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#make sure you always have as much if not more info about them as they do about you

furuyalover · 2 days

Note

Hey bae! Can I request the song Something Stupid by Frank Sinatra, with any of the Haikyuu boys for your music event? - 🫧

somethin’ stupid | mars & her music event

"and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like 'i love you'"

— ft. iwaizumi hajime

AN: tysm for ur request! this was so much fun to write & ty for joining my event! for any readers int in participating, more info ab it here ! also this is on the longer side so cozy up, & get ready for some iwa fluff

"i know i stand in line, until you think you have the time to spend an evening with me..."

you were at a semi-formal event put on by your school, aoba johsai. despite the amount of people there, the ballroom in which the ball took place had a tranquil atmosphere. seeing your classmates in an elegant manner, looking at some of them and thinking oh wow they clean up nice, it was a rather lovely change of pace. however, only one student in particular really caught your eye. that student, of course, was the one and only, iwaizumi hajime.

he looked radiant. you've really never seen him in anything outside of his school and volleyball uniforms, so he was really a sight for sore eyes. the suit he wore was well-tailored, but you could still make out the defined muscles on his biceps. he was so elegant and well mannered in this setting, and it certainly helped that his best friend sitting next to him was being as obnoxious as usual, making iwaizumi's polished manner even more apparent,

hajime also had his eyes set on someone, you. he only ever sees you at school, in your required uniforms, so he was stricken with adornment when he saw you tonight. he had always admired you, had even a secret crush on you, (which of course was obvious to the whole volleyball team based off how much he mentions you) seeing you dressed so lovely, and looking even more beautiful than usual, how could he not gaze at you like that? but when he saw you being approached by other students, telling you how gorgeous you looked, his insecurities got the best of him. why should i even try? they already have all these other guys romancing them, i wouldn't even stand a chance, he would mumble to himself. oh how little the boy knows..

"i practice everyday to find some clever lines to make the meaning come through. but then i think i'll wait til the evening gets late, and i'm alone with you..."

after talking it over with his best friend who sat beside him, tooru oikawa, he decided to just say screw it and muster up enough courage to talk to you. he & oikawa practiced exactly what he's going to say to you, since tonight will be the night he finally confesses to you. after ensuring that his words will be perfect, he gathers all his confidence to get up, and begin walking to where you're standing & talking to a few classmates.

"the time is right, your perfume fills my head, the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue"

he slowly makes his way over to you, being sure that you aren't talking to anyone by the time he approaches you. everything is gonna go perfectly, he'll have the perfect moment to tell what he's been feeling all these months.

after finishing some conversations with friends, out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar face walking towards you. is iwaizumi really coming over here? oh my god this is really happening, shit i hope i look okay. you frantically pat down your hair and clothes, to make sure you hopefully look perfect by the time iwa sees you. when he finally gets to you, you notice something about him is different. he seems more reserved than usual, almost seemingly shy?

"iwaizumi! i didn't know if you were gonna make it today, great to see you!" you say smiling like an idiot. "please, call me hajime. great to see you too, you look stunning." flustered by his affection, you look down smiling to hide your beet red face. hajime is hit with relief because now you hopefully won't see how red he is himself. "hey don't wanna sound weird or anything, but would you wanna step outside with me for a sec? there's something i need to get off my chest." your eyes widened, nervous at what he could possibly have to say. but regardless you nod in agreement as he takes you outside.

the two of you gaze out to the sky, on the balcony just outside the venue of the formal, in partially comfortable partially awkward silence. "so, um, what was it you wanted to say?" you nervously ask to try and break the ever so loud silence. fuck. iwaizumi thought. all his practice with oikawa? yea, that all went out the window because suddenly his mind is going a million miles per minute. he has so many thoughts running through his head, but he just can't seem to find the words, nor the confidence, to voice them. but before you know, the stern and intimidating volleyball player you're used to turns into a rambling mess.

"and then i go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, 'i love you'..."

"i don't really know how to say this, but fuck it i'll just try" he starts. you take a step back to look at him, a little confused, but waiting to hear the rest. "y/n, i really like, maybe even love you. i don't know, i'm bad with feelings, but i do know that you're all i think about. i never shut up about you, and i think you're the most perfect person put on this earth. i know i'm not oikawa, and that you probably have tons of other guys who want you and i probably sound stupid but i jus-" he stops suddenly when realized that you've wrapped your arms around him and engulfed him in a hug. after hesitantly wrapping his muscular arms around you, he relaxes a bit more, and eases into your touch.

with the side of your face resting on his chest, you look up at him beaming. both of you blushing profusely, but neither of you pay any attention to that. after a moment of just staring at each other, you finally say with a smile "you are kinda stupid hajime, i like you too, maybe even love also. i don't know how you haven't picked up on that yet" this just makes iwaizumi pull you in tighter, it feels like all his dreams had just came true.

"oh my god he finally did it" "god it's about time" oikawa and hanamaki groan to each other. yes they watched this whole thing go down for a comfortable distance, partially to make fun of him but also just to support their close friend from afar

reblogs appreciated and admired ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

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gotyouanyway · 21 hours

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time lord ocs info post

ok this is a LOT of info and doesn't even cover it entirely but here's the main details about my little trio of time lord ocs :)

some of the canon details might be a little off - i haven't listened to all of gallifrey: time war yet and i'm pretty sure i nudged some facts around to make everything fit but don't worry about it <3

names:

caldinsedravin (caldin) 3rd regeneration (f, m, m) - ex cia agent - prydonian

hollustallamanta (hollus) 1st regeneration (f) - ex guardsman - prydonian

kilicoversonterast (kilic, kilico to friends and family) 2nd regeneration (m, ?) - genetic engineer - arcalian

story:

academy

- become best friends through constantly being put in weird situations together

- eventually they become known for being an inseparable trio, nicknamed gallifreyan equivalent of “XYZ” as a group like cartesian coordinates. caldin is x, hollus is y, kilic is z. they hate it but privately consider themselves lucky it wasn’t something more mean

- graduated a few years before the civil war

pre/early time war

- caldin went into the cia, hollus into the chancellery guard, kilic became a teacher at the academy

- hollus and caldin got together romantically toward the end of their academy days, slowly get more serious over the years after they graduate

- they all have individual adventures for a bit (caldin regenerates) but all stay friends

- time war starts

- kilic is drafted into project revenant, gets obsessed with it and starts experimenting on himself

- when the chancellery guard is dissolved, hollus wants to run rather than be forced into the idu

- eventually she convinces caldin to go with her

- caldin wants to bring kilic with them, so they go to get him but he’s not having it at all

- they fight badly. caldin pulls a staser and goes to shoot kilic. at the same time, kilic grabs the staser and caldin’s arm, causing the blast to go through them both and intensify/kick back. they’re both badly hurt and regenerate

- kilic regenerates into the same body because of their experimentation, but it's messed up

house era

- hollus takes caldin and runs. they can’t get any kind of off-planet transport so they just flee the capitol

- they go through it for a while. they aren’t important enough to be hunted down, but if they ran into conscription officers or anything they’d be taken back in and punished

- eventually they find a House (unnamed rn) that looks abandoned and they take shelter there. the house is a little senile

- they find 2 children/loomlings/whatever you want to call them. all the adults were conscripted, the older children were taken away, but these two hid (sidan and linara. they’re a whole other story, lots going on there)

- eventually more kids join them from other houses/from the house’s loom. hollus and caldin are kind of stuck taking care of them and it’s dangerous and insane. see my post about broken looms for a little more detail but they need their own post tbh

- kilico stays in the capitol working for rassilon and the war council. the others are always trying to convince them to come join them and they won’t do it. but they can’t just leave them out there to suffer either, so they help with supplies and evading conscription etc. at great personal risk and not always unselfishly. they want hollus and caldin to come back to the capitol where they can keep them safe. they want them to stop being childish and running away. they want them to be back together and happy again. etc.

characters:

caldin

core traits across regenerations: hot headed, deeply emotional, self interested/internally focused (as in, only cares about themselves and loved ones, doesn’t pay much attention to society in general)

caldin 1 (academy & cia)

-bright, sarcastic, playful

-overly ambitious, competitive, arrogant

-loyal to her friends but doesn’t always treat them super great

-recruited by the cia more for her disposition and potential than her skill or intelligence, but did really well in training

-regenerates on her first field mission when an enemy operative attacks her

caldin 2 (pre/early time war - cia)

-serious, compassionate, tense

-still ambitious, but less tolerant of navigating fair competition and existing power structures. makes him frustrated and eventually, unwilling to even play the game once the time war messes everything up

-barks at authority but doesn’t bite

-terrified of regeneration

-regenerates due to staser feedback when shooting kilic

caldin 3 (house era)

-funny (both intentionally and not), cautious, old soul

-no filter, no patience for small annoyances, but more mature and rational than he’s ever been where it really matters

-tired, hurt, scared, but keeping it together and trying to make the best of things

-just wants his loved ones with him and for the fighting to stop and the kids to live (against all odds, he’s pretty good with the kids. not great, but pretty good)

-almost won’t even look at kilic. fight on sight. but needs the help they’re giving and misses them so bad

-extremely grouchy about the house but protects it like a housekeeper

-the struggler

hollus

core traits: analytical, bloodthirsty, insecure in herself as an individual (needs a group to thrive)

(academy)

-meticulous, straightforward, level headed

-really into weapons and weapon maintenance as well as the technical aspects of combat

-bit autistic in general

-not a peacekeeper but gives the impression of being at the eye of the caldin/kilico storm

-challenges authority but in a respectful bargaining way that gets her what she wants

(pre/early time war - chancellery guard)

-the guard becomes her life and she loves it

-quickly promoted to commander

-really discovers her love of combat here and feels good having healthy safe outlets for it (not something she actively recognizes about herself but true)

-everyone’s favourite trainer because she’s honest about extreme violence and knows everything about stasers. plus she’s pretty. the new recruits all fall in love with her

-most of her squadron sided with romana during the civil war they were like blood bonded brothers and all that. except for the ones she lost (either to picking sides or to the virus or to death or whatever) which hurt so bad she never even processed it oops

-loyal to the guard (her friends) over gallifrey so when the guard is disbanded she splits immediately

(house era)

-still the same but colder. getting emotionally closed off. lonely without her comrades

-finds herself wanting to either cling to caldin or push him away depending on the day, but he’s sort of immune to it (doesn’t take it personally, doesn’t overreact to her moods)

-feels guilty about how much she still secretly enjoys combat even though it’s real and dangerous now (same as she felt during the civil war but so much worse because of how many innocents are involved now, + it's worse without the buffer of a dozen other bloodthirsty guardsmen surrounding her at all times)

-struggling to develop some kind of maternal instinct toward the kids but it’s not going great. would still do anything for them but it’s all very weird for her

-also grouchy about the house. would throttle it if she could find out which part was the neck

kilic/kilico

core traits: obsessive, curious, “i can fix everything if i try hard enough”

kilic 1 (academy)

-flippant, brainy, head in the clouds

-cares about studies and about his eventual place in time lord society way more than the others (stuffy old professor in the making, but not yet yknow)

-obsessed with the biology of regeneration. weird about it. gets the group to play eighth man bound

-stumbles into opportunities rather than having any idea of how to navigate time lord society, but it works

-often feels like he and hollus are babysitting caldin. hollus would say she’s not babysitting anyone she’s just watching the show

-a little jealous of his friends, he thinks they’re cooler than him, but doesn’t actually want to be like them. just wants to also be cool (they are all equally cool/uncool in reality he’s just got self esteem issues)

-constantly fighting with caldin but when they’re not fighting they’re inseparable

(pre/early time war)

-genetic engineer specializing in regeneration

-professor at the academy, not really through choice but because that’s the best way to get research grants and assistants

-doesn’t care that much about his students or their education, but does have a soft spot for the much younger ones and the ones who get all excited about regeneration biology like he does

-has sort of a cult following of students who are obsessed with him in a ‘this guy is so insane it’s funny let’s study him’ way but he doesn’t know about it and never finds out

-occasionally gets caught up in petty prof drama and has a good time with it (caldin’s influence)

-when the war starts and the academy is shut down, he’s drafted into project revenant and gets freakishly obsessed with it

-he’s scared of the war and thinks this will keep everyone he loves alive and safe

-personally supervises resurrections and is working on augmenting regeneration

-starts going wild with experiments and does them on himself when willing volunteers run out (he’d never get unethical enough to experiment on anyone against their will, at least)

-regenerates when shot by caldin, but into the same body because of self experimentation

kilic 2 (house era)

-regeneration induced identity issues. same body, same mind, but still regenerated. entire personality shifted to the left, intensified, came back wrong. gave them gender issues too (many such cases)

-still working on proj. rev. after the dalek attack but everything is going crazy everything is broken the vibes are twisted now that the project has moved and half the people on it are dead or resurrected

-questioning loyalty due to everything falling apart and the identity issues

-really trying to have everything both ways. keeps helping caldin and hollus evade capture on purpose, wants to go with them, wants them to come back, wants them captured, wants them safe and happy in their new home

-increasingly wants to run away and go live with them but can’t let go of the project. despite everything they still think revenant is the only way they’re all going to survive the war

-even if they did decide to flee, they don’t think hollus and caldin would take them in and they’re probably right

notes:

i forgot there was a hollis in gallifrey s4 when i made my hollus so we're just ignoring that. that guy wasn't anything anyway

idk what's meant to have become of proj. rev. after the dalek invasion but based on narvin saying they might resurrect his dad later on, i'm assuming they sort of tried to keep it going. idk.

they do have other friends and relationships besides each other. but you know how it is.

i didn't reference it much in the post for clarity but they used their academy nicknames a lot in the academy and occasionally after to tease each other. they also use them when delivering coded messages between the house and the capitol. they are xyz :)

made picrews of them <3

caldin 1, 2, 3

hollus

kilic

#this post is so long sorry i just love them your honour #i tried to make it as organized and readable as possible but it's sooo hard to do subheadings on here..#maybe if i do colour text idk.. whatev #p #ocposting #xyz

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straawberries · 3 months

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gonna make another post since that usually helps with reach

teehee poll for reach. please read the rest of this if you can

HI IM DELILAH AND IVE GOT LESS THAN 4 MONTHS BEFORE IM HOMELESS WITH NO OPTIONS FOR PLACES TO LIVE

heeyyy its me delilah. im an autistic plural trans girl with ptsd, and im living in an abusive household with my adoptive "father" that absolutely hates me. in less than 4 months, i am going to be kicked out, and i am trying to raise the money i need to survive this event.

ive been trying, pretty much every chance i get, to get a job, but i think because of this shitty small town in texas, everyone already knows who i am and nobody wants to hire me. this means i have to rely on stuff like this.

by JUNE 1ST 2024, i need to make enough money to move out, or else... well, i dont really know what will happen to me (other than vague "homelessness"), but im really scared that it wont end well.

on top of that im rarely being fed enough which is seriously fucking with my mood and making me feel like shit, so im having to balance saving and eating which.. with the money im currently getting, is not very sustainable. other than a few people giving a lot (who i am eternally thankful for and if youre able to do this i would basically do anything for you) im basically getting zero donations.

i get that this kind of stuff is annoying and maybe a bit slow, but just taking a few seconds, maybe a minute or two at most, to give me a small amount of money, would be a hell of a lot more helpful than doing nothing.

C*SH*PP - @delilahswagga

P*YP*L - @delilahkill

plenty of people use stuff like this to scam, so heres some info about me if you doubt that this is true. (copy pasted from previous post)

i have a really big love for performing, i fell in love with theatre years ago and performed the addams family musical as fester about a month ago as my biggest role on stage yet, and right now im in the process of getting ready for antigone as teiresius. i love music, and its one of my life goals to learn as many instruments as possible, and currently i own quite a few, though my favorites are my two ukuleles and my super cool electric guitar. i have 8 partners at the moment, and i have a very big desire to one day live with as many of them as i can. i pride myself on being the best partner i can be, and its been my goal to make all my partner's lives better (and i think ive been doing a good job at it :3)

i love cats an extreme amount, ive never had a cat myself (because my dad is insane and hates cats and tries to hit cats with his truck) but being around cats makes me super happy and always makes my anxieties go away, even when im having an anxiety attack or a panic attack. i really hope i can get a few cats one day, and i want to give them all silly food names :) my fursona is kind of a reflection of that, her name is bagel. some cat names ive thought of are mochi, chili, Supreme Pizza, or maybe french fry :)

im not sure if ill be able to achieve any of my goals if i dont get the financial support i need. ive been.. really close to giving up recently, but i dont want to have to do that, so im going to fight like this for as long as i can.

#undertale #pixel art #performing art #trans #autistic #actually autistic #urgent #help needed #please boost #mutual aid

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 5 months

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Danny, at 17, did not have the best love life. This is partially because two of his must haves in a partner are " Will protect me with their life" and "Will commit unspeakable acts of violence for me" or at least beat someone up for his honor.

Naturally, this doesn't always result in the most stable of partners.

His first girlfriend, Valerie, became an anti-hero and broke up with him for his safety.

He finally got with Sam in sophomore year only for the feds to come into class one day to arrest her. To his surprise, her crimes had nothing to do with ghosts but rather an incident where she went too far and committed a few acts of economic terrorism. Danny and Tucker never really learned the specifics of the crimes, and her parents hushed up as many news outlets as they could, so there wasn't much info to go around. All they knew was that she saved thousands of lives by doing it.

In the end, she was sentenced to eight years, and she broke up with him so that he wouldn't wait around for her to get out.

His third partner was a guy named David who was really sweet. Unfortunately, Danny got kidnapped one day by David's arch nemesis, who was some villain with a corny edge lord name. Yeah. David had become a a super hero after they started dating.

And if you guessed that he freaked out and dumped Danny for his own protection, you'd deserve a cookie.

Danny was noticing a pattern here. One that continued with everyone he dated. They always became some kind of hero before dumping him for his own protection, and it was infuriating. Sure, danny could defend himself, but he was never deep enough into the relationship to reveal his phantom half, and frankly, his hero career was something he left behind when he left Amity and destroyed the portals.

He met Tim at a skatepark after Tim fell off his board cause of some jerk speeding out in front of him on his own board, forcing Tim to stop or else hit the guy. The guy was unrepentant and Tim calmed him down (this did not stop him from melting the guys wheels with an ectoblast when no one was looking).

Tim then asked him to coffee. Danny, noticing how cute Tim was, agreed.

Danny was up front with his parents being mad scientists in Illinois. He always was with all the people he dated. It was better not to hide these kinds of things or worse, wait until you're already attached and afraid of losing them. So he always told potential partners as early as possible. Tim seemed a bit put off by this but was calmer about it than most, and they continued chatting.

Tim didn't seem like the type to turn to heroism or anti heroism so he felt safe on their later dates. It was only after he had known Tim for a while that he put the pieces together.

Tim was always covered in bruises that he hid with his clothes and make up, he had complained about batman over the phone when he thought danny couldn't hear, he was rich, he knew how to fight as revealed by his stances and footwork dispite trying to pretend he didn't, and lastly he held a lot of political power and influence being Bruce Wayne's son. Power he had no reservations using when it suited him or he was just feeling petty (that pettiness was part of why danny was falling for him harder than he thought he could)

No wonder Tim was so okay with his parents being rouges.

Tim was a villain!

At least Tim wouldn't leave him like all his exes. Danny doesn't think he could handle it if he did. Another good thing about this is now he can talk more freely about the more villainous and morally gray ideas and inventions when he was alone with Tim.

Tim didn't see anything wrong with Danny's idea to use something similar to cloning pods to make synthetic meats like rump roasts and steaks as a way to end world hunger and was eager to add to the conversation.

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 days

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AITA for sabotaging my husband's relationships?

CW for discussions about sex, but I wouldn't say it's NSFW

In my country, arranged marriages are very common and this was how I (24F) got married with "Jason" (24M) (note that I said ARRANGED marriages, not FORCED marriages. An arranged marriage is basically when your family plays matchmaker with you and someone else, but it isn't forced). It's important to say I never wanted to get married and am for sure placed somewhere in the ace spectrum, because sex was never something important to me. But I knew Jason since we were kids and he was always nice to me, so I accepted to spend some time with him and see where it would go.

