#You better pick that hint back up and give it to me straight
Note
massage + suo — nsfw ; not requested ;]
ⓘ SUO, HANDS TO YOURSELF.
f!reader — nsfw but not straight smut. massage/workout (ig im thinking like yoga?), kissing, body worship-ish, (the usual) teasing, grinding, + char. aged up 18+ ; trying to desperately get out of my writer's block, for now rqs r closed.
it started with something as simple as, "are you okay?"
you groan, rolling your neck and stretching briefly. "work's been ... eugh," you mumble, popping a hand onto your hip, "as much as i appreciate people enjoying my goods, it's stressful."
suo chuckles, watching you whine about work, though he can't exactly blame you. he's seen the shop when it's busy, and it was not fun. "but!" you smile, wrapping your arms around his shoudler, "i have a pretty boyfriend, so that makes it all better ... " suo hums, tilting his head in amusement. his hands rest on the back of your thighs when he cranes his neck to look at you.
"really?" he hums, taking a hand and rubbing it along your arm. he kisses the skin tenderly.
"then—as a good, pretty boyfriend should—how about i help you relax, hm?" his hand rubs back and forth, "after you get off, we can go to my apartment and relax. that sound good?"
your eyes are looked with his and you can see a glint in his eye, that hint of mischief that you both hate and love to see. "are you up to something?" suo smirks, looking at your skeptical expressions.
"and would you ever assume that? i only want to help my pretty girl relieve some stress, is that so bad?"
a hum of acknowledgement leaves you, lips shut for a moment of contemplation before you speak again. " ... okay, i get off at- five. i'll see you then, unless you want to stay here with me? then again, you should go hang out with your friends. i'll be there!"
suo smiles softly at you. "good," he mumbles against your skin before giving your cheek a peck. "i'll come pick you up!"
he did in fact keep his promise, picking you up from work and walking you to his apartment. when he said "help you relax," you thought of multitude of things that could mean, though- surprisingly, you are met with yoga. albeit yoga with his hands touching you continuously.
a groan leaves your lips as you go from downward dog to the child's pose, resting there as suo's hand pushes down on your lower back. you spread your legs a bit and relax, forming an arch.
"stretching does help you relax, i promise."
you hum, "the massage your giving me?"
"its helping isn't it? i saw you're back was hurting, might as well try to relieve you while you stretch."
"hayato ... "
"hm?"
"that's not my back."
"it's your backside, isn't it?" he teases, squeezing the soft flesh of your ass through your shorts.
you snort, "what are you- 75? this is not the 1800s england, love."
"hey, i said what i said."
his hands move from your ass, rubbing along your skin, thumbs massaging the points that you said hurt. his fingers slide beneath your shirt, pushing the shirt up with his hands.
"mm, hayato?"
he let's a breath, hands stilling on your side. "yes?" he whispers against your skin, enjoying the jolt you make at the sudden air. "what are you doing?" you whisper, eyes remaining closed. "nothing~"
his hands stay resting on your hips and there's no other touches until you feel his soft lips press to the nape of your neck. "h-hayato?" you hear a soft 'shh' before his lips slowly venture down your back. they kiss along your spine, occasionally moving to pepper kisses along the mass of your back, like kisses your shoulders and lower back (if you have back dimples, trust he's giving them attention).
"hayato!" you whine, opening your eyes to look back at him, "what are you doing?"
"im helping you relax? you're enjoying this aren't you? or was you wiggling your ass at my kisses an angry gesture?"
he laughs at the frustrated huff you make. he sits up, his hips in line with your butt that's stuck up in the air. his hands squeeze your hips lightly before his connects with yours. a surprised whimper leaves your lips as you feel hin grind his hips into your ass.
"h-hayato?! what- mm, hayato ... " you whimper, subconsciously pushing your hips into his.
suo licks his lips, leaning down to whisper in your ear. "can i help you relax a different way? at least you know this will help," his clothed cock twitches against you, his lips kissing your jaw.
"please?"
#⋆𐙚 ₊ jani writes.#wind breaker (satoru nii)#wind breaker x reader#suo hayato x reader#hayato suo x reader#hayato suo smut#suo hayato smut#wind breaker smut#hayato suo#suo hayato#suo x reader#suo smut
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Going to the Hero Awards with Katsuki for the first time:
You and Mina had been doing prep ALL DAY. The hair, the makeup, final dress fittings, you name it. It was kinda nice, like a self pampering that was being funded by the best boyfriend of all time. Katsuki had given you his card and told the both of you to go nuts. He had to work the day of so he’d be getting home just in time to get ready and leave.
Mina had helped you pick out the cutest dress you’d even seen and it was orange to match Katsuki’s hero theme. Your other accessories being black with slight hints of green here and there.
You’re not gonna lie, you were VERY nervous. This was a big award for him. He’d ended up being number six at the last one and this was the year he breaks into the top 5.
Kats has been acting like it’s not a big deal but you’ve been able to feel how anxious he’s really been. So tonight you were gonna focus on holding yourself together and being there for him in whatever way he needed.
You were touching up your makeup just a little when you heard the front door open. He’s running behind.
“Fuck, I know I’m late. I gotta hop in the shower and FUCK! I never picked up my clothes from the-“, he was pacing around the room like a madman.
“Hey, hey.” And you placed your hands on his shoulders to steady him for a minute. “I have your clothes, they’re hanging up in the closet above your shoes. I have your hair stuff laid out on the counter and you might wanna get a quick shave in too.” You say as you run your hands along his stubble.
And he takes a deep breath. And then another.
“Thanks, I got sidetracked at work and time got away from me.”
“ ‘s fine. You’ve got time. Go ahead and hop in the shower and let me know if your need anything, yeah?”
He leans down a places a soft kiss to your forehead and then heads for the bathroom.
Yeah, this was gonna be a long night.
When Katsuki comes out of the bathroom he’s gotta towel wrapped around his waist and he’s looking a lot more himself.
You were sitting down putting on your shoes, but you stop and look up because you noticed he’s not moving anymore.
“What’s wrong?” You ask him.
“You look…… incredible” and the way you start blushing is insane. You cant even make eye contact with him. His compliments are usually never that straightforward. It shocked you a bit.
“Thanks” you whisper softly. And then outta the corner of your eye you see him striding toward you.
“Kats-“ but your lips are covered by his and you just know he’s gonna be covered in your lipstick.
When he pulls back he has a full grin on his face.
“Damn, I feel a lot better now. Gonna have the hottest woman on my arm and I’m gonna finally be in the top 5. Was worried about nothin.”
The smile that shines in your eyes is worth a million dollars.
“You’re not gonna have any of that if you don’t finish getting dressed so we can leave.” And you start pushing him away. “Go. Hurry up”
“Yeah yeah, ‘m goin” he mumbles as he walks away.
“And wipe the lipstick off your face” you shout behind him.
You guys manage to make it just before the doors close for the event and you’re sat at a table with Eijirou and Mina.
They go through the whole spiel of course before they start announcing the Hero’s in their order.
This year Pinky was number 18 which was 6 whole spots higher than last year and Red Riot broke into the top 10 sitting at number 8. You cheered so loud for your friends, but you didn’t fail to notice that Kats hand had slipped into yours and was holding on pretty tight.
He kept a straight face but he was beyond wrecked on the inside. You look over at him and give the the most encouraging smile you can muster.
The numbers continued to be listed off they’d finally gotten into the top 5. He hadn’t heard his name at 5 or 4.
“Coming in as the number 3 Hero in Japan, Great Explosion Murder God: Dynamight. “
He’d broken into the top 3!! You looked over at him and his face was as stoic as ever. Ever the cool man on the outside. This man leaned over, placed a quick kiss to your lips and then walked onto the stage to accept his prize.
“Ugh, yea I worked hard for this. It’s well deserved. Thanks to my agency and the best girl a guy could ask for…. Next year I’ll be number 1.” And then He just walks off.
Everyone else had given these heartfelt speeches but his was of course sweet simple and to the point.
Katsuki has grown up, doesn’t mean he’s changed all that much.
Number 1 ends up being Izuku for the second year in a row. When he walks past Katsuki they hug and congratulate each other. You were happy to see how far their relationship had come.
After the awards are given out, they had back to their seats and you guys have dinner. After, Everyone goes around congratulating and thanking. Most of them kissing ass really, but you digress. You’re in the middle of talking to some agent you really have no interest in talking to when you feel a warm arm wrap around your waist.
“I’m taking her now.”, you hear him say as he starts dragging you off.
“Hey, that was really rude.”
“Too damn bad. I’m number 3 hero, I do what I want” he says and you can hear the smirk on his face.
“Where are you taking me, Mr. Bigshot” ?
“Home. We came, we saw, we conquered. Now I get to have my real prize all to myself.
“And what would that be?” You ask as coyly as you can muster.
“Obviously you dummy. Wanna see how good that dress looks bunched around your waist” he whispers against your ear.
That has you walking with a pep in your step to get out to your car and home.
This had turned out to be a lot better than you’d expected it to.
Katsuki Masterlist
@dreamcastgirl99
#tootietalks#imagine#bakugou x reader#mha fanfiction#bakugou drabble#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou katsuki#drabble#katsuki bakugo mha#bakugo headcanons#fluff#katsuki bakugo#katsuki bakugou#bakugo#bakugou#katsuki bakugou x reader#bakugo katsuki#katsuki#bnha katsuki
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A request for Zayne with the prompt, "a note on public health" 🙏🫶☺️
send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
32. a note on public health
zayne; 1,519 words; fluff, teeth-rotting fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", zayne!branded humor, vague innuendos, established relationship
summary: a couple of public service announcements.
a/n: zayne cares much about your health ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧
001. sleep
For optimal health, one should get eight to ten hours of sleep per night.
You try to stifle a yawn as Zayne glances over the day’s news, projected onto the smooth white tabletop. He looks up, eyes narrowing as you freeze halfway through, attempting to mask the motion with a soft cough.
You reach for your half-finished coffee but Zayne tugs it away with a soft sigh.
“Didn’t sleep well last night?”
You purse your lips, averting your eyes as you reach for a slice of toast, tugging off a corner and stuffing it in your mouth.
“Would’ve slept better if someone hadn’t kept me up past my bedtime.”
This time, it’s Zayne who looks away, coughing as he sips at his own coffee.
“I made sure we finished at a reasonable hour.”
You jerk upright, eyes wide, mouth dropping open, a hot flush working its way into your cheeks. You wonder how he can keep such a straight face, how he looks so fundamentally unbothered. But then, he lets out a light chuckle.
“But you’re right — they say it’s not good to have strenuous exercise right before bed. I’ll be more careful next time.”
“Zayne!” you toss a crumpled bit of napkin at him, your heartbeat pounding at the back of your throat.
Zayne’s eyebrow flicks upward as he picks up the piece of tissue and gently lobs it into the trash can next to the kitchen counter before going back to this breakfast, the faintest hint of a smile shadowing his lips.
002. water
Adults over 19 should drink 1.5 to 2 liters of water a day for optimal health.
“Hello? What is it?”
“Hi! Uhm… where are you? I don’t — I don’t see you.”
“I’m… at home.”
“What? But… the app says you’ve arrived…”
Zayne sighs, “Did you dial the wrong number? This is Zayne.”
“…Oh! Oops.”
“Where are you? Have you been drinking?”
You hiccup, and he can almost see you shaking your head the way you do when you want to deny something you’d obviously been doing. He pushes up from the sofa, grabbing his coat.
“Not… not a lot — Tara just wanted to celebrate since —“ you hiccup again, “since it’s her first promotion, y’know?”
Zayne hums, “Mhm. Where are you?”
“No, no! It’s okay! I called a cab —“
“Cancel it. I’ll come get you.”
“But…”
“Cancel it. And send me your location.”
Thirteen minutes later, you’re climbing into the passenger seat of Zayne’s car with a sheepish smile.
“Sorry…”
“Don’t be. Here.”
You blink down at the bottle of water Zayne is pressing into your lap.
“Oh… thanks, but I had a lot of water at the bar!” You turn to flash him a bright, proud smile, “See? I do listen to you!”
Zayne laughs as he pulls into a stop light, glancing over at you, the bottle of water cradled between your hands.
“Yes, and I suppose you’re very proud of yourself this time?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice that lets you know he’s not mad. Still, you scowl.
“Shouldn’t you be proud that your patient is getting better at taking care of herself?”
Zayne sighs, reaching over the tug the bottle from your hands before unscrewing the cap and handing it back to you.
“Drink.”
You look like you’re about to argue for a split second before you catch the sharp look in his eye and bring the bottle up to your lips for a long drink. Zayne allows himself a satisfied smile as he reaches over to give your knee a quick squeeze.
“Good. Good girl.”
003. sun
To maintain healthy blood levels, aim to get 10 - 30 minutes of midday sun, several days a week.
“It’s been raining for forever…”
Zayne looks up from the patient chart propped up in his lap.
You’re sprawled across the sofa on the other side of the room, staring at the bleary, rain-streaked windows with a dull, world-weary expression. Zayne’s eyes flick toward the window for a second before sliding up to the large clock above his door.
It’s three minutes till the end of the day, and he’d agreed you could wait for him in his office while he finished up.
“It has.” He drops his eyes back down to the chart in his hands. The patient is doing well — all things considered. He should keep them for another night of study before signing off to let him go home. Zayne punches in the quick note in for his nurses before setting the chart down.
“Weather forecast says it’s gonna rain all through the weekend too.”
“Hm.” Zayne gets up, rolling his shoulders loose of the knots that had gathered there before rounding his desk, “Come on then.”
“Oh! Are you done? Are we… going to get dinner?” You jump up from the sofa, seemingly revived, a smile on your face. Zayne regards you for a moment before turning.
“Not yet.”
“Not… yet?” you trail after him as he shrugs on his coat and locks his office door.
He can feel your curiosity bubbling for the entire walk to his car through the vast parking garage. He allows himself a smile as you slide in and look at him expectantly. For a second, he toys with the idea of not telling you, of seeing just how long you can hold out before you start to pester him.
“You’ll see,” he says, just as you open your mouth to ask.
“So… it’s a surprise?” you ask.
He shrugs, pulling out of the parking space and cresting through the dimly lit parking structure till he turns onto the bustling city street.
“I suppose it will be.”
“Did you… plan this?” he can hear the hopefulness in your voice, the giddiness sparkling there like soda fizz.
“No, but did you say I should try to be more spontaneous sometimes?”
“Sure but…” he can hear you pouting, “well, fine, if you really don’t want to tell me.”
He keeps quiet just to savor in the silence, in the knowledge that you are here with him, and so, so eager to know what he has planned for you. He wonders if it’s cruel to enjoy this, to love the way you’re so reactive, to love… everything about you.
You blink as he pulls into a darkened road, wide as it is, to the clearly gated Botanical Gardens. Your confusion only grows as the night guard there gives him a cheery wave before punching a button and the giant gates hiss open to allow you both entry.
“Thanks,” Zayne says, lifting a hand as the night guard waves them through with a bright smile.
He casts you a single glance before chuckling, “His daughter was a patient of mine a while back — she had a genetic cardiac condition that — well,” Zayne breaks off as he parks the car in the first space and opens the door.
“Regardless, she needed surgery. It was risky but… we managed to save her.”
He leads you down the winding path to one of the smaller greenhouses, lit up so brightly from the inside that you have to squint your eyes as he punches in an access code and lets you both through the door.
The wall of heat that greets you both nearly knocks you off your feet but a moment later, you smile as the warmth seeps into your skin, and you turn your face up towards the high ceilings, speckled with what you’re certain are tiny little sunlamps, beaming down at the arid landscape below.
“Are these… cacti?” you wonder aloud, shuffling over to a large, bulbous plant with long thin spikes.
“Yes, these are the desert plants. They need prolonged exposure to sunlight to live.”
“Oh…” you bend down to read the short description of the cacti before moving onto the next one, and then the next one. Zayne trails behind you, watching with a soft smile and softer eyes as you point out the tiny little yellow flowers budding on one, and the strange shapes of another.
“Not that this isn’t fun and all but…” you turn to him as you finally return to the front of the greenhouse, having seen all the different varieties of desert plants in this particular area, “why’d you bring me here?”
Zayne holds open the door for you.
“You looked like you were missing the sun.”
Even beneath the barely there lighting of the parking lot, Zayne sees your blush darkening your cheeks.
