necessities, let alone to hang out with one another. You were particularly worried about the self-care situation on his end, already well-acquainted with his tendency to neglect his health whenever he was swamped. All you could do was send short, uplifting messages every few days, encouraging him to get some rest before the sun came up.

The dangling promise of fish-shaped bread (and, of course, the boy that came with it) had carried you through the week more than you’d like to admit, and by the time your last exam of the semester came around, your patience was on its last legs. You turned in your Astronomical Techniques test with plenty of time to spare, scurrying out of the lecture hall and making your way to the campus gym as quickly as your feet would allow.

Pushing open the doors to the natatorium where you and Chan had agreed to meet, you were immediately hit with the stinging scent of chlorine and thunderous sound of overlapping splashes. You scanned over the area in search of his familiar face, overwhelmed by the sea of identical swim caps. When you spotted him at last, he wasn’t emerging from the locker room like you’d expected him to be—freshly showered and, most importantly, clothed. No, instead, your eyes landed on him just in time to witness him rising from the pool, muscular arms hoisting his body up the ledge and sending streams of water cascading down his broad shoulders and back.

You froze, too mesmerized by the sight to even think about looking away before he could notice you. He pulled his swim cap off along with his goggles, shaking his wet curls free and confirming that it was, in fact, Bang Christopher Chan standing shirtless before you.

It was almost laughable, how your heartbeat picked up to an alarming speed, hammering faster in your chest the more you studied his figure. The full curve of his pecs, the toned ridges of his abdomen, the lean dip in his waist, disappearing into his swim trunks. His skin was glistening and almost annoyingly untouched. You wanted to sully it, to leave it marked up and littered with traces of you.

A sudden squeak of your name snapped you back to your senses. With how intensely you’d been staring, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise to you that Chan’s head would whip around in your direction, as if he could physically feel the holes your gaze had been burning into his skin.

“Y-you’re here!” he stammered. A part of you wondered if he might’ve done this on purpose, secretly hoping for you to find him like this when he’d suggested that you meet up with him after practice. But, judging by the way he shrank into himself, arms flying up to cross over his chest at the speed of light, he was just as mortified as you were.

You took a breath, forcing yourself to get it together. “I guess I finished my exam earlier than I thought,” your voice sounded steady, at least. “Sorry for sneaking up on you.”

Chan shifted his weight from side to side, eyes darting between you and the floor. “No worries,” he chuckled awkwardly. You made a point to avoid looking anywhere but his face for the sake of his comfort, but the way his ears had flushed a very obvious shade of red was just as distracting, if not more.

He cleared his throat. “Uh, we’re done for the day, anyway. I just gotta shower, then I’m all yours!”

You wished he hadn’t phrased it like that. “Sure, take your time.”

You managed a quick smile, turning towards the bench on the far end of the pool so he could walk to the locker rooms without worrying about covering himself up.

As if that whole altercation hadn’t been embarrassing enough already, it took the entirety of the ten minutes he spent in the shower for the adrenaline rushing through your veins to finally ebb.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

“I can’t believe you just did that.”

It was the first time you’d ever really heard Chan whine—childish and pouty in a way that could give even Changbin a run for his money.

You giggled triumphantly, waving the bungeoppang in his face to really rub it in.

Chan had made the grave mistake of offhandedly telling you what he planned to order as the two of you chatted on the way to the shop, and when he’d whispered to you that he was going to run to the bathroom as you were studying the menu, the opportunity that presented itself was just too perfect for you to pass up.

Instead of waiting, you’d lined up on your own, praying that you would make it before he returned. In the end, you’d succeeded, ordering for him and yourself and paying for both portions just in the nick of time, much to his horror.

“This upset over my first win?” you taunted. “I didn’t know you were so competitive, Channie.”

He huffed, pressing his lips together in a way that made his cheeks swell. The good-natured twinkle in his eyes remained, however, and he eventually accepted the pastry in defeat. “Still, thank you.”

You softened. “Of course. It’s the least I could do.”

The two of you slipped into the nearest booth, settling in across from each other. Chan looked ready to devour his order within seconds of sitting down, but before he could, you reached out, bungeoppang in hand, as if proposing a toast.

“Here’s to getting through finals alive,” you declared.

He grinned, tapping his bread against yours. “Cheers!”

You bit into your share, the light crispness of the crust blending perfectly with its filling. Chan had been right about this place’s custard; the way its flavor flooded your tongue was nothing short of heavenly.

“Oh my God,” you mumbled. “This is so good.”

He let out a blissful hum of agreement. You glanced up to find him already halfway done with his share, cheeks stuffed and lips puckered as he chewed happily away. A stray drop of custard had stuck to the corner of his mouth, right next to the curve of his dimple, and it took everything in you not to lean in and kiss him right then and there.

Chan’s eyes fluttered open as he swallowed his massive mouthful, and you straightened up in your spot, trying to pretend like you hadn’t just been daydreaming about eating custard off of his face.

“By the way,” you began. “Changbin told me you guys are performing at the end of the summer?”

“Ah…” he brought his bungeoppang up to his nose, like he hoped to disappear behind it. “Yeah, seems like it. It’s not a big deal, though, really.”

“It is! I wish you’d told me, I definitely don’t wanna miss it.”

His gaze peeked up above the half-eaten bread, and you might’ve thought he was just playing coy if the look in his eyes wasn’t so adorably hopeful, searching your expression for a sincere show of interest.

“Really?”

“Of course,” you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Plus, Bin would never let me live it down if I did.”

“True,” he grinned. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to tell you?”

“Oh?”

“I was just kinda embarrassed about it,” he chuckled. “Dunno if I’d be able to face you after.”

Something about the way he said it nearly made you melt. How very like him, to feel self-conscious about performing in front of you before it’d even happened. Unable to help yourself any longer, you reached forward and brushed your thumb along the edge of his lips, scooping up the drop of custard—though, really, it was just an excuse to touch him.

Chan looked caught off guard for a moment, fingers flexing around the pastry in his hand. Then, the smile was back on his face, even wider this time.

“You’re so cute,” you murmured. “If you say that, it just makes me wanna see you more, y’know.”

He reached up to fiddle with his piercing, both dimples now on full display. “Will you be back in town by then?”

“I’m gonna be here for most of the break, actually,” you confessed.

His eyes lit up. “You serious?”

You nodded, praying he wouldn’t ask you to elaborate.

“So am I!” he beamed. “I’m doing an independent study, so I won’t have the chance to go home.”

It dawned on you for the first time that Chan’s family was, in fact, still living in Australia while he attended university. You hadn’t even considered the possibility that he might not be visiting them over the summer. That same, familiar ache touched your heart again—it must get lonely for him. Here you were, purposely avoiding your hometown at all costs, when he was likely longing for his.

“Oh no,” you frowned. “Not even for a short trip?”

“Nah.” He waved his hand, seemingly unaffected. “But it’s alright. I’ve got you, and my buddy Felix will be here for a while, too.”

Felix. Another name you’d heard thrown around by Chan and Changbin on more than one occasion. He was yet another junior that Chan had managed to befriend somehow, and, just like him, he’d grown up in Australia. It eased your mind a bit, knowing that he and Chan at least had each other when everyone else was home for the holidays.

“But what about you?” He cocked his head. “Any reason you’re staying?”

The dreaded question. This time, you couldn’t depend on the safety of a phone call to keep him from gauging your reaction.

“I just prefer it here, I guess.” You picked at the paper wrapping of your bread, hoping to sound nonchalant. “There’s some stuff I don’t wanna deal with back home. But, knowing my parents, I’ll probably still go for a week or so.”