Turns out Jason and I had a lot in common. Our country is pretty religious, but neither of us saw that much importance in religion and just pretended to our families to not cause problems. We are both more on the introvert side and don't like crowds or big family reunions. When I told him about my feelings about sex and sexuality, he was sweet and understanding. We ended up becoming good friends and it was obvious the idea of marrying each other seemed appealing for us.

So we got married two years ago. We made a deal to be basically good friends who are married, to not have sex and sleep in different rooms. He was allowed to sleep with whoever he wanted since he was not getting this from me. Everything was perfectly fine.

Our families, however, really started to pressure us to have children this last year. Since this was so important to them, we agreed to, well, try. But first I asked him to make an STI exam since he had his fair share of casual sex and, even though he reassured me he always used protection, I wouldn't feel safe otherwise. After the exam showed he was clean, we had our first time together and it was great. Way better than I could ever imagine. After that, he noticed I liked it and asked if sex was in the equation of our relationship now. I said yes.

This was a few months ago and since then we've been having sex pretty regularly, but we also started to spend more time together outside of that, and I think my feelings of friendship for Jason are starting to change. Not only that, but I started to feel jealous of his casual relationships, especially his affair with this "Anna" girl (20sF) who he's been seeing regularly for the past months. I'm scared he starts to fall in love with her, because he always speaks highly of her and he seems to like her.

So I kinda started to sabotage his dates with her and other girls, in a way? I pretend to have headaches, to feel sick or sad or any other excuse so he has to stay with me instead of go see them. I know it's childish and maybe I should just talk to him about it, but I'm so scared he doesn't feel the same and things get weird between us. It's not like we can escape each other.

AITA?

#aita #am i the asshole

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maplebellsmods · 3 months

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Expanded Storytelling Relationship Bits Mod: 2

Ok..more storytelling and relationship options for your sims!

(Really tried my best to push this out before the end of Jan) 😮‍💨

If you want more info about the mod check this page out: Expanded Storytelling Relationship Bits Mod

This time around created more relationship bits. Here they are

I wanted to try something new this time, which is why it took me so much time. I'll get into it later.

But there are a few new things I have added and changed from the previous one. First off, there are more interactions available: social interactions, phone interactions, and rabbit hole interactions.

Each one of these interactions corresponds to a specific relationship bit.

Healing Touch: 'Plan Relaxing Activities Together,' 'Offer Comfort through Hugs and Physical Touch.'

Wisdom Seekers: 'Ask Questions about the Universe.'

Unbreakable Connection: 'Celebrate Anniversary of Enduring Connection,' 'Promise Everlasting Friendship' (Only available pre-promise).

I do need to note that, just like the other mod, many of these are cosmetic and don't have a full effect yet. (Emphasis on 'yet,' as I will slowly but surely make these more functional.)

If your Sims have the Wisdom Seeker, Tech-Savvy Partners, or Night Owl Companions relationship bits, some interactions will unlock on the phone:

Wisdom Seeker: Study Together at the Library

Tech-Savvy Partners: Send Tech News

Night Owl Companions: Night Time Activities Menu

(Regarding nighttime activities, I haven't found a workaround for this issue yet. However, here's a temporary solution: When selecting an activity for the two Sims who have the rabbit, choose the Sim you want to go with first, and then select yourself again using the same option. I'm not sure why this happens, but it can be a bit inconvenient. I'll work on making the process more streamlined in the future, but for now, this is how you can get them to go to the same activity.)

The new feature I've been working on, which I'm quite excited about, involves social interactions. I've always felt that many social interactions lacked depth and context. So, what I'm currently working on is creating social interactions to fill that gap

One of these interactions is 'Provide Emotional Support,' which is available for Sims with the 'Healing Touch' relationship.

In this interaction, your Sim will be presented with several options when they are feeling sad. Your Sim can choose from these options to express why they are feeling sad. Once they make a selection, the other Sim will ask for more context, leading to the exchange of contextual advice and reassurance.

I've also developed another social interaction, 'Try to Confess Feelings,' which is available for Sims experiencing 'Unrequited Love.

Attempting to confess your feelings will lead to various outcomes depending on the option you choose. In this interaction, the Sim who hears the confession will have several response options available.

The choice made by the listening Sim will have an impact on their relationship, both romantically and platonically. Some response options may harm the relationship more than others.

The way the Sim responds through the animation doesn't affect the outcome. I've designed it this way to leave the choice entirely in the player's hands. However, unless both Sims are in a flirty mood and have a high friendship level, the Sim who hears the confession will always use the rejection animation. Nevertheless, this animation choice doesn't alter the outcome.

The social interaction 'Forbid Relationship With' can be used either before or after designating two Sims as star-crossed lovers. Some of the options will even add the 'star-crossed lovers' relationship bit to the two Sims (if they didn't have it), while others will remove it (if they did have it).

The interaction can be found under the Mean -- Arguments Pie Menu Category. Only a parent, grandparent, uncle, or caregiver can trigger the interaction.

Depending on the chosen options, the relationship can either suffer a negative or experience a positive impact. While all of the options will influence the relationship, certain responses will have a significantly greater effect on it than others.

These are all the main points! I hope you all enjoy this new feature because I'm eager to create more! There will be additional interactions and other things I'll be adding to this mod. I'm constantly learning new things, and it's truly enjoyable to implement them!

Download Here

Public Feb 24

#the sims 4 #thesims4 #sims 4 mods #the sims cc #ts4 #sims 4 edit #ts4cc #sims 4 cc #ts4 mod #ts4 mods #mycc #ts4 download #sims 4 romance

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bunni-v1 · 6 months

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Could I ask for your headcanons on how the staff would take care of/look after the reader? I’m a sucker for the fics where they take a parental role

How The Staff Takes Care of You

TW: None!

Info: Crowley, Crewel, Trein, Vargas and Sam x Reader (Platonic)

🍓This one is short but sweet. I’ve spent a lot of time on the event, but I want to start on other requests outside of it too. This one looked fun and easy so I got it out within about an hour or so. I hope you enjoy!

Tags: @kitsun369 @bloomstruck

Crowley

-Lets get one thing straight, Crowley does not take care of you

-It’s hard to even say that Crowley cares for you. It’s hard to say he cares for anyone other than himself.

-Still… he does do some things correctly.

-He gives you a place to live (which he threatened to take away), food (which he threatened to take away), and funding (which he… threatened to take away).

-He DOES come to ACTUALLY care for you, just… not in the traditional sense, I suppose.

-He has frequent check ins with you to ensure that you are doing well.

-Occasionally he stops by ramshackle just to chat with you and ensure you have company.

-Believe it or not, he set up a lot of the things you do specifically so that he can ensure you are getting along with other students and have a support system here.

-He lets you keep grim around — even though he has cause countless issues for student and staff alike.

-He’s like your weird uncle. You hardly ever actually see Crowley around, but you know that he is looking out for you in his own way.

-Thats all that matters, right?

Crewel

-Crewel is also anther oddball when it comes to how he shows that he cares.

-He is… aware that Crowley does not do a very good job at caring for you, and he’s a bit easier on you because of that.

-He’s probably harder on you homework-wise than most other students though.

-He wants to see you excel and succeed in his class.

-It would be the biggest fuck you to Crowley ever, so he works hard to make sure that you prove yourself to everyone.

-He makes sure that you’re sleeping and eating well, and if he sees that you are not, he makes you stay ofter class to talk to him so you both can find a way to solve this issue.

-If it’s money issues keeping you from eating, don’t worry. He’s now making you a lunch — or at least he gives you some money to eat.

-The nicest thing he does for you, however, is he gets you clothes.

-Your uniform is pretty… bad, and he feels bad for you.

-So, he takes matters into his own hands and gets you a nice new one that actually fits you.

-He and Trein have a rivalry over who treats you better and who you like more. (Trein is winning by like one point and it drives Crewel crazy).

-Crewel very much is the one to tell you “Boys are stupid, don’t date — especially not the ones here.” Lol

-Again, more like a very ambitious uncle who just really loves his family but never wants kids of his own.

-Oh, also, his dogs love you. So that’s a plus.

Trein

-He has two girls of his own, and he really does love kids, he’s just… jaded from years of being a teacher for snotty kids like Ace.

-You though? He likes you a lot.

-You’re a troublemaker, sure, but you always try your best in classes and have been making the best of your situation.

-Speaking of, Trein hates the way Crowley is so lackadaisical about your position and treatment.

-You are a living person? How could he just leave you to almost starve or freeze in your rickety old dorm?

-Trein visits your dorm frequently after his school day is done, just to ensure you have food and are able to stay warm/cool in the respective seasons.

-If he finds that you do not have enough food or cannot afford it, he talks to both Sam and Crowley and scolds them into lowering prices for you and raising your passive income.

-He still buys you things with his own money.

-If you fall asleep in class and you look like you need it, he won’t bother you.

-Tells you that you can always come to him if you’re having trouble with anyone, and he will most definitely deal with them.

-Do you need extra help with homework, he’ll stay late just to ensure you’re understanding the material.

-Seriously the number one dad at NRC, and he’s really happy to have you around since you remind him so much of his girls.

Vargas

-The resident promoter of a healthy lifestyle and great workout routine at NRC.

-You don’t really spend that much time around Vargas, so you two aren’t close, but he knows about you through the other members of staff.

-He knows how Crowley treats you, and while he isn’t one to play favorites… he can make an exception.

-Especially since he knows you aren’y always eating enough thanks to your limited budget.

-The last thing he needs is a student passing out in his class.

-He still pushes you to work out and participate, but if you’re looking like a ghost when you walk into class he’s going to make you go change and get some rest.

-He’s a gym nut, not a monster.

-He’s good with dieting though, so he’s able to tell Trein and Crewel and Same what would be best for you to eat in your condition.

-So yeah, he’s likely the least involved in your life, but he does help you from behind the scenes.

-It’s better than Crowley, so that’s a win in his books.

Sam

-Other than Trein, Sam probably sees you the most frequently out of everyone.

-You come into his shop at least once a day for something.

-At first he treated you the same as every other student, charing you ridiculously hight prices for typically cheap stuff.

-Then one day you came in looking for something to eat, cause you’d run out of what little Crowley gave you, but you didn’t have enough money.

-He nearly cried at how heartbroken you looked when you realized you couldn’t get anything.

-He gave you the whole meal for free, didn’t even ask for what you had.

-Trein is also on his ass about how high his prices are, so he purposefully has a “discount” every time you’re there to buy something.

-He also gets to know you through your shopping and makes and effort to talk to you to feel out where you are physically and mentally.

-He reports what he notices back to Trein and Crowley, just to make sure someone who has the power to is taking care of you.

-You’ve got a friend in Sam, that’s for sure.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #x reader #bunni's treats 🧁#mozus trein #trein x reader #crewel x reader #divus crewel #crowley x reader #dire crowley #twst sam #sam x reader #vargas x reader #twst vargas

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mimi-cee-genshin · 1 year

Text

Friend-zoned? - Alhaitham x f!reader

Summary: How many Akademiya guys does it take to figure out whether or not you've friend-zoned Alhaitham? After discussing how strong he is, Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari analyze his relationship with you. Things get interesting when you join their table.

Other info: fluff and humor :D, female reader, my extension of the conversation in Alhaitham's character demo because I loved the guys' interactions there so much

Words: 2.7k

*****

"Essentially, more time on contemplation, less time on execution," Alhaitham tells them. "Simple, isn't it?"

"... Not really," Tighnari and Cyno reply.

"Ugh, I knew I shouldn't have brought this up with you," Kaveh complains.

"I thought my answer was quite engrossing," Alhaitham says. He raises his hand. "Boss, this is good wine. I'll have the same please."

Kaveh swirls his cup. "Well, he has at least one weakness," he comments.

"Do tell," Cyno says.

"He's had the same crush for years," Kaveh tells them. "The guy's completely smitten."

"You can't be serious," says Cyno.

"Why is that so surprising?" Alhaitham says. "It makes less sense that I wouldn't be attracted to her."

"See what I mean?" says Kaveh. "You should see how he is around her. He practically treats her like a queen."

"I have a hard time believing that," Cyno says, crossing his arms.

"Stop exaggerating," Alhaitham tells Kaveh. "I just treat her the way she should be treated."

Kaveh only laughs at his answer.

"I thought you didn't like social interaction," says Cyno. "Or had any friends for that matter."

"It's not tiring to be around her," he says. "She's different."

"Of course she is," says Kaveh.

"Well this is interesting," says Tighnari. "What is she like?"

"We've known each other since we were kids. She was mature for her age. She did things like helping me resolve issues I had with others to keep the peace, making sure other kids didn't bother me while I was reading… Also, comforting me whenever I got discouraged…"

"You? Discouraged?" Kaveh scoffs.

"Yes? I'm only human you know," Alhaitham simply replies. "Anyway, you get the picture."

"That seems reasonable," says Tighnari.

"So it's one-sided?" Cyno asks. "As far as I can tell, you're still single."

"No," says Alhaitham, crossing his arms. "It's not one-sided."

"You're kidding me, right?" Kaveh says. "Are we even talking about the same person?"

Tighnari raises a brow.

"Every time she introduces him to another woman, she's a little too obvious with sharing why they'd be good for Alhaitham," Kaveh explains, "as if she's trying to sell them off to him."

"Don't be so dramatic," Alhaitham says. "She's not selling anyone."

"If that's the case, then why are you sure she likes you?" asks Cyno.

"Well for one, she comes by often to check how I'm doing."

"Perhaps she simply thinks you're incompetent at your job," Kaveh chides.

"Two," he continues, ignoring him. "She's always willing to hear about the latest book I'm reading, no matter how boring others think of it."

"Hmm…" Tighnari mumbles. "I can understand that."

"And three…" Alhaitham puts down his cup. "Whenever she reaches out for my hand, like when she wants to comfort me, she stops short of actually holding it."

"She does?" asks Kaveh.

"Interesting. So it seems that while she does display some sort of affection for you," says Tighnari, "perhaps she just didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"So you're doubting my conclusion?"

"I'm simply saying it's difficult to judge based on the evidence you've provided. We may need to observe the two of you for ourselves."

Alhaitham sighs. This isn't going anywhere.

"Does she have any reason to not want to date you?" Cyno asks. "I wouldn't be surprised if you were overly critical of her, commenting on her every action."

"I give her nothing but compliments. She knows I think very highly of her."

"Huh," Tighnari says. "That's quite unexpected."

"I've been telling you guys," Kaveh says, "but he's really something else around her."

"Is she… actually older than you by any chance?" asks Tighnari.

"She is."

"Hmm… Well this changes things. Perhaps, she still sees you as a kid and is simply just doting on you."

Kaveh turns to Alhaitham, eagerly waiting for his reply.

Alhaitham clears his throat. "She's less than a couple of years older than me. It's not a big deal."

"Just admit that you're friend-zoned," says Kaveh. "Who'd treat their love interest like a kid?"

"I'm not so sure…" Cyno says.

Both Kaveh and Tighnari raise a brow.

"I think that Alhaitham has a clearer picture and can judge more accurately than any of us. They've known each other for long enough."

"It's just his wishful thinking on his part," says Kaveh. "Who wouldn't want to read into their crush's actions?"

"I agree to an extent," says Tighnari, "but perhaps we're missing some crucial information here. We don't know how well Alhaitham can judge a person's actions when romantic feelings are involved."

"I'm thinking quite clearly, thanks," Alhaitham says.

"This is why you aren't getting anywhere," Kaveh scolds him. "You're assuming she has feelings for you when she doesn't. You still need to win her over."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Alhaitham crosses his arms.

"Ha. As if I'd help you. She could do way better than you anyway."

Alhaitham groans. Why is he even part of this conversation?

"Well, have you ever told her how you felt?" asks Cyno.

"Of course," replies Alhaitham. "I'm pretty obvious about it."

"For someone as reserved as you, I highly doubt that," Cyno adds.

"I wrote her a letter, eloquently expressing my love for her."

"Pfft. What?" Kaveh snorts.

Tighnari stares in disbelief. "Oh. I get it. You did that when you were children."

"I'm referring to the one I gave her yesterday."

"Pfft."

"That's… pretty obvious," Tighnari adds.

"I bet it was more of an essay than a love letter," Kaveh says with a smirk.

"Well, in that case, she either doesn't like you," says Tighnari, "or there's something that prevents her from admitting her feelings."

"Perhaps she's intimidated by your position," suggests Cyno.

"It's unlike her to care about those things," Alhaitham says. "She even treats me like a kid at times."

"So you do admit she just thinks of you as a kid," Kaveh says.

Alhaitham doesn't answer.

"Honestly, this case is closed," Kaveh continues. "There's nothing more to it."

"Hmm... Have you tried to make her jealous?" asks Cyno.

"You're still not convinced?" Kaveh is surprised at him.

"Knowing the result of that would likely draw us closer to a conclusion," Tighnari adds.

"Why would I purposely try to hurt her?" asks Alhaitham.

They exchange glances. Alhaitham still had the ability to make them go speechless with his matter-of-fact tone.

"Well, he's definitely serious about her," says Cyno.

"I told you," Kaveh says. "Seems like she's the only person he'd open up to as well."

"Of course she is," Alhaitham replies.

"I wonder…" says Tighnari. "Has she ever shared her own struggles with you?"

"Why would that be a factor?"

"Well, that would display how comfortable she is around you."

"Hmm… Not bad…" Alhaitham seems to agree with his line of reasoning.

He goes quiet and uncomfortably so because the other three exchange awkward glances at each other in the meantime.

"Well?" Cyno breaks the silence.

"You may be right," Alhaitham tells Tighnari with a sigh. "But that certainly raises more questions."

"Can we just start playing Genius Invokation TCG?" asks Kaveh. "We just keep going in circles with this topic."

"So you guys did just drag me out to play cards," says Alhaitham.

"It would be interesting to meet her," says Tighnari. "It's gotten me curious."

"Same here," says Cyno.

Kaveh looks up at the tavern entrance. "Huh? She's actually here."

Alhaitham's eyes flicker open for a brief moment. "Nice try. I'm not falling for that."

"I didn't expect to see you here, Alhaitham," you say, ruffling his hair.

He freezes and the three of them take a closer look at his face.

"I never expected him to have that kind of expression," whispers Tighnari.

"Me neither," Cyno agrees.

Alhaitham clears his throat. "They simply invited me here for some cards," he tells you. "Nothing more."

"Can I join?" you ask.

Without question, Alhaitham gets up from his chair. He holds the back of his seat and slides it out, gesturing for you to take it.

Cyno and Tighnari widen their eyes.

"Is it just me or did that feel kind of odd?" says Tighnari.

"Coming from him? You're not wrong there," adds Cyno.

You hesitate for a moment before you accept his kindness and take his seat. He stands next to you, waiting for the other guys to start preparing the game.

The two onlookers feel slightly uncomfortable for some reason while Kaveh tells them another round of 'I-told-you-so's. There isn't anything out of the ordinary as you all take your turns playing each other. Cyno is intense as usual, not just with his tactics but also with how he approaches the battle like an interrogation. Tighnari was calm and collected even under pressure, and Kaveh spoke his mind with every move, regardless of whether it's his or his opponent's. But having you there with Alhaitham is… strange.

Nothing really happens of significance. The two of you treat each other well and with respect. Just having Alhaitham being a complete gentleman around you is unnerving for the rest of them. Curt responses and sarcastic remarks are absent. He's completely agreeable with you and his usual temper isn't there either. Everyone plays the game in peace.

"You should save that card for later," Alhaitham tells you. "He can't do anything for the rest of the round anyway."

"Hmm… I'm not quite sure if that's what I want to do yet," you respond.

"Alright," he says. "You should do what you think is best."

"This guy…" Kaveh turns to you. "How do you get him to be like that? If it were any of us, he would've scolded us with a lengthy explanation about how we'd lose if we didn't follow his exact instructions."

"What? She can think for herself."

"And none of us can't?"

"I'm already familiar with how the three of you play and where you go wrong. I want to see if she does anything differently."

"It seems that he really does only compliment you, huh?" Tighnari tells you.

"Why would I do otherwise?" Alhaitham states.

His straightforward remark stuns them once again.

"Okay, we get it," says Kaveh. "We all know about your huge crush on her."

"Seems like you can't say anything bad about her even if you try," Cyno comments.

"Of course I can."

"You can?" you ask.

The whole table looks at you funny. You fiddle with the cards in your hand, pretending you weren't shocked for a split second.

"Interesting," says Cyno.