“I — I guess I was,” you say as you slip once more into the passenger seat of his car, looking over at him, “but… weren’t you missing it too?”
Zayne’s grin skews as he tugs on his seatbelt, but he schools his expression back into its usual mask of stoicism as he answers, “No. I’ve already got you.”
#love and deepspace#love & deepsace x reader#love and deepspace x you#zayne imagines#zayne x you#zayne love and deepspace#zayne x reader#zayne drabbles#love and deepspace fic#love and deepspace x reader#lads headcanons#lads x reader#l&ds x reader#love & deepspace#love and deepspace zayne#lads zayne#lads zayne x you#love and deepspace fluff#x reader#floofy floof floof#thank u for sending in a request <3 u__u#also yes i know im writing a lot of zayne BUT DO NOT WORRY THE RAFAYEL FICS ARE HAPPENING
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Best Friend (E.M.)
WARNING: angst with a happy ending, friends to lovers, sexy times, disgusting fluff, Eddie being too sweet and precious for this world.
NOTES: I'm in a mood. I blame this time of year. Also, the end quote is inspired by the Simpsons. Points if you know the episode it's from.
DIVIDER BY @firefly-graphics
You're at a house party, and Eddie watches you like a hawk across the kitchen.
You're here alone; your boyfriend of two years is nowhere to be seen. You're talking with Robin and a group of girls, and even though you're smiling, Eddie can tell you're faking it. You've been faking it for a week now.
Your friends don't know, but Eddie knows. Your smile hasn't reached your eyes in a week. A trivial thing that most people would miss. But Eddie has been in love with you since you were 15; when you love someone that long, you pick up on things like that.
When you excuse yourself from the group, Eddie follows as you head out into Harrington's backyard. He sees how your shoulders sag once you think no one is around. The way you sit like the world's weight is on your shoulders as you sit in a lounger by the pool.
"What do you want, Eddie?"
Eddie smiles to himself as he takes a seat next to you.
"Should ask you that; you've been off all week."
"What do you know?"
Eddie isn't phased by your snippy remark; it's more bark than bite. He gives you a "Are you serious" look as he scoots a bit closer to you, close enough that the denim of his jeans touches your bare leg.
"You don't have to tell me. But it might make you feel better if you didn't keep it in."
Eddie watches you from his periphery as your body tenses before you let out a defeated sigh.
"He cheated on me."
The words make Eddie want to hunt your man down and pummel him until he can't feel his hands. The last time he wanted to inflict that kind of violence was the last time he saw his old man.
"He's been seeing her for almost six months, and then he said he didn't love me anymore."
"He's a fucking idiot."
"You have to say that you're my best friend."
"When have I EVER said anything that I didn't want to?"
He can see the hint of a smile on your lips as you discreetly try to wipe at your waterline.
"He's an idiot. He didn't deserve you; he never did."
"Keep talking like that, and I might think you were jealous."
Eddie's body stills, his heart dropping into his ass at your words. He had spent years lying. First, to himself over his real feelings and then to you as he tried to hide those feelings as he watched you repeatedly date the wrong guy over and over.
"Eddie."
He doesn't turn to face you when you call his name. Turning will begin a conversation he doesn't know if he's ready to have. The delicate dance he's held you in will disappear, and the possibility that he will end up alone is more than he can bear.
"How long?"
Eddie turns then, brows furrowed in question.
"How long?"
"About 10 minutes after our first conversation in freshman English."
He lets out a heavy sigh, face looking straight ahead as he still refuses to look at you.
"Why didn't you say something? You had so much time?"
"You seemed happy. That's all I ever wanted. It's all I'll ever want."
He turns his head when your hand touches his chin, letting you pull him to meet your eyes. He watches as you study him like you're seeing him for the first time.
"Tell me what you're thinking, Y/N."
"Make me forget."
Eddie gasps softly at your request.
"You don't mean that."
"You think you're the only one hiding their real feelings?"
You're both staring at each other now. Your waterline is still teary, but Eddie is pretty sure this has nothing to do with your now ex. He reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers and feeling elated when you squeeze.
"If we do this, it's going to change everything. There'll be no going back."
"I hope not."
Eddie can't help but chuckle when he sees your smile finally reach your eyes.
"I'm serious; this could ruin everything."
"Oh, Eddie,"
Eddie's breath catches when you lean in closer, your lips right against the shell of his ear.
"It could also be amazing."
Eddie lets out a shaky breath before standing. He stretches out a hand and helps you out of the lounger before he leads you out of the party through the front door. He opens the door of his van for you, leaning over you to buckle you in with a cheeky grin. Then he's behind the wheel, revving the engine as he drives to your apartment without another word.
The sun is barely coming in through your curtains when you wake. Stretching your limbs like a cat, you smile at the soreness in your thighs and between your legs. You reach an arm out and sit up when you feel empty sheets next to you.
The night comes crashing back in stages. The fumbled kisses as he crowded you into your apartment. The look in his eyes as his plush lips worshipped your pussy until you had to drag him up by his hair. The way he whimpered when he was finally buried balls deep inside you. How you had both finally collapsed after what felt like hours. Eddie sending you off to sleep with a flurry of soft declarations of his love.
And now, he wasn't here.
You feel the panic bubble when you hear footsteps coming down the hall. The smell hits you next: freshly brewed coffee. Then Eddie is softly pushing into the room, naked and holding two hot cups of coffee.
"Morning, Sweetheart. Hope I didn't wake you."
You're incapable of speaking, and Eddie stops when he sees you. He puts the mugs down and quickly climbs into bed next to you.
"What's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
You shake your head as you let him pull you close.
"You weren't here, I thought. Never mind, it's stupid."
"Don't say that. Just wanted to make my girl some coffee. I know how grumpy she gets without her caffeine fix."
"Asshole."
Eddie smiles at the remark, all bark and no bite. He hands you your mug, watching you take a small sip as he rests beside you.
"So,"
Eddie freezes at your tone. He knows that tone. It's usually the harbinger of bad news. He steels himself, waiting for you to tell him that last night was a mistake and that he needs to be on his way.
"I'm your girl now, huh?"
Eddie can't hide his smile. It stretches ear to ear as he snuggles in closer to you. His head rests on your shoulder, lips pressing to your skin as he breathes you in.
"I think you've always been my girl."
"Well, I'm glad we're on the same page now."
"Yeah, but now I have this new problem."
Eddie's smile doesn't falter as he sits up. He takes your mug and places it on your nightstand. Before you can speak, he's laying you back down on the mattress, his body moving over yours like a panther.
"I meant what I said in the van last night. What did I say was gonna happen once I stopped the van?"
You sigh as he rests his weight on you. Eddie takes your hands, bringing them above your head. He entwines your fingers, both of you giving reassuring squeezes that this is what you both want.
"You said that you were gonna hug me."
A kiss to your neck.
"You were gonna kiss me."
A brush of his lips against yours.
"And?"
You feel his cock warm and heavy against your pussy.
"You were never gonna let me go."
He kisses you as he enters you, and he has you moaning as the sun rises in the East.
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USING LIPSTICK
a/n ⭒ i saw this and i had to write it down, okay??? this first one with jason todd bc i can't help it, later i'll do one with dean (i'm insane, i know)
tw ⭒ minors dni, SMUT, jason todd x f!reader, dirty talk, fingering (f receiving), degradation, size kink, spitting, slapping, hair pulling, breeding kink, unprotected sex, p in v, mention of jason's scars, etc.
word count ⭒2.774 (this was supposed to be short 😭)
jason is almost begging for you to go as his date to another wayne gala since the week started, you like them but not enough to attend so often as he has to go; wearing nice dresses and pretty makeup, the jewerly you have to pick and everything that comes with putting effort in looking good to spend time on a fancy party.
it's early, you've been all evening getting ready and now the burgundy dress sits pretty on your body, fixing it so the slit on your right leg is straight, your hair is done too all tied up in a pretty half up hair style and you're just missing the final touch for your makeup when jason comes into your room "you look fucking amazing, love" you turn around to find his eyes running along your curves, taking in every detail as he walks up to you "is it okay? it's not too much?" you ask while turning around again to give yourself a look on the mirror, smiling softly when jason gets behind you, hands on your waist while he towers over you.
"mhm, it's just perfect" his voice is low, eyes fixed on your reflex while you start doing a small winged eyeliner, the cap of your liner between your lips is making him think a bit too much until he lets out a soft grunt "do you think i should wear lipstick?" you ask him, the question triggers something inside of him when he looks at your lips, slightly parted as you pick up a lipstick from your drawer "or maybe lipgloss, what do you think, jay?" and jason thinks, he does have an answer but he tries to remain calm "lipstick can be smudged, doesn't it?" he asks, there's a light hint of tease on his voice and it makes you reply with a soft hum.
"then lipgloss, but which one" you wonder as you look at the things scatered over the drawer while jason looks at you, a small smirk on his lips before he leans in to press a playful kiss on your neck "i think i know which one" his hands wander on your waist, lifting your dress a little bit before letting the fabric fall just for his hands to run to your back, pulling down the zipper until your dress falls, pooling at your feet "jay..." you warn with a soft chuckle when he growls, looking at your body on the mirror.
"no bra, is it because of the dress or for me to touch you?" he asks in a sultry tone, finger gently tracing the outline of your figure until his big hands are cupping your tits "mhm, mostly because of the dress" you answer in a soft sigh, eyes closed at his touch on your body until he pulls away, taking your hips to make you stand a little closer to your drawer, jason kneels down and picks up the dress and leaves a playful kiss on one of your thighs "sure thing, doll". you see jason on the mirror, he walks until he leaves your clothes carefully placed on bed before he walks behind you; he looks amazing too, dressed on a black suit and a white button up shirt, a bow tie undone on the neck of his shirt is waiting to complete his fit but he's now pressing his hips against yours, half-hard cock grinding on your ass while jason's hands play with your lace panties, pretty red fabric being pulled softly as he bends you slightly against the drawer "i think you look fucking better like this, makes me want to use you until you can't keep your legs on the floor" his eyes are almost predatory now, fixed on your reflex as you wiggle your hips playfully.
"are we gonna arrive late again?" you ask him with a small pout, you know damn well you won't be on time but that's usual for you two because jason is always eager to fuck you before leaving to a gala. a soft scoff escapes his throat before he starts taking off his suit, followed by the sight of him undoing his shirt and then his pants; it has always been a dream to see your boyfriend naked in front of you, broad shoulders and chest, built body and that slim waist that made your mouth water, skin painted with scars but the most calling was that big Y shaped scar on his chest, you always loved to trace it with your fingers or to leave a trail of kisses before you sucked him off "like your views, princess?" jason's words are teasing, he knows the answer but he enjoys seeing you bite your lip and nod as your eyes roam over his body. one hand trails from your waist to your tummy, fingers drawing soft circles on your skin as he kisses your neck, nibbling on it softly and making you tilt your head to give him more room until his hand slides under your panties and his fingers start to caress your cunt, a small smirk when he feels your body reacting to his touch "you're so tempting, baby, that dress makes you look like you're begging to get dicked down... i wish i could just rip it and make you scream like a whore" his thumb is pressing on your clit as two more fingers slide up and down between your lips making you moan softly.
your hands are pressed against the wooden furniture, lips parted as a few sighs escape your mouth to his touch on your body driving you crazy, making you rock your hips on his hand "jason..." you call his name softly but it only earns you a quick glance and a raised eyebrow, you know what the man wants and it makes you shiver "sorry... sir, please" you ask softly and that makes jason's grin go wide "pretty little girl, want me to stuff my fingers on that greedy pussy? i bet you'd love to have my dick deep inside of you but you'll settle for my fingers, don't ya, bunny?" his voice is low and raspy, two digits teasing at your entrance and pushing ever so lightly before he slides them in, a laugh rumbling on his chest when he feels how wet he got you just with a few touches and a bunch of dirty things whispered into your ear but it's always like that because you can't help how much he turns you on, he knows what to do to get you on the mood and it takes jason just minutes until your legs are shaking a little, breath heavy while his fingers twist and move inside of you making a couple of noises that bring a bright blush to your face.
"look at you, baby, how small and vulnerable you look like this... with my fingers playing with you" jason's voice is almost a low growl as he squeezes your cheeks with his other hand making you look at youself all worked up in front of him, you do look smaller and then you're just wishing jason would pick you up to fuck you like a toy "uh, looks like someone is already thinking about what she wants me to do with her... this little pussy is clenching around my fingers" he taunts before pulling his digits out of you, a soft whine leaving your lips before he delivers a sharp slap on your cunt making you gasp and tremble. he laughs, pulling your panties down before he stands up again, his hand resuming on your pussy as he rubs your puffy lips, the wet sound making you want to look away "sir... i need you, please" you ask, obediently because you know that being a brat right now would only earn you being left all needy "need me, princess? you're being so good, aren't you?" jason asks and smirks when you nod enthusiastically, leaning in to press a quick kiss on your neck he pulls away to pull down his boxers and you can see him fisting at his hard rock dick, the sight making your mouth water and your pussy clench around nothing.
he stands right behind you, his hand guiding his tip to your entrance to start teasing you when he lets his dick slide between your folds grinding his hardness against you, it makes you moan but it's still not enough "i need you inside of me, please... sir, i need you to make me take your cock" a small pout decorates your lips as you look at him with pleading doe eyes, biting on your lip hard when he takes a handful of your hair, pulling it at the same time he thrusts in with a rough movement making you squirm and moan loudly " 's that what you wanted, baby? my dick inside of you?" jason asks into your ear as he starts moving his hips, free hand going to squeeze one of your tits, fingers pinching on your nipple while he strokes slowly and torturing for you to grow desperate "y-yes, sir, yes" you nod, your head falling back as he keeps hold of your hair messing it up, making your back arch in a weird angle that will probably let you sore the next few days but you can't help moan with a satisfied smile once he starts to move faster, his hand still kneading on your breast "fucking thight... your body is so perfect for me, doll, even your tits fit perfectly on my hands" jason tone is filled with pride and ownership, that only makes you mewl because you know your body is almost like made for him to fit on you in every possible way "you love how i talk to you, what a pretty dirty slut you are" he grunts in a harder thrust that makes you whine loudly, jason's hand leaving your chest to roam back between your legs to circle roughly on your clit for a few seconds before giving a hard slap against your swollen bud, it makes you clench like a vice dragging a gutural growl from your boyfriend's throat.
"you little freak! you enjoy when i slap that pussy, don't ya?" he mocks you, his cheek pressed against yours as he keeps pounding harder and faster almost as if he will never be able to fuck you again and oh, how it makes you even more needy "you're a sick whore, baby, bet you'll be squirting so hard if i slapped that pretty face of yours while i fuck your brains out" he has a filthy mouth but it only turns you on more and more, making you whimper in a silent plea for him to slap your cheek, desperate to see his hand print red on your face but instead he gives another sharp smack between your legs earning a tortured whine from you "jay! f-fuck... need you to slap my face, please" but he grunts, hand tugging your hair again as his gaze grows stern "how did you just called me, mhm? that's not how you should adress me when i'm giving you what you want or are you already too dumb fucked to think?" his voice is serious and it makes you shake your head "no, sir! sorry uh, i'm sorry" you pout, voice soft suddenly but it's probably a little late "your brain must be turned into a puddle already, how pathetic... just a needy whore, a sick brat" and jason gives hard and deep thrusts with each word, voice low and dominant.
"open your mouth. now" he demands as he pulls your hair again at the same time he smacks your pussy one more time, hand lingering over your sensitive bud as you do as he asked. mouth open and tongue sticking out while jason towers over you, he looks so intimidating it makes your inner walls thighten around his dick, a dry scoff escapes him before he spits into your mouth "swallow it, maybe that dirty mouth of yours deserves that if you want to speak like a slut" he grunts, eyes fixed on yours and a glint of lust when you swallow what he just gave you, letting out a loud moan when he presses a bruising kiss to your lips, biting and sucking on them.
jason brings his hand to your face, calloused fingers squeezing your cheeks again to make you open your mouth again for him to spit into it "that's better... obedient little whore" you moan, fingers scratching on the wood where your hands are still pressed, the mirror allowing you to watch your tense body from your hips to your head and jason behind you, his hips hammering against you while he keeps your head thrown back, crown almost pressed to his chest "can't even talk back, just a fuck toy for me to use and abuse" the words are messing with your foggy mind, making you tremble as you nod absentmindedly muttering jason's name like a mantra, his hand squeezing your face making your words sound muffled and sloppy but you stop when he spits over your sealed lips, leaving them shiny and looking just as filthy as the rest of your body when it was being used in this way; right then is when jason lets go of your hair, his hand moving your face to look at yourself on the mirror "your pretty lips look so good like that, mhm, better than any of those stupid lipglosses" he grins devilishly at your reflex and you can feel your body about to burst to his implication, your climax almost over you and he notices it in the way your inner walls convulse around his dick.