Suddenly, the look on his face wasn’t quite so bright. It was subtle, just a fleeting crack in his typically bubbly demeanor, but not lost on you. Whether it was the mention of your parents or your vaguely cynical response that had brought about such a strange reaction, you weren’t sure, but you berated yourself for being responsible for dampening his mood, even if it was short-lived.

“I get that,” he said softly. “Let’s have a good time here together, yeah?”

Chan didn’t speak any further on the topic, but somehow, you couldn’t shake the feeling that he resonated with what you’d said more than he was letting on.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

Three days into your visit back home, you came to fully accept the fact that you were in way over your head.

From the moment you’d stepped off the train, hit with that warm, familiar air, tinged with the scent of pine, you could already feel it picking away at you. The trip from the station to your house, which you’d stubbornly chosen to make by foot, was full of bittersweet sights, sounds, and smells that had shaped you growing up, with each one tugging your seams loose just a little bit more. It felt akin to whiplash, a harsh dive into the deep end of reality after the past month you’d spent with Chan, stuck in a giddy haze.

Thanks to him, the harsh sting of summer had become more of a dull ache, not quite fading altogether, but soothed into something more manageable, at least. With Iseul, Changbin, and all your other friends returning home for vacation, you’d breezed through the entirety of June almost exclusively in Chan’s company. More often than not, Felix would join in as well, making for an unexpectedly pleasant dynamic among the three of you. You’d taken a liking to the boy in no time—it was impossible not to, when he had a smile like the sun and an infectious sort of vitality that brought joy to even the simplest of activities. He was a bit more reserved than Chan, at least around you, but he had a similar kind of warmth, the kind that was sure to enamor anyone he crossed paths with.

Between movie nights (more superhero movies than you’d ever thought existed), day trips to the beach (with Chan, thankfully, taking your sanity into account and wearing a tank top at all times), and far too many baking sessions (some successful, most failed), what you’d initially feared to be a month of nothing but heat and misery had turned out to be some of the best weeks of your life.

It was only natural, of course, that the universe would follow them up with a week that was carefully crafted to send all that happiness you’d built toppling unceremoniously to the ground.

The pit of guilt you’d felt in your stomach about avoiding home for so long increased tenfold with every comment from your parents and relatives, joking about how you were too busy, too good for your family to waste time on them anymore. You almost wanted to be upset, because you knew they knew. But you also knew that they meant well. In their minds, they were doing you a favor by not addressing it, not daring to so much as utter your friend’s name around you. It was much easier to pretend like everything was okay. That was what you’d been doing for the past year, after all.

Still, no matter how hard you wished you could ignore it, the pesky, human desire for seeking solace in others persisted. You needed to release, to lift the top off the pressure cooker you’d kept so tightly sealed for so long.

You needed to talk to someone. But the only person in the world who you could’ve opened up to about losing her, was her.

Your thumb lingered over Chan’s contact, now on your fourth minute of debating whether or not you should throw caution to the wind and call him. You wanted to hear his voice rambling on, his absent-minded humming of whichever song was stuck in his head that day, his laughter.

With a deep inhale, you swiped out of your phone app, opening up your messages instead.

you (8:13 a.m.) hey it’s been a minute! how are u?

A response, almost immediately.

iseul 🪷 (8:13 a.m.) awful horrible miserable

you (8:14 a.m.) hello??? what’s going on?

iseul 🪷 (8:14 a.m.) family is driving me crazy and i hate men i also might be fired???? idk yet

You frowned, trying to process the unfortunate string of messages unfolding on your screen. You didn’t think it was possible for anyone to be having a worse time than you right now. It brought you back to your senses, reminded you of your place. Self-pity never suited you, anyway. Your sympathy was much better off reserved for others.

you (8:15 a.m.) oh my god? do you want to talk?

iseul 🪷 (8:15 a.m.) ugh yes i’ll ft you later at a family gathering rn 🤢 hate it here

you (8:16 a.m.) we’re in the same boat remember the right answer to every question is that ur focusing on ur studies

iseul 🪷 (8:16 a.m.) literally gonna be using that one all day ugh literally kill me

you (8:17 a.m.) being nosey is just how they show their love~

iseul 🪷 (8:17 a.m.) they should show their love a little less

you (8:18 a.m.) lmaoo

you (8:19 a.m.) btw do you still want me to look over that paper for your grad school app?

iseul 🪷 (8:19 a.m.) omg….. omfg yes i totally forgot omfg i’ll send it to u when i’m free pls read it fix it make me sound smarter

With the way Iseul was typing a mile a minute, you were certain you’d be in for an earful when you talked to her later. Strangely enough, it lifted a bit of weight off your shoulders. Maybe you could focus on reviewing her essay and offering her advice on the many, many issues she seemed to be facing as a way to take your mind off the growing itch in your skin.

That was all you had to do, really. Make yourself useful, keep yourself preoccupied with something at all times until you could return to campus and restart the process of tucking away every memory associated with the previous summer from scratch.

It was just a matter of holding yourself together. Just one more week.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but think that a day like this one shouldn’t be quite so sunny.

The sky was bright and spotless, an endless expanse of soft blue without so much as a single cloud daring to interfere. Some might say it was a good omen, a sign that you were being watched over with a smile, but to you, it almost felt like a taunt.

Still, the nice weather at least meant that your walk to the cemetery wouldn’t be met with any unexpected rain. Your mother had offered—or demanded, rather—to drive you if you weren’t going to drive yourself, so as not to keep your friends waiting; but much to her exasperation, you’d refused. You had an important stop to make along the way, anyway, one that both fueled your apprehension, and eased it.

It had officially been a year now. A year since you’d lost your best friend, a year since you’d ended your relationship, a year since your sense of self had become muddled. Nothing in the city felt like home, anymore. It had belonged to the both of you, and with her gone, there was nothing left for you.

A sudden call of your name nearly made you jump out of your skin. You looked up from the concrete, shocked to find that you’d zoned out long enough to have reached your destination without even processing it. Your eyes raked over the worn-down stand, once a pure, striking white, now chipped and rusted with age. Still, it brought a smile to your face, the first real one since you’d arrived home.

“Is that really you, kid?”

Steeling yourself, you lifted your head fully to face the man before you. He looked the same as ever, albeit with a bit less hair on his head, but his kind eyes and jovial smile hadn’t changed one bit, they never did.

“Hello, Uncle Geun,” you greeted. “How have you been?”

Gruff, booming laughter met your ears, and you were pulled into a bone-crushing hug before you knew it. The smell of his colorful apron, musky from the heat, but not unpleasant, sent a wave of sentimentality crashing over you. It took everything in you not to tear up the moment it touched your senses.

He was a man that had watched you grow up, in the truest sense of the words. Over a decade ago, on this very street, you’d rounded the corner with a bit too much energy on your way to school, slamming into another little girl and sending you both toppling onto the unforgiving sidewalk. You’d managed to come out of it with just a skidded palm, but she, on the other hand, was bawling the instant she’d recovered from the initial impact.

Even as a child, you’d gotten the feeling that she was being a bit too dramatic about it all, sobbing about how her knees hurt and how her new jumper was ruined. Regardless, your stomach twisted with guilt, and when you saw that your apologies weren’t getting through to her, you’d done the first thing your little mind could think of, scurrying over to the nearby flower vendor and asking if he could spare you a gift for her. His smile had been just as grand back then as it was now, his laughter just as boisterous as he picked a chrysanthemum from his stock and handed it to you.