Alhaitham crosses his arms. "What is it?"

"I'm keeping my observations to myself for now."

Alhaitham raises a brow, but lets it go for the meantime.

A few rounds go by and you help set up for the next. When Alhaitham picks up a die for you from the floor, your hand brushes against his and the die falls off the table once more.

"What's wrong?" Alhaitham asks as he picks up the die again. "You're not usually this clumsy."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with me," you say.

He takes a closer look at you and you avoid his eyes. "Alright," he says. "You still ready to play?"

"I'll need to head out soon," Tighnari says. "It's my turn to be on patrol for tonight."

"Hold on," Cyno says, placing his cards on the table. "One last round. I'll be your opponent this time," he tells you.

You finish setting up the game and test your skills against Cyno. He certainly doesn't make it easy for you. You fall behind pretty quickly, but at least he's not as intimidating as when he played with some of the others.

"So," Cyno says, "what do you think of Alhaitham?"

Your eyes widen at his sudden question.

"You're straight up asking her?" says Kaveh.

"Why not?"

"I guess he has a point," says Tighnari.

They turn their attention to you to see what you'd say.

"Well…" you say, "he's very intelligent and talented."

"No, not what everyone else says," says Cyno. "What you think."

"What do you think you're doing?" asks Alhaitham. "Are you interrogating her right now?"

"Just let her answer the question."

"Well…" you say, "he's nice? And sweet?"

Cyno raises a brow.

"He's cute?"

"Pfft." Kaveh holds in his laughter.

Cyno ignores him and presses the question.

"I don't know how to respond," you tell him. "We've known each other for so long I can't just sum it up in a sentence."

"Alright. I'll get straight to the point," says Cyno. "What do you think of Alhaitham's feelings for you?"

"I think he should get to know other people… and try dating someone else?"

"See?" says Kaveh.

"I've already told you I'm not interested in anyone else," Alhaitham says.

"No, you should listen to her answer," Cyno tells him. "She's not lying."

"What?" Alhaitham widens his eyes.

"I'm not done yet," says Cyno. "There's more." He turns to you. "How serious do you think Alhaitham is about you?"

"He's definitely sincere."

"I'm pretty sure that was obvious," says Tighnari.

"But you don't take his feelings seriously," Cyno tells you.

"It's not that. It's just…"

"You don't?" asks Alhaitham.

"Alright. It's your turn from here," Cyno tells him.

"But I thought I was clear," Alhaitham tells you.

"You were."

"Apparently not clear enough."

"Look. You used to follow me around like a duckling whenever you weren't reading a book," you tell him. "How was I supposed to take your crush on me seriously?"

"It's been more than a decade since then."

"I... Okay, fair enough," you concede. "But it would disappear once you learned I didn't live up to your expectations."

"What expectations?" Alhaitham raises his brow.

"I don't know. That I'm this perfect woman that you've been pining for more than half your life. You'd know I'm not so great if you'd actually try liking someone else."

"Is that what you've been telling yourself?"

"You never say anything bad about me."

"Why would I want to talk about your flaws? Especially when I've been trying to win you over," he says. "Besides, aren't they obvious to you?"

"What?" You're genuinely surprised. "Like what?"

"Like how stupid you're being right now."

You freeze.

"Besides, I've been around you long enough," Alhaitham continues. "There's plenty I don't like. Like the way you cut me off at times–"

"What?"

"–or your atrocious style–"

"Okay, that one hurt a bit–"

"–or how stupid do you have to be to keep asking Kaveh for money –"

"Alright. I get it."

"–or that time you–"

"Okay! I get it! You like me!"

Kaveh looks at you as if you've grown another head. "How did you come to that conclusion? Are we even listening to the same conversation?"

"I think she's finally realized that his feelings were deeper than she initially thought," says Tighnari. "Especially since she knows that Alhaitham is still objective with her and not blinded with infatuation."

"That's right," Cyno says. "She's been the exception to his behavior for a long time. It makes sense she would think his judgment would be clouded with the information she had."

You hide your face from them. It's embarrassing how they read you like a book once your guard was down.

"I didn't expect the solution to be so simple," Alhaitham says.

He slips his hand into yours and you let out a little squeak. "You've also been wanting to hold my hand for some time haven't you?"

"Ugh. You're all smug now because you know that I return your feelings."

"I also don't like how you rearranged my bookcase."

"You can stop now."

"I think it's time for us to go," says Cyno.

"But we haven't finished our match yet," you tell him.

"I'll just forfeit this one."

"I'm with you on that," says Kaveh. "Anything before they start being gross with each other."

"I guess this is a good time for me to head out as well," says Tighnari.

The two of you are suddenly left alone at the table with a bunch of dice in front of you.

"Well, that's one way to win a match," Alhaitham tells you. "I'd say it's pretty ingenious actually."

You simply groan. You know what's coming.

"Do you want me to help you win every time?"

"Please don't."

*****

I hope you liked it. :)

This is one of those fics I wish had inline commenting like on Wattpad. I would've loved to see how everyone reacted at certain parts in real time but unfortunately Tumblr doesn't have that.

Anyway, you can find links to my masterlist and taglist on my pinned post if you want to check out more of my writing.

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham scenarios #alhaitham fluff #alhaitham fanfic #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact fanfics #genshin fluff #cyno #tighnari #kaveh

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arkhammaid · 8 months

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— ˚₊‧⁺˖ THIGH RIDING.

fandom. honkai star rail

pairing. argenti, blade, dan heng, gepard, jing yuan, seele x gn!reader

content warnings. nsfw, MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DNI, thigh riding, not edited/proofread

word count .0.7k

notes. for my favorite whores and our obession with thighs <3 edit: welt does not have a part in this fic!! i copy pasted this whole text above with infos abt the fic from another one and forgot to delete his name, very sorry :(

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ argenti.

to argenti, beauty was elegance, close to perfection. this is what he aspired to be, a knight touched and blessed by the gods themselves— just not in warfare. but seeing you like this, the first time, messy and whiny on his lap, your skin flushed and eyes shiny with tears refusing to roll down your cheeks— it’s truly mind blowing. he’s enchanted, the way you move your hips, grind yourself hard on his thigh and hearing the whimpers that escape your lips. you’re a mess but you’re still oh so beautiful.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ blade.

he knows how much you enjoy riding his thighs. he knows it and he will use it against you, finding amusement in your eyes focusing on the garter belts he likes to put on, when you really should focus on something else. he will tease you for hours, not coming near you and making sure you don’t get any wrong ideas. when he finally thinks the torture is enough and you deserve some mercy, he will haul you towards the bedroom and place you on his thigh. and even then, when you’re slowly but surely loosing your mind, he doesn’t help you. instead he leans back and watches you with half lidded eyes, how you whine and pant on his lap.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ dan heng.

dan heng simply enjoys thigh riding because you find pleasure in it. he was first confused, why you wanted to ride his thighs, when he had a dick you could ride so much better, but then were clinging onto him, calling out his name while you chased your orgasm. and he could only hold your hips, utterly enchanted by every noise and movement you did, watching how you came undone on his thigh. and you? you love sitting on his lap, a thigh between your legs and grinding on his muscles, chasing your peak with frantic moving hips, all while he murmured low praise in your ears, eager to see you shake in his arms.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ gepard.

gepard is always the more flushed between the both of you when you ride him, be it his dick or his thighs. but there is something different when you make a mess of yourself and drag him with you, his uniform soiled and wrinkled, just because you’ve been riding his thighs until you were shaking in his arms. it overwhelms him every time, your moans and high pitched whines filling his ears and fogging his mind, your whimpers making him lightheaded— even when it’s you, who always comes undone on his lap, it’s him that ends up as a complete mess.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ jing yuan.

jing yuan thinks it’s amusing, the way you’re so fixated on his thighs. be it in his uniform or out of duty clothes, you always try to find a way to admire them. and your enthusiasm, when he asks you if you want to ride his thigh, only confirms it to him. you ride them as if it’s his dick, hips frantic while you grip his shoulders, head thrown back while moans escape out of your mouth oh so shamelessly. it’s amusing to him, to see how fast and hard you can cum by simply riding his thighs— sometimes even harder when you’re in the office and you’re ruining his pristine uniform. and he loves to share his amusement with you, teasing words making you shudder while you plead for him to stop and do so much more— oh how he loves it when you come undone.

— ˚₊‧⁺˖ seele.

seele knows about the enjoyment thigh riding can bring, but she can’t lie, she prefers you to be the one doing the riding. the feeling of your legs around hers, your arousal wetting her muscles and helping you to glide over her skin smoothly— all these sensations, paired with your oh so pretty moans and whines, it’s truly heaven for her. to see you so messy is akin to seeing you free, free with your desires and passions, for her eyes only. and to see you above her, gasping for air while your whole body shudders, is one of many fantasies she can witness as much as she wants.

ARKHAM MAID 2023

#argenti x reader #blade x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #jing yuan x reader #seele x reader #argenti smut #blade smut #dan heng smut #gepard smut #jing yuan smut #seele smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ creations #after dark <3

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crucialplayer · 9 months

Text

Thoughts on mercury placements

!! everything is based purely on my experiences with signs, written with no other purpose than to share my observations and be unserious.

Gemini mercury. Throw shit at the wall and see what sticks mercury. When they talk be sure ur not the only one hearing this thought for the first time - they are too. They think as they speak. Cannot hold info inside of them longer than 5 minutes so no secrets kept, no embarrassing opinions left unspoken.

Sagittarius mercury. This one doesn’t really stir the pot, usually just blows it up. They are bold with words for no reason. What they are saying is almost always what they truly think. Will give a random lecture that no one asked for on a topic they barely know anything about.

Aries mercury. Сan either be supeeeer fun or suuuuuper insane and nothing in between. Very expressive and usually swear a lot, but they have the best sense of timing with it. No filter of course, so often get themselves in trouble with that whirlwind of a mouth.

Scorpio mercury. They kinda have a talent for talking shit in the most cutting way. It’s like a perfect combo of clairvoyance and knowing where to strike with that deadly sting using words. Sometimes don’t recognize when they’ve overdone it tho so they can come across as edgy.

Virgo mercury. Meticulous mercury, very observant. They talk even faster than Gemini mercuries but they actually manage to get their point across. Can be blunt but typically when it’s much needed. There’s a reason why this is ultimately the best mercury placement.

Capricorn mercury. Dry as fuck. Also I’ve noticed they like to complain a lot but not on abstract themes. More like being precise about why this thing sucks. Can be very adamant and stubborn with their opinions. Can sound so confident you forget to analyze what they are saying.

Pisces mercury. So whimsical and romantic but at what cost. Literally can never tell what they are trying to convey, pretty sure they have no idea too. Get carried away with their associations and metaphors that make sense only to them. If they’re nerdy it’s even worse.

Cancer mercury. Awkward with words but in a cute way. Hate to be misconstrued and taken out of context. Therefore tend to over-explain themselves and things in general but in a way that makes the point slip away further. Also very sentimental.

Aquarius mercury. Usually like to argue on social justice issues… with people who are removed from politics as much as possible. Don't care to be understood by people they consider irrelevant to them. It's like the fewer people actually do get them the better they feel but that’s just my theory. Also artistic.

Libra mercury. More concise than Pisces but ur still kinda left with a «what...» feeling. Also poetic and romantic. They usually have 1 or 2 topics they can talk about hours on end but can lose interest once the convo shifts onto something else. Like to giggle a lot too.

Leo mercury. I call this one bimbo mercury in the best way possible. Very entertaining and charismatic, but don’t give much thought to what they’re saying. Like to be the authority in every convo and if they are not they just kinda… leave. Loud (if they don't have a water sun).

Taurus mercury. Time ceases to exist, nature slows its rhythm. Some might call it relaxing I call it torture. If surrounded by their friends they tend to speed up and show more of a goofy side. Nice voices, yes yes.

#astrology #astro notes #astro observations #natal chart #zodiac signs #aries #taurus #gemini #cancer #leo #virgo #libra #scorpio #sagittarius #capricorn #aquarius #pisces #mercury placements

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c-o-t-o · 2 months

Text

Veiled Whispers - Xavier (Part 2)

(Part 1 here)

Author: c-o-t-o

Character: Xavier x fem reader

CW: 18+ only, sexual content/smut, explicit language, drunkenness, dubcon, teasing, light bdsm (some CWs apply to other parts)

Misc: ~1.8k words, Part 2

About: After your date, once Xavier draws the curtains closed, he wants to show you how good he can make you feel

*Do not remove info or credit from posts when reblogging or sharing!*

"Xavier…” you respond back with slight embarrassment in your voice. You can feel your face getting warm, not sure if it's from being flustered, drunk, or a mix of both. But your train of thought is cut short when you feel Xavier’s lips against the nape of your neck. His lips are so soft and melt into your skin as he kisses you. You can feel his hot breath tumbling down onto your skin, raising goosebumps in its path. Between every kiss you hear him exhale lazily, drunkenly, lustfully. Each moan becomes less breathy and more gutteral.

Xavier’s kisses move down your neck to your shoulder while he slowly begins to circle around you. You're still kneeling on his bed, the top of your dress hanging at your waist. Your eyelids so heavy from sleepiness and the alcohol, but trying so hard to stay awake so that you can burn this into your brain forever. Xavier had always flirted with you, he wasn't really shy about how he felt. But you didn't think the night would lead to this, and you aren't going to let yourself be too drunk to remember it.

Once Xavier makes it around to your front, he cups your cheek, eyes lingering on you for what feels like forever. Even in this darkness you can see how red his face has become. He really is drunk… you didn't think it was possible, but then again you don't recall him ever drinking much. You see him blinking slowly, eyes trying to focus each time, another sign attesting to his drunkenness.

Xavier sighs as his fingers drag down from your cheek, down your neck, to your chest.

“How did I get so lucky to be spending a night like this with you?" Xavier puts his hand in the small of your back, and gently guides you so that you lay back down onto the bed. He crawls up over you, staring at your exposed chest. He leans down and kisses your collarbone, then your sternum, and eventually the top of your breast.

“Tonight is all about you, my love," Xavier says as he kisses your breast again, his lips sinking into the suppleness of them. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel." Xavier whispers before leaning down to gently lick your nipple. You feel your nipple harden immediately with just one swipe of his tongue. Xavier moans quietly as he sucks it gently in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, like he's tasting something sweet and enjoyable. As he massages it with his tongue, you also feel his hands running all over your body, wanting to feel every inch of you.

Suddenly you feel Xavier’s kisses trail down to your stomach, pulling your dress down as he moves. He pauses for a moment to lay his face down on your tummy.

“Your skin is so soft, I could take a nap here," Xavier says while gently rubbing his cheek against your stomach. “I love this part of you, too." But Xavier fights the tiredness and continues kissing your body. He makes it down to your underwear, and you instinctively reach out to stop him.

“Xavier, wait, I… are you sure? You don't have to…” you say, realizing what he was about to do.

"I know I don't have to,” Xavier whispers, even though the two of you are alone. "But I want to. I want to kiss and taste every inch of you.” Xavier says, but giving you no time to respond before his face ends up between your thighs. Your back arches in response, hands shooting forward and fingers spread. Xavier reaches up with one hand and laces his fingers with yours, wanting so much to hold your hand, even now.

He begins by laying gentle kisses on the inside of your thighs, sometimes nuzzling his face on them. His kisses start closing in between them, when you finally feel his hot tongue on your most sensitive area, causing that spring inside your tummy to tighten. You immediately moan out loud and you hear Xavier chuckle gently to himself against you.

“All those times you'd poke and prod at me, I told you I'd get you back… catch you after sundown…” Xavier says between licks. While he speaks to you teasingly, you feel his fingers run through your wetness and gently start circling you clit. "You're so wet,” he says almost in astonishment, since he really only just got started.

"Because it feels so good.” You manage to say between your breathy moans.

"That's all I want,” Xavier says, kissing your thigh again. He suddenly slides his fingers inside you. Suddenly, but so delicately. How does he know how to do all of this so well? You start to wonder, but think maybe it's for the best if you don't know. You don't want to start getting jealous now.

“Is this okay? Does it hurt at all?" Xavier asks while looking up at you like a puppy, his eyes wide open and eyebrows narrowed, waiting for a response. After you shake your head no, Xavier moves back down between your thighs and starts licking you while his fingers are buried inside of you. The double stimulation is almost enough to send you over the edge, just like that.

You instinctively reach down to run your fingers through Xavier's hair, not quite sure what to do with yourself because of how good it feels. You momentarily giggle to yourself though, because you can feel how hot Xavier’s ears are, and wonder how red they've become from the alcohol. His tongue feels so hot against you, his saliva pooling below you on his bed. Normally you’d worry about that, but right now you’re too drunk and too turned on to care.

Eyes closed and head sunken into Xavier’s bed, you can hear every sound in his room amidst the complete silence. The gentle ticking of his clock, the softness of his pillows as your head sinks into them, and the absolute wet lapping of Xavier’s tongue against your clit. You can feel yourself clenching down there when you suddenly hear Xavier trying to suck up some of the wetness that’s dripping down you. Xavier… sucking it all up, yes his saliva but also your own wetness. You feel your face turning even more red now at the thought of it. Xavier suddenly starts moaning almost pleadingly as he licks and sucks you.

“You taste so sweet,” he says trying to catch his breath, “I couldn’t help myself.” You feel Xavier pull his fingers out of you and look down expecting him to stop, when you lock eyes with him. He slides his fingers into his mouth and closes his eyes, moaning. “So sweet.”

You cover your face in embarrassment for having watched him do that, even though it was really fucking hot. Does he really like the taste? Or is he just really drunk and lustful?

Xavier crawls back up over you, chest moving in and out quickly as he starts panting. He looks down at you, and momentarily averts his eyes, covering his mouth from embarrassment himself. He eventually looks back at you though, and his cheeks and ears are entirely beet red. You reach up to touch his face, but Xavier takes your hand and kisses it. He takes your hand and puts it on his chest over his heart, eyes never leaving your face.

“My heart has never beat so fast before.” Xavier admits. “This shows how much I…” his eyes look away again as he blushes more. When he looks back at you, he cups your face with his hand, placing his forehead down on yours. “How much I love you.” He whispers, then chuckles at himself faintly, as if relieved to have finally said it.

“Xavier…” you say while putting your hand over his. “You’re… just drunk…” Xavier’s head snaps up to look back at you, eyes looking at you pleadingly.

“No, I… I mean, I am… but I mean it. I really do.” Xavier slowly leans in and kisses your lips so softly, making a gentle smacking sound when his lips pull away from yours. “I love you, and I love every part of you. I want to be close to you… to make you feel good.” Xavier kisses you again, even deeper this time. He breathes heavily and you can feel his body almost squirming above you.

It’s now that you notice the bulge that has been pressing up against your thigh. Xavier has been trying so hard to not keep rubbing against you, but he’s losing that fight. If this was any other person, you’d think that they look pathetic above you the way Xavier looks right now. Eyes looking at you desperately, hard on rubbing against you almost involuntarily now, panting out loud. But because it’s Xavier, all that’s doing is turning you on and making you want him even more,

“Can I,” he pants, speaking between each breath, rubbing against you each time, “please… show you… how much… I love you?”

Mere seconds after nodding your head yes, Xavier grabs your face and pulls you into the deepest kiss you’ve ever had. Not needing to hold back anymore, he immediately starts moaning and panting while he kisses you, every second turning him on even more. You feel Xavier start licking your lips between kisses and you feel your clit start burning from arousal.

He breaks free from your lips for just a second to take off his pants and underwear, the last of his clothes, as you slip the rest of your dress and underwear off as well.

Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, but his room was still extremely dark. You couldn’t really see very well between that and your hazy drunk vision. But you do see Xavier’s slim and extremely toned body moving towards you. Not able to wait any longer, Xavier runs himself through your wetness. He’s already incredibly hard from going down on you and kissing you.

As Xavier gets ready to enter you, he leans down again and starts kissing you deeply. He wants to hear you react to him entering you, to know how good it feels. When he finally slides inside of you, your head falls further, a loud moan escaping through your lips into his. You feel him throb inside of you after you moan. Xavier starts off gently pumping in and out of you, assessing how much of his length he can fill you with. Once he starts getting into a good pace, he grabs your hand, locking eyes with you.