"it turns you on, huh? fucked up little slut, you're about to cum all over my cock for being treated like a stupid whore" he growls in a whisper behind your ear "go on, baby, cum for me" he urges with deep strokes that make him grunt at how thight your pussy clenches around him right before you scream his name when your climax washes all over you, body gripping on jason as a vice "that's a fucking good girl, huh, want me to fill up your needy cunt?" and you nod, breath heavy and struggled. his arm goes around your waist, keeping you on your feet when your legs are about to give up and his other hand goes back to play with your clit.
his thrusts grow sloppy, hips stuttering as he comes closer to his high "mhm, you love it when i breed you, right? gonna put a baby on you one of this days, gonna make you a mama" jason says in a sedative tone as he leans in to talk into your ear, it makes you cry from pleasure and need, his hand on your sensitive clit is making you squirm "god... yes please, sir, i wanna have your baby" a soft whimper escapes your lips turning into a full loud moan when he reaches his climax, his cock bursting inside of you as he paints your walls white with thick load of his seed, a grunt leaving his throat before he presses a long kiss on your shoulder.
"you're so fucking good for me, princess" he mutters with a smirk on his lips, jason's arm is still wrapped around your waist as he holds you on your tiptoes while you're both looking at your reflex "see? your lips look prettier like that... swollen and red from my kisses and shiny too" he teases before kissing your chin making you giggle softly "you're sick too, jay" you say with a bright blush on your cheeks before he lets you down and looks at the hour "we should get ready again now if we want to make it to the gala, baby"
you still have to get on your dress again after cleaning yourself, do part of your makeup again and brush your hair because "it looks better all loose, babe" is what jason says when he's ready and finds you struggling to get your half-up nice again. at least you know that your lips will remain red and swollen for a good part of the night and the gloss, that's something jason will have to fix every now and then when nobody around is looking at you both.
#mara's thoughts#jason todd#jason todd x you#jason todd x reader#jason todd smut#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x fem!reader#reader insert#red hood#red hood imagine#red hood smut
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Give it Back - Gojo Satoru X Reader
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w/c - 0.6k
content - fem!reader, mentions of drinking, kissing, hidden inventory trio being a lil drunk and silly at a party outside of Jujutsu High, first kiss, drabble
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2006
As Geto playfully twisted the empty beer bottle between his fingers, you briefly recall how, no less than half an hour ago, he scoffed at the thing when someone held it to his face - proposing a game of truth or dare.
"Spin the bottle? What are we, twelve?"
As the game started, the cozy circle you were sitting in expanded quickly, taking up most of the space of the living room. You groaned at the sight of another couple of students pressing their lips together, sloppily intertwining their drunken tongues to the sound of lewd cheers and woos.
While you weren't eager to join the game, only looking for a place to sit and let your drunkness subside, you found yourself squashed between a stranger and Gojo's lanky limbs.
"Move a little, won't you?" You slur, trying to ward off the nausea while watching a dot of light flicker on the spinning bottle's surface.
The bottle halts, its now aggressive-looking bottleneck pointing straight at you, with Geto's intoxicated smirk on the opposite end.
"Truth or dare?" Geto beams in your direction, his mind already preoccupied with all the devious things he could ask you to do in front of the group.
"Truth," you sigh, eliciting the group's displeasure over the music.
"Pick dare, coward," someone mocks, triggering your drunken pride.
"Alright then, dare."
"Kiss the person on your left." Geto muses.
The mere thought sends shivers down your spine. It's not that you've deliberately dodged from having your first kiss until now. But still, after surviving so long without one, shouldn't this moment be a touch more significant?
"Can't you just dare me to eat something gross, Suguru?" you chastise, utterly unaware that on the left, an angry pink blush flushes Gojo's face.
"It isn't such a bad dare," Gojo whispers, leaning in as soon as you turn to him in confusion. Without missing a beat, he softly pressed his lips against yours, leaving the crowd in stunned silence.
You detach yourself from him with a soft grunt, using a shaking hand to push him away. The silence in the room persists as you step out to find solace on the porch, fixating on the raindrops cascading onto the driveway.
"Satoru, you idiot." Shoko scolded sharply, her voice cutting the air from her spot near Geto, "That was her first kiss."
His eyes widened in response, his hand instinctively shooting out to shove himself away from his spot on the floor.
-
"I'm sorry." Gojo leans on the porch rail beside you, "I thought you were being shy." He lied, too proud to admit that the possibility of you not wanting to kiss him troubled his drunken mind.
"You can't both apologize and imply you did nothing wrong, Satoru."
"Come on, if that were true we wouldn't have politics." His attempt to lighten the mood was met with your displeased scoff.
"I'm sorry," He utters again, a hint of sincerity seeping through, "How can I make it better?"
You steady your gaze back to the rain-soaked driveway, taking a moment to contemplate before delivering the verdict, "You can give it back."
"Huh?" He blurts as you grab the collar of his white shirt, yanking him closer to crash your lips onto his. Still recovering from the surprise, he cups your face with his hands, catching a quick breath before parting your lips with his tongue.
"It's mine now," you say triumphantly, a mischievous smile grazing your lips as you watch Gojo fix his now-ruffled hair, "I'm freezing; I'm going in."
He lets out a small chuckle as you approach the entrance, only to grab your face with long, skilled fingers, planting a chaste peck on your lips.
"'S mine again," He declares, rushing to the door before you, "Come and get it."
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x you#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen X reader#jjk x you#satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru
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Be Quiet | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+
Blurb from my long form Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader story Trapped (Go check it out if you're in the mood for a long read)
[I'm not letting the notes I've gotten in the last 24 hours get to me, I swear]
Context? Meeting Uncle Wayne for the first time then fucking off to Eddie's room.
Word Count: 3.7k
Warning: squirting, light ball worship, oral (both), riding, slut shaming, dirty talk, *parent in the next room so shut up*, teasing/begging
“I know you’re nervous but it’s gotta happen some time.”
“Like you are meeting my mom and dad?”
Eddie’s eyes bulge, forgetting you had a normal set of parents he still had to meet. “Damn. Right. Anyway. It’ll be fine.”
The door swings open without needing a key. The two of you walk in, seeing Wayne Munson perched on the couch with his legs bent and feet on the coffee table holding a beer and watching a rerun of Cheers. A cigarette in his mouth, inhaling, laughing, and coughing as Ted Danson says something rather funny.
He jumps as the door closes, apparently not hearing Eddie’s loud engine. “Oh, hey kid.” Wayne grunts, putting his feet off the table and getting up to greet his nephew. “I see you brought a friend?”
“Of sorts.” Eddie shrugs, his hand flexing in yours.
“Hello,” you greet him, your nervousness obvious in your voice as you greet him. You face him for the first time, taking in the man who you assumed is the one who raised Eddie. Wayne Munson looks like what someone would define as a blue collared man. The plaid he’s wearing, the scruff on his jeans, and the smell and tint of dirt on his skin. He has thin hair on his head, completely thinned out in the middle.
Bald. He’s bald.
He has a scruff beard, and he doesn’t look like the most approachable person in the world. However, the way this man smiled at Eddie told you everything you needed to know about him. You hold your hand to him, testing the waters. Eddie muffles a laugh, smiling over you at Wayne.
Wayne laughs silently at the extended hand, grabs it and yanks you into a hug. It startles you, but the smell of the same cologne you smell on Eddie mixed with his gruff laughter as you yelp is oddly comforting. “Oh sunshine, I found my nephew singing a pop song in the shower last Sunday morning. I think we’re way passed a handshake.”
Wayne gives you one last squeeze and lets you go. You turn back to face your boyfriend, anticipating his reaction to this.
Eddie was looking at Wayne, the face of one who was severely betrayed. “You really gotta bring up singing in the shower?”
Wayne put his hands up in surrender, laughing as he goes back to return to the couch where his beer was sat and his cigarette out from lack of use. “Hey, man. You haven’t sung like that for a couple of years. I just had to let this kid know how much she means to you. In case you haven’t gotten the message across.”
You smile already fond of his uncle. “Wait until you meet my mom” you say, attempting to make him feel better. “She has stories on stories against singing in the shower. Though I gotta know the artist.”
“Not saying shit.” Eddie states, bouncing onto his toes and back onto his heels, representing his stubbornness.
Wayne jogs lightly to you, and whispers “Madonna” right near your face and giggles as Eddie loudly protests this second act of betrayal.
“I don’t know how I didn’t see my girlfriend and my uncle teaming up against me coming. This was bound to happen with you two.” He says, sounding disappointed but there was a hint of a smile his face.
“You picked a good one, that’s why,” Wayne says, sat back on his couch and grabbing his lighter and cigarette. “Nice to meet you, sunshine.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Munson,” you reply, the feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing yours.
“Please, Mr. Munson is my shit brother. Call me Wayne. Please.”
“Okay. Will do.” You smile, your breath taken away as Eddie tugs you straight to his room.
“Edward!” Wayne calls as you almost reach his room.
Eddie sighs and turns around to ask what he wanted.
“Either be quiet or turn some music on. I don’t want to hear anything. Capiche?” He asks, a mildly smug but mostly a tired man who did not need to hear that on his one night off this week.
“Got it.” And the door closes behind you two.
-
You land on the bed with an oof as you lie onto your back, Eddie running around his room like a headless chicken. Eddie puts on some Journey, a tape he once received as a gift and only plays as background music for more tamer things. He turns up the volume enough, but not enough to drown your voices out.
Sitting up, you give him a look with an eyebrow raised, and your core heating up from the mere indication of putting on slightly loud yet tame music. You watch Eddie as he yanks off his jacket and vest, pulling off his shirt as well. He slips his hair back half up, and finally turns to face you with a knowing smirk.
“What are you up to?” You ask as he crawls on to the bed.
“Shh. Time for kissing.” He whispers and leans in with his delicious lips.
No matter how many times you have seen the sight of Eddie leaning in to kiss you, it never gets old. You’re absolutely positive it won’t ever get old.
Eddie’s lips are on yours, leading with a confidence that grows each time. If you’re not careful he will become hella cocky in his abilities. You meet his kiss with enthusiasm, opting to open your mouth ask for permission for your tongue to enter his. He grants you permission, a dark chuckle in the back of his throat as he sharply inhales. He places a hand into your hair, his thumb caressing the skin right underneath it.
You don’t know how, but you were getting wetter from kissing him alone. You could feel an urge to start to grind, your thighs clenching tightly. Lying down on your back, Eddie follows you down, slipping one hand underneath your shirt, the contact of his hand on your waist making you whimper.
“Feeling needy, princess?” He asks, his voice light. “You want me to do something?” Eddie starts kissing your neck, his tongue teasing by barely gracing your skin.
One arm is around your torso, his body lined up against yours and propped onto his elbow. You nod your head yes as he continues his assault on your neck, starting to use his teeth.
“What do you want me to do, use your words.” He whispers against your neck, his voice nice and smooth. He feels you clench your thighs, most of your lower body tightening right up. “Oh you are very needy, my love. But you’re going to have to tell me if you want me to do something, otherwise I’ll continue to do PG rated things on your neck.”
You whimper, thinking he wouldn’t be as cruel as to only stick to over your clothes type touching for the sake of teasing you. “Please, please touch me, Eddie. I need it. I need it so bad.”
“I am touching you” he mutters pressing his hand under your shirt on your torso a little harder on your skin.
A sound comes out of you that sounds like a sob, a pathetic little noise from being riled up so much already. You know if he were to take off your pants your panties would have a nice little wet patch on them. “My pussy, Eddie please. Touch it, I’m so fucking wet.” You beg him, whimpering.
Eddie admires the way he was able to make you fall apart simply by kissing you. He has been thinking of attempting something like this with you for about as long as he could handle. Your face was already scrunched up from the teasing, whimpering from the way he was teasing you and almost denying you what you so desperately craved.
“There you go sweetheart.” Eddie sits up, you with him. He crawls down to your waist, starting on the waistband of your pants. He tugs on it, forcing you to lift your hips. He throws them across the room and gets a good look at your pretty yellow panties with the bow on it you decided to wear, nearly groaning at the sight of the darkened patch at the centre. “Look at you,” he nearly chokes on air, catching his breath at the way your hips are so easily separated and you panting, staring up at him. “Is this all for me? Just from my lips kissing yours?”
“I’ve been wanting you all day,” you mumble, embarrassed. “Been thinking about your cock in class.”
“Oh, you dirty girl,” he mutters, entirely too turned on at the idea of you sitting in class and writing notes while thinking of him bending you over a desk in a nearby empty classroom. He rewards your confession with a kiss on your thigh, causing it to shake on almost immediate contact, the lick sending pleasure shocks up your body. He looks at you, surprised at the reaction, but it only encourages him to continue.
He laps further up your thigh causing your pussy to start to clench at the very idea of being in contact with his fucking beautiful tongue. Finally, he gets to the centre, the heated core where your pussy is begging for any sort of contact. “Baby, please” You beg him. “Lick my pussy. Eat me out. Fuck please.”
Usually, Eddie is the more verbal one, but you’re starting to catch on to the fact that every time you beg or confess something he rewards you. So here, instead of teasing you over your undies like he was planning, he rips them off in a singular motion. As soon as your panties are off, he attacks your clit with his tongue, your pussy already completely covered in your slick.
“Look how wet and pretty this little pussy is,” he mutters against your clit, the vibrations sending waves up your stomach. If he continues like this, you won’t last much longer. He slips in a finger, pumping it and sucking on your clit at the same time. “How does this feel, baby?”
You were so far gone you were surprised it even registered to answer, your stomach starting to tighten in the all too familiar way. “Feels- feels so good, Ed. Keep doing that.”
Eddie sucks on your clit even harder and adds a finger. You feel fuller and a red-hot heat starts on your clit, spreading in your legs and your stomach. It felt intense, and new. There was a very small part of you that remembered Wayne was in the living room. Instead of the loud moans you wanted to let out, it ended up being choked out moans, staying in the back of your throat.
You struggling to keep quiet was like music to Eddie’s ears. The way your legs were entirely tensed up was telling him you were close. He was surprised how little he did today to get you so close to the edge, wondering how long you must’ve been revved up for. He sucks as hard as he can on your clit, adding a third finger to you.
Suddenly, you’re hit with a wave of heat, something inside you tells you to push and relax a muscle you didn’t know you had. You feel heat all over your body, focused on your pussy and thighs and you hear a gushing sound. It takes you a second to come back to earth, your heart racing and giggles forming in the back of your throat. You sit up slowly to ask him who the fuck taught him to do that cause it wasn’t you when a large wet patch underneath your ass startles you.
It didn’t even occur to you that you have squirted, you were so blissed out. Confused you look at the darkened patch on the bed and then up to Eddie’s face. It’s covered in your slick, and he looks as stunned as you were. “Holy shit I made you squirt.” He mutters, taking one thumb and running it along his face to suck on your slick.
“I-I didn’t know I could even do that.” You whisper, starting at the large wet stain on his bed.
“That was so fucking sexy, baby.” He whispers back, leaning in to kiss you.
You lean back after receiving one kiss, the taste of your pussy/cum turning you on more than you thought it would. “You don’t want to wipe your face off?”
“Are you fucking kidding me, sweetheart?” He asks, dead serious. “I’m wearing this like a fucking trophy. I, a man who has fucked a total of three times, have made my girlfriend squirt. If I can do it any guy can.”
“Not just any guy is willing to go down on a girl like that, though.” You mutter, searching his face.
Eddie rolls his eyes, pouncing on you so you lie back onto the bed. “A guy who refuses to go down on a girl is a fucking whimp. It’s one of the best acts of worship you could possibly do.”
This sentence turns you on so much that you moan softly, leaning in for another you-tasting kiss. You reach down for his pants unbuckling his jeans and belt, needing to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue as lust overtakes and overconsumes your body. “Wanna taste you, now.” You mutter, leaning away to focus on getting his pants off.