The second you’d shoved the round, yellow flower in her face, her crying came to an immediate halt, tears drying up and sniffles dying down, as if on cue. She accepted it with a smile as bright as the flower itself, pulling off a few petals for you when she noticed the scrapes on your hand.

You’d continued the walk to school side by side, and by the end of the day, the two of you had come to a mutual agreement that you were now, officially, best friends.

You blinked rapidly, hoping your expression wouldn't betray you when Uncle Geun finally pulled away from the hug.

“It’s good to see you,” he beamed. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?”

“That’s all you, Uncle. Even the flowers are jealous.”

Another raspy burst of laughter. “Clever as always.”

“Maybe that college education is worth something,” you joked.

His grin grew impossibly wider, silver tooth gleaming in the sunlight. “We’ve all missed you,” he said. “Doesn’t really feel like the summertime without the sight of you walking around the city with—”

He cut himself off at just the right instant. You felt a light pang in your chest, but you forced yourself to keep smiling.

“Well,” he cleared his throat. “You girls were always a joy.”

“We had a lot of great memories because of you,” you replied quietly.

An uncharacteristically somber look crossed his face, and your eyes fell back to the ground.

“So, what’ll it be, today?” he began, trying to put the pep back in his voice. “Don’t tell me you’re just here to give the old man a visit.”

“Chrysanthemums, please,” you requested. “They’re for her.”

You unzipped your bag, reaching in to pull out your wallet. Before you could even prepare your payment, however, his calloused hand rested over yours, shooing it away.

“This one’s on the house.”

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

You never made it to the cemetery.

However necessary it had felt for you to visit the flower stand and see Uncle Geun, the toll it took on your state of mind was far heavier than you’d ever anticipated—and you’d anticipated. Your conversation with him had left you disoriented, a strange ache pulsing through your body. Whether grief or nostalgia was at its core, you weren’t sure.

With blurry vision, you’d texted your friends that you wouldn’t be able to make it and returned home, clutching the bouquet of flowers close to your chest. In a matter of twenty minutes, you gathered up all your belongings, tossed them into your hardly unpacked suitcase, and arranged to take the first train back home. Your new home, the one that felt right for all the wrong reasons.

Despite your parents’ adamant protests, you stood by your decision to leave. You promised to make it up to them with another visit, and after almost an hour of arguing, the hollowness of your voice finally seemed to get through to them. Disapproving but ultimately understanding, they’d quietly allowed you to go.

The train ride was a blur. You didn’t remember much of it, and only when you approached the front door of your apartment at last did you feel the fog in your head begin to clear just a bit. As you dug around for your keys, you realized for the first time how stiff your hand had become. You’d kept it wrapped tightly around the chrysanthemums for the entire trip home, not loosening your death grip even once.

The heavy sigh of relief you let out as you stepped into your apartment was cut short when you registered an unexpected figure standing near the window. Even in all your shock, you didn’t have the energy to call out louder than your usual volume.

“Chan?”

His reaction was priceless, yelping in fear and spinning around at a breakneck speed. You were lucky that he at least managed to avoid dropping the watering can in his hand and send it crashing to the floor.

“Y-you’re here!?”

The fact that it sounded like a genuine question when you were standing right in front of him shouldn’t have endeared you so much. You placed down your bags, praying that your exhaustion wasn’t as obvious as it felt.

“Surprise,” you nearly cringed at how weak it came out.

In all your turmoil, you’d completely forgotten that Chan had offered to water your plants for you while you were gone. Though, to be fair, even if you had remembered, you wouldn’t have expected to stumble in on him doing so at near midnight.

“Welcome back!” His face broke out into a radiant smile. It felt more like home than anything you’d experienced the past week. “Are those new flowers for me to water?”

Despite everything, you smiled back at him, placing the bouquet on your countertop and padding over to him. He opened his arms in an instant, and you fell into them, squeezing him tighter than was probably necessary and earning a cute, tiny grunt.

“Thank you, Channie,” you simply said. His warmth enveloped you and his scent wafted over you, freshly-washed laundry and the fading, sweet citrus of his cologne. “It’s good to see you.”

“I missed you,” he sucked in hesitantly through his teeth before continuing. “But, is everything alright? I thought you still had another few days.”

“Yeah. Just a little change of plans,” hoping to lighten the mood, you added, “Guess I can’t be kept away from you for too long.”

You knew he wouldn’t buy the excuse, but he giggled anyway, shoulders vibrating against you as the melodic sound graced your ears. A part of you had initially been horrified by the prospect of Chan catching you like this, but now, all you felt was an overwhelming sense of calm.

Reluctantly, you pulled back to face him. His eyes were drowsy—nothing new there—but there was a healthy complexion to his skin. He looked just a bit tanner than the last time you’d seen him; he must’ve spent a lot of his free time at the beach.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he didn’t let go of you, even after the hug had ended. “Felix will be, too. Pretty sure he secretly thinks you’re a better baking assistant than me.”

You let out a hum of amusement. “Can’t say I blame him when you steal all the chocolate chips.”

He puckered his lips into a pout. Not truly upset, but enough for you to lean in and press an apologetic kiss to them. You would’ve taken any opportunity to do so, anyway.

His breath caught in his throat—you’d quickly learned that it was inevitable, no matter how many times you kissed him—but he returned it instantly, melting into you like he’d been itching to do from the second you’d arrived. It was something you hadn’t fully adjusted to yet, how impossibly soft his lips were. They demanded all of your attention in their fullness, moving against yours with a timid sort of vigor.

You hadn’t expected it to be more than just a light peck, but once you’d gotten a taste of him, of his warmth, you couldn’t help yourself. It was his fault, you decided, for diving into you with such unabashed eagerness. Your teeth grazed delicately along his lower lip, and he opened his mouth to let out a sweet, airy sigh.

The feeling that you’d so narrowly escaped on the night you’d first kissed him took hold of you yet again, so strong in its grip that you worried you may not be able to ignore it this time. Your hands roamed down to his abdomen, brushing over it just enough to feel the outline of his muscles beneath his clothes. You remembered the sight of him in the natatorium that day—toned stomach and soft hips, smooth, irresistible skin that looked like it hadn’t been marked a day in his life. You wanted all of it, all of him.

Chan angled his head to further deepen the kiss, nose bumping against yours in the process. You felt his lips curve into a shy smile, and another sound escaped him, almost like a squeak.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you finally found it in you to break the kiss. When his eyes blinked open, he looked adorably lost, gaze falling right back down to your lips as if to ask why you’d stopped. He swayed just barely under your hands, and you strengthened your hold on his waist to steady him.

“You look like you’re about to fall over, Channie,” you teased.

“Sorry,” he chuckled breathlessly. “My heart’s kinda racing.”

It was such a sincere admission, so simple and honest. Even if you couldn’t already tell what he was thinking on your own, he wore his heart on his sleeve. Or rather, he held it out in his hands, offering it up to you.

You let go of his waist to lock your fingers with his. You’d grown used to the heat by now, but everything else you were feeling in that moment made it burn just as much as the first time you’d touched him. With just a light tug at his arm, he was following you to your bedroom, clutching your hand a little tighter.

“Is this better?” you asked, settling down on the bed with him.

He ducked his head, too flustered to respond. Playfully, you lifted two fingers and placed them on his neck, as if to check his pulse. You pressed down into his skin, and he nearly gasped. If it hadn’t been racing before, it certainly was now.

“I-it’s been a while,” he meekly tried to explain.