Xavier holds your hand to his chest, light starting to shine out from both of you. You suddenly feel the heat from your arousal spread further into you, Xavier feeling even hotter and more engorged inside of you. You moan out loud, covering your mouth with your other hand in surprise. Xavier grins slyly and chuckles, pumping into you a little deeper and faster now.

“Are you ready to see those stars?” He moans into your ear.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace x reader #xavier #LADS xavier #love and deepspace smut #LADS xavier smut #LADS smut #xavier x you #xavier x reader #xavier x fem reader #fanfic #c-o-t-o

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s1m0nth3swag · 27 days

Note

More milkman x reader smut but can you do chubby reader?? Please

Yes ofc!

As a chubby guy myself, none of my stories are ever written with a certain body type in mind, BUT obviously, I'm gonna write smth when requested so yeah!

Also I hope its okay that I brought body issues into this because I just think it fit the situation and the idea I had was just immediately "Francis would just be the absolute sweetest when making sure his partner loved themselves as much as he loves them".

Thanks so much for the request, anon!

WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Smut, more soft, GN!Reader, Chubby Reader, Francis being just a tiny bit obsessed, established relationship, mentions of insecurity/ body image issues, Francis being a sweetheart and showing Reader that he loves them no matter what ♡♡

NSFW UNDER THE CUT!!

Nothing annoyed you more than the days when you would feel like you didn't look good. You stared at the mirror, looking at your body with slight disgust and disappointment. You felt like you were too big in all the wrong places, and you can't help but hate yourself for it. You should work out, eat less, all that. Instead, you threw on a wide hoodie - one that belonged to your boyfriend Francis, hid your legs with loose fitting pants, and snuggled up on the couch, determined to ignore the thoughts you were having.

Francis was at work, so you were alone, and honestly, that wasn't helping one bit. You knew he'd help you, he always said that he loved you no matter what, not for your body but your soul, or something like that, but right now you doubted his words a little.

Once Francis returned, he found you on the couch still. You were focused on some random show you had put on to distract yourself, but he noticed the way you hugged your body uncomfortably. "You okay, love?" He asked, walking over and sitting down on the couch beside you. You nodded solemnly but didn't look at him. He immediately knew what was going on. He sighed, wrapped his arms around you, and pulled you onto his lap, cradling you softly. He placed kisses on your cheeks and neck, murmuring softly. "You know I love you, baby.. you're the absolute most perfect being on the planet for me." He tells you, but your insecurities have long taken over. You cling to him desperately, and even though deep down you knew he wasn't lying, you didn't fully trust his words.

After a few minutes of sitting together, Francis telling you that he loved you and peppering your face with kisses, he softly picked you up and carried you to the bedroom - for a simple milkman, Francis was stronger than he looked.

He muttered something along the lines of showing you that he was being honest before pulling the hoodie off of you. You protested, tried to keep the fabric covering your body, but Francis wouldn't let you. He didn't even give you the chance to say something. Instead, he held your hands over your head and placed soft kisses all over your upper body. He paid special attention to the areas he knew you hated most, muttering praises in between each kiss. You were a flustered mess, and though the feelings about your body didn't magically disappear, they definitely weren't your main focus anymore. The way Francis' lips felt against your now feverish skin was almost heavenly, and you swore he was probably an angel sent to you by God just to help you through life. It would explain a lot, actually.

Your boyfriend took his sweet time with you. He didn't pull off your pants before he was 100% sure that you didn't think about your body type anymore. Soft kisses against your thighs, his hand ghosting over the hem of your underwear as you practically begged him to finally take them off. "Promise you aren't thinking lowly of yourself anymore?" He hummed, grinning against your skin. You whined, pouting. "I promise, jus'.. please..?" You muttered, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "Wouldn't be able to deny you any longer anyway." Francis chuckles, sliding your underwear down slowly, making you squirm impatiently. You hated that he was still fully clothed, so you did your best to tug at his shirt, mumbling something about unfairness. "Always so needy.." Your boyfriend hummed, but he gave in to your request, his shirt hitting the ground, his pants following soon after. The only thing separating the two of you were now his boxers - and of course, Francis had to be a dick about taking them off.

"You're so stunning... Do you know that baby?" He purred. "Tell me you know that." His hands slid over your thighs, squeezing lightly as he patiently waits for you to repeat his words. You wanted to protest, but at the same time, you knew he wouldn't let you get off easily. "I know.." You mumble, looking away from him. "Ah-ah. Look at me. Be honest." Francis smiles, placing a kiss against your thigh. You grumbled, looked at him, and repeated your words a little more strongly. "There you go." He hummed in answer, leaning up to press a kiss against your lips.

Francis made a point of giving you praise after every thrust. He refused to go faster since he wanted to make sure you fully understood. It didn't seem to bother him that you almost cried while begging him to move faster. He just kept dragging his hips slowly, mumbling a praise with a shaky voice and pressing kisses onto your cheeks or lips. While sure, it was really sweet, you couldn't help but genuinely want him to be a little rougher. You knew this was soft torture for him as well, since you could feel him twitch inside you, eager to chase after release. Francis only gave in after he had made sure that you knew he really wasn't playing around. He loved you. He didn't want you to feel bad about yourself just because of the way your body looked. You were more than attractive to him, after all.

You whined when he finally thrust into you properly, clenching around him as you gripped onto his back harshly. Francis let out a soft groan, snuggling his face against your neck as he finally allowed both of you to reach the high you had been begging for - and he had denied himself just to make sure you were focused. He didn't even care when he came inside you, too lazy to pull out in time as he pressed wet kisses against your neck.

"Promise you believe me, sweetheart?" He hums, resting against you. "Promise. For now." You chuckled, slightly tired after all that. Francis sighs and pouts, looking at you sternly. "Do I need to start all over again?" He asks, smiling as you shake your head and kiss him. "Just cuddling will do." You mumble against his lips.

#francis mosses #francis mosses x you #thats not my neighbor #x reader #francis mosses headcanons #francis mosses x reader #milkman that's not my neighbor #milkman x reader

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vixenvoider · 8 months

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I ENTERED THE VOID STATE

in this post i will explain in depth how i entered the void state and what i manifested. i will be open to questions but if you ask something that i explain in this post i won't answer it just fyi, so even though this will be long, if you are truly curious i encourage you to read the whole thing. i am sorry for any spelling mistakes or grammar mistakes that might be present.

overall story: i have been trying to enter the void for around 2 months now, and finally entered through a lucid dream. one thing i want to note before i tell my story is that i have been lucid dreaming my whole life (so if you never have, i don't know what good steps are for beginners).

the beginning: my journey started when i inadvertently came across a post about how someone else entered the void state and manifested their dream body and face. i was not into manifesting before, in fact, i actually had a problem with the whole concept of the law of attraction and didn't know there were other types of manifestation and never looked deeply into it. that being said, i have always been an open-minded person and also, a more or less spiritual person. i believe in a lot of "out there" things because a lot of said things have been proven to me (through experiences i find hard to explain so i'm not going to). i'm sharing this to let you know that due how deeply i naturally believe in such things i never really had a problem with my void concept, even though i experienced doubts (so for this area i really can't give much advice).

so after learning about the existence of the void state i searched "void state" on tumblr and skimmed some info here and there on it, what i came across included some basic methods on how to enter the void but i didn't fully understand them yet. that same night i followed a shifting guided meditation but i couldn't really get "into" it, i was a naturally anxious person who found it hard to relax so it just wasn't working, but i did see it through and try my best and i think in the long run it helped me. in the guided meditation i listened to, the person makes you walk through a door to get to your desired reality and even though the meditation didn't work, that imagery worked it's way into my subconscious and i had a lucid dream that night. i did not manifest anything that night but it was on purpose (i think). in my lucid dream i woke up in my bedroom. i looked in the mirror and decided i would change what i saw to a more desired appearance and it worked (i looked exactly like the person i was thinking of), then, i decided (with intention) to open my bedroom door and enter my dream house and it worked. at this point in the dream i thought that entering the void must be super easy since i was already basically close and could have done it there if i wanted to BUT i chose to wake up because i wanted to enter the void when i actually knew for sure what i wanted my manifestations to be. i knew i was going to want a lot if i really thought about it and i also didn't want to actually look like someone else (my whole lucid dream i was more trying to test my imagination and build my confidence). the next day i started making a void state list and writing down everything i genuinely wanted for myself.

experiencing doubts: things started to go wrong after that hahah, after my first beginner's luck(?) experience i was struggling to lucid dream (even though i've always naturally been a lucid dreamer, the times it occurs is still random and i couldn't make them happen) and meditations were only getting me so close. all in all, over the past 2 months i had 5 failed lucid dreams and several close, but failed, meditation attempts. this instilled some doubts in me, especially the lucid dreams, because apparently once you lucid dream it's meant to be quite simple but when i would affirm for the void in my dreams i would just wake up or the dream would continue.

another thing that caused me to doubt the void was questioning some of the stories on here. most of them i initially don't believe anyway because it's known there's many liars in the community and there seems to be a trend of people posting void success stories in an attempt to enter to the void (to act as if it already happened) but they technically haven't in reality yet. that being said, i did have some blogs i mostly trusted and then one day one of the blogs i trusted answered an anonymous ask about a success story and it really looked like they sent it to themselves. the reason i thought this was because the op of the blog spells a commonly used word wrong all the time but it's not a spelling mistake people commonly make (in fact, i know no one who makes this spelling mistake) but then the anon that sent them the success story made the exact same spelling mistake. it made me worry that perhaps there were no true success stories because why was this person who supposedly mastered the void bothering with sending asks to themselves to validate their blog? i mean this was all speculation but it still caused me to think.

that being said again, i still basically believed, i just wavered a little, but i definitely believed enough to keep persisting (because why not?)

the success: finally, after almost 2 months i entered the void through a lucid dream. when i realised i was dreaming i tried to make myself stay super grounded in the dream but i also thought about not taking too long since i didn't want to wake up. i did this because i realised the very first night when i had my lucid dream, i didn't get excited and try immediately, i hung around in my dream for a while and just enjoyed things (as i explained). so i wandered around the dream a bit and just looked at things, touched things, tried to feel the temperature and take note of it and then when i felt calm and not too excited i closed my eyes and affirmed for the void and entered. when i got the void i just said "i have everything on my void list" (a few times to make sure) and then stated i was exiting the void state. the void feels how pretty much everyone describes, you just know it's happening and you are pure consciousness.

what i manifested: my void state list ended up being super long and i manifested a lot of personal things that i won't share, which is what i'm sure would be the same for most people, but i'll include a list of things that others might find interesting or encouraging:

desired appearance (including body, face, height etc)

money (i came up with a plan that of how it would make sense in my country to have acquired it)

got rid of my anxiety disorder (having this was probably the most debilitating part of my life, it's also why i know meditation never truly worked for me since i could never relax and it's crazy to feel not severely stressed constantly for the first time in my life)

got rid of my autoimmune disease and fixed my eyesight (i manifested being healthy overall in general)

feel comfortable instantly, i will no longer get too itchy, feel dirty after a long day, be too hot or too cold etc. (can't really attest to this one yet but i have felt no discomfort)

dream living space and whatever bed i sleep in to always be super comfortable

opinion on the void state: overall the point is that the void state is real and you can get anything you want, getting to the void is also easy but it's just about trying to go for it and not getting discouraged. i don't want to share too much of my opinion on this because i actually find it really toxic. some people will get mad if you say you "entered" or "got to" the void because you technically are always the void, and personally, i don't find these slight changes in language to be important unless you are very sensitive to it. for me, it doesn't matter if i think about the void as something i enter or something i am because i believe it exists and that's all i need to know at the end of the day. if you want to see it as something you are, or a state or anything else, i don't think it matters as long as you believe manifestation is possible, you are the creator of your reality, you get to decide what language or thought process works for you :)

common questions: i'm going to answer some question i feel like i will get if people find this post so i'm just going to answer them here. remember that these answers are just my opinion.

question: how come people don't manifest to end world hunger, for everyone to have money, to become the next "big thing", to be a real life superhero, for everyone to be happy etc. truthfully, i think people do manifest that but i don't think they stay in this reality. a lot of people think that using the void at all means you shift your reality, idk if i believe in that, but i would have to assume the people that use the void to manifest very extreme things ultimately have to shift realities. so this would mean the reason you're not seeing these results is because these people are no longer in this reality. if you pay attention i think you will also notice that most void success stories that seem to come from reliable sources (though this is still all personal judgement) seem to be rather humble, these people just manifest to be the prettier version of themselves, to live in a nice place, to be around good people and other similar things. i think people with mostly humble desires stay in this reality and people with more fantastical desires (to be the most famous person ever, to be a multibillionaire, world peace) go elsewhere.

question: why would someone even have humble desires? i can't speak for every single person but i think it's just the desire to stick to the familiar. we want better lives but also want to feel at "home" still, i wanted to still feel like ME. maybe it seems stupid and selfish but if we really are shifting realities every time then there really is no way to actually solve world hunger anyway, it will always exist in this reality even if you or i personally go to another one. at the end of the day, life isn't fair and i am just grateful to have discovered the void to live happily and am sharing this so you can too.

question: i'm worried about the wrong people finding out about the void state. honestly, me too! but i think this falls in line with my past two answers, if someone terrible happened to stumble upon this post and entered the void, i don't think they'd stay here, they will go to some other reality more likely, so i really don't think we have to worry about someone super evil getting to the void and doing something super heinous or whatever. but honestly i do understand the worry. at first when i discovered the void i thought i wouldn't share my success story once i entered because i wanted to keep the void as quiet as possible. but just remember two things: most people do not know about the void and if they do a lot of them will give up and not persist. second, someone really evil finding it will probably leave this reality (my theory).

question: why do people not show better proof. truthfully, i don't know, for me it's because i really do want to live a private life and a lot of stuff i manifested can't be proven anyway. if i show my bank account, it could be photoshop, if i show my new face it means nothing because i revised to always look this way, i can't prove i no longer have my autoimmune disease and the list goes on. i think people with more dramatic proof also want to maintain their privacy or go to other realities. perhaps there's even been people to show dramatic proof in this reality but they had to revise that they didn't because it was a mistake.

question: do you have any overall tips? just keep persisting. and personally, i think it's okay to try several methods at once. i know some people say if you try several then it "cancels out" like, if you try lucid dreaming and it doesn't work so you meditate it means you don't "believe" lucid dreaming can work for you so then that's why it takes you so long but i think you can just tell yourself "every method works for me so i will just keep persisting". another thing i recommend trying for a few days is setting your alarm to go off at different times so day 1 is 8am, day 2 is 7am, day 3 is 9am and so forth. each day set the intention to wake up BEFORE your alarm goes off, once you successfully start waking up a few minutes before your alarm everyday this is your tangible proof that your intentions are working. this isn't really a method but more so a confidence booster that worked for me to remind myself i'm in control and powerful. if you also try this i think after a few days you will feel more confident intending to lucid dream, for your meditations to work, for subliminals to work (whatever is your personal vibe) and you will get there easier hopefully!

question: did you ever do any official lucid dreaming methods. personally the only way i ever had a lucid dream was by intending before sleeping that i would lucid dream. but methods where you wake up by setting your alarm early and going back to sleep and stuff didn't work for me. i tried but due to my anxiety i would always wake up super alert or even stressed, so i could never relax enough. but they are successful for many people so there is no harm in trying.

#void state #void success #void success story #loa #law of assumption

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skzdarlings · 3 months

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verisimilitude ; hyunjin x reader ; one-shot

masterlist.

( READ ON AO3. )

You are a self-identified no-nonsense curmudgeon. Your best friend is an eccentric pretty boy. You accidentally send him an explicit video of yourself. What's the worst that can happen?

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: romantic comedy. best friends to lovers. curly-haired reader because mood. accidental sexting. accidental voyeurism. sexual tension. resolved sexual tension. very explicit sexual content. not so much dom/sub but hyunjin explicitly prefer control. sexual discovery. very horny leads lol. (word count: 19500 words.)

You look like Hyunjin’s lawyer again.

Your best friend has gravitated to a somewhat more punk persona in recent years. You say somewhat because you are not sure it runs deeper than aesthetic, though he would probably be forgiven on account of his perfect face. His good looks combined with his natural charisma lets him get away with most things.

His vibrant red hair catches the sunlight like a painted flame, a perfect stroke of red against the beige canvas of the art gallery’s exterior. He is slouching against the wall, hands in the pockets of his leather jacket, squinting in the light. He looks like a rather put upon a vampire given the dark garb and eyeliner.

Then he turns his head and sees you. You are wearing one of your usual blazers and modest skirts, your untameable mess of curls twisted into an updo that is fighting (and losing) against the wind. You try not to feel too preposterous, peeling bits of hair out of your mouth as you approach him.

He smiles. Some people think his smiles look a bit smarmy and you suppose they are not wrong, his lips perpetually quirked like a punchline just occurred to him, but you know your best friend well. Despite the intimidating ring of dark eye-make up, his eyes are alight with a great deal of affection. If you were prone to sentimentality, you might concede a heart flutter.

You clear your throat and march ahead. He saunters up the path to you. You meet halfway.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says.

He is the only person allowed to call you that.

“Hello, Hyunjin,” you say. You lack his playful charm so you do not have a nickname to return. You are more comfortable around Hyunjin than anyone else on earth, and you are still awkward around him. “Thank you for the invitation,” you say. “I appreciate you might have otherwise wanted the time to yourself, so I hope I am not imposing by accepting.”

He laughs. When all you do is blink at him, stone-faced, he covers his mouth with a delicate touch of his long fingers, still smirking behind them.

“Sorry, why wouldn’t I want you to say yes?” he asks. “We always go to the new exhibitions together.”

You tuck back an errant curl only for another to whip across your brow.

“Well,” you say, tucking that one back too. “Since I am temporarily living with you, I thought my company might grow wearisome in a way it usually does not. Familiarity breeding contempt and all that.”

Though you state this observation with your usual pragmatic detachment, you are very insecure about it. You gave this risk a great deal of consideration prior to moving in with Hyunjin. You are only staying in his apartment’s spare bedroom for a few months while your disaster of a townhouse undergoes repairs (the upstairs bathroom flooded again), but you have never lived with Hyunjin before. You are aware of your short-comings and you were very worried that your best friend was going to tire of you within a week.

It has been a month now and he has shown no signs of despising your existence, but it is still best to brace oneself for every eventuality.

He just smiles and puts both hands in his pockets.

“Are you getting sick of me?” he asks.

Another ringlet whips across your face.

“Good grief,” you say, frantically pushing it aside. “Of course not! How could anyone ever get sick of you?” What a preposterous thought. Hyunjin just has to wink for the universe to re-arrange itself. People adore him. He is handsome and funny and charming and talented and intelligent. You have known him for most of your life and you are still unearthing his many intricate layers. As if you could ever grow tired of him. “I think that’s the most foolish thing you’ve ever said,” you say with complete sincerity.

He laughs some more, tossing his head back so all that red hair flutters behind him. The wind co-operates with his hair, of course, working in tandem with the sunlight to flatter him.

“Are you sure? I’ve said a lot of foolish things,” he says.

You sputter when a curl flies into your mouth. You push it away.

“Yes, well,” you say. “That much is true too.”

He looks at you for a moment. You can’t imagine why. The sunlight is beaming right in your eyes and the wind is beating you to a pulp. Maybe you look so hideous that he is contemplating a means of escape.

Then one hand lifts out of his pocket, long fingers reaching for you. It is very unexpected. You stare into his face, a stoic mask concealing your confusion. His eyes do not meet yours, his gaze on a loose curl. He is gentle in the way he scoops it up and smoothly tucks it behind your ear. A shiver erupts under the brush of his fingertips, that heart flutter loosing itself when his touch lingers.

Then he smiles and puts his hand back in his pocket.

“Sweet?” he asks.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you want a sweet?” He whips an open bag of gummies out of his pocket.

“Oh.” You look at the bag. “Um. No.”

“Are you sure?” He shakes the bag. “It’s your favourite.”

“Oh.” Your attention went awry with the race of your heart but you do observe the candy is one you enjoy. “Okay. Thank you.” You take a few and pop them in your mouth.

He upturns the bag over his mouth, finishing off the sugar. You hope your eyes don’t widen at the flick of his tongue. Oh, it really is cumbersome when your nether region gets an idea about Hyunjin. You try to ignore the heat down there.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he says, already striding away. The man is at least 80% per cent leg so it puts him ahead rather quickly.