After fidgeting for too long, you maneuver him onto his back getting a better angle to blow him.
“Oh, fuck please.” Eddie mutters, a fraction of his confidence gone in the idea of your mouth around his cock.
You yank his briefs and his jeans off all at once, having teased him a bit last time. You just wanted to show him how much making you feel so damn good made you feel. You crawl up to his cock and start fisting him without any warning. Eddie lurches in your hold, his chest lifting with is legs. He really needed the release as well, it seems.
Your hand stops moving, and you lean down, gently kissing along the shaft in different spots. You go up and down several times, not wanting him to know when you were taking him in his mouth. After your third round of up and down Eddie’s hips buck up, silently asking you fucking suck on his cock already. You giggle softly and decide to take pity on him. You open your mouth and finally take him in, his cock going to the centre of your mouth.
Eddie moans softly and you feel his thighs tense. You start sucking and bobbing, getting a rhythm started. “Oh Jesus you do so fucking well with your pretty little mouth, baby.” He rambles, his mouth talking out of habit.
You hum, causing a vibration sent down. Taking your mouth off, you decide something spontaneous, and take one of his balls onto your mouth, sucking on it loudly.
Eddie jerks up in response to this, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. You feel proud of yourself for getting this reaction and you move to the next one. You bring his heavy cock back into your mouth and take him in as much as you can. You start the rhythm again, and you can feel him getting more desperate as you continue.
Eddie taps your head, asking you silently to come up to him. You wanted to continue sucking him off, but you obliged anyhow. It was proving that listening to him paid off.
“Come here.” He says when you crawl up to him. “You do so well, baby. Be a good girl and put your cock in, yeah? I wanna fuck you so bad now.”
You take off your baggy shirt, revealing you wore no bra. Your nipples were nice and hard, Eddie grabbing one of your tits as soon as he saw them. You whimper at the sensation, feeling nice and tingly. Finally, you were both naked. You move your leg over his lap, straddling him. You haven’t ridden him yet and you were fucking excited to. As you sit down, Eddie grabs his cock, lining it up with your entrance but just off. He takes his hand off his cock and you whine at the loss of the possibility of you finally being full of him. “No, no. Remember, I told you to put it in. You can do it, my little slut. Go ahead.”
You reach down between your legs to line up his cock with your entrance. Eddie looks down as the head starts to go in, moaning at the sight of your hand doing such a thing. You moan as his cock enters, both at the slight pain and the immense pleasure already pooled in your tummy again.
As the pain settles after a shorter period than last time, you go as far as you can go, not warning Eddie and making him moan loudly. “Shh.” You say, placing your hand over his mouth. “Remember.”
Eddie nods, his eyes wide, but you feel his cock twitch. You almost remove your hand when he desperately grabs it and places it back over his mouth, nodding. You smile, this being far too hot to handle. You add light pressure with your hand, and finally, you’re able to finish sinking onto his cock. “Holy fucking- holy shit.” You whisper as he moans loudly into your hand.
Slowly, you start grinding on his cock, unable to remember when the last time you rode anyone was but knowing you still had some skill regardless. He was longer than you figured, sliding up and farther than you thought you could. As you slam down onto it again Eddie rolls his eyes and is muffled as he moans in your mouth again, a strain of profanities you wish you could hear.
Soon, you find your thighs aren’t doing the job you needed them to, and you stand onto your feet in a froggy style and start bouncing on his cock. This causes a moan so loud your hand barely hid it, Eddie pussy drunk as you stare half lidded into his eyes. His cock is hitting the right spot and you can feel your self getting close as he starts assisting you, moving his hips.
Before you knew what was happening, he got impatient and grabbed your waist and turned you onto your back. You were so surprised your hand flew off his mouth. He put his hand on yours, wanting to be in control. “Now you can moan as long as you want, you little slut,” he whispers, his hand hard on your mouth but literally the hottest thing in the world. He changes from missionary and hikes your legs up so you two were in an L.
You were accidentally edged earlier, but you felt it coming just as fast again, and the way your knees bent on his chest was the dead giveaway. “Are you close, princess? Come on, cum. I wanna feel you as you moan onto my hand. Come on. Come on you slut. Come-”
Eddie got more aggressive, but it did the trick with the slut shaming doing more than you ever expected. The coil in your tummy snaps, sending waves of pleasure through your body and a white-hot flash past your eyes. You yell loudly into his hand, yelling words you weren’t sure they would make sense even if you didn’t have his hand clamped over your mouth.
As Eddie felt you come around his cock, your wet heat spasming it drew him to his orgasm faster than he was expecting. “Holy shit – Im gonna,” he stops, white hot cum shooting into your pussy, his orgasm overtaking him far faster than he expected.
His hand leaves your mouth, and he falls next to you. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” he starts to say, but you crawl into his arms and cut him off.
“Don’t care. I will need a morning after pill to make sure we don’t fuck over your uncle a second time, but I don’t care. I love the feeling of your cum in me.” You tell him honestly, leaning in for a kiss.
“I’m pretty sure I made you up,” Eddie mutters as he musters the energy to get up. He does, grabbing a towel and coming back to clean you up. “Hold on, be right back.”
Eddie gets changed into sweats and a band t shirt and runs into the trailer to get a glass of water. When he returns, he has a wet cloth as well and a shit eating grin on his face.
“What happened?” You ask, afraid to know the answer.
“He left a note.”
You didn’t see it when he first came in, a cloth against the mug of water he brought. “What does it say?”
Eddie giggles as he lifts it up and clears this throat dramatically. “It says, ‘You kids don’t know the meaning of the word quiet. I went for a walk. I’ll be back at 11.”
You put your hands over your mouth, mortified that after meeting his uncle its followed by fucking too loud and forcing him out of his own trailer. Eddie doesn’t seem to find this embarrassing, but rather funny. Silently you ask him why he’s laughing. “I didn’t think I would ever be able to fuck so loud that my uncle had to leave, seeing as my virginity status was bound to last until college.” He sighs looking off into distance. “Dreams really do come true.”
You get up, knees weak to grab the cloth in his hands. “I’ll take that.”
“AH ah ah.” He yanks it out of reach. “Lie down. Let me take care of you. Then we’ll go watch something in the living room before I drive you home, ok?”
You lie back down, Eddie placing a nice warm cloth on your pussy to clean it. When he’s done, he gives you some water. “Do you need a shower?” He asks, offering a clean towel from the linen closet. You nod your head no, thinking you’ll just take one at home and you wanted more time together.
Eddie shrugs and gives you your clothes and lets you know he’ll meet you in the living room and it’s his turn to pick the movie.
After Wayne gives you an extra half hour of wiggle room, he finds you sitting on the couch, you refusing to make eye contact as he walks in. He sits next to you anyway, already forgotten.
-
You guyssss have blown me away with the love you have shown these little blurbs I cannot thank you enough. Please let me know what you thought pls I love reading it... xoxo
Again there are more smut scenes in the long story that I won't be posting as a stand alone (like Eddie's their first time.)
#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson#eddie munson x you smut
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BABE!! Tan for sure is the kinda guy to open your car door, pull your chair out for you etc, BUT imagine that you’re not used to that?? And so kinda keep doing it yourself, before Tan gets to? And he always lovingly scolds you for it?
OK SO NOW!! Imagine calling him when you’re drunk, asking him to pick you up, and suddenly he learns that you’re kind of a brat when drunk?? I FEEL LIKE HE’D LOVE THAT, like suddenly, you’re stood by the car door, waiting, chin raised and happily clearing your throat to signal to him to open it 😭 and he’s melting bc you’re finally not so darn independent and you let him care for you!!! (He also finds it hilarious) (also, you’d totally get him to take your heels off for you)
AAAAAGGGHHH OMG!!! love love it!!
this also disappeared right after I posted it??? idk what’s going on!!!
TANGERINE WITH AN INDEPENDENT READER.
omg omg this is so eldest daughter coded!!!!!!!!! (self indulgent but idc)
and you're independent and used to doing everything yourself, yup yup I see the vision. and also maybe not used to chivalry sooo..
— so like when you go do dinner/ have date nights out, you pull out your chair before he can even reach it (also the same for opening car doors, or doors in general) he just tsks at you, shaking his head "that's my job" or "what did I say?" bc he's told you so many times
— and when you're walking and you're on the outside (closest to the road) he puts a hand on the small of your back and guides you to swap places and says "what did I say?" (that's gonna be a running theme/ repetitive saying btw)
— and when he drops you home after going somewhere he gets out the car to walk you to your door, you're like "I'll be fine. you don't need to do this" and he’s like “would you just let me be a gentleman” and he waits until you're in and he hears the door lock before he leaves
— he holds bags for you and dismisses your protests of carrying them yourself, he's all like "how many times have I gotta tell you?"
— AND so?? you're out with friends and you're drunk, you call him to pick you up. you give him your bag immediately, silently handing it to him with no reaction, not a smile or a glance, nothing. and he just squints at you bc you've never done it before
— and then when you're walking to his car, you have an arm around his back as he helps keep you stable (you're a bit sloshed btw) and bc he's so focused on getting you to the car, he forgets that he's on the inside of the pavement, but you don't. so you're like "swap. im meant to be that side" and he's kinda loving it bc it seems that all the things he's been trying to ingrain into you have finally worked
— when you get to his car, you're waiting for him to open it for you, arms crossed, tapping your foot, and you'd slur something like "sometime today would be nice" and he's just so entertained and amused by it all!! he's like "you're right, sorry. I'll be quicker" so you reply with "that's what I thought" and he just does one of those low chuckling snickers bc he’s loving it a lot more than he thought he would
— and then when you sit in the car, your twist to pull your legs out before he can shut the door. and you lift a leg and say "my feet hurt" making him take your shoes/ heels off for you. and he's just so whipped and he crouches down to undo them and he's just holding under your heel AARGGHHHHH. "better?" is def something he says. and "'little miss precious' tonight, you are"
— AND THEN just as he's about to shut the door you say "wait" and he's like "what?" and you say "seatbelt. it's not plugged in" hinting for him to do it. so he grabs it and reaches over you to plug it in, and kisses your cheek before standing up straight. then finally he gets in the car to drive back
— he's loving that you're finally letting him help you, even if you're drunk and have no real control over yourself. he reminds you the next day about what you did, and you're embarrassed, like "no, I didn't. you're making it up. I would never do that" and bc he's sweet, he's like "yeah, you're right. just pulling your leg" and he pretends his teases were a lie BUT THEY'RE NOT. HE'S JUST SAVING YOUR FEELINGS
— ALSO JUST BC I LOVE IT SO MUCH if you say “I can do it by myself” he says “I know you can. but let me help you” 🫠
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The guy coming home to me ✭ Carlos Sainz
Summary: Investing in a F1 team in the middle of your worldwide tour was very outrageous and threw many questions at you. But of course they didn't know that you happened to date one of the drivers in the team, until a concert in Singapore.
Warnings: None, I know it's so different of me.
Word count: 0.7k
A/N: Based off of this request.
You try to ignore all the camera’s that surround you, never getting a break whether you're picking up groceries or attending a big sports event. The voices behind the camera’s ask you questions that all revolve around the same thing– Your new sponsorship with Scuderia Ferrari F1 team.
It had come as a surprise to nearly everyone as you were halfway through your worldwide tour and decided to shake hands with a team in a sport you secretly loved. But they didn’t know that, and they also didn’t know about your months-long relationship with Carlos Sainz, one of the two drivers for the team.
The week of the Singapore Grand Prix had started and you had meticulously planned your concert in the same country and city as one of your favourite races.
So on the Thursday in which all the drivers did media work you sat in a stadium counting the hours until you could do what you love, with the person you love in the same premises. As you received free paddock passes they received concert tickets and tonight happened to be the day everything lined up.
It was a coincidence to people that glanced, but the ones that stared could have noticed it was more. Probably from the times I went to races and interacted with many people but disappeared with a specific someone or when my attention couldn’t be divided between both Ferrari drivers and stuck to one. The one with dark brunette hair and eyes that glisten the same colour. Full and plump lips that I enjoy against mine, compliment his smooth accent and delicate fingers that can show rough.
Apparently Carlos had been scrutinised about it as well, but listening to his P.R had paid off and he slid out of the situation easily. Therefore when you asked him to attend one of your concerts he accepted but with the company of a few of his fellow drivers. It was under one hour until you were to get on stage and the driver’s decided to give you a little good luck. You greeted them all with hugs, one lasting longer than others but they didn’t notice.
“You gonna do something special for us?” Lando asks jokingly.
“You gonna get a podium?” You ask in the same tone and manage to gain a chuckle from him.
You have to cut your conversations short and run off for final costume and makeup touch ups before making your way on stage. But not without Carlos sneaking his way through and wishing you a more personal good luck. He captures your lips in his and then mutter’s a few words against your skin. “Good luck Cariño, but I already know you’re gonna do great.” And in the time he leaves to get seated you stand at the back of the stage waiting for your queue.
It makes you beam at how the crowd screams when they capture your silhouette and even better when you actually emerge on stage. Through every song, you catch a glimpse of Carlos, his eyes always on you.
As it edges closer into the night you realise how fast time has gone by, in which you have reached your last song of this warm night–Karma. You put all of your last energy into this song moving from one end of the stage to the other.
As you reach the near end of the bridge you make your way to the end of the stage with your eyes stuck on Carlos’ it was more than obvious. “Karma is the guy on the tracks, coming straight home to me.” You point at him with a proud smile as red and yellow fireworks emit into the sky accompanied by the same colours of confetti and lights.
You continue singing but can’t hold back your laughter as the faces of everyone in the stadium alter, especially the drivers. They all start shouting and bunch around Carlos with wide grins on their faces, including hints of curiosity. Through the crowd you manage to catch a glance of Carlos and you couldn’t be happier with the expression he wears. His big smile as his friends jump around him and confetti covers them all. He catches your eye and mouths “te amo”, you mouth it back and let out a content sigh, happy that he is the guy coming home to you.
#carlos sainz x reader#carlos sainz fluff#carlos sainz imagine#carlos sainz fanfic#carlos sainz#f1#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#f1 fic#f1 fluff#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#formula one
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listen to these for a better experience.
leaf - a$ap rocky / monks - frank ocean
"Y/n, would you stop moving, please?" Chris asked, whining beneath you, as you tried to get comfortable in his lap whilst he showed you how to play a video game. Needless to say, neither of you was paying attention. Even with his brothers and your friends in the same room, it seemed like you two could not behave.
"I'm not even doing anything ,Chris." you argued, acting as if you could not feel what you were doing to him. Lowkey, proud of yourself, honestly. You grabbed the controller from his hands to continue playing the game while his hands dropped to your hips, trying to keep you still ,so he didn't get into any more trouble tonight. The grip he had on you and his delicious cologne combined with the whispering instructions in your ear on how to move your fingers in order to kill your opponents was driving you fucking insane. The wetness between your legs is growing more and more by the second.
His grip on your hips finally dropped as he began to draw circles on top of your thighs. What a fucking tease of a man, you thought. Trying so hard not to squirm nor clench your thighs. The two of you seemed so entranced in each other's touch that you didn't notice the confused yet amused faces of your friends around you. One by one, they started to leave. Sensing the tension in the room. Leaving you two to spend time alone.
Suddenly, the room fell into a comfortable silence. The lights were previously dimmed, and the atmosphere was just right. You decided on turning the game off and got to talking into the late hour of the night.
"So... let me get this straight. This guy had been begging you to go out with him, and when you finally do and get to the good part, he just leaves you hanging ??"
Chris held back a chuckle, wanting to laugh but also feeling bad for your horrible experience. He just wishes you could give him a chance. He thought he could do better. No, he knew he could do better. Thus, he consoles you by saying that maybe you just haven't found the right one yet, someone that would put your pleasure above their own and wasn't overall selfish in that department. Thankfully for him, you pick up on the hint. After all, you had been waiting for it.
"Oh, someone like you ,you mean?" you said as seductively as you could. Bringing your hand up to rub his bicep and looking him directly into his eyes with your big doe ones. Trying to read his emotions but finding it impossible as he turned his gaze to watch the movement of your hand on his bicep. Suddenly, he pulled his gaze up, looking into your eyes and then inevitably driving his gaze back to your full plump lips. The ones he would have such sinful thoughts about.