Given how his body reacted to your every little touch, you had no trouble believing it. You couldn’t deny how much it excited you, too. He was such a sweet boy; you felt a need, a hunger, to see the most intimate parts of him, to see what pleasure and vulnerability and desperation might look like on such an angelic face. You wanted to make him a part of you, to engulf him and protect him, to take on his emotions and forget about yours.

Driven by a newfound urgency, you all but crashed back into him. He met your fire with equal enthusiasm, parting his lips to let your tongue slide against his—hot and wet in a way that made the both of you shiver. Your hands began roaming again, feeling up the broad expanse of his shoulders, his chest, his arms. You palmed and squeezed at them to your heart’s content, as if to make sure the moment was real, to make sure he was real. It was still hard to fathom, that the man you’d been dreaming about for almost three months now was here in your bed.

You trailed further down in your touch, fingers sliding under his loose shirt and palms flattening against his skin. Suddenly, Chan tensed, retreating from the kiss just enough to speak, but still close enough that his lips brushed against yours with every word.

“W-wait,” he stuttered out. “I don’t…I didn’t…”

You paused, fearing for a moment that you’d misread the situation. He had said it’d been a while, after all. Maybe he wasn’t ready. Maybe he wasn’t used to moving this fast; you certainly weren’t.

“Is something wrong?”

“I don’t have protection,” he warned quietly. “I-I didn’t think…”

Despite every cell in your body crying out in protest, you pulled back to get a proper look at him. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide and putting his longing on full display for you to see.

He seemed to be struggling with getting his sentence out, so you guessed for him. “You didn’t think this would happen?”

He averted his eyes. “Just…didn’t wanna assume anything.”

Cute, cute, cute. He was so painfully cute.

“I’m protected,” you reassured him. “You don’t have to worry.”

Even if he had brought contraceptives, against your better judgment, you weren’t quite sure if you’d be content with using them. You wanted all of him, skin on skin, every inch. Nothing else would satisfy the burn, the ache that had been burgeoning inside you since the day you’d first met him.

“You don’t have to worry about a thing,” you pressed your forehead against his. “Let me take care of you, Channie.”

The sound he made in response, low and needy in his throat, set something off in you. Miraculously, you managed to prevent yourself from digging your nails into his stomach, just to relieve some of the tension that was consuming your body at an alarming rate.

Instead, you took his chin between your fingers, tilting it up. “Is that okay with you?”

Chan swallowed, so hard that you could see his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I c-can pull out. Just tell me when, please, and I’ll listen.”

He said it so earnestly that you pressed your thighs together. You had no plans to tell him, and you got the feeling he understood that from the look in your eyes alone.

“You’re good at listening, aren’t you?” you cooed.

He nodded, eyes squeezing shut when your hand came to cradle his head. “I’ll be good for you,” he mustered up the courage to say it, grateful for the lack of eye contact. “Whatever you want, I’ll do it.”

Good for you. The words made your heart sing. He was already so good for you just existing. He was perfect for you.

“Whatever I want?” you brushed your thumb up and down his cheek. “Everything I want is already right in front of me.”

A blush crept up on his face, dusting it that unmistakable rosy shade that was so Chan. You felt his skin heating up as he nuzzled into your palm with a flustered laugh, and you took the opportunity to gently guide him down, resting his back against the bed. With bated breath, he watched you come to hover above him, his hands bunching nervously at the bedsheets. You slipped your fingers back under his shirt and began tugging it up his torso. He stiffened, but still raised himself slightly off the mattress to allow you to pull off the garment.

The moment your eyes landed on his bare upper body, he was looking away again, chest rising and falling rapidly in anticipation. You rested a hand over his left pec, feeling up the defined muscle and his heartbeat along with it.

“Beautiful,” you murmured.

Chan stammered out something that sounded vaguely like a protest, but he didn’t have the chance to finish before you were leaning down and pressing a kiss to his neck. His response was immediate, tilting his head and baring his skin to you. Your mouth traveled along his jawline and down the column of his throat, sucking and nibbling at every spot you touched. By the time you reached his collarbones, he was already squirming in barely-concealed want beneath you, and you stole a glance at him to find him biting down hard on his lip in restraint.

“You’re so beautiful, Channie,” you dragged your teeth along the curve of his chest, and his hips shot up into you. “I can’t believe I get to see you like this.”

“Please,” he buried his face in his hands. It was adorable, but not as adorable as the sight of embarrassment and pleasure twisting his features. So, you rested your hands over his and pulled them away, pinning his muscular arms above his head and rendering them powerless.

“You said you’d do whatever I want, right?” you began. “So, no hiding.”

His eyes glazed over with lust, so taken by how exposed he felt below you that he almost forgot to nod.

“And,” you continued, lowering yourself to speak right into his ear. “No holding back, okay? I know you have a pretty voice, let me hear it.”

“I…” for a second, he appeared at a loss for words. “O-okay.”

“Good boy,” you let go of his hands, dragging your fingers lightly down his biceps and watching him shudder. You readjusted your position to resume your earlier ministrations, kissing down the valley of his chest and fighting the temptation to sink your teeth into it—hard. You wanted nothing more than to leave his skin red and bruised and blossoming with love bites, but you knew you probably shouldn’t when any marks you made would be clear as day to his teammates during swim practice. Instead, you settled for pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along his body, grazing his skin with your teeth just enough to appease yourself without leaving a lasting trace. The softness of your lips pressed against the lean ridges of his abs, making for a contrast that neither of you could get enough of.

“Such a pretty baby,” you mumbled, licking a stripe down his stomach and feeling his muscles contract under your tongue. “My pretty baby boy.”

It slipped out like an instinct, and before you could stop to wonder if it may be too much for Chan, a long, shaky moan met your ears.

Oh. He was loud.

Suddenly, his frantic attempts to suppress himself made perfect sense. You had a feeling that he hadn’t let completely loose yet, either. Heat pooled in your stomach at the thought of what kind of noises you could draw out of him. You couldn’t wait much longer.

“Do you like that? Baby boy?” you asked sweetly. Chan raised his hips off the mattress as your fingers danced delicately along his sides, soothing and exciting him all at once.

“M-mhm.” It was all he could get out without making another mortifying sound.

“Tell me what you like,” you swirled your tongue around his belly button, slowly approaching his v-line. “Tell me what feels good.”

“All of it,” he gasped. “All of you.”

You smiled against his skin, and your lips found the waistband of his shorts, allowing you to see for the first time just how much he meant it. You’d been so focused on attending to his upper half that you hadn’t even thought about the state of him down there. He was hard, fully hard. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaking in his underwear by now. It almost made you feel a tinge of guilt, leaving him neglected for so long; but his building desire was palpable, and it fed into your arousal like nothing else.

Mischievously, you gave his bulge a kittenish lick. Chan all but jolted, hand flying over his mouth a moment too late to mask his hiccup.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good, angel,” you promised, fingers dipping under the elastic of his waistband. “So good, you won’t be able to think about anything else.”

“Oh, God,” he whimpered. “Need you.”

“I’m right here, Channie,” you pulled his shorts down in one go, removing his underwear along with them. He hissed through his teeth as the air hit his exposed length, cooling the drops of precum that had dribbled from his tip. Carefully, you took him into your hand, licking your lips when you felt him throb at the contact.

“Poor thing,” you feigned sympathy. “You’re so worked up.”

You knew it took everything in Chan not to bury his face in the sheets. Instead, he bucked up into your grasp as a wordless plea, struggling to gain some kind of friction. His body was just as honest as he was with his words. Every subtle shift in his expression, every sensitive twitch of his body, every poorly concealed sound—they made it so easy to understand what he was feeling. He made himself so easy for you to take apart.