You are too refined to scamper-and-scurry, but you might pitter-and-patter to catch up.

You are able to lose yourself in the art exhibition. You and Hyunjin share a meal afterward, discussing everything at length. Hyunjin is a little quieter than usual so you apologize for speaking too much. He is gazing at you, his chin is propped in his hand. Surprise flickers in his expression when you apologize, but he recovers, waving his hand like it’s no matter.

You return to his home and separate for the evening. You to your studies, him to his evening work-out.

You are in the apartment’s quaint living room when Hyunjin gets back from the gym. He is an absolute sight, bare-faced, his red hair yanked into a half-ponytail. There is a subtle, rolling musculature to his arms, proudly displayed in his sleeveless shirt, and he is glistening with sweat from top to bottom. It should be gross. You pride yourself on cleanliness.

But good grief. He is gorgeous.

You are sitting cross-legged on the couch, comfortably dressed down in a sweatshirt and pyjama pants. You peek at him over the top of your book only to find him already staring at you. He is rubbing the back of his neck with a towel, his arm flexed. When he catches you looking, his lips pull into a lazy smile.

You duck behind your book again. It is a poor shield, or maybe he is a cunning adversary, because your heart keeps racing anyway.

“Whatcha reading?” he asks. You can hear his slow approach. The towel is tossed somewhere.

“A book,” you say.

“Funny,” he says. He is in front of you now. You have no time to strategize before he plucks the book out of your hand and holds it over his head.

“Hyunjin!” You muster all the indignant attitude you can. “That’s not funny. We’re not children anymore. Return my book at once.”

“I want a hug first,” he says, his full lips in a silly pout.

“Out of the question.” You hope you do not sound as flustered as you feel. “You’re disgusting. Look at the state of you.”

“Please?” He blinks his long lashes at you.

You stand up and try to look imposing, hands on your hips. His smile does not diminish. He waves the book in the air.

You lunge, diving at the book and failing spectacularly. He holds it out of reach, laughing, then he tries to wrap you up in a hug. He smells like sweat and exertion and it makes you think of sex. This is sufficiently startling enough to cause a fumble. You spill backwards, a frantic hand thoughtlessly grasping for an anchor. Your fingers hook in the neck of his shirt which has the predictable outcome of dragging him with you onto the couch.

His more athletic reflexes kick in, just enough that he drops the book and catches himself with his hands. He successively suspends his weight above you, which is nice, but you still thump your head on the arm of the couch, which is less nice.

“Are you okay?” he asks when you hiss and grab your head. The laughter has left his voice, replaced with genuine concern.

“No,” you say, petulantly. “A horrible sweaty man stole my book and beat me up.”

He laughs, a twinkling sound that enchants you despite everything.

“Poor baby,” he says. “That sounds so disgusting. Will a hug help…?”

“Don’t you dare—hmmf!” He lowers himself and squishes you. You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out of you, partially because he swipes his nose on your neck and it tickles, largely because his laughter is infectious. “Oh,” you say, pushing his face away. “You are a horrible person.”

He giggles with boyish mirth. It is at odds with the man he is, all hard planes and sturdy lines, an unfamiliar twinkle in his dark eyes. You look back at him, at a loss for words. Even if you were the sort of person to confess attraction, you would surely seem strange for finding his dishevelled appearance so desirable.

Finally, you push him, diverting your gaze with an eye roll.

“All right,” you say. “That’s quite enough now. There’s a shower at your disposal and I recommend you make use of it sooner than later. Go on, get.”

He obliges, but not without a cheeky kiss to your forehead. It flusters you more than a chaste kiss should.

He just winks, because of course the charmer is unaffected by such an innocent touch. Hyunjin is too gushy and romantic to womanize, but he is certainly liberal with his sexual appetite. You had the displeasure of running into a one-night stand your first weekend here. Hyunjin left for work and let her sleep, assuming she would show herself out. She was a pretty chatterbox and she bounded into the kitchen to strike up a very one-sided conversation with you in your bathrobe.

He did apologize for that. He knows you do not like unexpected visitors at the best of times, never mind first thing in the morning, and certainly never mind ones he knew intimately. Fortunately, it was the first and last time you made scrambled eggs for his hook-up.

You are not in the habit of hook-ups, to say the very least, preferring a serving of scrambled eggs for one. You had one boyfriend a few years ago but he was not the sort of man to tackle you onto the couch in a sweaty, flirtatious tangle. You would have bopped him on the nose for trying, in fact. Hyunjin really does get away with everything.

Your nethers are getting ideas again. The territory below your belt is usually well-behaved but unfortunately it lacks any sense when it comes to Hyunjin. More time spent in proximity appears to be worsening its condition.

You assume a blank face in the hopes of concealing any trace of arousal, watching Hyunjin amble his sweaty way to the bathroom.

Oh dear. You are very wound up. Something will have to be done or you will never sleep tonight.

You are blessedly granted an opportunity to satisfy your baser urges when Hyunjin emerges fully dressed for an evening out. Some friends are at a bar down the street and they invited Hyunjin to join them. Hyunjin tries to cajole you into joining him, promising it’s just a few drinks and teasing that your book won’t go anywhere, but your book is not how you intend to pass the time alone so his encouragement does not tempt you.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, shrugging on a leather vest. His back is to you so you openly admire his form, his arms on display, his long legs, his ringed fingers as they gather his hair to tie in a knot. He turns around before leaving, giving you one last finger-wiggle wave and a bounce of his eyebrows.

He looks sinfully good. You hope you look casual. Innocently awaiting a quiet evening.

Fifteen minutes later you are sitting in front of the full-length bedroom mirror, admiring yourself in a white satin babydoll. Flaws like frizzy curls or unflattering shapes seem insignificant in the soft lighting and lingerie. Your curls seem curlier, your face lovelier, your body more tempting than ever.

Though the idea of pursuing a real fling is mortifying, you lament the lack of company in an abstract way. You feel pretty and ready and wound up. When such a fancy strikes, the best form of satisfaction is found in self-appreciation.

The taboo of filming yourself always triples your arousal. Even if there is no real audience, you can’t help but feel regarded.

Eyes closed, phone camera filming, you imagine a certain pair of dark eyes on you. You make the vaguest attempt to think of something else, peripherally aware that you shouldn’t fantasize about your best friend like this, but the attempt is useless. It will always be Hyunjin. Hyunjin with his fiery red hair, his smirks, his expressive brows and dark eyes. Hyunjin’s hands, his fluid hips, his athleticism. Hyunjin in black and leather, so contrary to your modest simplicity. Hyunjin sweaty and raw and determined, pinning you under him.

Hyunjin, the person you know and like and love more than anything.

You lift the babydoll and twist, filming yourself through the mirror, showing where a thick toy disappears inside of you. You rock a little, so wet you can hear it, every nerve tingling as you become someone else in your reflection. With the apartment to yourself, you don’t restrain any noises, especially when you sit back and fuck yourself with the toy. You stop filming because you need that hand to finish, but you are so close that it only takes a few touches to climax.

You slump back, satisfied for a while, then a little embarrassed. You have a quick shower then climb into bed where you can’t help but watch your video. You imagine a particular someone else watching it and it winds you up all over again. You are still wet and sensitive, your fingers slipping smoothly into your shorts. Your put the phone down and think of Hyunjin’s long fingers, his breath on your neck and his lips grazing your skin as he works his lovely hand inside you.

When you are finished, truly finished, you feel momentarily miserable in your loneliness. You try to imagine a version of yourself that went with Hyunjin to the bar, but even that fantasy only gets you so far. Nothing would have happened. Nothing has ever happened.

Hyunjin interrupts your wallowing stream of self-pity. He texts you a rather exasperated-looking selfie, captioning it with, I miss you, I’d rather be at home.

It makes you smile. It is probably foolish, but suppressing it is useless so you surrender to the warm glow in your chest.

You text back a heart. He replies, you never told me what you were reading. He must be truly bored if he is texting about your books, but you dutifully reply like there is nothing unusual about the question. He sends back a smiling emoji and a string of hearts.

You fall asleep after that. You wake in the morning to a slew of missed text messages, Hyunjin insisting that he is having the worst night of his life because you didn’t come with him. This is nonsense, of course, but he attacks you with an arsenal of teary-eyed emojis so you send an obligatory heart his way. You are too sleepy to formulate a rejoinder, much less type one, so it will have to suffice.

You click through your phone to wake up, still foggy after exhausting all notifications. You open your photo album and find your video from last night. You click on it just as a message alert swings down. You instinctively swipe it away, but your clumsy finger opens the messenger. You click around a little haphazardly, finger flying everywhere.

After a bit of sleepy swiping, you close everything then check the message. The text you just swiped was from Hyunjin, some goofy good morning remark with a squinty-eyed selfie under it. Hyunjin does his make-up so severely these days so you like his softer, bare-faced selfies, especially because you know he sends them to no one else. He will post elaborate photos all over his social media, but the simple stuff is for you.

But you have no time to enjoy the selfie, because you are distracted by your own unwitting reply.

Oh no.

You snap up so quickly that it nearly causes whiplash. You are wide awake now, staring at the paused video of you in a white satin babydoll.

You slap a hand over your mouth. For a long moment, all you can do is stare. Your head feels fuzzy, a radiating aura of fantastical insanity clouding your periphery. Then you realize it is actually just your hair, because you fell asleep so suddenly and didn’t put on your bonnet.

You look in the mirror. You look like someone electrocuted you. Fitting, because that’s what you feel like.

Your phone buzzes. In your silent but sublime mania, you dropped your phone facedown on the blanket. You are tempted to hurl the demonic device across the room but that will solve nothing.

You pick up the phone. This is probably what execution feels like.

Hyunjin, perpetually artistic in every capacity, even the literary, summarizes the exchange with one poetic text:

You fling yourself facedown on the bed and kick your legs like a petulant child. The sky does not open, you are not struck by lightning, and the earth does not gobble you up, so you roll over and shakily type a reply.

That was an accident, you write. Surprisingly, once you start typing, it is hard to stop. You continue:

Oh my good gracious, Hyunjin.

Hyunjin, I am so sorry. I cannot apologize to you enough.

I assure you that was a complete accident.

I would never accost you so unsuspectingly with unprovoked licentious content.

An ellipses appears in the corner, Hyunjin typing a reply. It feels like your stomach has folded in on itself. You lay there with your hand cupped over it, willing yourself to explode. But no, it would be very rude to explode in Hyunjin’s spare bedroom. Bad enough you have attacked him with your inappropriate spank fodder, it would be uncouth to make him clean your spattered guts off the wall.

Hyunjin finally replies, that makes sense… you aren’t the unprovoked licentious content type usually…

I assure you I am not, you reply. I keep these videos to myself. I would never intentionally spring them on you.

There’s more than one?? he replies, and you are mortified all over again. Maybe you should just explode after all.

I assure you I will keep those where they are, you reply. I cannot apologize enough. If you want me to leave, I will pack my things immediately. You are not one for extreme emotion, but you feel an unfamiliar stabbing in your eyes. You realize with horror that it is the threat of tears as you imagine Hyunjin banishing you from his life forever. Other people come and go but there is only one Hyunjin. He is irreplaceable in your esteem, even if he dresses like a goth Las Vegas showgirl.

His replies come flying in, one after the other:

Whoa whoa

it’s okay

calm down

pretty girl hey hey hey

I don’t want you going anywhere

You take a breath and calm yourself. You do Hyunjin a great disservice by thinking he would destroy your friendship over an accident. You blame your embarrassment for your poor rationality.

I should be apologizing to you, he says. He continues swiftly:

I kinda clicked on it…?

I didn’t know what it was. But I stopped once I did

I feel really bad

See baby now we’re both embarrassed idiots <3

You can’t help but laugh, just a little, the entire mishap suddenly comically preposterous. You smile fondly at your phone. The unexpected address of baby gives you a heart flutter, but then the rest of it makes you pause. A different embarrassment creeps into the corner of your brain, something gross and mean that interprets his words ungenerously. Stopping would be the gentlemanly thing to do, so you should commend his restraint. Still, some half-insane part of you is offended that the only emotion it invoked in him was “bad”.

It made him feel bad. Goodness. Talk about an ego blow.

The least you can do is soothe his conscience. You have already put your foot in your mouth, not to mention toys in unspeakable places, so you figure another penetrative misstep cannot hurt the situation. You write, I don’t mind you watching it. I just feel horrific for sending it in the first place. I really am sorry.

The ellipses appears. Then disappears. Then appears. Then disappears. Then appears. Then disappears.

You start to wonder if you should check on him. He is just one room over, after all. But you would rather explode once and for all than face him right now.

The buzzer goes off in the main room, signalling a visitor outside. Hyunjin finally texts, one sec. Then you hear him clamouring around in the next room. Hyunjin is very graceful when he deigns to apply himself but other times he has the equilibrium of an overgrown gazelle. All those limbs clatter around his bedroom and you think he knocks a lamp over.

It sounds like the visitor is just a package delivery. You leave him to his devices. In the face of chaos, routine is a reliable companion. You get up to dress yourself for the day. Your hair is trying to force its way into a new dimension so it should take a while to fix.

Everything will be fine.

Everything is fine until it is not. Well, Hyunjin’s complexion is red as his hair when you meet face-to-face, but he recovers with an expected degree of poise and equanimity. Despite your own internal chaos, you feign a similar indifference.

Verisimilitude, you tell yourself. Pretend everything is fine and everything will be fine.

You think there might be an undercurrent of awkwardness to your interactions, but your social ineptitude makes it difficult to discern. Your usual frankness fails as deliberately enquiring after Hyunjin’s opinion would consequently highlight the very issue you are striving to ignore. Verisimilitude means nothing if you look him in the eye and ask if your pussy has made the friendship awkward.

After a few days of polite camaraderie, you opt to solve your problems by running away. You inform Hyunjin you will be occupied with a research project and thus mostly absent for the duration of its completion. By the time you emerge from the depths of the university library, hopefully this entire embarrassing situation will be forgotten.

You throw yourself into your academic distraction. A truly comprehensive research project encompasses obstacles, minute quandaries you inevitably resolve, but this time it feels like there are no answers to be found. No resolutions, no conclusions.

Your anxiety is ultimately exacerbated. Even your dreams suffer. You wake multiple nights in a row from nightmares caused by stress. Your usual pragmatic thoughtfulness abandons you in the dark, every shadow just another terror waiting to unleash itself.

You wake from yet another nightmare. Your heart is palpitating and you are too hot under your covers. You kick to freedom and swing out of bed, whipping your silk bonnet onto the floor in a rare display of aggression. You are frustrated with your seemingly inescapable burdens. You want to pick up your phone and text Hyunjin despite the late hour, but that is the one thing you vehemently cannot do right now.

You sigh and leave bed. It is the middle of the night so you cannot start the day, but maybe a glass of water will refresh you.

It seems your friend had the same idea. Hyunjin is puttering around the kitchen when you stumble into the soft golden lamplight.

“Hey,” he says, not unfriendly but maybe a little uncertain.

“Hello,” you duly reply.

You are definitely awake now. Hyunjin is standing there wearing a pair of black boxers and a t-shirt. His red hair is loose around his bare face, unkempt but somehow still charming. He is so effortlessly beautiful. You feel like a mongrel in your baggy shirt and panties, your hair down like a messy lion mane.

You try not to stare at him, meeting his gaze politely only to find him blinking quite wildly, a stuttering breath spilling over his full lips. He clamps his mouth shut and returns your stare, smiling a thin smile that does not reach his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

It is a thoughtless query, no doubt. The sort of inane question one poses because decorum dictates it is appropriate chatter. Are you okay. Yes, how are you.

But you are looking at the beautiful and completely unattainable man you are so irrevocably in love with, and you feel horrible and disgusting, and you sent an embarrassing video that somehow humiliated him even more than you, and even your reliable books and academic joys are lacking these days.

You can count on one hand the number of times you have cried over the years. It is not something that comes easily to you. You are not made of stone, despite the occasional lambaste at your expense, but your emotions seldom manifest according to the unspoken rules of human conduct. But right now your eyes strain and your throat feels rough. You sniff and shake your head.

“No,” you say. “I’m not okay.”

A single tear falls. From you, that is practically a waterfall.

Hyunjin snaps out of whatever trance had him so enthralled. You cannot see him clearly through your watery eyes, but you feel his hands as they wrap around your arms. Hyunjin is an artist, those long fingers deft and nimble and steady. You shiver when he brushes your hair off your neck, when he cups your face in his hand and strokes your cheek tenderly.

“Hey, hey, pretty girl,” he says. “What’s this? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say automatically. You hate being a burden. Feelings belong in bottles, not streaming down faces in salty rivulets in the middle of the night when everyone is in their underwear.

But it is too late to spare your dignity. Hyunjin is wiping away your tears and looking at you with abject concern, his expressive dark brows furrowed and his eyes so intensely locked on yours. You heave a sigh.

“A lot of things,” you admit. “I’m sorry, Hyunjin. It’s just stress. My research. You know how it is.”

He does not look satisfied, all that concern still scrawled across his face. He swipes his thumb across your cheek again. Then he is pulling you towards his chest, arms open for an embrace that makes no demands but simply offers. You are usually stiff and awkward when people hug you, but Hyunjin is not just people. You fall into his arms and all but collapse there.

Your next sigh is filled with relief, your head on his shoulder and your hands curled up on his chest. He runs his palm down your hair, soothingly, his other arm secure around you.

You do not know how long you stand there. Long enough he stops catching his pinky on errant curls. Soon he is smoothly running his fingers down your hair, a gentle rhythm that lulls you to drowsiness even while standing on your feet.

“Come on,” Hyunjin says when he sees your drooping eyelids.

You blink to attention, looking at him questioningly. He gives you a quick smile then takes your hand. To your surprise, he leads you to his bedroom. The lights are off but the blinds are open and an ocean of blue moonlight floods the room. It is bright enough you can make your way around his bed without stubbing any toes.

While he folds back the bedcovers, you stop at his desk, brow crinkling at the scraps littering his work space. His canvas depicts something floral, half-painted and oversaturated but clearly a bundle of flowers. The rough sketches scribbled in the margins of his drafts do not depict flowers. They are little portraits, some doodled distractedly with wiggly lines, and others more precisely drawn, painstakingly, almost lovingly.

That’s me, you think, looking at the woman who overwhelms his art. It must be. The unmistakable cascade of curls makes it irrefutable. But the likeness is far too flattering to bear your full resemblance. This girl is extremely pretty, even if she does have your quirky, lopsided smile. Either Hyunjin has met your better looking doppelganger, or… this is simply how he sees you.

“This is your room,” you say instead of that drawing is me. It would be embarrassing if he denied it. It would be even more embarrassing if he confirmed it.

“Ha-ha, yes,” Hyunjin says, none-the-wiser. He is arranging pillows for you. By the time he looks your way, you are facing the bed. He beckons you over. “Come on,” he says. “Like the old days. It’ll make everything better. I promise.”

Your heart is working overtime in its rushing and pounding. You shuffle to the bed, smiling your quirky smile then feeling even more feverish, thinking about him having your smile memorized. Oh dear, why is that so deeply embarrassing? It should be a compliment. Maybe it is because no one else ever looks at you that closely, at least not with such affection.

You are not good with attention. You were bullied for your peculiarities quite badly in childhood. Invisibility became something you sought, because the alternative was always much worse. Attention meant derision. If someone was paying attention to your half-smiles or awkward reactions, it was for the express purpose of mocking them.

When you were ten years old, Hyunjin and his family moved in next door. Those ramshackle houses, long weathered and much loved, leaned towards each other as if magnetized. At the closet joining, the sill of your bedroom window touched his.

An elderly widow previous owned his house. She had a puppy who would scamper up to that window. You were quite devastated to learn a boy would be replacing the dog. Boys and dogs were both slobbery creatures, but at least puppies could fetch.

You were resolved to ignore your new neighbours. You spared a fleeting glance at the moving van then occupied yourself with a book.

A few hours later, your peace was forever disturbed. A toy car flew in your window and landed at your feet. You popped your curly head over the sill to face a dark-haired, dimple-cheeked boy.

“Meet me downstairs,” he said. He did not wait for an answer, dashing away before you could even blink at him.

You picked up the toy car and marched downstairs, determined to return it and explain to this boy, in no uncertain terms, that he was not allowed to throw things in your window, that he could have hit your head or one of your dolls, and unless he was prepared to offer financial compensation he should keep his cars to himself.