"Oh, no. I meant me ,sweetheart. " he said as a stupid wicked smirk pulled onto his lips. You couldn't help but debate in your mind if you wanted to slap it off or kiss it off. Well, you wouldn't have to ponder any longer since he took the initiative and kissed you before you could. As he was kissing you, he slowly laid you down on the couch as he got on top of you. His hands made their way all over every slope of your body, exploring it completely. Your own, stuck in his hair, pulling and playing with it.
The kiss quickly turned into a heated make-out session. Articles of clothing are thrown left and right in the air and onto the wooden floor beneath you. You were left in your matching bra and underwear. Silently thanking every higher power for possessing you to wear a cute set tonight.
You suddenly pulled away from him to catch a breath. Only to look up at him to see him pouting and staring at you through his fully blown out pupils. You laughed at his childlike behavior and quickly pulled him back into a kiss.
Both tongues fighting for dominance into the kiss. You finally gave up and let him have his little victory. A few moans and whimpers left your lips as he groped you everywhere he could. You couldn't help but become more and more impatient. "Chris ,please do something ,I need you." You whined, and well, he assisted. He finally left your lips and made his way down to your neck, leaving a few kisses there and gradually making his way further to your tits, kissing and biting at the flesh there, wanting to claim you in way that excited him. Lastly, he got to the place where you craved him the most. He pulled your panties to the side with his ring and middle finger. "Oh, baby. You've made such a mess for me." he said quite mockingly that if you didn't need him this bad right now ,you would've punched him in the face.
"Yes, hurry up, do something, please." You said exaggerating your moans even more to get him going. "Well, since you asked so nicely, baby." he said as he dipped a finger into your hole, which instantly had you bucking your hips upwards and clenching around him. He worked you up with that firstly and then decided it was time for another. Adding a second finger in, had you seeing stars. When you'd do it yourself in the darkness and comfort of your own room ,you didn't imagine it could feel even better when he'd do it to you.
Lost in the pleasure of his fingers pumping in and out of your sleek ,you let out a few stammered words, absolutely making no sense. "'m closeee, p-please." You managed to get out in one breath. He finally hit the spot that had you dizzy and brought you eventually to your high.
"That was insane." you said out of breath.
"I've been wanting to do that for so long." he said, and you looked at his disheveled hair and sweaty upper body. Honestly, he looked so attractive right now that you could take him for twenty rounds.
"Well...." you said as you started getting up and turning your positions around. You are on top ,him right beneath you. He looked up at you with his drunken gaze. He couldn't wait for you to do something.
"Yeah?"
You completely ignored him. You grabbed his neck and pulled him again into a heated kiss. Full of passion and so firey. Unlike any other kiss you've had. Making it such a new and an addicting experience for you. You slowly started to grind yourself on top of him ,your clothed clit rubbing on his clothed tip. Hitting just the right spots every time, making both of you pull away from each other to moan and throw your head backs. You were growing so addicted to his every touch. "'m gonna take these off, 's that alright ,baby?" he said, gripping the band of your small panties, and you couldn't help but nod uncontrollably.
As soon as your panties had made their way to the floor ,your hands made their way to his boxers, taking them off so eagerly. The sight of his dick so hard and leaking pre-cum made you go insane. Sitting against his stomach, a vein making a prominent appearance to the side. You couldn't help but take it into your hand. First, you gathered the pre-cum that leaked from his tip on your finger, instantly licking it off. Then, you spit onto his cock, the warm liquid making him let out a hiss ,turning you even more with the noises he was making. Your hand started making its way up and down his length, concentrating on his tip and applying pressure there.
"Baby, please." he begged as he continued to let out groans. "'m not gonna last if you keep doing that, beautiful." he said ,somewhat begging for mercy. As cruel as you were, you kept going ,wanting him to feel as good as you did. This was turning you on so much that your arousal had leaked on his thighs. If you weren't so into the moment, you would've been embarrassed. Not that you had anything to be embarrassed about with Chris.
Soon enough, his cum started leaking out him. You didn't stop, though, not until he was completely spent. You were so high on adrenaline and how good you made each other feel that you instantly jumped on his cock. Not giving him time to come down from his last orgasm.
You started with steady moves, fistly going back and forth, then up and down, and just doing what felt good in the moment. You two letting out a series of profanities and curse words in between your moans. So lost in the pleasure drowning you both, that you didn't care that everyone could listen to you guys jumping each other's bones. You felt so good ,you weren't gonna apologize for it. Needless to say, Chris felt the exact same way. Getting to finally experience this was life-changing for him. He would constantly dream about having you. About this exact moment. You were haunting both his conscious and unconscious mind. This felt better than any dream he'd ever had, though, just cause he was actually experiencing it and not waking up sweaty with a boner to take care of in the shower ,first thing in the morning.
Your legs started to finally get tired from all the movement you were doing ,Chris took this as his cue to step up. He thrusted up into you a few times before gripping the back of your thighs and turning you around to lay down. Your ass up and your face lost in the cushions of his large couch, he started pounding into you from behind relentlessly. "Touch your clit for me, ma." you heard him say from behind and instantly complied. You were both getting closer and closer as he continued going in and out of you. Watching how your wet tight cunt took in his large cock. Getting mesmerized by the sight and not being able to hold it back anymore. You couldn't either, as soon as you felt his dick twitch inside you, you let go of your orgasm and he reached his just in time. Pulling out of you gently ,he reached down to grab his shirt so he could wipe off both of your juices. When he finally got you cleaned up and dressed, he cuddled you into his chest.
"That was-"
"-amazing." You finished for him.
in honor of 100+ followers cause that's fucking insane 😭🩷 thank you so much, and a possible r-rated video tonight.
#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#spotify
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Bets & Bargains - Part 4
Series Masterlist
➪in which you and bradley hang out for a third time and are both left questioning whether or not a friendship could form between the two of you, or something else entirely.
PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.
WC; 3.7k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡
Bradley was still thinking about the quick kiss you pressed to his cheek last night, even a whopping sixteen hours later.
Your lips felt soft and unfamiliar, but he found himself wanting to feel them again. And again.
You had only given him a small, friendly peck, but it was enough to have him driving back to the frat house with a semi that only got worse the longer he let himself think about you.
It was quite ridiculous, the affect you have on him. He felt like a teenager again, getting hard from just a kiss on the fucking cheek.
Still, you were his friend - at least he and you were on the way to being friends - and he didn’t want to let himself think about you like that.
He ended up taking a cold shower then going to bed, but to his surprise, he was still thinking about you when he woke up seven hours later. Why couldn’t he stop thinking about you? He was supposed to be bettering himself so he could get Bri back, but he was barely thinking about her lately.
Bradley grabbed his phone and sat up as he clicked onto his messages, and he saw that Bri hadn’t gotten back to him after he finally texted her a response yesterday.
Typical.
He wished he hadn’t texted her back, because now he had taken the bait she left out and looks like the one who can’t move on, when she so clearly had.
Instead of getting annoyed at her, though, he let his thoughts shift back to you, and he was clicking on your contact before he even realized it.
Would it be too weird to tell you that I thought about you all night?
Morning, by the way.
He figured he had nothing to lose, and if you were weirded out by what he said, then it was a good thing you and he had only hung out twice, so he wouldn’t be giving up too much.
But he should know by now that you two fit each other concerningly well, and how you weren’t one to be scared away by his forwardness.
Y/n: No way, I thought about you, too.
Y/n: Morning, btw.
Bradley felt a dumb grin form on his lips as he checked the time, seeing that it was nearing ten in the morning. He got up and lazily threw his sheets over his bed in a half-assed effort of making it, using his free hand to text you back.
So we’re both thinking about each other. Any suggestions on where to go from here?
He dressed himself in dark jeans and a flannel before throwing his backpack over his shoulder and making his way across campus to his class, and when he found an empty seat and sat down, the text he received from you left him smiling for the most part of the two hour class.
Y/n: Round three?
-
Bradley suggested a movie night at his place since his roommates won’t be home, and you were a bit nervous to go back there since you would be completely alone with him this time and not wedged between him and a wall like you were at the party.
You were also excited, because hanging out with him had been the most fun you’ve had since attending university, and you were in your second year now.
He didn’t need to know that, though.
You tuned out for most of your classes, and when you changed into a pair of sweats and a cropped tee, your phone went off. Thinking it was Bradley, you pick it up with a smile that immediately drops when you read the caller ID.
Luke.
Of course it was him.
Even though you were actively ignoring him, he still wasn’t getting the hint that the relationship was over. You knew you needed to send him a final text and set things straight, because you were ready to move on, and he was making it harder than it should be.
Please stop texting me. We’re done, Luke. I will always be grateful for you and our time together, but it’s time we both move on. I wish you the best.
That sounded nice, right? You hoped so, anyway. You didn’t want to hurt Luke; you simply wanted him to get the message and stop contacting you until you were both over each other. Maybe you could be friends later down the road, but that was a hard maybe. You were never friends with Luke, you went from strangers pretty much right to dating.
You wanted to take your time with your next relationship, whether that was with Bradley or not. Though, you couldn’t be blamed for hoping that he is your next.
With no further communication with Luke, you pocket your phone and start the walk across the reasonably big campus and towards Bradley’s frat house, and you smirk at the reminder of why you set his contact name as Fratley.
You reach the front steps and knock on the door, second guessing your choice of outfit and wondering if it was too casual, but what else were you supposed to wear for a movie night? Comfy casual? Or uncomfortable non-casual?
When Bradley opened the door in a similar outfit, you felt better about yours, and the not so subtle way he looked you up and down definitely had your worries disappearing and your face heating up. “Hi,”
“Hi,” he said back and opened the door a bit further. “Took you long enough, I’ve been cleaning for the last hour and a half.”
You cover your mouth with a quiet laugh and step into the house. “You mean this place doesn’t look like the aftermath of a party all the time?”
Bradley playfully scoffed. “Do you think I enjoy living in that filth? I hibernate in my room half the time to avoid seeing what new mess the guys made,”
You laugh again and follow him into the living room. It looked a lot bigger than the last time you saw it, without all the people, and it was actually quite nice. “Well, I’m not sure how long you spent cleaning in here, but…” You turn to smirk at him, finding him already looking at you. “Good job.”
He holds his arms out and leans down in a bow. “Thank you,” he returned your smirk. “Did it all for you. I wasn’t kidding when I said I was thinking about you.”
You blush and look away before he could see the affect his words have on you. “It’s nice to see this place not crowded,” you change the subject and move to sit on the couch. “I can’t believe we met at a party here.”
Bradley stays where he is, the smirk still painted on his lips as he crosses his arms. “Yeah, well, if I had known this was going to happen, I would have agreed to that party a lot sooner,”
You playfully roll your eyes. “You’re full of it,”
He laughs and gestures to the doorway that leads to the kitchen. “You pick the movie and I’ll grab the snacks. Are you feeling like soda or something stronger?”
You debate it for a few seconds and come to the conclusion that you don’t want to be drunk this time around, but one drink wouldn’t hurt. “How about one beer and one soda?” You suggest and he nods with a thumbs up before disappearing into the kitchen.
Your face was still a bit hot as you sat by yourself, and you knew you needed to get a grip. Bradley was just another guy; a cute, funny and confident guy.
Yeah, you were fucked.
Bradley still hadn’t come back when your phone went off, and when you saw that it was Sam calling you, you declined it and opened your text thread with her to let her know that you were busy at the moment. Then she beat you to it.
Sammy: YOU BROKE UP WITH LUKE????
Your heart dropped a bit, though you’re not sure why. You didn’t just break up with Luke, the break up happened months ago, and Sam knows this.
Sammy: Y/n what the fuck
Sammy: You guys were supposed to work it out.
You scoff and type out a response, and you were a bit annoyed that Luke went running to his sister and your fucking roommate instead of moving on and letting things go like an adult would.
We broke up months ago, Sam. That’s not new news. I’m busy right now, so I can’t talk about this. And I don’t want to. I’ll see you at home later.
You lock your phone just as Bradley returns with three cans in one hand, and another can and a bowl of chips in the other. You were a bit impressed as you reached up to take the three cans from him with a laugh. “Wow, no need to show off,” you joked and he shook his head with a smile as he set the bowl down onto the coffee table.
“I don’t like making more than one trip,” he replied and you hum in agreement as you take a chip and watch as he sits next to you. He left very little room in between you, but you didn’t care a bit. This close proximity allowed you to inhale the piney scent of his cologne and see every fleck of gold in his brown eyes.
Oh yeah. You were seriously fucked.
-
Bradley’s plans of getting Bri back had been completely pushed to the back of his mind, and it’s been that way since he met you.
The more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t miss her as much as he did that morning she broke up with him. He was far too preoccupied with thoughts of you, and that scared him a bit for a few reasons.
One; he met you only a few days ago and has spent more time with you than he has with the majority of his friends.
Two; he was supposed to be focusing on trying to fix things with Bri but wasn’t putting much effort at all into that task at the moment as he sits literally right next to you on the couch.
And three; Eli and Wes might start to believe he’s actually going through with the stupid bet.
Which wasn’t what was happening at all. Yeah, you were the girl he drunkenly and stupidly picked when he came up with the bet, but he was hanging out with you because he wanted to. Not because he was planning on getting money out of it.
“Did you pick a movie?” He asked as you leaned back on the couch and opened your beer, and he couldn’t deny that he found the way you liked his favorite type of beer attractive. You were really attractive, there was no questioning that.
You freeze for a couple seconds before giving him a shy smile. “I did not,”
He laughed and grabbed the remote from off the coffee table and leaned back as well. “Well, pick something,” he said and handed you the remote.
“Why me?” You pout and flip through the possible options of movies. “I don’t know what kind of movies you like.”
“I’ll watch anything,” he shrugged and opened his beer, hoping the cold liquid would help ease his heated body. He had no idea why he reacted to you like this, but he felt like an out of control teen all over again for the second time this week.
You huff and skim through a few more comedies before settling on a horror movie from the 90s, and Bradley lifted a brow at your choice. “What?” You asked as you tossed the remote onto the cushion beside you and crossed your legs.
“Nothing,” he answered, nonchalantly draping his arm across the back of the couch. “I just didn’t take you as a scary movie girl.”
You scoff and glance up at him. “The scarier the better,” you say back and he swore you moved a little closer to him.
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those people who can watch a horror film then sleep peacefully right after,” he challenged, daring to move his leg just an inch closer to yours.
You shrugged and gave him that unbelievably sexy smirk he loved seeing. “Like a baby,”
He refrained from asking you to marry him right then and there, and instead he shifted his attention to the TV mounted on the wall and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “You’re crazy,” he uttered as he kept his eyes on the screen.
You laugh quietly and sip on your beer as the movie begins.
Bradley had no idea when the small gap between his body and yours became non-existent, but as he held you against his side with his arm around your shoulders and your beers discarded, he didn’t care to know.
You were warm, and it might’ve been from the blanket he threw over the both of you, but he liked to think it was because you were feeling the same way he was.
Your body fits damn near perfectly with his, your height difference making it easy for him to hold you like this without his arm cramping up.
About an hour into the movie you had fallen asleep, your head pressed against his chest and your arm draped over his lap. You had shifted like that in your sleep, and he borderline loved the way your body reacted to his, even while you were sleeping. He turned the sound down a bit until he could barely hear it, but he didn’t mind the fact that he had to really strain to be able to understand what was happening.
Bradley felt himself falling asleep, too, when your phone lit up from its place on the coffee table. He didn’t mean to, but his gaze naturally shifted to the lit up screen and he accidentally ended up reading the text you received.
Luke: What a fucking waste of time, huh? We get into one fight and you just decide to check out? Fuck you, Y/n. Don’t talk to me ever again.
Bradley could only assume that Luke is your lovely ass of an ex boyfriend, and he felt his brows furrowing as a warmth settled over his face.
Who the fuck did this guy think he is? No wonder you broke up with him.
Bradley never talked to Bri like that, or really anyone for that matter, let alone someone he loved. Luke loved you? As if.
He wanted to grab your phone and call the fucker, but you shifted again and drew his attention away from your bad choice of a boyfriend. You pulled the blanket up further and nuzzled your face against the side of his neck, and he felt himself calming down a bit as your quiet and even breathing met his ears.
You were so sweet, how could anyone ever talk to you like that?
Without meaning to, Bradley fell asleep with his chin resting on the top of your head, and the next morning he had a pain in his neck so fucking bad, he nearly got up to take enough painkillers to knock him back out again so he could sleep it off.