Gently, you gestured for him to sit up. It took him a moment to process the command, and you couldn’t help but think he looked akin to a lost puppy, blinking his foggy eyes in confusion before clumsily willing himself upright. You ushered him back until he was resting against the headboard, slipping off your own shorts and underwear and settling into his lap in one fell swoop.

“You’re not the only one, though,” you drawled, taking his cock back into your hand. You pressed his tip just barely against your heat, allowing your wetness to mix with his precum. “Do you feel it?”

A desperate groan rumbled in his chest, going straight to your core. “Y-yes. Please, let me feel you. Wanna make you feel good, too.”

You hummed playfully, circling the head of his dick around your entrance and gathering up more of your essence. His thighs jerked up against yours, a weak apology immediately following it. Just to tease him further, you stopped what you were doing and turned your attention to your own shirt, taking your sweet time in slipping it off your torso and discarding it.

The ache between your legs was almost unbearable at this point, but the way Chan’s breathing picked up when he realized what you were doing made it all worth it. You unclasped your bra from behind, letting it slip off your shoulders and exposing your bare body to him.

His stare dropped, locking on the sight of your chest with a shaky inhale. A mere few inches separated you, but he gazed at you like you were untouchable, like he could only admire you from afar. It made you giggle—even now, he was still so shy.

“Are you ready, Channie?”

He looked back up at you with a nod, and you almost wished he hadn’t, because the pure adoration swimming in his eyes effectively sent the last of your self-control crumbling.

You lined him up with your entrance and sank down on his cock all at once. The gasp you let out was only rivaled by the sound of his own cry, loud and shameless, like he himself didn’t even realize it was coming from him.

Heat rippled throughout your entire body, stronger than you’d ever felt it before. It held the exhilaration of something new, yet the intimacy of something familiar, and it set every one of your nerve endings ablaze. You clenched around Chan the moment you connected with his base, taking in his size and shape, wrapping yourself around him; all of him, just like you’d wanted.

He surged forward with another strained noise, head falling into your chest and nestling into its softness. You rested a hand on the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his curls and placing your other hand on his shoulder.

“Mine,” you whispered.

Vaguely, you heard it, timid and breathless, mumbled into your skin. “Yours. ‘M yours.”

There was no way to hide how the words affected you, not when your walls tightened around his cock in a way that made him tremble. It almost made you wonder if he knew about the burn, about the inexplicable need to make him a part of you—or, rather, to take him back as a missing part of you. Did he feel it too?

You took a few moments to calm yourself and adjust to the feeling of him buried inside you. It felt right, like he was made for you. Like you were made for each other.

Every twitch of his length tested your patience more and more, and you knew that he himself must be hanging on by a thread by now. His hands hovered awkwardly above your hips, fingers flexing as he tried to decide what to do with them.

“You wanna touch, Channie?” you urged. “Go ahead.”

He peeked up at you from where his face was burrowed, as if to ask for the permission you’d already granted. You gave him an encouraging smile, and he took hold of your waist at last, squeezing tentatively.

“Th-thank you,” he stuttered.

He was thanking you. You didn’t think you could conjure up a more endearing, a more devastating detail if you tried. It made your heart melt and your arousal skyrocket. You needed to ruin him.

“You’re so cute,” you purred. “Hold on tight, okay?”

He pressed the pads of his fingers a bit deeper into your flesh. Using your grip on his shoulders for leverage, you lifted yourself off his cock bit by bit, relishing in the feeling of it dragging slowly along your walls. Without missing a beat, you snapped your hips back down, both to elicit a response in Chan, and to satisfy the immediate need to be full of him again. You succeeded in both, engulfing every inch of him even tighter than before, as if your body didn’t want to let him go a second time.

“A-ah, fuck!”

It sounded so strange coming from him, sweet voice cracking with a whimper, but so, so delicious.

“Is it good, Channie?”

You repeated the action, gliding up and down with ease thanks to the arousal that was all but dripping down your thighs at this point. Each bounce coated his length with slickness, creating messy, wet sounds that were sure to make his ears burn.

“Feels like I’m on fire,” he threw his head back, mouth falling open to give you a breathtaking view. “So—ah—good. You feel so good, so warm.”

You puffed out a giggle, unable to get a word in amidst his babbling. Instead, you picked up your pace, fueled on by his reactions as the pleasure steadily overwhelmed him.

“So beautiful, I—” he gasped. “Need you.”

Your heart swelled with affection; he was already so far gone. “I’ve got you,” you ran your fingers through his hair and he practically keened. “You’re doing so well for me, Channie. You’re perfect for me.”

Half-lidded eyes blinked up at you, and he subconsciously tugged at your hips, trying to pull you closer.

“I’ll be good,” he repeated his earlier vow. “You can even be m-mean to me, I’ll be good.”

The words caught you by surprise. Still, you kept your expression calm, something to ease his mind amidst the slew of sensations clouding it. You slowed down to trace your thumb along his cheek, so delicately that if he didn’t focus hard enough, your touch would be lost on him.

“Do you want me to?”

Remembering how he’d reacted earlier, you let your hands slide down to his neck, resting them there experimentally without pressing down just yet. Chan let out a whine, the vibrations of it making your palms tingle.

“There, please,” he tilted his head even further back, bumping it against the headboard. “Wanna feel you everywhere.”

Your stomach flipped, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you wrapped your fingers completely around his throat. It was thick, pumping with life. You had to use both hands. Chan bit his lower lip in anticipation, another low whine spilling out of him.

Taking great care in your movements, you began riding him again, lifting yourself on his cock, then sliding back down just as you squeezed at the sides of his throat. You didn’t want to hurt him—not really. You just wanted to toy with him a bit, watch him squirm under your fingertips. You wanted to push him to his limit, then guide him safely right back to you.

“Let me know if it’s too much, okay?”

“Y-yes,” he managed. “I will. Promise.”

The response was so immediate, so desperate, like he was afraid you might change your mind and stop. He throbbed inside you when you applied more force to your grip, almost sounding relieved in the airy moan that escaped him. You watched, fascinated, as his face flushed a shade deeper, whether from arousal or shortness of breath, you weren’t quite sure.

To better control your grip on his neck, you halted your bouncing to switch to a slower, deliberate grinding of your hips instead. Chan jerked up beneath you, the newfound rhythm pressing your walls against his cock and making him dizzy.

You contracted your fingers around his throat repeatedly, adding and removing the slightest bit of pressure to match the rocking of your hips. His tip brushed against your sweet spot, and you let out a soft moan that only seemed to bring him closer to his breaking point.

“Oh, God,” he groaned. “W-wait…slow down, please. ‘M getting close.”

“Slow down?” you tilted your head. “Why? Don’t you wanna cum, baby boy?”

He squeezed his eyes shut, and you loosened your hold on his neck so he could speak properly.

“Wanna finish with you,” he slurred. “Wanna make you feel good, too.”

You should’ve expected it. Of course he would have such an earnest, such an adorable reason to ask something of you—it was Chan. Even at the height of his pleasure, he was still thinking of yours, making sure you were enjoying yourself as much as he was. It spread an unbelievable warmth in your chest, different from the intense, sultry heat brewing between your bodies.

It also made you want to mess with him.

“Don’t worry, Channie,” you dragged your nails along his neck, not enough to draw blood, but enough to scratch, to make him shudder beneath you. “I feel good just watching you fall apart like this.”