The second your feet touched the lawn, he was there. He grabbed your hand and dragged you off, already prattling about where he came from and where he was starting school and his favourite food and – everything. You did not speak for a whole ten minutes.

“My name is Hyunjin,” he finally said, after regaling you with the detailed events of his decade-long life. “What’s yours?”

You told him. You also returned his toy car but you could no longer remember the script for your lecture. He smiled at you, took your hand, and raced off again, towing you behind him.

Hyunjin was very loved, even as a child. It never occurred to him that someone might not like him. He made friends so effortlessly. His confidence was easy, his gravitas electrifying even at that age.

His congeniality was infectious and you found yourself reciprocating his enthusiasm. He was a natural showman and a creative visionary even at that age, coming up with detailed games of pretend with very involved storylines. You ran amok in your yards, dressed in your costumes, and at night you giggled at your windows, close enough that if you stretched out every finger you could clasp hands.

Climbing across that meager gap was an obvious inevitability. When you were teenagers, your parents expressly forbade spending the night unsupervised. The boy-girl dynamic concerned them despite your ardent protestations that it was not like that. It just meant you got good at sneaking around.

You sit on his bed now, remembering the many nights you curled up together just like this. You would talk about utter nonsense and you would talk about your deepest thoughts, at least until the sound of your father’s footsteps sent Hyunjin hurtling back towards the window.

There are no interruptions now. You lay down beside him. You squeak when he tugs you across the bed, pulling you closer to him. You find yourself clinging to him, like you are suspended in that blue ocean of moonlight and he is your only life preserver. He does not seem to mind, wrapping his arm around you, fingers tracing circles down your spine.

“Your research will be fine,” he says. “I wish I could help with those things, but I’m not smart like you are. You’ll figure it out, okay, baby?”

You hope he does not notice how the pet name makes you shiver. It really is quite unfair. How is a person meant to maintain verisimilitude if Hwang Hyunjin is calling them baby so nonchalantly?

The flattery brings discomfort so you deflect. “I’m not that smart,” you say. “I’m just pathetic enough to waste my life in a stack of books.”

You concede the self-deprecation is fishing for reassurance. You burrow yourself deeper at his side.

“Hey,” he says sharply, tugging on a lock of hair so you look up at him. He tsks and shakes his head, wisps of red hair appearing dark in the moonlight and falling into his face as he gazes at you. “Don’t talk about my girl like that,” he says with another playful tug. “You know what happens when people do that.”

You find yourself smiling despite yourself. Because, yes, Hyunjin has often defended you. One time, when you were about fifteen, you were at his house with him and his school friends. You were all in the yard and you excused yourself to wash your hands. You returned just in time to see Hyunjin backhand one of the boys. The boy stumbled then swung back. Soon everyone was trying to pull the pair of them apart while they bit and kicked and swung at each other.

When everyone went home, you and Hyunjin sat on his bed. You were cleaning a nasty cut on his cheek, where the other boy’s ring broke skin.

“Stop that now,” you said, because he was dramatically hissing and cringing while you rubbed ointment in his wound. “You brought this on yourself,” you scolded him. “I hope you learned your lesson. There is absolutely no argument worth escalating to that degree of violence, you understand?”

“There is,” he said, pouting.

“No.” You pinched his arm and he yelped. “There isn’t.”

“This time there was,” he said. Your mouth opened with a ready retort, but he interrupted, “It was you.”

There was a moment of silence, your hand still on his cheek. He was pouting into the distance and avoiding your eyes.

“What was me?” you asked after a beat.

“He called you strange,” Hyunjin said. “And other things. I told him to stop and he didn’t. So I made him stop.”

It honestly never occurred to you that someone might stand up for you. You hardly even defended yourself, long since resigned to the reality that some people were just not nice. You were stunned into silence at your friend’s confession. Only when he looked at you, a tentative sideways glance, did you clear your throat and nod.

“Well,” you said. “I am strange. If you’re going to get into a fight, then next time make it about something worthwhile.”

He smiled. You smiled back.

You are quite certain you fell in love that day. Curling up in his arms felt different after that. You felt flustered and feverish, though you hid it very well. You could not bear the thought of losing his friendship and, besides, it was such a cliché. You at your nicest still looked like the before shot of every romance movie makeover and he got stopped by model scouts while lounging in his sweatpants. Cliché indeed. That story never ended well. You could not abide by it. It was better to repress and deny those feelings.

You are laying on his chest now, listening to his heartbeat, yours skipping erratically in your chest. You think your affection has only grown more over the years, despite your effort to quell the brunt of it. Those efforts seem ridiculous in the calming midnight blue, this comfortable little haven with no reality beyond the perimeter of the bed. Your thigh drifts over his naturally, your bodies angled to each other. He continues stroking your back.

“Please don’t say those things again,” he says, his voice gentler in the calming quiet.

“Sorry,” you grumble.

“So many people admire you,” he continues. “I… I do. I know I’m a dumbass and my opinion isn’t worth much… but I think you’re the best. You know that, right?”

“Yes,” you say in a weak voice, feeling watery again. You sniff. “And you’re not a dumbass. Your opinion means a lot.”

His hand slides up and dives under all that hair, then he cups the nape of your neck. You hide your face in his shoulder when he pulls you even closer. Your palm is over his heart. You feel the racing thrum.

“Were you having nightmares?” he asks, because he knows you too well.

“Yes,” you admit. “The usual stress dreams.”

“Poor baby,” he says, massaging your neck. “I wish there was something I could do.”

Keep touching me like that, you almost say, your frankness compelling you to blurt that vulnerable truth. That his touch feels so good it makes you forget all your insecurities and grievances. You will think clearly when he lets go, but right now his deft massage loosens the tension in your neck and shoulders. You feel yourself go lax against him, limbs like jelly, and warmth spreading from somewhere low and deep within you.

Your hand leaves his chest. Dreamy and absent-mindedly, you reach to touch him like he is touching you.

All you do is tuck some hair behind his ear, then trail your fingers ever so lightly down the side of his neck. It is barely a caress.

Despite the lightness of the touch, you feel his reaction. Quick and unquestionable, his breath catches like he is surprised and his whole body jerks toward you. Your leg is still thrown over his middle. You can feel how fast he gets hard.

Men just do that, you think, even while remembering your ex-boyfriend did not react that way, not that fast, and not to that kind of touch. You try to reason with yourself regardless, coming up with a million biological reasons why your best friend is getting turned on. It has absolutely nothing to do with you wrapping around him in bed wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties and tickling sensitive places on his neck.

No. It must be something else.

Feeling awkward, you lift your head to deflect. You force a smile and a weak laugh.

“You cannot judge me in the morning,” you say. “I am going to look awful. My hair is going to be standing up in ten different directions. You must promise me right now you will be gentlemanly and not deride me for the untameable monstrosity that latches onto my head overnight. Do you promise?”

He replies in a most ungentlemanly manner.

He kisses you.

His hand still cups your nape. He pulls you close. His lips are so full and his mouth so warm. You must seem limp in comparison, so shocked that you just lay there, mouth and eyes wide open. It is considerably more difficult to convince yourself this is not what it seems, that it has nothing to do with you. Unless he is in immediate need of CPR. Perhaps he is seeking resuscitation because he is feeling lightheaded.

That is ridiculous. It is you who is light-headed, eyes closing as you succumb to the dizzying dark. He takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth against yours.

For all that his kiss is very thorough, it is not overly demanding. He coaxes rather than takes, all slow seduction as his lips take yours, as he sucks your bottom lip then licks at your open mouth. He swallows down your gasp.

It feels like his hands are everywhere. In your hair one moment then around your waist the next. You think you are floating but then you are being pressed into the pillows. When you open your eyes, he is half on top of you, propping himself up on one arm while his other hand tilts your face up.

A stuttering thought dances on your lips, your eyes wide and breath short. Is this real? This cannot be real. Can it?

That bemused thought, tangled in your breath, dissolves into a surprised whine – a pretty, mewling sound that you did not know was inside you. You have never made that noise, not once, not even alone.

Hyunjin draws it out of you, gracefully manoeuvring himself, his thigh pressed between yours. He nudges your legs apart, somehow spreads your thighs with a gentle push of his hips. Your shirt rides up over your belly and you feel so hot and flushed, realizing you are barely clothed. Somehow, before now, it did not truly occur to you. It was a mere observation as you fumbled through your various anxieties.

Now it is all you can think about it, how vulnerable you are, how little there is between you. You gather fistfuls of his t-shirt when he presses against you, when he keeps your thighs open with his own and brings your bodies together. You make a surprised sound, embarrassed because you are so wet and so hot where he is so hard and touching you. A million nerves come to life under his weight, sending sparks shooting to every extremity. It is a lot. It is so much. Too much?

“Hyunjin,” you rasp, clutching his shirt so tightly that your hands are shaking. “Wait.”

He stops immediately, holding himself above you.

He is out of breath, his chest moving as quickly as yours. His hair is as dishevelled for once, though it makes him look ruggedly sexy. There is already a sheen of perspiration on his hairline. His heart is thundering where you touch his chest.

“Okay?” he asks, breathlessly.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths before your voice is under control. “I just… overwhelmed… I think…”

It all happened so fast. One moment you were thinking about how he would never want you that way, and then suddenly he was kissing you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

Hyunjin is something of a rakish libertine, but his partners are always so enthusiastic and friendly, all his pursuits fully consensual even in their brevity. He would never use and discard someone. He would certainly never use you. But your heart is brimming with emotions and this is causing them to bubble and boil over. You cannot, under any circumstances, be physical with him and just move on. You do not work like that.

You have written papers, won awards for your ability to string sentences together. You cannot find two words to put together right now. Nothing to explain why you have to stop, how you do not want to stop, how desperately you love him, why you want him. Why is it so hard to say? Is it hard for everyone or is this another peculiarity of yours? It is always so hard to tell.

You close your eyes and catch your breath. He gives you space, laying down beside you while catching his own breath. He runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back.

You look at each other at the same time.

“I still want to sleep here,” you say. You hope the words are enough. You are not upset. You still want his company.

He nods. “Of course,” he says, his voice rough in a way you have never heard before. It sends an electric shock through your body, igniting between your legs. You push your shirt down when his gaze wanders there and he swallows, hard. He lays flat on his back and closes his eyes, his lips moving like he is murmuring to himself. You think he might be counting.

You lay back as well, looking at his handsome profile then up at the ceiling. You are not sure that counting will slow the race of your heart or the muddled mess of your mind. You try anyway, backwards from one-hundred.

You are asleep before fifty.

You wake to a predictable mess of hair. You yawn and stretch and scratch your head.

Then you remember why your hair is a mess. Why your bonnet is on the floor in a different room. That you are in Hyunjin’s bed and last night—

You look at his side of the bed. The shape of his body indents the sheets and the space is still warm. He must have just left. Your heart is already pounding like it wants to leap out of your chest. It does not feel like the healthiest way to the start the day.

You are not sure if you are giddy or terrified. How do other people cope with the sheer inundation of sensation that is wrought by desire for another person? How are you expected to carry it inside of you, all day every day, with absolutely no reprieve? How on earth are you expected to walk into the next room and start a conversation with a man who had his tongue in your mouth last night, especially when that man holds a lifetime of friendship in his hands?

At least the video you sent was an honest accident. Verisimilitude will do you no good here. There will be no pretending it did not transpire.

You should have just exploded when you had the chance.

You slide out of bed and cross the room. You poke your head out the door. The bathroom door is closed and you can hear the shower running. You take the opportunity to scurry across the apartment, back to your temporary room where you close the door then slide down it.

You turn yourself into a boneless lump on the floor. Then you huff and stand.

Something will need to be done. Conversations will need to be had. That is simply the rub of it. If he clarifies it was all a physical reaction, you will politely inform him that such a dynamic will be impossible to pursue. If he claims it was because he likes you the way you like him –

It doesn’t matter. That will not happen. You convince yourself of this, running several scripts through your head as you get yourself dressed for the day. You have a conversation with your reflection in the mirror, making some very good points to the abstract Hyunjin of your imagination. He is very compliant. If only real people could stick to your pre-determined scripts the way their imaginary counterparts do.

You stand in front of the mirror, assessing your appearance one last time. Your hair is neat as possible, the more unruly ringlets pinned back. You are wearing a modest sweater and a long skirt. You slip into your shoes and finally leave your room. You hope Hyunjin is still home. You want to talk to him while the script is fresh in your mind and your appearance is composed.

But then you see Hyunjin, making his morning coffee, also dressed for the day. He is wearing all black, shirt and suit jacket and trousers and boots, with a sparkling slash of a silver necklace. His make-up is breath-taking, severe but beautiful. It leaves you slack-jawed. He looks sleek and sexy, but still this side of rebellious with his vibrant red hair and dark make-up.

You cannot help but stare, thoroughly looking him over before you blurt, “Wow. Why do you look so good today?”

A surprised little laugh bursts out of him, almost like a yelp

“I’m taking some photos today.” His gaze is very intense. Or maybe it is the make-up. It makes your heart palpitate regardless, dark eyes fixed so resolutely on you as he smiles and says, “Thank you. You look lovely, pretty girl.”

“Nonsense,” you say quickly. “I look no different than usual.”

“You always look lovely,” he says without any hesitation.

“Be quiet,” you reply. He is already preposterously off-script.

It makes him laugh again. He covers his mouth politely, shaking his head as he pours his coffee. He offers you some but you decline. You want to speak your piece and be done with this awkward situation once and for all.

Hyunjin takes a sip of his coffee, looking at you over the rim of the cup.

This should be easy. You have the words prepared; all you have to do is say them.

“I have to go,” you say instead, because your good sense flitters into oblivion and takes your words with it.

Hyunjin chokes on his coffee, sputtering while you dash to the door. Your purse is sitting on the shoe rack so you snatch it. Your heart is racing like a prey animal, your predator a red-headed pretty boy wiping coffee off his chin as he stumbles after you. He says your name but you ignore him, fumbling around for your keys.

“I’ll be back after dinner,” you say. “Lots of research. Reading. You know how it is. I might lose track of time. We’ll talk later, yes? Yes. Okay. Goodbye.”

He reaches you when you open the door. You can see he wants to talk. You know you should talk. No good ever comes from prolonging the inevitable. But you suddenly cannot face him.

You know you are being cowardly. You know it is unkind because he might want answers too. But you are not good and open like him. You are shut off and shut down and shutting doors.

You stand in the hallway, the closed door between you. Your heart is still pounding. You take a deep breath then turn to leave. You are halfway down the corridor when you realize you need your work bag. Your purse has basic necessities but no study tools.

You stomp your foot, frustrated with yourself and this stupid emotional tempest. If only you were as cold-hearted as people said. But you feel everything with so much burning intensity that you fear it will burn you down to cinders.

You pace in the hallway for a few minutes. It accomplishes nothing but stalling for time, because you cannot go anywhere without your bag. You don’t even have your parking pass or library card. With a resigned sigh, you glumly unlock the door and step back into the apartment.

Fate has opted to spare you a chagrined return. Hyunjin is in his bedroom and does not hear you come in.

You hurry to your room. If you grab your bag and bolt, he might not even notice you returned at all.

Unfortunately, you are a disaster.

You were so frustrated yesterday, overstimulated and erupting at the slightest provocation. Then your bag strap had the audacity to catch on the doorknob, sending papers flying. In mature retaliation, you dumped all the contents of your bag on the floor. It was a mildly satisfying expulsion of frustration at the time. Now you want to shriek because it will take a few good minutes to organize and pack everything again.

You lean your door closed, leaving it cracked just a sliver. You plan another mental script, despite what little good it did last time, explaining to imaginary Hyunjin that you have deadlines and, yes, it is inconvenient, and, oh, maybe we should order take-out for dinner, yes, because everything is normal between us and no one needs to grapple with the onward progression of time and the subsequent shifting relationship dynamics therein—

You hear a creak. You pause, kneeling by the door, holding a stack of papers. You peer through the sliver to see Hyunjin, sighing to himself as he ambles across the room and plops down on the couch. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, scrolling on his phone.

You find yourself once more arrested by the sight of him. He looks so beautiful but also starkly masculine, sophisticated but dangerous. A gentleman and a bad boy and every other dreamy amalgamation of boy crushes.

He tucks some hair behind his ear and you feel hot, remembering how you touched him just the same, remembering the reaction it garnered.

You fantasize about a braver version of yourself, someone brash and confident enough to approach him. He would look up at you with those smoky eyes, curious but wanting. You would touch him, that same simple touch, and he would rear up and kiss you with abandon once more. You would not even need a conversation because action would speak for itself.

Instead you are peering through cracks in doors, separated thanks to your own cowardice.

He touches his fingers to his chin. Whatever is on his phone is causing a great deal of deliberation. He turns off his screen and lays his phone facedown. His contemplation looks almost painful.

You want to comfort him because he is evidently perturbed by something. But the longer you wait, the more awkward it will be to reveal yourself.

He heaves a great sigh, doubling over, his face in his hands. He shakes his head. He looks truly forlorn, so you finally lay the papers down and try to think of something to say. You watch as he leans back, as he picks up his phone again. He stares down at the screen.

You are still psyching yourself up, preparing yet another useless script.

Then he turns up the volume.

You have rewatched the video you sent him more than once, assessing the details to torture yourself. Maybe, also, secretly, sometimes… imagining him watching it. Then shaking your head and turning it off, because he said himself it made him feel bad and nothing else. So that was impossible.

So why is he watching it now?

Because he is. Unmistakably. You know the sound of your own voice. You know the sounds in that video. You sit there, wide-eyed, staring at him as he stares at you – the you in the video, the you in white satin, the you moaning and touching yourself, fucking yourself while you thought of him.

He puts the phone on his knee, not moving his eyes from the screen as he peels off his jacket and chucks it aside. You can only blink, stupefied. This does not feel real, just like that kiss. Except that kiss was real, this is real, and you are watching Hyunjin as he slouches back and parts his knees and cups his hand between his legs. He touches himself with those long fingers, fingers you imagined while touching yourself in the very video that has him captivated.

He picks up the phone to rewind, all while undoing his pants then reaching inside.

You realize he is about to get his dick out, right here, right in front of you, completely unwittingly, and that snaps you back to reality. Far too quickly, because you make a surprised noise.

He freezes and looks up, first to the front door, then to your bedroom door. You make eye contact very briefly.

Then you slam the door shut.

You do the only logical thing.

You do not go to the library. Hyunjin leaves for his photography session and you pace your bedroom about a dozen times, then you sit down and write. You make a chronological notation of every emotional turning point in your friendship. You chart the data and sketch a few rough diagrams. You arrange all the appropriate paperwork and laminate a few important spreadsheets. Then you clip them all in a binder and pick up your phone and think of how to succinctly summarize three hours worth of deliberation.

The facts fall thusly:

You accidentally sent your best friend a sexually explicit video of yourself.

You granted him permission to watch it.

He watched it.

You caught him in a compromising position with it.

You made a spreadsheet.

Based on your calculations, the probability of Hyunjin returning your feelings seems fairly substantial. But you are not sure how to articulate any verdict based on the facts presented. Your spreadsheets contain data, not a resolution.

Hyunjin is a romantic and soulful creature. You wooed your last boyfriend with a portfolio but he was nothing like Hyunjin. That courtship was an amicable affair and little more. The break-up was cordial and tearless. You shook hands then walked in opposite directions.

A memory comes to mind.

You and Hyunjin. Starting university together. Back when the world first offered itself to your young adult selves.

One day he skipped class and you went to check on him, only to find him curled up in bed in his baggiest sweatshirt, sniffling away. He was blonde then, a burst of starlight in every room he occupied. It was so strange and so wrong seeing him so grey and dejected.

He laid his head in your lap and let you pet his hair. It took some cajoling to get the story out of him. His secondary major was dance studies and he spent months preparing a showcase. Apparently his instructor did not offer him the same thorough critiques he gave other students. You tried to say that was a good thing, but he insisted it was not.

“He doesn’t think I’m worth improving,” he said. “He told me I’ll get by because of my looks. That’s the only thing I have. No one really likes me or thinks I’m worth anything.”

“I know it’s hard because you are a natural drama queen, but don’t be dramatic, Hyunjin,” you said. “Plenty of people like you just fine. They adore you, in fact. And you are very talented. It is not your fault if this one person cannot see past appearances.”