Then he glanced down at you, still asleep on his chest, and he thought that maybe it was worth it since he got to wake up to the pretty sight.
The TV had turned off automatically during the night, leaving the living room dark as he had closed the curtains before you got here yesterday. He grabbed his phone and squinted at the brightness as he checked the time. It was almost nine in the morning, and he knew he needed to get ready for his class that was in about an hour, but he really did not want this little moment with you to end just yet.
Reluctantly, he gently began shaking your shoulder after a few more minutes had passed. “Y/n,” he quietly said, watching as you began to stir. “Wake up, babes.”
He didn’t mean to call you that, it just slipped out, but the way you slowly sat up and grinned over at him made him want to call you that all the time. “Morning, babes,” you greet in a hoarse voice, reaching up to rub at your eyes as the blanket falls from your shoulders. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine,”
You gasped, “In the morning?”
“Yeah,” he laughed and began massaging his neck, trying to work out the kink he felt.
“Shit,” you mutter and grab your phone, making Bradley remember the rude text you got from Luke. He hated the fact that he knew what you would be reading the next time you checked your phone, and he wished he could’ve done something about it but knew it wasn’t his place. He’d let you tell him more about your ex if you wanted to, and he’d keep his opinions to himself for now. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep and stay over.”
“It’s okay,” he waved you off and slumped back against the couch again. “You must’ve needed it. You slept for quite a while.”
You blush and smooth out your hair. “I should get going, I have class soon,”
Bradley nodded and watched as you stood up. “Do you want a ride back to your place? I’m going that way anyway,” he offered. “I need coffee.”
You laugh and look down at your casual outfit, which was strangely sexy to him. “You know, usually I’d turn down a three minute drive and just walk, but I don’t really want to be seen in this so early in the morning, so yeah,” you answer and pull the blanket off him, folding it and setting it aside.
He huffed out a laugh and stood up as well. “Let’s go then,” he said and began walking with you to the front door. “You look hot, by the way. You shouldn’t care what people see you in.”
You blush again and glance back into the living room, seeing the scattered beer and soda cans. “I can help clean up first,”
“No, it’s alright,” he grunted and grabbed his keys from off the table near the door. “I’ll do it later. I don’t ever make a mess, so the guys won’t get pissed at me for leaving it like that.”
Nodding, you step outside when he opens the door and walk out to the Jeep. Once you are inside, you turn to him with a small smile. “I keep saying this, but I had fun last night,” you say quietly as he reversed out of the driveway. “I know I fell asleep pretty early on, but still.”
Bradley laughed and put the car in drive. “I had fun, too,” he said. “You weren’t kidding about the whole ‘falling asleep after horror movies’ thing, huh?”
You covered your mouth as you laughed, too, and Bradley wondered why you often did that, but now wasn’t the time to ask. “Nope,”
The drive was a short one, and two minutes later he was pulling up to your dorm and regretting not offering to walk with you instead of driving as it would’ve given him a few extra minutes with you.
He put the car in park then turned to you, meeting your eye as you unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride,” you say in a teasing tone.
Bradley laughed quietly, reaching over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then he leaned in and kissed your cheek like you did with him after dinner at Five Guys, and when he pulled away he saw that a pretty blush had taken over your face again. “No problem,”
You smile again and hop out of the car, getting to the third step and hesitating for a few seconds before you turn around and make your way to the driver’s side door. You pull it open and grab a fistful of his shirt, guiding him into a kiss he was all too willing to accept. It didn’t last long, unfortunately, but it still left the both of you wearing dumb smiles when you pulled away. “I’ll see you later?” You whisper and he nods, reaching up to gently tug on your bottom lip before your smile grows and you step away, closing the door afterwards.
You give him a small wave before disappearing into the dorm and leaving Bradley with a heat deep in his body. He had to force himself to drive to the coffee shop a few minutes away, and then back home once he got his fix.
When he entered the house, he saw Eli sitting on the couch with a smirk on his face. “Fun night?” He asked as he nodded towards the cans and empty bowl. “Was it Bri?”
Bradley scoffed as he put his coffee cup down and began gathering up the cans. “No,” he answered and put the cans into the bowl. “Y/n.”
Eli’s smirk grew at that and Bradley instantly regretted telling him about you. “Ah, Y/n,” he laughed. “You really want that money, huh?”
Bradley narrowed his eyes. “No, actually, I don’t,” he replied and grabbed his coffee again. “I don’t want your stupid money, okay? I like Y/n, really. She’s nice and so not the person I thought she was.”
Eli just nodded but was still wearing that stupid smirk as he looked back down at his phone, and it made Bradley feel a bit uneasy.
“I’m not kidding,” he warned. “Let it go.”
Eli raised his hands in surrender. “I’m chilling, man,” he muttered but Bradley knew better.
But he refused to waste his time trying to get his friend to understand him when he knew it wouldn’t make a difference. So he just left him there and brought the bowl to the kitchen before getting ready for class, still thinking about the kiss he shared with you that he wished was so much longer.
He already couldn’t stop thinking about the peck you gave him on the cheek, but now he had gotten a taste of the real thing, and he was so close to throwing out every promise he made to himself about bettering himself for Bri and giving all his time to you.
#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradsaw x reader#rooster top gun#rooster imagine#rooster fanfic#rooster x reader#bets and bargains#bets and bargains au#rooster x you#tgm#tgm fic#top gun rooster#top gun maverick#top gun au#bradley rooster x reader#bradley rooster x y/n#top gun fanfiction#dagger squad
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Yo- What?!
Pairing: Luke Castellan x fem!reader
Summary: Apparently you have a boyfriend you weren't even aware of
WC: 802 words
Content: Fake dating? Luke and reader aren't that close
The dining pavilion was filled with demigods eating and chattering amongst each other including you. It was your third year on camp half-blood and you were no stranger to the infamous Luke Castellan.
There he stood a few feet away from you bombarded with girls. But hey what’s new? You paid no mind to it and continue enjoying your meal with your siblings.
“Isn’t he just sooo dreamy” Bella, your sister, closed her eyes releasing a soft exhale as she gently nestled her head between her arms that’s on the table. “Who? Luke?” i tilted my head to the side and raised a brow. “duhh who else” Bella rolled her eyes. “he’s not all that you know” I retorted as I slurped my remaining mango juice. “Like I’m gonna listen to you, you turn down every guy that comes your way!”. I laughed “touché”. Pushing myself up from my seat I got up to throw away my empty juice box.
As i walk over to the bin I could overhear snippets of conversation from Luke and his fangirls. They leaned in closer to Luke every chance they got. Occasionally batting their eyelash with their flirtatious charm, accompanied by a few playful slap and laughter ever so often.
I grimaced seeing the situation unfolding in front of me. They were trying a bit too hard in and it was very obvious.
“I appreciate the flattery", his eyes betraying his words as a hint of discomfort was displayed. "...but I’m taken” said Luke as he tried to shake off a devotee that was clinging onto his arm. “As if,” the girl rolled her eyes “I don’t see her around” she pursed her lips.
I was in the middle of walking back to my table when I felt someone tugging my arm causing me to stumble. Fortunately, I was able to regain my footing. Guess training does came in handy. “Hey wha-“ my brows furrow in confusion. Before I could continue speaking Luke gently put his hands on my shoulders and guided me to face his little fan-club.
“This is my girlfriend, y/n.” Luke announced with a bright smile. His voice filled with enthusiasm.
My head immediately did a 180° flip towards him and a look of puzzlement was evident on my face. The other girls and I simultaneously said “What?”
“Oh don’t be all shy now sweetheart” he said while pinching my cheeks. All I could think was what the actual fuck?
“Now please excuse us” I was about to brush my alleged boyfriend off but he gave me a soft gaze, with a hint of desperation. Oh darn him and his puppy eyes. With a reluctant sigh I acknowledged his request and complied.
Luke led me to a path by the lake giving us enough privacy from the rest of camp. As we came to a halt I fixed my posture straight and firmly placed my hands on my hips. “Are you out of your mi-“ Luke raised his hand and pushed his pointer finger on my lips to shush me. I was really tempted to bite his finger considering the many times he had cut me off.
“Okay so now that you’re my girlfriend-“ The voices won and I bit his finger. Arching my eyebrows and narrowing my eyes I gave him a WTF look. “When did I agree to be your girlfriend?”
“I should’ve worded it better” Luke muttered under his breath while fanning his hand. “okay let me rephrase, I need you to be my girlfriend. well Fake girlfriend.”
“Hard pass” I said
“Wait listen, just for a while until those girls lay off”
“You can go pick someone else”
“No no no you don’t get it, it has to be you. They saw me with you if, I go changing my ‘girlfriend’ they’ll know it’s a lie” Luke said with a slight whine.
“what do I get in return?”
Luke’s lips parted slightly before snapping shut. Clearly he didn’t think this whole ordeal through.
“I’ll make your bed every day”
“c’mon you gotta do better than that” I sigh and folded my arms
“I’ll do all your chores” I feigned a yawn
“I’ll give you all my dessert!” I smirk. Now we’re talking
I extended my hand and he did the same. Sealing the deal with a firm handshake. “From now on you’ll be doing all my chores, make my bed, give all your dessert to me, and do everything I ask you to” I said closing my eyes with a smile of delight painted on my face. Seeing as the matter was solved I began to make my way back to the dining pavilion. “Yes exactl- wait, do anything you ask me to?” Luke’s brows furrow. I laugh and ignore him.
Oh this is going to be interesting...
A/N: This is my first time writing so sorry if it's sucky. Might make a part 2
#pjo series#pjo#pjo tv show#luke castellan#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan imagine#percy jackson tv show#luke castellan x fem!reader#female reader
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Happy Pride! Could you do more of the fem mxy!wwx identity porn? I hope you have a great day 🌻
a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42
Jiang Yanli sees the Lan party approaching and cant help the spike of anxiety that shoots through her.
First is Lan Xichen and A-Yao, who greet Madame Jin and Jin Guangshan formally and respectfully, without a hint of resentment for what they've put them through, for allowing them to arrange this alliance only to yank the promised marriage out from under them.
She knows better than to think there isn't any, but their serene expressions give nothing away. Lan Xichen's amiable mask hides a warm, peaceable center. A-Yao's hides a bitterness and cleverness so great that to this day she thinks it a tragedy that A-Yao hadn't grown up among the Yu.
They make look similar on the surface, but Lan Xichen and A-Yao’s relationship is proof that opposites really do attract.
A-Yao says something that causes Madame Jin’s face to tighten. Then they’re stepping back and Lan Wangji is stepping forward, but he’s not the one she cares about.
Xuanyu stands by his side, back straight and eyes forward, seemingly comfortable and at ease with Lan Wangji in a way that few people manage. Her expression when she faces her father is strained, but she stands close enough to Lan Wangji that their sleeves threaten to tangle together, so she assumes that strain is all that to Jin Guangshan and not Xuanyu’s husband.
“I told you she’s be fine,” Zixuan murmurs.
She wishes they were somewhere less public where she could get away with elbowing him in the ribs or at least stepping on his foot.
“Yanli-jie!” Xuanyu is waving at her, bounding forward without a thought to propriety. Both Lan Wangji and A-Yao are exasperated while Lan Xichen just seems outright fond, which is even more a balm to her worry than Xuanyu’s hopefully good relationship with her husband. A sect leader’s affection is nothing to sniff at, and even if Lan Wangji has little use for his bride, he would not upset his brother by treating someone he’s fond of callously.
“Meimei,” she returns and watches Xuanyu’s grins stretch to almost painful levels as the young woman reaches out to grab her hands. Xuanyu had felt so cold to the touch before, but now her hands are warm, and with several new callouses. She looks stronger too, thicker around the waist and the flesh of her cheeks, and it’s a relief to see her strengthened in both body and spirit.
Her grin eases and she becomes subdued as she inclines her head to Zixuan. “Jin Zixuan.”
He returns it, eyeing her speculatively, but it’s not a surprise. Jiang Yanli’s not sure if the two of them have ever had a real conversation.
“I brought some extra guests,” Xuanyu says. “Sorry.”
She gestures behind her and Jiang Yanli follows her hand and then blinks rabidly, but the vision in front of her doesn’t change. Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen stand there, along with a blind girl that she doesn’t remember seeing before. “It’s not a problem, Meimei. You’ll have to tell me that story of how they came to join you.”
Lan Wangji raises an eyebrow, looking down at Xuanyu who pointedly ignores his gaze. That makes Jiang Yanli nervous, but it doesn’t seem to be tinged with any true animosity. She’s more than familiar what that looks like on Lan Wangji.
“It was uh – recent. So recent that I’m in need of a proper bath and a new set of robes, actually.” She leans in to whisper, loudly enough that they can all hear her just fine, “I switched out my over robe for something less damaged and bloodstained.”
Lan Wangji sighs deeply. Xuanyu rolls her eyes, which seems like a good sign.
“Oh dear,” Jiang Yanli says, affecting wide eyes and a gentle concern that’s only a little fake. For a moment, a smirk steals across Xuanyu’s face before she smooths it out again, which nearly distracts Jiang Yanli from her play here. Not even A-Yao had picked up on her act the first time she used to it. “That sounds so harrowing and awful. Please, let me escort you to my rooms – you can use my bath and I can help you with your hair. We are sisters, after all.”
“Of course, Yanli-jie,” she says, eyes bright with humor. It’s refreshing to do this with someone who’s in on the joke from the beginning and isn’t A-Cheng. “That’s so kind of you, how can I possibly refuse?”
Both of their husbands look put out as they walk away together, arm in arm. Maybe this will finally give Zixuan and Lan Wangji something to talk about.
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ʚïɞ butterfly bandage - 03
note: this is part 3 of a series (part 1, part 2, part 4, part 5)
content: bang chan/reader, university au, themes of soulmates, reader is female and referred to with she/her pronouns, mentions of past unhealthy relationships, slight jealousy, brief mentions of alcohol, sickness, academic stress, angst, hurt/comfort, crying, chan has a bit of a breakdown, bathing scene, nsfw scenes
18+ content: sub chan, dom reader, praise, possessiveness, biting/marking, the slightest hint of exhibitionism, chan is very needy, stopping in the middle of a scene, oral (reader receiving), lots of begging, crying during and after sex, nursing, handjob, aftercare
word count: 22.6k
There were parts of Chan in everything you did now.
It took a while, but eventually, it dawned on you with a strange sort of delight that you’d subconsciously taken on his habit of pressing his lips together into a thin line—when giving a quick smile, when lost in thought, and, most importantly, when silently dissatisfied. For such a subtle movement, you found that, at times, it expressed your frustration better than voicing it ever could. A Chan-like quality, through and through.
Likewise, he’d adopted your habit of reaching up to brush the tip of your nose whenever you felt self-conscious. Of all the quirks he could’ve picked up on, naturally, it had to be one he could make ample use of. Now, any time your gaze lingered on him for a bit longer than necessary (which admittedly, was often) his thumb would swipe over the adorable apex of his nose, a shy half-smile following the action like clockwork. It took some audacity, really, for him to steal a mannerism of yours and make it infinitely more endearing.
Even less obvious details were fair game for the two of you to snatch up, from mirroring each other’s walks, to parroting certain words and phrases. You’d melded into one another, so much that, in some cases, you weren’t quite sure which traits he’d gotten from you, and which traits you’d gotten from him.
You wondered if the marks you’d left on each other were what had landed you in the situation you found yourself in now.
“Betrayal! That’s what this is! A Sanrio pencil stabbed straight through my giant, loving heart!”
It had been a good five minutes of this. Changbin was back from summer break—skin tanned, hair fluffy, muscles somehow more defined than ever—and with the way his voice echoed shamelessly throughout the cafe, he was making sure everyone knew it. You hadn’t even gotten a chance to greet him properly before the one-man show (which you’d prepared for, but clearly not enough) began; starring none other than Seo Changbin himself, of course.
“Please calm down before you get us kicked out.”
“Calm down, she says!” he cried. “You’re a real scary person, y’know that? Hiding this from me, your good friend, Changbin—your best friend, Changbin—all this time!”
You felt a tinge of guilt for what wasn’t the first time. Despite the melodrama of it all, you knew that he had a point. There was no reason for you to have kept something like this from him for so long, especially when it involved not only one, but two of his closest friends.