His hands stayed latched to your hips, following them with every tortuous rock, but making no attempt to try and stop your movements. Despite that, his pleas didn’t let up, demanding in the sweetest, most polite of ways.

“Please,” his voice grew more frantic. “I’m really not gonna last, please, please.”

His whines chipped away at your resolve more than you let show; each one buzzing his vocal chords beneath your hands. He sounded so helpless, like he might burst into tears if he didn’t bring you to a climax with him.

“You sound so cute when you beg,” you marveled, sinking the pads of your fingers into his skin to feel his hammering heartbeat. “Maybe if you keep it up, I’ll change my mind.”

Much to Chan’s dismay, you continued your grinding, and you could see the concentration written all over his face as he fought to hold himself together. His hair had grown damp with sweat, face flushed and glistening from all his efforts. He looked so wrecked already; you could only imagine what it’d be like to see him cum.

You leaned in and kissed him. His lips were puffy and glossy and right there. It earned a cute mewl of surprise from the man, and it turned up in pitch when you took his lower lip between your teeth and nibbled. He let go of your hips to wrap his arms fully around your waist, trapping you as close as your bodies would allow.

“So—mmph—close.” His tongue slid against yours, jumbling his speech even further. “Please, please, please!”

You tugged at his plush lips one last time before breaking the kiss. “Gonna cum, angel?” You clenched around him, encouraging him to let go. “Don’t hold back. Empty inside me like a good boy.”

“Oh my God.” Chan’s whole body tensed beneath you, head dropping right back into your chest with a choked sob. You felt his cock pulse wildly inside you, and soon after, the flood of his release. Coupled with the moan that spilled out of him, drawn-out and broken and still so loud despite being muffled by your flesh, you were almost sent over the edge yourself.

“That’s it, Channie,” you played with his hair as his climax rippled through him. “Look at you, filling me up so well. Good boy, good boy.”

It was almost devious, the way you stopped moving like he’d so hopelessly been begging for, only once he’d come down from his high. He slumped against you, his pants gradually dying down into cute, content sighs. When he finally found a strong enough grip on his consciousness to speak, it came whiny, sulky.

“Not fair,” he mumbled into you. “Wanted to finish together.”

He lifted his head, and you broke out into gentle giggles. The expression on his face would’ve been one of pure bliss if it weren’t for his very prominent, very effective pout.

“Can I count this as my second win?” You tapped his nose.

He huffed, but the beginnings of a smile tugged at his features, betraying him. “Please, let me do something for you.” He glanced down at the spot you were connected, wetting his lips. It made your core clench in a way that you knew he couldn’t miss. “Let me make you feel good.”

“I do feel good, Channie,” you insisted, and you meant it. “Better than ever, actually.”

Though the guilt didn’t fade from his pleading stare and furrowed brows, he at least seemed to believe you. He studied your face for a split second longer before leaning in, nudging his nose against yours to ask for another kiss.

You could’ve easily stayed that way for the rest of the night, savoring his warmth, the fullness, the wholeness that you felt when nestled into each other in every possible way. But judging by how sensitive Chan was, you knew there was a very real chance of him getting hard again, and regardless of how much you wanted it, neither of you had the energy to go again. Reluctantly, you hoisted yourself off of his length, sharing a flustered exhale with him when some of his seed trickled out of you and dripped on to his thigh.

Ten minutes later, the two of you were laid side by side in your bed, staring at the ceiling with your hands brushing delicately against each other.

“This…” Chan spoke up suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence. “This isn’t a usual thing for me.”

You couldn’t deny the relief you felt upon hearing it. The answer to a question that had been floating in the back of your mind without you even realizing. It was selfish—meaningless, too—but you felt it all the same.

You were well past the point of pretending like your relationship with Chan was something ordinary, anyway. Whatever existed between you, it was magnetic and burning and inevitable, almost like you had no choice in the matter. In fact, that had to be the case, because if you’d had a choice, you certainly wouldn’t have let yourself fall into him so hard, or so fast.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

You heard the sheets rustle next to you. “Really?”

“Really.”

There was the faintest smile in his voice as he continued, and it made you wonder if he was indulging in the same, selfish satisfaction as you. It wouldn’t be a surprise, considering the way he seemed to mirror even the most intimate parts of you— parts that you barely even knew of until you saw them reflected in him.

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I…I’m never so…quick?” You could tell he was trying to choose his words carefully, but there was only so much he could do when his emotions were still running high and his head was still in a haze. “It can take months, e-even longer sometimes, for me to—”

“I don't think you’re easy, Channie,” you teased. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

You turned your head, just in time to see that rosy tint spread across his cheeks, still visible even in the dim light. It was a sight you might get addicted to.

“I just want you to know that this means something to me,” he said softly.

Something gripped you, dropped a pebble in the calm surface of your lake. You didn’t have much time to think about it though, to worry about finding a window to break out of before you were past the point of no return. For tonight, you let yourself lean fully into that persistent flame.

“It means something to me too,” you murmured. “I wouldn’t have done this with anyone but you.”

Chan let out a shy hum, going quiet for a bit before stroking your pinky finger with his.

“So,” he began. “Are you ready to tell me what happened?”

You tensed slightly in your spot. You’d hoped he would’ve forgotten about it by now, or, at least, been too busy basking in the afterglow to bring it up again so soon. The endorphins that had been flooding through your system ebbed just a bit. This moment was too precious to sully by thinking about it—about him.

Suddenly, it felt all too reminiscent of what had transpired exactly one year ago; the first and last time you’d ever tried talking to anyone about the loss of your friend. It had been with someone you’d thought you loved, someone you’d thought loved you. And maybe, he really had believed that he loved you, too. You’d never know, now.

Imbalanced didn’t even begin to describe it. Imbalance was the balance of your relationship; you’d provide everything, and he’d take it all. The roles had come so naturally to the both of you that you’d never once questioned them, or where they might lead you.

He needed comfort, you liked comforting him. He needed support, you liked supporting him. He needed someone to depend on, you liked being depended on. Equal exchange, the perfect dynamic on paper, and—for the most part—it had worked. You didn’t really have the chance to notice how thin you were stretching yourself, because he was happy, and that made you happy.

One simple question was enough to shake that foundation, however, enough to expose how fragile it all really was and send it toppling to the ground in the ugliest of ways. A question that, in all its simplicity, hadn’t crossed your mind until you were all but forced to confront it last summer.

If your relationship was built solely on your ability to accommodate him, what happened when you couldn’t accommodate him anymore?

You were always encouraged with the most deceptively sweet words to open up to him, to share your thoughts and feelings and troubles the same way he did with you. But every single time without fail, his reaction made you want to seal your mouth shut, never to have the audacity to utter a single word about yourself again.

“I regret asking” or, “Well, now I’m just depressed” or, “Let’s talk about something else” or, sometimes, even nothing at all. You soon came to find that the role you had taken on wasn’t just to his benefit, it was to your detriment. You were a mere footnote in his happiness, and nothing could ever break that mold.

“My best friend died.”

“Oh,” he’d said. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s horrible.”

You’d nodded, sensing instantly that you would’ve felt better if you’d kept quiet.

“I don’t really know what to say.”

You shut your eyes, unsure of what you’d expected from him in the first place. It was pathetic, anyway, to hope for words of comfort that you knew would be hollow. Nothing could’ve made it okay, especially not anything he could offer you.

“That’s okay,” you replied. “You don’t have to say anything.”

A deep breath, and then, a glimpse of weakness.

“Just…stay with me, please.”