“It’s not just one person,” he said. He sat up to wipe his tears.

You sat awkwardly beside him, hands twitching with the desire to do something helpful but at a complete loss. You never intentionally sought comfort, keeping your feelings to yourself, so you were bad at giving it.

You put a hand on his shaking shoulder. “Hyunjin,” you said, imploringly.

“No,” he said, miserable, his face all scrunched up. “Everyone leaves me when I’m not what they want, and I’m never what they want, because I’m just a worthless face and nothing else.”

It was very strange to hear him express such a sentiment. Hyunjin was always surrounded by doting crowds. But you supposed he had his share of heartbreak as a consequence of knowing so many people. He gave away his heart so easily and it was sometimes returned in pieces. It did not stop him from trying again, which you always commended. You wished you knew how to express that.

“We’re friends, are we not?” you finally asked. “I care for you very dearly.”

“You do?” he asked. Even his voice sounded wet. You grabbed a tissue and shoved it at him.

“Of course I do,” you said. “Though statistically no one can be truly unique in every capacity, and friendships and relationships are often founded by chance and choice, I nonetheless consider your amalgamation of parts to be quite magnificent, and I find your character irreplaceable. You are, indeed, very handsome, but also witty and playful, dramatic to your detriment but nonetheless entertaining, creative and soulful, and you have a defensive streak and natural bite, but a fragile heart beneath that, and I rather admire that. I am afraid I will like you forever, regardless of our proximity or friendship status. Such is the nature of affection. Why are you still crying?”

You were immensely confused when your consolation generated more tears, but you accepted your best friend was an emotional riddle.

Hyunjin has many layers. You have always known this. You told him as much. You have done him a terrible disservice by assuming the worst, that he would be shallow in regards to you. He has always exhibited a fondness for your own depths.

It is more difficult to accept him finding your surface just as attractive. It seems conclusive, though. There is no shortage of sexual content in the world. He could have watched anything. So it is safe to say, touching his dick while watching you fuck yourself might have been a demonstration of a certain level of attraction. Possibly.

You sit on your bed, staring at your phone. You jump when it buzzes with a text alert. You open it, your heart skipping beats when you see it is from Hyunjin.

I’m sorry for this morning, he writes.

I can stay at Felix’s place until you’re comfortable okay.. Please just tell me

i deleted the video now. and the message where you sent it. I should have done that right away

I know you said you didn’t mind but still. I should have just

just done it all differently

The messages come flying in one right after the other. You imagine him a mirror to you, sitting somewhere, slouched over his phone. Hair dishevelled from jamming his fingers through it. A shaky breath on his lips.

You look up, picturing him across from you. You want to reach across the space between you, stretch out every finger, and clasp his hand. You never want to let go.

Your phone buzzes again. You read his words and your heart floods with more than desire. Rich with sentiment, it leaves you more breathless than a kiss.

you mean everything to me.

He is still typing. The ellipses in the corner flashes. You suspect he will send you an endless stream of consciousness if you do not reply soon.

You look at your binder of data, then you look at your phone, then you look at your binder, then you look at your phone. You take a breath. The decent and logical approach would be patience. To study everything you have compiled. To see if he concurs. To communicate the best way to move forward, what that looks like, and how it should happen.

You are not someone who intentionally takes risks. You are not wild and spontaneous. You are not brash or confident. You are not sexy.

Verisimilitude, you remember. Act like it is true, maybe it will be.

You type.

Hello, Hyunjin.

His ellipses disappears.

It is true. I sent that video by accident. But I did grant you permission to watch it.

You open your photo album. There is the video, so inconspicuous, one of a dozen. It is not your most extravagant nor the longest. You were too eager in the moment to prolong anything. You could film it better if you did it again. But it is nonetheless the video that started this whole thing.

Even though you were not trying, the video turned him on. You are hot all over, remembering how he warred with himself before submitting. You remember the amorous look on his face, how desperately he watched you while touching himself. He could not rip his gaze away for even a moment.

You click on the video. You send it with your next message.

This is for you.

You can keep it.

Then you take a chance and write, I want you to keep it.

There is a long moment with no reply. Or maybe it feels longer because you are holding your breath. You exhale with a whoosh and a breathless laugh when he finally replies.

fuck.

are you trying to kill me

You smile, though even that gets you hot, remembering your portrait doodled in the margins of his art. A lightness fills your heart, recalling that, picturing him now. You can imagine his wide, startled eyes, expressive dark brows lifting as he stares at his phone.

No, you write. You are not sure how to respond to a flirtatious overture so you opt for simplicity. You are not one to colour your statements with unnecessary artifice so you state your intentions without colourful obfuscations. To clarify, you write, I fully consent to you masturbating to it. It is only fair. I was thinking of you while I made it.

You wonder if he is still at the photography studio. You can picture him sitting behind the camera, waiting for the next set, his make-up touched up, his black ensemble pristine, and his face humorously contorted.

so you are trying to kill me, he writes.

and i thought you weren’t the unprovoked licentious content type....

You are fairly certain he is playing with you, but texts are even harder to construe than verbal tones. You tilt your head, staring at the message, imagining his voice. The little ellipses flashes in the corner, then you smile when his next message comes through.

I’m just teasing you baby.

He knows you so well. Years of friendship have fortified the affection between you. You were so foolish to ever think otherwise. Of course he can picture you like you can picture him. You feel as if he is holding you in those steady hands, comforting you with that loving touch as the tension leaves your body. You feel safest curled against him and you always have. The only difference now is he calls you baby and your heart does a flip.

I see, you write. Well.

Technically that was not wholly unprovoked. It was very much within the context of our discussion.

This one, however, is entirely unprovoked.

You send another video. This one you filmed a while ago, back in your own bedroom at your townhouse. You are wearing a sweater he bought you. The gift was touching because there was no occasion. He saw it and thought of you so he got it. And he knows your tastes so well, your fit and size and style. He knows you prefer a more modest ensemble in the world.

This video is not modest. You filmed the sweater from every angle then laid down, wearing nothing else. You held a vibrator between your legs and arched your back and filmed yourself, every whimper and sigh and breath. You stopped just before coming, dropping your phone to focus on your orgasm.

You send the video and wait. His ellipses appears and disappears then he finally writes:

fuck.

You flop back on the bed, biting your lip as his rather frantic messages fly in one after the other.

god. pretty girl. you know i'm obsessed with you right?

jesus we did all this backwards. i wanted to be cool when i told you but I’m a stupid mess.

fuck I’m about to have my photo taken

hiding in the bathroom because christ

what are you doing to me

where are you right now??

After all that, you simply answer, In bed. You realize it sounds suggestive only after the fact, but you do not retract it. Nerves gather inside you, blending into adrenaline and anticipation. You know him well but you are not sure what he will say now. This is new territory. It is exhilarating. You do not remember feeling this way with your ex. He was too much like you, so there was nothing to discover between you.

Hyunjin is so different but he fits with you like a puzzle piece, complimentary rather than contradictory. You feel sweltering hot, thinking he must reciprocate those feelings. Maybe he likes your hidden depths. Maybe he likes knowing it is all for him. He is romantic that way. So maybe he likes to see your articulate and intelligent self let go of inhibitions. Maybe you like it too, becoming a body and sharing it with him.

Show me, he writes, echoing that very sentiment.

Be polite, you reply, mostly to buy time while you temper your racing heart. It melts at his next words.

Please.

Show me you want me. want this. want us.

Pretty girl.

My girl.

Please.

Okay, you type. You are quivering but the sensation is not unpleasant. Last night was overwhelming, so much at once, but this you can do. This you want to do. There is a breath of distance, so it is a step rather than a leap. You are no stranger to aiming a camera at yourself.

Before you prepare, you take a breath and write, You show me too.

You get an idea. While he formulates his reply, you jump out of bed and hurry to the front room. He has an array of leather jackets hanging by the door, because of course he does. You rifle through them, looking for the one he wears the most. It smells like him, that rich cologne, a hint of his hair product. If your knees were not already knocking, it would send you swooning. You clutch it to your chest as you make your way back to your room.

You close the door, as if it matters, but this is between you and Hyunjin, the rest of the world insignificant.

You strip down to your underwear then don the jacket. You keep your hair pinned so you do not look like a mess, then you arrange yourself on the bed as neatly as you can. You try not to overthink, even though overthinking is your speciality. You pretend this is a video like any other.

Except the scent of his masculine cologne surrounds you. He is inside your mind, completely and irrevocably.

You open your phone to a new message, a video from him. The lighting is dark in the small studio bathroom, backlit in red. It makes it all the more erotic.

You have never unwittingly clenched. You did not even know you could be so aroused that your body would form a mind of its own. But you are, and it does, pussy very literally throbbing as you watch the video. His artist hand, long fingers curling around the hard curve of his fly. He lowers the zipper and you clench again, making that meek little whimper.

Apparently you like watching videos just as much as making them. You are a mess by the time he gets his dick out.

You turn up the volume to hear his breathing. You know he has to keep his voice down, but it makes his breathy little fuck all the hotter.

Oh Hyunjin, you write. Your vocabulary otherwise fails. There is no other word.

Yes please, he writes.

My pretty girl.

Say my name.

Your next sound is embarrassing and guttural. You are a little glad you were not filming yet.

You clear your throat and position yourself, holding the camera above you. You start recording. With your free hand, you touch the collar of the jacket. You rake your teeth over your bottom lip then lower the camera. The jacket falls open just enough to hint at every curve in contains. You skim down your body. You touch yourself and you are so wet and so ready that you cannot help but make another noise. Unlike him, you are free to be noisy, so you do not restrain yourself.

It feels so different, knowing someone will watch this. You have never been so wet in your life. You cannot even tease yourself, so desperate that you quickly push two fingers inside you. Oh, dear, god, you really sound filthy, ridiculously wet as you fuck yourself with jerky little thrusts.

“Hyunjin,” you murmur, the name that has often perched on your tongue while you do this. It feels so good to say it out loud.

You send him that much, continuing to stroke and fuck yourself while the video sends. You close your eyes and stimulate your clit, rubbing and circling, finding a rhythm. You need it. You need him.

Your phone buzzes and you turn your head. You open the message. You clamp your thighs around your hand, your pussy clenching around your fingers as you read his words.

God I wanted to film it but I just came all over myself

baby you are everything

I wish I was beside you I need to say so many things

god..

pretty girl if I ask so politely will you come for me? will you let me see your pretty face when you come? Please.

You do not type a reply because it is too difficult with one hand, and you will not stop touching yourself, not when you are so close.

It is just a few flicks of your thumb to open the camera again. You frame your face and hit record. You come only seconds later, releasing such a desperate cry as you unravel. It is so much yet not enough. You thoughtlessly shove your own fingers in your mouth, closing your eyes, imaging it is his hand, his wet fingers dragging over your tongue. You want to taste him. You want to choke on him. You just want to feel him so much that the rest of the whole world will fall away. You don’t need to be anyone else. You don’t want anyone else.

You say his name again. Your pussy clenches as if already trained to react to it. You stop filming and send it, breathing hard in the aftermath.

As your adrenaline dwindles, you feel a modicum of embarrassment, but no regrets. Your logical brain does make a grudging return, however. As much as you want him, you know if you rush into things that you will end up balking again. You need a proper conversation. You need spreadsheets. You need to do it his way and your way too.

But for now, you smile, giggling to yourself as you read his replies. Half of his texts are unintelligible gibberish, the other half completely and utterly worshipful.

Nonsense, you finally write.

I’ll come home right now and prove it to you, he says without hesitation.

Except by right now I mean in two hours, because I caught the train out here and it doesn’t leave until then.

Then you’re all mine.

You laugh in spite of yourself, curling up in his jacket. You take in a breath, the scent of him. You type.

I’ve been yours for a long time. I can wait two more hours.

Then… can we talk?

Yes, he answers quickly. Absolutely. I have so much I want to say to you.

Me too, Hyunjin.

He caught the bus to the train station but you offer to pick him up. He enthusiastically agrees, evidently eager to see you again. You find yourself laughing, such a light in your chest that it cannot help but spill out. You are somehow both anxious and excited, but so happy that you do not mind.

When the details are settled, you lower your phone and look at your binder.

You have two hours. That is enough time to laminate a few more spreadsheets.

You tell yourself you will be resilient. You are notoriously stringent and a self-identified no-nonsense curmudgeon at the best of times. Given you have expelled the brunt of your sexual frustration, you figure there will be no problem. You will meet Hyunjin at the train station, you will come home, you will share a meal and have a conversation, and everything will go smoothly from there.

Except Hyunjin changed clothes. It is not anything extravagant by any means. He is in black jeans and a red shirt, his black dress shirt shrugged overtop. The wind tousles his hair just so, and his make-up has been redone, a little less severe but still so sharp. It is more casual than you expected, and somehow that undoes your perseverance.

You are gawking at him, staring through the car window as he strides over. He gets into the passenger seat like nothing is remiss, tossing his bag into the back. He is wearing heavy boots that thunk when he sits. He closes the door and looks over at you with a smile.

“Hi, pretty girl,” he says.

He is so atrocious at keeping to your script. Imaginary Hyunjin is much more accommodating.

“Hello, Hyunjin,” you say.

You sit there for a long time. It is getting dark outside, which makes it easy to forget you are in a parking lot outside a train station.

Then he has the audacity to be sweet, at such odds to his daring appearance. He looks so rebellious and you look so meek. He is all vibrant colours and dark slashes, while you are in a blazer and a long brown skirt. Your shirt is buttoned all the way up to your chin and, despite your best efforts, your hair has come unpinned. The wind has never been your friend.

You are certain you make a funny sight, but he is not laughing at all. His gaze is so affectionate but so warm, burning you up. You gaze back at him, your heart already skipping beats. Then he reaches out and tucks a loose curl behind your ear. You remember him doing that at the art gallery. He was looking at you then like he is looking at you now. You realize you have been such a fool.

You lean in at the same time. This kiss does not even pretend at patience. It is a hungry collision, his hand in your hair and yours on his chest. You make a wanting noise when his fingers hook through the curls at your nape and he tugs just a little, just enough to move your head where he wants it so he can deepen the kiss. He makes a noise too, something low and needy. He licks into your mouth, far too hot and far too dirty for a parking lot kiss.

You remember yourself, vaguely. You break the kiss with a gasp. Your fingers curl on his chest and his grip tightens in your hair. Your foreheads touch. The only sound in the car is your mutual rough breathing.

“Right,” you say, your voice raspier than you expected. “Um. We should. Go.”

He nods. But then he proves he is as evil as he looks, because he tilts your head and exposes your throat. He leans in, presses his full lips on that soft vulnerable skin and kisses it so delicately that your whole body is wracked with a shiver. He exhales, warm breath fluttering over your pulse. Then he finally lets go and leans back.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go home.”

Home. You have a discussion on that very subject upon arrival.

Prior to departure, you arranged your papers on the kitchen table. You deposit your take-out boxes alongside it, then sit down to eat and discuss.

He furrows his brow as he holds up a spreadsheet.

“Is this laminated?” he asks. “You brought a laminator with you?”

“Of course I brought a laminator with me,” you say unflinchingly. “What kind of question is that?”

He cracks a smile and nods, then waves you on. He listens diligently to your proposed contingency. You prepared index cards so you would not be distracted and led astray. You are glad you did, because when he finishes eating he just stares at you, and he still looks hungry, but not for sustenance.

You clear your throat and try to disregard this, but it is difficult. You unbutton the top button of your shirt to breathe a little easier and he looks at you with more voracious intensity than a single button warrants. You might as well have stripped down naked.

You suppose you already have, halfway. You swallow hard.

“Look,” you say, lowering your index cards to speak frankly. “The bottom line is this. I desire you greatly. I believe there is some reciprocation in this regard. But we are living under a shared roof temporarily and I fear this may cause us to progress faster than I am ultimately comfortable. I would like some longevity in our blossoming dynamic. You are very important to me, Hyunjin. I want us to succeed. I would feel more comfortable if we waited to sleep together, at least until I am back in my townhouse. That means no sharing a bed too. When I am back home, we can properly date, and see how this grows between us. What are your thoughts?”

“When will your place be ready again?” he asks. He is sitting back in his seat, arms crossed, looking thoughtful. You appreciate he is not grabbing at you or immediately trying to convince you otherwise.

You knew he would not pressure you. Regardless, you cannot help the skip in your bloodstream, the natural nerves that surface when he looks at you. You have known him for years. You wonder if these sensations will ever diminish. Present research dictates no.

“The last estimation was six more weeks,” you say.

He smiles. It soothes your heart. You stare at his hand as it crosses the table, as he gently laces your fingers together and squeezes. You blink up at him.

“If you asked me to wait a year, I would,” he says. “If you told me there were things you never wanted, we would make it work. I’ve waited years for you, baby. Six weeks is nothing.”

Goodness gracious. Exactly how is a person meant to be strict and curmudgeonly with this man? He really is the universal exception to every rule. You have just outlined your rubric and you are already considering breaking it.

“Kisses are okay,” you say, hot under your skin. Writing your flirtations was easier than speaking them. Your tone is brusque because you are bad at this, but it just makes him smile. “Maybe other things when the circumstances arise. But we will wait for the rest.”

He lifts your hand to his mouth and places a soft kiss on your palm, holding your gaze all the while. You are quite certain your insides turn to complete mush.

It occurs to you in bed.

You have long since said good night and retired for the evening. You pick up your phone and sigh. You are already skirting the edge of your rules, fully aware you are about to poke a sleeping beast but unable to resist. The realization plagues you, the subsequent questions burning in your chest.

And you are wet. So, so wet, and so, so needy. Because Hyunjin walked you to your bedroom door like a gentleman. Then he kissed you like a scoundrel. He leaned you against the door, his hand planted beside your head and the other holding your face. He kissed you long and slow, like he wanted to draw it out, like he did not want to say good night. Your hands were clasped together because you did not trust yourself to touch him. If you did, you would have dragged him into the bedroom and regretted it later.

But in the moment, it felt so right. You are certain that no kiss, ever, since the dawn of time, had ever felt as good as that one. He took his time with each gentle press, each touch of his tongue, each shared breath. Your chests rose and fell in tandem, your legs turning to jelly where you stood. He fiddled with that one undone top button. You would not have resisted him tearing them all open.

He did not. He kissed you slowly. He kissed you sweetly. With one last peck, he whispered, “Good night, pretty girl. Sleep well.”

You could not find your voice. You made a weak gurgling noise and nodded frantically. He smiled. You rather suspect he knew his effect on you, the rapscallion.

Now you are in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about something he said at dinner. You debate texting him. It will open a floodgate. You lower your phone a few times, but ultimately determine you will not sleep until you have settled your mind.

Hyunjin, you write, if you liked me for years, that means you were already inclined towards affection when I accidentally sent that video. Correct?

Correct, he answers with a little emoji face, one with a quirked eyebrow. Why do you ask…?

I was just wondering…

If when I saw you was your first time watching it.

The ellipses is there for a while. Your heart is pounding in your chest. You are certain this man is going to send you into cardiac arrest one of these days. Then you will finally explode at the most inopportune moment.

You sink into the bedsheets, pressing your legs together when his reply comes through.

Honestly… I watched it more than once. I did stop when you first sent it. even though it got me hard in seconds. then you said i could watch it.. and i honestly thought i was still dreaming.

You cannot help but laugh a little. You turn on your side, smiling as he types some more. Then his message comes through and you swallow, flush with heat.

I tried to answer. I tried to flirt with you. I tried to be funny. It all sounded stupid. Then I got back in bed and tried to think of something to say… but god.

god..

Baby what was I supposed to do? if I resisted that they would have made me a saint.

You laugh again. You marvel at his ability to make you smile and get you hot at the same time.

Did you masturbate to it? you ask. It sounds too frank to be seductive but you are not sure how else to pose the query.

You really don’t pull your punches, he says. You think you can somehow hear a smile in his words.

yeah baby, he writes. I did. More than once.

I see, you reply. Okay, thank you, I was just wondering. Good night.

The ellipses flickers again. You release a torrent of giggles into the blankets when he sends you a very tortured looking emoji.

This is going to be a long six weeks.

He is not wrong. It is simultaneously the longest, most arduous six weeks of your life, but also the fastest, the most lively, and the most fulfilling.