“I’m sorry, Bin,” you sighed. “I really did wanna tell you. I was just worried it’d make everything so awkward.”
“Well, of course it’s awkward,” he agreed. “But I still want to know! At least that way, we can feel awkward together!”
Something about his reasoning made you soften. It was just like him, to be more concerned that he’d missed out on the chance of being a supportive friend rather than the potential mess that could stem from your involvement with Chan. You would probably do well to have a little more faith in people—a message the universe seemed to have been hammering into your brain a great deal lately.
“Maybe I would’ve told you if you’d talked to me more than once over your entire vacation,” you teased.
Changbin’s mouth fell open in protest, suddenly finding himself playing defense. “Twice!” he corrected indignantly. “And don't try to spin this on me! What about when you called me, huh? That was the perfect opportunity!”
“The perfect opportunity?” you echoed in disbelief. “In that case, I’ll be sure to follow up your birthday wishes next year with news that I’m dating your best friend.”
“Scary, scary person,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m almost afraid to ask for a hug—you’re not gonna put a knife in my back are you?”
You rolled your eyes. “What’s in the air back home that makes you act like this?”
Still, you felt nothing but fondness as you leaned fully into him, letting it sink in for the first time just how happy you were to see him again. With the way his big arms squeezed around you, you knew he wasn’t truly upset either—even if, quite frankly, he had a right to be.
“I missed you, though,” you patted his back. “You and all your drama.”
“Well, I missed you too,” he huffed. Just when you thought he might be ready to drop the theatrics and move on, he pulled away from the hug, a horrified look forming on his face.
“Oh my God…have I been third wheeling this entire time?”
“Get in line, Seo Changbin.”
His nagging and whining eventually died down, morphing into more playful jabs as the two of you ordered your drinks and found a table to sit at. Exactly as you’d predicted, once he’d recovered from the initial shock, he was all proud grins and smug righteousness, preaching on and on about how he’d told you so from day one and how you should never doubt him or his genius intuition ever again.
“I was mostly joking when I said all that stuff about you falling in love with him, y’know,” he clicked his tongue. “Didn’t think you’d actually go and do it.”
“I’m not in love with him,” you tried to retort, but much to your dismay, your voice cracked right as you uttered the dreaded word.
“No way,” Changbin broke out into cackles of pure glee. “Don’t tell me you went and had a secret wedding without me, too?”
You shoved your straw into your iced coffee with a bit too much force, face heating up. “The more you laugh, the more you sound like someone who isn’t getting his belated birthday present.”
At that, he clamped his jaws shut, giggles halting with a speed that was almost impressive. “Sorry, sorry,” he gave you a sheepish grin. “Behaving, now.”
“How’d you find out, anyway? Did Chan tell you?”
“Nah. Though, I should’ve guessed just from the way he gets whenever you’re brought up. All shy and smiley, it’s honestly kinda nauseating.”
He scrunched his nose up in distaste, but the words had no real edge to them. In fact, there was nothing but affection there. It made your heart skip a beat, embarrassingly enough, to know that just the mention of you was all it took to have that kind of effect on Chan. Every time you thought you couldn’t possibly be more taken by him, he proved you wrong.
“If not Chan, then who?” you hesitated before asking. “Minho?”
“Hey,” the whine was back in his voice. “Why’s it so hard for you to believe I figured it out myself?”
You said nothing, smiling around your straw and sipping contently away at your coffee.
“Yes, it was Minho,” he grumbled.
Though you’d been expecting it, the confirmation still made your skin crawl, overtaking Chan’s warmth with a cold discomfort. You hadn’t seen or heard from Minho since your encounter in the convenience store a few weeks ago, and each time you thought back to him, the pit of unease in your stomach grew stronger. You wondered just how much he’d told Changbin. Judging by his behavior that day, he seemed to be aware of everything—whether he was the type to mince his words, or to expose it all without a care in the world, you weren’t quite sure. Even if you’d spent more time around the guy before he’d decided to switch up on you, you got the feeling that you still wouldn’t have any clearer insight into how his mind worked.
“Speaking of Minho,” you began slowly. “Has he…said anything lately?”
Changbin snorted. “He’s said a lot of things.”
“Sorry. I mean, like, about me.”
“I don’t think so,” he squinted, eyeing you up and down. “Why? Are you planning on picking off my friends one by one?”
It was lighthearted, just a joke, but it nearly made you grimace. You’d be glad to never even cross paths with Minho again if it meant avoiding that harsh, accusatory glare that had yet to fade from your mind. Experiencing it once was more than enough.
“C’mon, Bin. It’s nothing like that.”
“Uh-huh, that’s what you said last time.”
You gave a half-hearted chuckle in response, only noticing a moment too late how unconvincing it’d come out. It caught his attention, and he glanced up from his drink to give you a curious look.
“Everything alright?”
You were reluctant to confide in Changbin about the matter, both to avoid burdening him with something so silly, and because of the very unavoidable fact that Minho was just as dear a friend to him as Chan. He’d only just found out about your relationship; immediately piling its potential problems on him was the last thing you wanted to do. At the same time, however, you figured it was better to ask someone who knew Minho well before you jumped to conclusions. Not to mention, Changbin might genuinely believe you were interested in rounding up all his friends if you didn’t clarify why you’d brought up the subject of Minho in the first place.
“I saw him a few weeks ago, and he was being kinda weird.”
“No issues there.”
“Not in his usual way, though—at least, I don’t think so?” you tried to be careful with your words, acutely aware of how sensitive you may come off if you chose the wrong ones. “I just got the feeling that he doesn’t really like me all that much. So, I was wondering if he’s brought it up with you.”
Changbin frowned, taking a moment to mull over what you’d said.
“You think Minho doesn’t like you?” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair. “What’d he say to you?”
“Just some weird things about me and Chan,” you shrugged. “It almost felt like he was trying to intimidate me, or something. Like, he thinks I have bad intentions.”
A troubled look crossed his face—brief, but just long enough to foster your unease. He went quiet for a few moments, nibbling thoughtfully on his bottom lip, then, at last, gave a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Nah, that can’t be it.”
You tilted your head. “Why not?”
“Minho knows you’re not like that,” he said simply. “And he wouldn’t just hate you for no reason, either. Definitely not it.”
You made a small noise of acknowledgement, pretending to understand what he meant, but Changbin still seemed to sense that he hadn’t gotten through to you.
“You’ve seen the way he acts around us, right? He’s probably just messing with you now that he feels more comfortable,” his voice mellowed. “He might seem difficult, but he’s not a bad guy. He’s a pretty great guy, actually. Soft at heart.”
“I believe you,” you murmured. You didn’t doubt for a second that he was a good friend to Changbin and Chan; you’d witnessed it firsthand in the time you’d spent around them. The problem was, you seemed to have done something to land yourself as the target of his inexplicable wrath, and you weren’t sure how to get yourself out of the line of aim before his eyes pierced an arrow straight through you.
“Maybe you’re right. I must’ve just misunderstood him.”
“He’s easy to misunderstand,” Changbin reassured you. An unpleasant thought appeared to cross his mind, twisting the small smile tugging at his lips right back into a frown. “Just…don’t tell him I said any of that. He didn’t put you up to this, did he?”
“Of course not,” you grinned. “Your secret is safe with me.”
Though you weren’t entirely sold on Changbin’s reasoning, it was at least worth a shot to reconcile with Minho before completely giving up on a positive relationship with him. It wasn’t even so much that you were hurt by his unexpected hostility, you just wanted to know what had caused it. You wanted to fix it.
In fact, you were determined to fix it. For both your sakes, and—most importantly—for Chan’s, you were going to make it right.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
College parties, as it turned out, were still very plainly, very aggressively, not your scene. Even with Chan and Changbin there, even with some of the most talented students on campus putting on performances that were, unsurprisingly, really, really good, even with the three-month long promise of getting to see 3RACHA live finally coming to fruition, you were having a hard time enjoying yourself.
You didn’t think it was possible to be experiencing this many different emotions at once. Every one of your senses was suffocated with something. The stinging smell of alcohol, the uncomfortable sheen of sweat on your skin, the perpetual ringing in your ears, the swarming mass of people, and the residual taste of artificial strawberry—the only refreshment you’d managed to take a few sips of before being swept away into the crowd over an hour ago. You were overwhelmed, you were exhilarated, you were anxious, you were impatient. You appeared completely calm amidst the chaos ensuing all around you, yet somehow, were more of a mess internally than even the most intoxicated of attendees.
You’d spent a majority of your time scattered, tossed amongst your friends at random intervals throughout the night. Fifteen minutes with Changbin before he and Jisung had retreated to the bathroom to practice their lyrics, twenty minutes with Iseul before she and her boyfriend had gotten into a heated argument about him not matching the energy of her dancing (something you were sure to get earful of later), thirty minutes with various friends from class before realizing in dismay that they consisted almost exclusively of touchy and crybaby drunks, and a mere five minutes with Chan.
Shortly after the party had begun, you’d arrived to find him already looking cheerfully exhausted. He’d been there for hours already, having offered to help the committee with all the setup and decorations for the event. Even once the festivities were in full swing, he was still dashing around the venue left and right, assisting with soundchecks and the transfer of equipment with hardly any time to prepare for his own performance, let alone to socialize. It warmed your heart as much as it tugged at it. Even on a night where he should be his own top priority, he was still bending over backwards to help everyone else but himself.
It lasted until he was all but forced to stop, dragged away by Changbin and Jisung to set up for 3RACHA’s showcase. The moment you’d been anticipating all night—all summer, really—the sole reason you were even putting up with an environment so out of your wheelhouse to begin with, came at last. The three men shuffled on to the makeshift stage with an awkward sort of swagger that you only ever saw in them when they were together. It was like each one of them needed the other two with him to lock properly into place, to align their energies and bring out the best in each other like a finely-tuned machine. In a way, that in itself was a testament to the song they’d be performing.
The familiar sirens you’d heard countless times before, pumping through your phone speakers in a personal concert, now blared through the hall for everyone to hear. Chan’s eyes fell from the screen of his laptop where he’d been getting things situated, landing directly on you without even having to search the crowd. He gave you a grin, dimples flashing, and that was the last you saw of it for the next three minutes and thirty seconds.
You’d already had an idea of what Jisung was capable of based on the handful of 3RACHA songs you’d heard, but to see it unfold in person was something entirely different. The goofy, scatterbrained junior that always looked a bit on-edge every time you spotted him, now rapping at the speed of light with each word flowing like torrents in a stream. Something about the way he read the lyrics directly off his phone, even for a performance like this, made it all the more mesmerizing to watch. He was the kind of person you could tell was a hidden genius.
Changbin became every bit as fierce and intimidating as you’d initially believed him to be the first day you’d met. Voice raspy and eyes dark, looking straight into the crowd almost like he was challenging them with each effortless line he spit out. It served as a reminder that all his drama and flair wasn't just something you could tease him for; it was something he could own the stage with, as well. His pride radiated off of him in waves; not only in himself, but in them as a unit, and every ounce of it was justified in your eyes.
Undoubtedly the most drastic transformation, however, was Chan. From the moment Zone began, the boy you’d come to know seemed to go dormant for a while, replaced with something you’d never quite seen in him before—something approaching confidence. You thought back to that day in the library, where you’d tried to imagine in amusement how someone like him, who could hardly look you in the eye while playing snippets of his Placebo instrumental, could be the one behind such powerful lines. You didn’t have to imagine it now. He had the least parts out of the trio—you were certain he’d chosen Zone as a way to give Jisung and Changbin more time to shine—but he made just as great of an impact. You could feel the effects of it, on you and everyone else around you. There was no question about it; he belonged there.
By the time the performance was over, you could add a few new emotions to the ones swirling inside you: happiness, pride, and something else you couldn’t quite place. You found Changbin amidst the sea of people first, weaving and dodging through the crowd until you reached him, or, rather, crashed directly into him. His face broke out into a wide smile as soon as he realized it was you, barely getting the chance to say anything before you pulled him into a hug.
“So?” you could hear the giddiness in his voice as he gave you a tight squeeze.
“You killed it, Bin! That’s gotta be the best you've ever sounded,” you hoped he could hear your praises over the pandemonium. “You gonna remember me when you’re famous?”
He pulled away with a laugh, lifting his chin in—mostly—feigned bravado. “I’ll consider it,” his eyes sparkled. “Did you notice the new move I did?”
“Obviously,” you imitated his stylish salute with two fingers, and his smile grew even wider. “And what’s with that sound you made at the start of your verse?”
“It’s my new signature!” he declared.
“So cool! You’re so cool, Seo Changbin!” You threw a hand over your heart with a giggle, and he bumped his shoulder against yours, suddenly embarrassed.
If he said something in response, you didn’t quite catch it, effectively losing all focus the instant your eyes caught sight of a group of people gathered nearby. Chan was at its center, grinning from ear to ear as he tried to keep up with everyone’s chattering all at once. A visual of him you’d pictured so many times before, now right before your eyes—a charming, social butterfly who made befriending others look as simple as breathing. It truly sank in at that moment, that the boy who’d come to mean so much to you in so little time, had a whole other side to his world that you didn’t even know of. The view of his thousand-watt smile wasn’t for your eyes alone, the pieces of himself that he put into his music weren’t solely for your ears.
It made your heart sing; he should be adored. But at the same time, that sensation from earlier made its presence known once again. The girl next to him, the head organizer for the event, if you remembered correctly, reached out to touch his arm as she laughed. Her hand lingered for a moment too long, a look you knew all too well swimming in her eyes.
Oh. Suddenly, the mystery feeling wasn’t so much of a mystery anymore.
Something ignited deep within you, completely different from the familiar heat Chan set off in your skin. It was immediately followed by a wave of embarrassment. You weren’t the type to bristle over something so small—at least, you’d never thought you were. You wanted to blame it on something; the fact that you hadn’t seen Chan for most of the night, the fact that it felt a bit too reminiscent of what he used to do whenever you’d dared to take your attention off of him for even a moment. But Chan would never even think to pull anything like that, it went against his nature. His nature just so happened to entail being adored wherever he went.
You knew it was nothing more than that same selfishness that had reared its head the night you’d first slept together. Not quite insecurity, and not quite jealousy. It was rooted in something much simpler: a matter of what felt right, and what didn’t. You’d wanted to be done with the troublesome feeling from the moment you’d first encountered it—to nip it in the bud before it sprouted into something uglier—but just like everything about your relationship with Chan, it was out of your hands. It was inevitable. With the wholeness that came with his presence, an emptiness was left in his absence.
“Oh my God,” Changbin’s exasperated voice cut through the music, and, in turn, the thoughts swarming your head. “Stare any harder and he might just burst into flames.”
You blinked, embarrassment increasing tenfold. “Sorry, Binnie,” you muttered. “What were you saying?”
He gave you a knowing nudge. “Just go talk to him so I don’t have to look at your lovesick face anymore.”
“Not lovesick,” you protested, but the way your eyes darted right back to Chan did nothing to help your case. You found him staring at you this time, his overwhelmed beam shifting into something softer, sweeter—a look of relief. He dismissed himself from the group just as your feet were preparing, almost reflexively, to pull you in his direction. You turned to give Changbin another apologetic glance, only for him to roll his eyes and gesture for you to leave.
“I need to find Jisung, anyway,” he told you. “Talking to more than one stranger at a time probably has him looking for an escape route.”
Promising to meet up with him again later, you parted ways, a strange sense of calm washing over you as you came face to face with Chan at last. The pungent smell in the air was replaced with his fresh citrus, the clamoring sounds around you suddenly much quieter in your ears, as if waiting with bated breath to hear what he had to say.
“Hey, you,” he grinned.
“Hi, Channie,” you held out your hands, skin tingling when he rested his palms against yours. Slightly clammy from the adrenaline rush of the performance, but soft to the touch. Warm as ever.
“So, were you ever planning on telling me that you’re a shapeshifter?”
“A shapeshifter?” he giggled, more melodic than any of the music you’d heard that night.
“Those moves? The growling?” you marveled. “Even the way you carried yourself; you really know how to put on a show.”
Chan’s fingers—topped off with black nail polish, you noticed for the first time—twitched in your hands, resisting the urge to reach up and adjust his cap, tug at his ear, swipe over his nose, do something to try and alleviate his embarrassment.