The request had sounded so unnatural coming out of your mouth, like it was a phrase you were learning to say in a foreign tongue for the first time. You winced at yourself, but it was already too late to take back.

“Oh, yeah. Sure.”

The two of you had sat in silence for some time. It could’ve been seconds or hours, and you wouldn’t have known the difference. His hand rested on your back for part of it, running up and down in a motion that you used to calm him down when he was upset. Eventually, though, he seemed to have decided it was a lost cause and awkwardly removed it.

You still weren’t quite sure how you’d managed to hold back your tears that day. But your sniffling and sobbing being the only sound echoing throughout the deathly silent room had been the last thing you’d wanted; you already felt vulnerable enough just letting him see you like that. You didn’t want to break in front of him, and you were certain he didn’t want you to either. A crack in you meant the absolute shattering of him.

After shifting around uncomfortably in his spot for a few moments, he finally spoke up.

“Maybe this isn’t the best time, but does that mean tomorrow’s off?”

It took several seconds for you to process the question. You wondered, briefly, if you’d imagined it at first, or if he really was just that horribly out of touch with reality—with you as a human being.

You wanted to glare at him, to ask him why that would even be something to consider right now, let alone ask about, but miraculously, you’d restrained yourself.

“Yeah. I might need a few days.”

More silence, and then you felt his weight lift from the cushions next to you. He avoided eye contact as you raised your head to look at him.

“I should probably go.”

A pang in your chest. “Why?”

Please don’t. You’d desperately wanted to add.

“I feel bad. Like, I shouldn't be here,” he mumbled. “Just…let me know when you’re feeling better, alright? Love you.”

And then he left.

A few days later, he’d texted you like he always did. No question of how you were, no condolences, and most definitely no apology. He’d said he missed you—which, you’d come to learn long ago, was never just an honest expression of attachment when it came to him. It was a signal, a sort of code to let you know there was something he needed from you. He didn’t just miss you, he missed what you could do for him.

Another week passed, and you’d broken up with him. It was unusually cold of you, doing something so drastic through text, but you couldn’t find it in you to even leave your apartment, let alone face the maelstrom of emotions that were sure to unleash if you’d met him in person. You’d experienced it once before, the first time you’d tried to end things. Crying, begging, apologizing, all so profuse yet so hollow.

The second time, his guilting and false assurances hadn’t worked, or rather, they might have if it weren’t for the distance between you. If you’d tested your conviction in front of his distraught, teary face, swearing that he wouldn’t be able to live without you, you weren’t so sure you could’ve gone through with it. He looked so innocent, so harmless, you’d never guess that he’d be the one to suck the life out of you without a care in the world.

When the usual tactics didn’t work, he’d resorted to anger. In a way, you understood—he was hurt, and no matter how hard you tried to spell it out for him, he simply couldn’t comprehend all the ways he’d hurt you first. He hadn’t done anything, but that was exactly the problem.

As much as you wished you could’ve brushed it off, it had stuck with you. The accusations that you were a liar, a manipulator who promised him boundless love and care only to rip it away with cruel indifference once he’d come to rely on it. Even now, you weren’t entirely sure if he’d been wrong, and that in itself was enough to make you want to lock away your heart and toss out the key for good.

But here, you had Chan. The boy who could be carrying the entire world on his shoulders, and still offer to take some of the weight off of yours. The boy who could be struggling to keep his own head afloat, and still pass you his life preserver without a second thought. The more time you’d spent around him, the more you’d come to witness firsthand just how much he did for everyone, even people he wasn’t particularly close with—from small, thoughtful acts that might go unnoticed, to favors so arduous that they left him physically and mentally drained. All with the sweetest of smiles on his face.

You wanted to be the reason for his smile, not for his weariness.

“I told you,” you said lightly. “I just wanted to see you.”

“C’mon,” Chan giggled. “I know it’s more than that.”

You wondered just how much he knew. You wondered if he knew better than anyone else. Despite the complicated thoughts unfolding within you, you grinned, turning on your side to look at him. “I promise I’ll tell you later, okay?” You held out your pinky for good measure. “Right now, I don’t wanna focus on anything but this.”

Chan curled his finger around yours, the glow in his eyes rivaling the moonlight peeking through your blinds. You must’ve thought about how beautiful he looked a million times throughout the night, but now, faced with his tousled curls and his puffy lips—still reddened from all your kissing and biting—and his gaze that was watching you like you’d put the stars in the sky, it was all you could think about. He made it so easy, you mused, to focus on nothing on him.

You tried to snap yourself out of it. He was sweaty, he was sticky, most importantly, he was exhausted. He must be uncomfortable, laying in all the heat and perspiration that had accumulated in those sheets—thirsty, too. You unhooked your pinky from his and rolled off the bed with a bit too much haste, catching his attention.

His expression changed as he watched you rise to full standing, taking some time to stretch your spent muscles before searching around for your discarded top.

“Oh. Should I get going?”

It came quiet, demure, and it made you whip your head around.

“What?”

Chan paused, uncertain. “I-I mean…do you want me to leave?”

“Of course not,” you said instantly, just short of sharp. You were almost afraid to, but regardless, you asked, “Unless…you want to?”

“No,” his reply came just as fast. “Not at all.”

You had half a mind to ask him why he would even think you’d want him gone, especially given the conversation you’d just had, but you were too distracted by the look of pure bewilderment on his face. You didn’t understand it, nor did you like it.

“I’m just getting a washcloth and some water,” your voice softened, and it seemed to get through to him, at least.

“Oh,” he repeated. “Okay.”

It was followed by a small, bashful nod that eased your concerns just a bit. You padded to your bathroom and shut the door behind you, trying not to keep him waiting for too long as you cleaned yourself up and prepared a towel for him. His eyes followed you curiously when you stepped out and passed him on your way to the kitchen, retrieving two water bottles before finally joining him on your bed once more.

There was a short delay when you offered the water bottle to Chan. He blinked at it, as if it were some kind of unknown object, before thanking you quietly and accepting it from your hands. You told yourself he was probably still just a bit dazed, but it was hard to ignore the tinge of worry that pricked your mind.

As he tilted his head back to drink, your eyes fell down to his neck, admiring the way his throat bobbed with every gulp of water. The skin around it was blooming with noticeable, red marks along the lines you’d dragged your fingernails. It made you cringe slightly at yourself. You must've been more lost in the heat of the moment than you’d thought.

“How do you feel?” you checked once he’d downed half the bottle. “Does it hurt?”

You gestured to his neck, and he raised a hand to brush his fingers over the tender skin. “It doesn’t hurt,” he gave you a reassuring half-smile before adding, “I like it.”

You tried not to let the words affect you, to make you pounce at him and take him all over again. Instead, you took hold of the washcloth you’d prepared and pressed it to his neck. The water you’d soaked it in was warm, but it still felt cool to the touch when pressed against his burning flesh. He sighed contently, eyes drooping as you rubbed the reddened areas, taking great care not to irritate them further.

“Wanna lie down for me, Channie?”

“Ah…” He looked away, already leaning back despite the hesitance in his voice. “I-it’s okay, you really don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you said simply.

Chan seemed to sense the sincerity behind it, as he laid himself out the mattress without any further objections. Sheepish, but willing. Carefully, you began dabbing the towel at his face, wiping away the sweat from his forehead and making his eyes flutter shut. His muscles visibly relaxed as you moved further down his body, rubbing his neck, his shoulders, his chest, his stomach, his hips—you left no inch unaccounted for. The warm water you’d soaked the washcloth in calmed his every nerve-ending, so soothing, it almost distracted from how hyperaware he was of your every touch.