You spend the first week stealing kisses. He is good to you, respecting your boundaries. He never asks to share a bed and he does not initiate anything beyond your established desires. He leaves space for you, his arms always open, but he does not force you.

This is sufficiently more seductive than if he started yanking on your clothes in the corridor.

You are watching a movie one night. He puts an arm across the back of the couch but makes no further demand. You settle under that arm, nestling closer at your own pace. You are not watching the film, all your focus on him. He has a foot propped on the coffee table, his arms spread across the couch, and he bops his head along to the music. Of course, he does that even when the music stops, so you think he not paying attention either.

Eventually, you succumb to the butterflies in your belly. They flutter free with an exhale. You touch his cheek and turn his face. He requires little convincing, kissing you without a word.

His foot thumps onto the ground. You find yourself in his lap. You do not know how you lose your head around him. One second, you swear you are on solid ground, the next you are floating. Someone should study this phenomenon. You, yourself, have no idea how to parse its logic.

You straddle his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck. He is dressed in all black again, black jeans and a black t-shirt, his eyes still smudged with black eyeshadow. It makes him look so utterly devastating, his eyes so dark and searching.

It makes you bold, coming to life under the intensity of that gaze. It is like some subliminal message passes to something rooted deep inside you, something primal and animal that he plucks with ease.

You dive in for another kiss, burning too hotly under his gaze. He cups your head with both hands. He tosses little hairpins everywhere, grunting with displeasure when he finds them. When you are completely free, he groans, a deep and ravaging moan as he buries his fingers in your hair and pulls you close.

“Hyunjin,” you say, once more at a loss for any other word.

He cannot even manage that much, nothing but a guttural sound leaving his throat. It makes you melt against him. Your body really has a mind of its own these days. You find yourself rocking against him, making his breath catch.

He tugs your hair a little more viciously, thoughtlessly, so entangled that it cannot be helped. You make another ridiculous mewling sound that will embarrass you later, but in the moment it slips free.

He holds you in place, palm cupping your head, keeping you steady while he rolls his hips under you.

It makes you dizzy. Your mouth opens and your eyes close. You slowly rock back. You dig your nails into his shoulders and you are amazed it does not hurt him. But, then again, he is tugging your hair inadvertently and if that hurts you do not notice. The seam of your own pants presses deliciously against you, the hard line in his jeans grinding against the softest part of you, again and again and again.

“Oh,” you say, or rather sigh. Your shoulders shake and surprise thunders into your racing heart. You realize are going to come like this. “Oh. Ohh.”

“Yes,” he says, and holds you steady, and keeps rolling his hips until you come apart in his arms.

You slump against his chest after, resting your head on his shoulder. You can feel him flicking your hair out of his mouth, but he doesn’t complain. You are breathing hard, clinging to him, still surprised you did what you did.

Eventually you find a modicum of strength in your arms. You somehow push yourself upright. You deposit a single apologetic kiss to his shoulder, which is doubtlessly riddled with crescents from nail bites.

He looks at you with a smile, a little breathless himself but evidently pleased.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, so reverently you actually believe it. Instinct still compels you to argue, but you cannot find your voice to do so. You just make a little noise and look down at your hand on his chest.

His heart races under your palm.

You think you need to see him come too.

You were previously too nervous to strike the endeavour. You sexted again in bed the night before, but leaving him to his devices is different than taking matters into your own hands. Literally. You are not inexperienced, but he is certainly more experienced. It is another reason you cannot rush into things.

He does not rush you. You arrive at the moment in your own time. And in this moment, it stops mattering. His heart beats under your palm and he looks at you with such an outpouring of affection, it makes your own heart stutter. You are tingling with aftershocks, feeling so alive and vibrant with his eyes on you.

You trail your hand down his chest to his belt. His eyelashes flutter, surprise crossing his own face. His hand covers yours and he lifts a questioning brow. You nod and he lets you go.

You get his belt open with a little struggle. You are a prestigious academic decorated with multiple literary awards, but a belt stupefies you.

He lets you work, twisting a curl around his finger, smiling a lazy smile. You pry the belt open and get his fly down, satisfied when some of his cockiness dissipates as your touch overwhelms him. It is a good overwhelming, given the noise he makes as he rests his face on yours. He murmurs your name and presses kisses all over your face as you work him in your hand.

The jeans are thrown into the laundry hamper immediately after.

The second week is mostly comprised of your usual routines. You have both shirked some responsibilities, too busy flirting like horny prepubescents to get any work done. You eventually return to your books and make remarkable progress on your research project. Hyunjin edits the photos from his latest shoot, uploading them to his profiles and collecting his sponsorships.

You go to your favourite café. You accompany him to his favourite bar because it’s a trivia night and you enjoy it more than you anticipated. You return to the art exhibition then rehash your previous opinions over dinner.

Some moments feel like dates, like when he holds you hand or gets the door or you dare to kiss his cheek in public. Some moments feel like the comfortable friendship you have long enjoyed, and for that you are glad. Gaining Hyunjin as a boyfriend would mean little if you lost him as a friend.

But he is still your Hyunjin.

He just puts his tongue in your mouth now.

The couch becomes a site of utter debauchery. It is the apartment’s no man’s land, given the beds have been relegated to solitary confinement. It really is for the best. For now. You will enjoy yourself more when you are truly ready.

Until then, the couch is subject to repeated episodes of defiling.

You and Hyunjin sit down with the intention of reading your own books, but they are both on the floor and you are on your back and Hyunjin is on top of you. It is not unlike a few weeks ago, when he stole your book and pinned you down. It feels like a lifetime since then. You never would have imagined yourself in this situation for real.

But it is real. You know that, because every nerve in your body is alive and shooting sparks. You make little moans, weaving your fingers in his bright red hair as he kisses you deeply. His jeans are blue today. You are in a long skirt. It makes it a little easier for the material to fall on its own, gathering around your thighs as he presses against you.

You take his hand and guide it up your skirt, resting it on your inner thigh. When he squeezes the soft flesh, you arch your back. A shaky please leaves your lips, breathing the word against his own.

He nods quickly, thumb stroking a circle high on your inner thigh. “What do you want, baby?” he asks.

“Hand,” you say, thinking about that video of him unzipping his fly, how many times you have gotten yourself off to his perfect hand sliding into the frame. His deft and nimble fingers, so precise for his artistic crafts. You blink up at him, hoping you do not look so dishevelled that it is ridiculous.

He clearly likes what he sees. He reaches under your skirt to slip your panties down and off, shoving them in his back pocket so they are not lost. His jeans have a long chain on the hip that he pushes out of his way when he kneels upright on the couch. He guides your thighs apart and angles your hips up, your thighs resting on his.

“Sorry,” you say when he touches you, because you are already so wet from just kissing.

“Sorry?” he asks in a rough voice, very lightly touching you, gathering all that desire on his fingertips and making you shudder. “For what?”

“Just… so… ready…”

It sounds ridiculous to say out loud. He must agree because he laughs incredulously. But you do not have time to feel ashamed because he slides two fingers inside you, your body offering no resistance to him. Then he starts curling up and putting pressure on your inner walls in a way that makes your head spin.

“Poor baby,” he says, his other hand sliding up your waist, holding you steady. “What should we do about that?”

You are coming minutes later, your shirt half-off, your breasts mauled with hickeys and your pussy spasming around his fingers. It feels so good, you do it again, and he ends up coming before you even touch him once.

Next time, you are not on the couch, but standing by the front door, preparing to go out. He is fully dressed with his leather jacket and boots, but you are missing a sweater and one shoe. He is standing behind you, your cheek pressed to the door as he works his hand under your skirt. You cant your hips up and back, grinding against him while he finger-fucks you.

You come so hard your knees buckle. Fortunately, he realizes what it is about to happen and catches you. He does not slow down, though, the bastard, and you keep coming, balanced in his arms.

You are halfway to the ground when you are satisfied. He puts you down gently. And maybe it is being half-dressed at his feet, maybe it his boots or his belt or that leather jacket, or maybe it is the way he looks down at you, but your mouth waters and you swallow hard.

“We don’t need to—” he starts, but you interrupt by opening his belt. You are much better at unbuckling it now, hardly wrestling with the leather at all.

You are acutely aware that you are not very good at giving oral. You are sensitive to sensation and it can be a bit much, but you like the noises he makes and the way he grabs your hair. You are certain he has had better, but you would not know from his reactions. He curses and sighs and groans, alternating between looking at you lovingly and ravenously.

He gets down on one knee after and cups your face and kisses you.

And that is just week two.

By week six, an amendment has been made to the bedroom rule. You will not share a bed overnight, but the morning is a different matter entirely. When the sun is up, the day is starting, so there is nothing wrong with climbing into bed together to talk about the day.

To be fair, sometimes you do just talk.

Other times, like now, your shirt is pushed up to your breasts and his face is buried in your pussy. He is wearing boxers and nothing else, his face bare. You like to look at it, his soft eyes glancing up at you as you push his hair back.

Unlike you who still administers oral with something of a polite and fastidious air, he gets messy with it. You are both drenched when you come, your pussy and thighs a mess while he wipes his face on a discarded shirt.

“So,” he says. “About the townhouse?”

When you finally step foot in your townhouse again, it is an abominable mess. You stand in the foyer with your luggage, slack-jawed and already so overstimulated that you nearly start vibrating.

Hyunjin joins you a second later, carrying the rest of your bags. He knows better than to yank you around when you get like this, but he does guide you to the couch to sit you on a clean cushion. He gets you some water and makes you drink. It helps, marginally.

“Oh dear,” you finally say, an understatement.

You made dinner plans, mostly to dissuade you from desecrating the foyer before you had an opportunity to unpack your bags, but those plans are cancelled in light of all the work that needs doing to make the place habitable again. You are immensely glad there is no longer a river of water leaking out of your shower and into the living room, but the contractors were not overly kind regarding dust and debris, to say nothing of plain dust and dirt.

Your poor bookshelves have been so neglected. They are the first thing to get a good dusting.

It is not an impossible task, when all is said and done, but pizza delivery replaces a dinner out. Whatever plans for seduction you might or might not have had, all evaporate, because you are so exhausted from cleaning that you fall asleep on the couch before it even gets dark outside.

You wake with a start in the middle of the night. You dreamed about giant dust bunnies devouring your poor innocent bookshelves. It takes a minute to ground yourself in reality, your surroundings unfamiliar. You have grown so used to the spare bedroom at Hyunjin’s apartment that you forget your own bedroom for a sleepy moment. When you fully come to consciousness, you remember where you are.

Then you remember you fell asleep the couch, a half-finished plate of pizza in your lap. Hyunjin must have gathered you in his arms and put you to bed. The thought is a little touching but also embarrassing, because that was not the plan for tonight. You suppose your provisos merely outlined not sleeping together until you were in your townhouse, not that it was a requisite for moving back in, but you still miss his company.

You search around for your phone. He left it on your bedside table for you. It is not as late as you thought it was, probably because you fell asleep so early. You text him an apology. You assume he went back to his apartment but you are not sure if he is awake or asleep.

You always liked living alone, but you suddenly lament the empty space. You miss the comfort of another person just one room over. No, not just another person, but Hyunjin.

hey it’s okay, he texts back. you were tired. you should go back to sleep it’s late

I am unfortunately wide awake now.

Yeah me too.

Why are you so awake?

Thinking about you.

If you were not already wide awake, that would have done the job of waking you all the way. You sit up in bed, all your attention on your phone now. You type a reply.

Oh? What about me?

You are not sure if his tone is flirtatious or not. You are getting better at verbal cues but it is still impossible to read someone, even Hyunjin, over text. You cannot even read your own tone, uncertain if it comes across as flirtatious or just curious.

That I’m kinda glad you fell asleep.

Don't laugh at me.. but I think I am nervous

About sleeping with you

You expect any number of answers, but not that one. You struggle with a reply for a moment, not sure if he is seeking reassurance or he just wants to speak his mind. When he starts typing again, you decide to wait.

I know it sounds stupid.

We spent all this time waiting

And god I want to. my girl

I’m so scared of messing this up and letting you down.

Hyunjin, you finally type, before he can descend in a spiral. You told me you would wait a year, or that we would work something out for ourselves if it was necessary. Do you not think I would do the same for you?

The ellipses appears and disappears as he contemplates this. His answer comes a moment later, You’re right.

Of course I am, you reply. I always am.

You hear a laugh. It startles you so bad, you drop your phone on the floor. You snatch it up quickly as possibly and frantically type, Please tell me that is you laughing in my living room.

Oh yeah sorry I just slept on your couch.

This man will be the death of you one way or another, that much is for certain.

You frightened me half to death. I thought you left.

Ah sorry baby..

Do you… want me to come upstairs?

That restless heart of yours skips beats for another reason, a different type of fear, one not unlike his own. You are not sure how the night will progress, but you know one thing for certain, one thing that is true and will always be true: you want Hyunjin. You want him with you, and beside you, now and always.

Yes please, you write, then wait.

His footsteps creak on the stairs. The human body really is a peculiar creation, because your fear seems to bleed right into newfound arousal.

You look up as he opens the door, using his phone flashlight as a guiding light. It is facing upward, illuminating him. Your phone screen is on, offering some light over your own features.

You are still wearing the sweater and sweatpants you cleaned in, absolutely not a sexy outfit for a first time sleeping together. You considered ordering special lingerie for the occasion but you are still quite bad about feeling embarrassed about those things. You made yourself nervous and balked every time you pictured walking in the room with them on. You think you will do that one day. You will probably have to make yourself comfortable with it first. Maybe you will send him a video.

You look up at him, your heart pounding just thinking about it. He gazes back at you. He is wearing jeans and a t-shirt, also not an especially fancy outfit to celebrate any firsts.

His face is bare. Your hair is loose. There is something about the shadows and a new room that makes you feel like strangers for a moment. You tell him as much, mostly to fill the silence, because he is staring at you and his gaze is far too amorous to be directed at a silly woman who fell asleep in her cleaning clothes at suppertime.

He tips his head as he looks you. You shiver, as if it is the first time he has ever looked at you, as if he has not made you come a dozen times on his face and hands, as if he has not known you for most of your life.

He turns off his light. The room is plunged into darkness. That ridiculous heart of yours starts leaping around like it has an electric current.

“Hyunjin,” you say, reaching blindly. You gasp when he captures your hand, leading it onto his shoulder. Then you feel his whole body, his hair brushing your face, his hands on you. Your eyes begin to adjust to the darkness and see you him a little better, the muscle definition in his arms, the necklace dangling when he leans down towards you.

“I’d fall in love with you again,” he says. “If we were. Strangers. If I was seeing you now for the first time.” He touches your cheek, brushes his knuckles up your temple then slips his fingers into your unruly hair. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you a hundred different ways. I think I will again.”

“You know I am not good at speaking with poetic embellishment,” you say, swallowing around the lump in your throat, one caused by both sentiment and nerves. “So I will have to speak plainly with you. I love you too, Hyunjin. I always have. If we were meeting for the first time right now, though, I would probably be screaming and throwing things at you.”

He laughs and the sound make you feel like you are glowing. You need no other light. You reach up and touch his face and you see him perfectly, can picture his smile even before you trace your thumb across his bottom lip. You cannot draw like him, but if you could, you would scribble his likeness in the margin of your work as well.

“Good thing we’re not strangers, then,” he says. “Because I’d really rather make love to you.” He swoops down and kisses your forehead. “My friend.” He kisses a sensitive spot below your ear, the place he teases when he wants to rile you up quickly. “Baby.” Then he is tipping your head at the perfect angle to lean down, his lips brushing yours when he says, “My pretty girl.”

“Nonsense,” you say breathlessly, because of course you do.

And of course he kisses you.

He kisses you deeply, holding the back of your head as he gently lays you down. You push the covers away, opening yourself to him completely. You wrap around each other, sinking into the sheets, arching your back to feel more of him.

You gasp when he tugs your hair. He has already found so many ways to make you plaint and needy, to forget your skills of articulation and lose every word but his name.

“That’s it,” he says, hooking your legs around his waist. “Show me what you want, baby.”

You reach between your bodies, cupping where he is already hard in his jeans. Everything about him is so hard against you, you in your soft sweats with your pool of curly hair, losing yourself as his strong hands work their way down your body. He lifts your shirt off and tosses it to the side, then gathers your hands because you always have an instinctive moment of covering yourself. You are modest by nature, but you trust him with everything. It is exhilarating, when he takes your wrists and pins them by your head.

For a moment, you do imagine every version of yourselves. You and him, old friends turning into lovers. You and him, established lovers, finally coming together. Two strangers, finding each other for the first time. There is always something new to discover. You love him again and again.

“Say my name,” he says, working his way down your body. He is still fully clothed when he has you fully naked, writhing under him as he pushes his tongue in you. It is a slow seduction with his mouth on your pussy as he kisses you there as thoroughly as he kissed your mouth. “Say it.”

“Hyunjin,” you say, repeating it as you come, your legs wrapped around his head.

He spares you only seconds before his fingers are inside you. You cling to his arm, making noises that still surprise you, begging him with your eyes and hands and little cries. When he cups your face after, you open your mouth wide, wanting. He fucks your mouth like he fucked your pussy, two fingers gliding across your tongue until you are bucking and pleading, sucking on his fingers and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck,” he says, then whips off his shirt.

He kneels and you help tug his jeans and boxers down to his knees. You curl towards him, situated so he can finger you while you wrap your lips around his cock. You are usually very neat about it, but you cannot think clearly with his fingers inside you. You mostly wet him, barely blowing him, but he still kisses you when you pull back.

When he gets the last of his clothes off, he surprises you by sitting back against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. He surprises you even more by folding your arms behind your back and pinning your wrists at the base of your spine. He holds them there in one hand, the other between you as he helps you settle on top of him.

He does know you well. The second his cock so much as brushes you, there is an instinct to cover up. You hands twitch but he holds you, speaking to you gently, soothingly. He eases you through it, breathing just as hard as you sink down until he is fully inside you. Then you are clenching sporadically around him, almost a mini-orgasm just from the initial thrust. He is still holding your arms behind you, guiding you through it with him completely in control. It seems to be the way he likes it, but you don’t mind at all. You can be a stern stickler everywhere else; here you can be his.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” he says, free hand on your hip, holding you as he rolls his hips under you. “That good, baby?”

You answer with a mewl, dropping your face to his shoulder and staying there. He laughs, eventually lifting your head. Then he puts you on your back and lifts your leg onto his shoulder, and he fucks you in a way you once could only imagine.

He pushes your knees back, presses his body so close to yours. A sheen of perspiration covers his skin and you are certain you are not faring better. It feels good, it feels free. You wrap your arms around him and hold tight.

“My girl,” he says, with a strong thrust, then another. Sounding as deliriously inarticulate as you when he says, “Mine.” And thrusts again. “Mine.” And again. “Always.” Again.

You seek his hand blindly. He offers it, lacing your fingers like the romantic he instinctively is, but you lead it right to your throat where you want him to hold you. When he does, your body goes completely soft for him, like every worry flees at once. You are always so in your head, to be a body feels good, to share it with him even better. You hum with pleasure, mouth open like a good girl for your dreamy bad boy as he leans down and kisses you, his tongue fucking into your mouth with the same vigour he takes your pussy.

When he rubs his thumb over your clit, you last only seconds, your whole body shaking as you lose complete control. He holds you through it, rocking into you, kissing your face and neck. He pulls out and strokes himself to completion, coming on your thighs and pussy.

You wrap around each other after, rolling into the middle of the bed. You somehow migrated horizontally during your lovemaking. You will need to move eventually, but sleep is finally hitting you. You feel Hyunjin clean you up with his t-shirt, but you only stir when he kisses you. You wrap around him and return a few sleepy kisses down his neck. He slides a hand in your hair, cups the back of your neck, and stays like that.

“What next,” you ask sleepily, not fully conscious of your words.

“Mmm.” He sounds just as sleepy. “Still need our dinner date,” he murmurs. “Can decide in the morning.”

“Okay,” you say. And even though you are half asleep and barely conscious, you add, “I can make a spreadsheet.”

He smiles. You think maybe you should learn to draw just so you can draw that smile after all. Maybe there is an artist and a romantic inside you, or maybe it is just the parts of him so entwined with you, forever embedded in your heart. You are actually excited to learn.

You give him one more sleepy kiss. It is early morning now.

You fall asleep together at the start of a new day.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin smut #skz smut

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