His breath caught in his throat when you brushed over his thigh to clean up the mix of fluids that had begun to dry up on his skin, legs threatening to squeeze shut.

“You’re so sensitive,” you remarked.

He shifted slightly, an awkward chuckle escaping him. “Sorry.”

“It’s cute,” you gave him one last once-over before removing your hand, satisfied. “How are you feeling?”

“Good. Really good.” he blinked up at you lazily, a silent invitation for you to stop fussing over him and settle down next to him in the sheets at last.

You placed the washcloth on your nightstand, collapsing into the plush pillows with a sigh of your own. Chan scooted closer to you within seconds and, chest swelling with fondness, you opened your arms for him to nestle into. Even in all your intimacy, the two of you still couldn’t get enough of each other, filling every curve and gap between your bodies and interlocking your legs. You pressed a kiss to the top of his head before wrapping your arms around him, leaving no room for doubt that you wanted him there.

“Good night, Channie.”

“G’night,” it was barely audible, but even so, you could still hear the faint tremor in his voice. “I…thank you.”

Your eyes flickered down to him one last time before sleep overtook you. For a fleeting moment, you could’ve sworn you saw a wet gleam brimming in the corners of his eyes.

。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。

In retrospect, going out to buy groceries on a Sunday afternoon probably wasn’t your smartest move.

After you and Chan had awoken the morning prior—or, just you, you weren’t sure how much sleep he had really gotten—groggy and ravenous only to find an alarming lack of food in your apartment, you wanted to restock as soon as possible. In your defense, you hadn’t been home for over a week, and even before that, you’d been spending a considerable amount of your time out and about with Chan or at his apartment. Still, it was embarrassing enough for you to not want a repeat of the situation, especially given how often you’d make a point to scold him and Changbin for not eating substantial meals.

You’d trudged to the nearest convenience store with a list of basic necessities typed out in the notes of your phone, only to soon discover that you’d be lucky to find anything you were looking for judging by how packed the place was. The state of most shelves was enough to make you think people must be preparing for some kind of apocalypse unbeknownst to you. Frowning, you made your way over to the prepared meals section, hoping to at least find something to get you through the next few days. As you maneuvered past the suffocating amounts of people, the sight of a familiar face across one of the aisles stopped you in your tracks.

A sharp, sculpted nose bridge, eyelashes swooping out like a ski slope, and a slight lean in his posture. Lee Minho. You hadn't expected him to even be back in town yet, let alone to be running the same foolish errand as you at this hour (all for the sake of cola, apparently, if the ridiculously large stash in his basket was any indication).

He seemed to have noticed you just a split second before you did him, fixing you with a stare so sharp that you had to blink a few times to make sure you weren’t imagining it.

You weren’t.

His eyes were dark and unwavering, boring into you with an intensity that made you feel as if you were the only two people in the store—and not in the romantic, heart-fluttering kind of way. It was more like everyone else had scattered the instant they’d sensed the tension, leaving you to fend for yourself under a glare that singled you out with an almost predatory accuracy. You waited for the reveal, the cheeky smirk that always followed, but it never came.

Oh.

Minho didn’t like you.

He really, really didn’t like you.

You felt stupid for not realizing it sooner. At the same time, however, he’d never really given you a reason to, and you liked to think you weren’t dense enough to completely miss it if he had. Suddenly, you found yourself re-evaluating every interaction you’d ever had with the guy, scanning and analyzing your conversations down to the most minute of details to try and recall if that same coldness he was emitting now had ever been present before. You thought back to the last time you’d spoken to him, just a week into summer break before he’d gone home. The two of you had started up a short, innocuous chat about the current anime he was watching, and outside of his very serious claims that it was undoubtedly the best of the season, nothing else about it really stood out to you.

You’d even taken his suggestion and watched it in your free time—one of the many, many distractions implemented in your visit home—and you’d planned on sharing your thoughts with him when you saw each other again. With the look he was giving you now, though, like he hoped you might spontaneously combust if he focused hard enough, you got the feeling he wasn’t exactly interested in hearing what you had to say.

Minho turned his head, preparing to leave the aisle without acknowledging you any further. Despite every one of your instincts telling you not to, you followed him, too consumed by curiosity to ignore whatever kind of message he’d been trying to send with just his eyes. You needed to test things out, to be absolutely sure. You needed to know what had changed since the last time you’d spoken to him.

Well, realistically, you knew what had changed. One very major, very undeniable thing had changed. But that couldn’t be it—could it?

“Hey, Minho!”

He might not have bothered stopping if it weren’t for an older woman passing in front of him with an overloaded cart. You squeezed past the rows of people as quickly and respectfully as you could, managing to catch up with him just in time.

It was a bit harder, you noted right away, to mitigate the effects of his stone-faced expression up close. He gave you a terse nod.

“Hey.”

“You’re back in town?”

His face changed just barely, trading out stoicism for something a bit more amused. “Very observant.”

You forced out a light laugh for the sake of extending the conversation, just long enough to get a proper read on him. “How was your vacation?”

“Fine,” he shrugged, adjusting his grip on his basket. “Not long enough.”

“I feel that,” you made a noise of sympathy, as if you hadn’t spent the past two months counting down the days until the fall semester began.

“How about you?” he was at least polite enough to return your question, but for some reason, it didn't really sound like he was asking. “Had fun?”

You barely caught it—a sneer. He definitely knew. It made your stomach flip a bit, if you were being honest, but you managed to keep a straight face.

“Yeah,” you replied evenly. “Me, Chan, and Felix made the most of it.”

“I’m sure.”

In your efforts to talk to him, you seemed to have accidentally stumbled into some kind of one-sided staring contest with this guy, because he hadn’t broken eye contact even once from the moment you’d strided up to him.

“It’s a shame,” he continued casually. “That you won’t be coming over anymore.”

You paused. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on using Chan as a tutor this semester, too?”

Something about the way he said it, the way he phrased it, made it difficult for you to keep up your composed front.

“Of course not. He’s done enough for me already.”

“Good,” Minho hummed, and though it appeared to be in agreement, it only put you further on edge. “He’s graduating after this term—you know that, right? So, playing hero for you is the last thing he needs.”

You narrowed your eyes. For a brief moment, you wondered if he might actually be jealous of you, if he somehow saw you as some kind of threat. But you dismissed the idea almost as soon as it came—the look Minho was giving you wasn’t of someone who was threatened, it was the look of someone who was threatening you.

“Why are you talking to me like that?”

“Like what?” he cocked his head innocently.

“Like I’ve done something wrong.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he dismissed. “Maybe it’s just your guilty conscience?”

You wanted to be annoyed, to call him out for how he was behaving in a way that he couldn’t twist. The problem was, he was being so fucking weird. You couldn’t even fully understand what he was trying to get at, or what his angle was. You weren’t even sure if he had an angle outside of just trying to get a rise out of you.

The corner of his lips curved up into a smirk. Just like the day you’d first met him, it was pure trouble, only now, it was missing the playfulness you’d come to know.

“What’s with that face?” he chuckled. “I’m only joking.”

Whatever this situation was, you decided you’d had enough of it.

“You’re usually funnier than that,” you said curtly.

At that, you dipped your head, stepped to the side, and walked past him, determined not to let the strange feeling bubbling up inside you reach the surface.

Minho’s stare followed you as you stalked off, piercing into your back. Even after you’d rounded the corner into another aisle, the chill of it lingered on your skin.

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