“Did you like it? Or was it too much? I know this one’s your favorite, so…”
…I hope I didn’t mess it up. You could hear the words on the tip of his tongue without him even finishing. They were clear in every nervous flicker in his expression, every awkward shift in his feet.
“Are you kidding?” you rubbed your thumb along the back of his hand. “You were made for this.”
The flashing lights around you illuminated his face just in time for you to see his eyes widen. It almost made you sad—the genuine shock etched into his features.
“Ah…” he ducked his head, speechless. Suddenly, you completely understood why he’d been reluctant to ask you to attend the showcase. You should’ve known by now; Chan didn’t have to play coy to endear you, he accomplished that just fine by simply being himself.
“You really think so?” He kept his stare glued to the floor.
“Of course. Everyone else can see it, too,” you added. “I’m really proud of you, Channie.”
His cap hid his expression from your view, but you were certain that his brilliant smile was there—the one you loved so much, the one so wide that it couldn’t be contained, swelling his cheeks and squeezing his eyes shut.
“Thank you,” it was meek, barely audible above the roar of the crowd. “That means a lot.”
You wanted to dip your head under the brim of his hat and meet his gaze, to let him know just how much you meant it. You wanted to kiss him, unconcerned with the people around you who might see—in fact, it only strengthened the desire, the chance to witness his cute, flustered reaction to a public display like that.
Your hesitation lasted a split second too long, however, as you spotted a fresh group of people approaching the two of you; some faces recognizable, some entirely new. You kept your smile as they made their way over with shouts and cheers, but your hand gripped Chan’s just a bit tighter.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
Tonight was full of firsts for you, it seemed.
Attending a university party without leaving within the first hour, mingling with more people than you’d ever thought existed on campus, and now, as you currently were, lacking so much in self-control that you were pressed up against Chan in the venue bathroom.
You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up there, the only thing you were sure of was the slew of emotions leading into it. Chan could tell that you were antsy, and, maybe, he was feeling antsy too. The number of times you’d been separated throughout the night only to drift right back to each other was too many to count. It got to the point where the final time it happened, you’d opted for linking arms to avoid getting lost again.
You wanted to go home—you’d been more than ready to from the moment 3RACHA had finished performing—and you would’ve gladly left Chan to enjoy the rest of the event with his endless rotation of friends if it weren’t for the fact that every time you were apart for too long, he’d go looking for you. At first, you’d tried to tell him not to worry himself over whether or not you were having fun, but eventually, you realized with a flutter in your chest that it wasn’t just his usual attentiveness at play; he wanted you next to him.
When he’d asked if you wanted to retreat somewhere quieter for a bit, it had been innocent enough. You didn’t think he’d expected things to head in this direction—you certainly hadn’t. With your vigilance and his shyness, neither of you were exactly the type.
“This okay?”
“Mhm,” he breathed against your lips. The faint pounding of the bass outside could still be heard through the bathroom door, but you were much more fixated on Chan’s racing heartbeat.
“You look—mmph—so pretty tonight,” he slurred. “Been wanting to kiss you.”
His voice still had the faintest rasp to it after the strain of performing, exciting you more than it probably should’ve. “You’re so sweet,” you cooed, pressing a peck to the corner of his mouth. “How do you think I felt seeing you up on that stage?”
He made a soft noise, unable to protest when you took his bottom lip into your mouth, sucking delicately and making him melt into you. His mouth fell open for you to devour freely. His hands, which had been hovering uncertainly over your hips, rested on them at last. From the way his fingers constricted around your clothes, you knew he was itching to bring you closer; he always was.
“You don’t believe me?” You pulled back just slightly, tugging at his plush skin between your teeth as you did. He tasted sweet, even sweeter than usual. The same artificial strawberry you’d tried earlier in the night. Gently, you used your hold on his cheeks to turn his head in the direction of the mirror.
Chan’s eyes fell instantly, avoiding his reflection like second nature.
“Look at yourself, Channie,” you encouraged. “I want you to see what I see.”
A quiet whine built in his throat, but he complied nonetheless, meeting his own, timid gaze in the mirror. You let your hands slip from his cheeks to give him a clear view of his face, shifting your position so that you stood behind him, admiring the view together.
“Pretty boy,” you drawled, running your hands along his shoulders. “For someone who’s so good at reading people, you’re clueless about how bad they really want you.”
He tensed up, a breathy chuckle escaping him. “What?”
“You didn’t notice?” You tilted your head. “That's okay. It’s cute, actually.”
Your lips found his neck, breath fanning over his warm skin in a way that made goosebumps rise to the surface. Keeping your eyes locked on his reflection, you pressed a trail of kisses down his throat, doing little to hide how high your emotions were running.
“D-did something bother you?” he stuttered out, and if you hadn’t known him any better, you might’ve thought he was trying to tease you. Hearing him say it out loud nearly made you cringe at yourself. It was so trivial, so ridiculous. You didn’t want him to see that side of you—a side you’d hardly even known you had before tonight. Still, the burning sensation had grown too strong for you to ignore anymore, with each suggestive touch or longing glance thrown Chan's way serving as fuel to the fire.
“Why would I be bothered?” you said at last. “They don’t get to see you like this.” His breath hitched as you grazed your teeth along his skin. “Or hear you like this. Do they?”
“N-no,” he agreed. “Just you.”
Just you. You wondered if he’d said it knowing full well the kind of effect it would have on you.
“Do you like all the attention?”
He pressed his lips together, averting his eyes from the mirror again. It was subtle, but you could’ve sworn his hips jutted forward just a bit.
“I like your attention,” he said softly.
Another perfect answer from a perfect boy. Your hands fell from his shoulders, sliding down his body to give his waist a squeeze through the thin material of his shirt. “You deserve it,” you licked a stripe up his neck. “All of it. Who wouldn’t go crazy over you when you look like this?”
“I…” He bit his lip, no doubt to hold back what he really wanted to say. “Please, ‘m getting shy.”
You were almost tempted to grab hold of his chin and tilt his head up, giving him no choice other than to take in the breathtaking sight of himself. But judging by his bright red ears and restless squirming under your palms, he was flustered enough already—so much that you worried it may actually mortify him to face his appearance on top of your praises reverberating in his mind. Instead, you pressed more wet kisses to his neck, hands roaming further down his body and feeling up the expanse of his stomach, right above the waistband of his pants. He whimpered, pushing his hips forward much more noticeably this time.
“It’ll be bad if we get caught,” you hummed. “Keep quiet, Channie.”
Chan sucked in a sharp breath as you ran your tongue along his ear. You took his hoop piercing between your teeth, tugging at it in a gentle, but deliberate taunt.
“I can’t,” he whispered. “You know I can't.”
You smiled deviously around the silver. “I know.”
The sound of your voice was nothing short of intoxicating, smooth and sultry and pooling heat in his abdomen at an alarmingly quick rate. Your fingers traced over the buttons of his jeans, playing with them in a tortuous dance, but not quite popping them open. The material was already starting to feel tight around him, and when you fully cupped the area without warning, his mouth fell open to spill out a shaky moan.
Your heart jumped; he was so sensitive, reduced to the flushed, noisy mess you saw before you with just a few touches and kisses. You thought back to what he’d said that night—about how it’d been a while—a small part of you wondering if that was the real reason, or if he was just always this reactive. It thrilled you like nothing else, the prospect of him being so vocal, so vulnerable to every bit of stimulation no matter how many times he’d felt it before.
“Maybe that’s what you want? For everyone to hear all these pretty sounds you make for me.”
You dragged your tongue up from his lobe, swirling it around the shell of his ear and practically tasting the heat radiating off the reddened skin. Frantically, Chan tried to mask another moan, hands gripping the sink for support.
“No—ah—just you. Only for you.”
“Only me?” You gave him a squeeze, curling your fingers around his growing bulge and making him shudder against you. “Should I make sure they know that?”
He peeked up at last from under the brim of his cap, eyes already so foggy, lips already puffed. Your mouth traveled down from his ear, pressing a kiss right to the junction of his shoulder and neck. A light hiccup escaped him when your front teeth tickled the flesh, threatening to bite down in full.
“Can I?” you checked.
Chan leaned in further so that nearly all his weight was resting against the sink, knees weakening at the mere thought of what you were going to do. “Yeah,” he gasped. “Please.”
“It’ll show,” you warned, basking in the feel of his pulse beneath your lips.
“Please,” he repeated. “I want it to.”
Any composure you had left was no match for the desperation in his voice. He always knew exactly what to say—or, rather, anything he said was exactly what you wanted to hear, solely because it came from him. Without wasting another moment, you sank your teeth into his neck, wrapping your lips around the patch of skin to create a hot, delicious suction that nearly made Chan fold in half.
He squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp cry escaping him despite his best efforts. You tightened your grasp on him in an attempt to keep him steady, but the added pressure to his length only seemed to make things worse. He whimpered something incoherent, hips rolling forward to grind into your palm—uncharacteristically shameless of him.
You sucked to your heart’s content, nibbling and running your tongue along the sensitive area until you were certain a mark would be left behind for days to come. When you finally released his flesh from between your teeth, Chan was all but panting, face scrunched up with pleasure and bulge twitching in your hand. You gave the mark a delicate lick, soothing the flared skin while he caught his breath.
“Mine.”
It sent a shiver down his spine. Just as you were preparing to sully a new spot on his neck, a sudden knock on the bathroom door made you both freeze in place. His body stiffened against yours, head shooting up in a panic.
“Is anyone in here?” a girl’s voice came muffled through the distant rumble of the music.
The doorknob wobbled, and you steeled yourself to respond, knowing that Chan was in absolutely no state to.
“Yeah, just a minute!” you called, throwing out the first excuse you could conjure. “My friend’s feeling a bit sick.”
Carefully, to avoid drawing out any more questionable noises from the boy, you pulled your hand away from his crotch and peeled yourself off of him. He straightened up as best he could, blinking rapidly to clear the haze from his eyes. Guilt pricked at you, among other things, for allowing the situation to get to this point, but even as Chan urgently tried to adjust himself so the hardness in his pants would be less obvious, he didn’t look upset—not in the slightest. He gave you a sheepish half-smile when he met your gaze, eyes gleaming with pure, unfettered adoration.
You smoothed out your clothes, trying to ignore the very prominent ache between your legs.
“Sorry, Channie,” you murmured. “I guess I got carried away.”
His fingers brushed tentatively over the mark you’d left, cheeks matching the shade of his ears. “S’alright,” he licked his lips. “I like it.”
He had to stop saying that—for the sake of your sanity, if nothing else. You cleared your throat, reminding yourself that there was, in fact, some poor soul out there waiting impatiently for the restroom.
“And all the…possessive stuff I—” you paused. “I hope it wasn’t too much.”
“Too much?” he cocked his head to the side. “You didn’t notice?”
A repeat of your question from earlier. You went quiet for a moment, trying to decode the meaning behind it. Everything that had transpired throughout the course of the evening flooded your thoughts at once: the fixed stares from across the room, the hand-holding, the arm-linking, the search for you every time you strayed too far. Butterflies fluttered to life your stomach the instant you wrapped your head around it.
“Oh.”
His giggles mixed with yours, light and timid. How very like him, to admit so openly to the exact feeling you’d been hoping to hide. Hiding with him was a fruitless endeavor, anyway.
You rested your hand on his lower back, reaching for the handle with your other. “Look sick,” you whispered.
Chan leaned over slightly, masking both the lingering flush on his cheeks and the blossoming lovebite on his neck. On the opposite side of the door, you found none other than the event organizer standing there, watching the two of you inquisitively as you shuffled out of the bathroom. You gave her a polite dip of your head, and Chan offered a quick greeting as you ushered him along. You weren’t proud of it, but any self-consciousness you’d felt before was instantly overtaken by that selfish satisfaction.
As the two of you re-entered the fray, your hand slid down from Chan’s back, allowing him to walk normally again—or, as normally as he could when he was still very much trying to ebb the arousal you’d set off in him. He flexed his fingers as they brushed against yours, lacing them together before you could even think to pull away.
By some miracle, you managed to locate the other two thirds of 3RACHA with just a bit of sifting through the crowd. The relief was short-lived, however, alarm gripping you in its place when you noticed who was standing with them. Lee Minho.
It was no surprise that he was there, but you’d somehow managed to go the entire night without catching so much as a single glimpse of him. A part of you had been grateful for it, but the other part was also itching to see him. Ever since your conversation with Changbin, you’d become more and more ashamed about the way you’d acted with Minho in the convenience store. He’d rubbed you the wrong way, sure, but you were certain that your reaction had only made the situation worse. This was your chance to fix it, to dodge the arrow before he could finish drawing back his string.
“It’s completely different,” you heard him insist as you and Chan approached the group. He was engaged in what appeared to be a very serious debate with a very confused Jisung. “It’s like iced coffee versus hot coffee that’s been out for too long; they’re both cold, but one’s supposed to be, the other isn’t.”
Jisung blinked, lips parting and closing several times over the next few seconds. You’d never quite witnessed someone’s thought process unfolding in real time like that before. Even if you’d caught the full discussion between the two, the look on his face told you that you still wouldn’t have the slightest clue as to what was going on.
“I’ll be honest, man, you lost me three analogies ago.”
Minho clicked his tongue, looking ready to drop another equally convoluted explanation. Instead, he fell silent when he spotted you, the delighted smirk of someone who knew he was being difficult transforming into something much harsher, much less natural. It nearly made you wince. You’d never been particularly close with the guy, but you’d thought you were at least reaching a point where he’d grown comfortable enough to approach you with the same casualness he did with the rest of his friends. It bothered you more than you wanted to admit, that the first sign of friendship sprouting between you had been trampled on for reasons that you didn’t even know, nor comprehend.
His stare flickered between you and Chan, and you prayed desperately that the dim lighting of the hall would be enough for the fresh mark you’d left on Chan’s neck to escape Minho’s scrutiny. He narrowed his eyes, and your heartbeat picked up. So far, not off to a great start.
Still, you swallowed—your misgivings, and your pride—and flashed him a quick smile.
“Hi, Minho.”
No response, just a nod. Something told you that you were lucky to get even that out of him. He turned his head, planning to continue his debate with Jisung without addressing you any further, but the other boy had already been sucked into a high-energy conversation with Chan and Changbin about ways they could improve future performances.
“Can we talk?” you tried to keep your volume low, just enough for him to hear without catching the attention of the others.
He studied you with an impressive lack of interest, and for a moment, you thought he might really go the rest of the night without uttering a word around you.
“Why?”
“I just want to clear the air. I feel like we kinda had a misunderstanding the other day.”
“Maybe on your end,” he said curtly. “I understand what’s going on just fine.”
You took a breath, forcing yourself to remain open-minded. “Maybe,” you agreed. “So, could you tell me what I’m missing about all this?”
Wordlessly, he brought his cup to his lips, fixing you with unblinking eyes the entire time he drank, like you might lash out and attack him if he let his guard down for even a second. You managed to hold his gaze, but that same chill from before began to creep up your spine. It was so intense—and for what? Anyone who saw the way he was looking at you might think the two of you were involved in some kind of centuries-long blood feud between your families.
Even after he’d swallowed, he said nothing, and you felt your patience slip just a bit.
“If I’ve done something wrong, or if I’ve upset you somehow, please let me know,” you added.
“Upset me?” he hummed. “Yeah, actually, you did.”
You tensed.
“When you said I wasn’t funny, it really hurt my feelings,” he announced. “Apologize with flowers and tears, and maybe I’ll forgive you.”
It almost sounded like his usual manner of joking around, but your glimmer of hope was put out by that same, cold expression. You tried not to lose sight of your goal, clinging to what Changbin had told you in the cafe. He’s easy to misunderstand.
“Minho,” you began lightly. “I’m being serious here.”
His eyes glinted under the flashing lights. “So am I.”
You allowed your face to drop at last, realizing right then and there that he had no intention of even telling you what you’d done wrong—let alone giving you the chance to make amends with him.
“What, you don’t like that idea?” he feigned hurt. “Maybe you’d rather get on your hands and knees and ask for forgiveness?”
You bristled. “That’s enough.”
Minho raised an eyebrow. A look almost akin to gratification crossed his features, like a crack in your demeanor was exactly what he’d been hoping for.
“Hm. Guess you’re not really sorry, after all.”
“Don’t talk to me like that, okay? Even as a joke.”
“I’d be glad not to talk to you at all,” he shot back. “But it seems you have nothing better to do than pick fights with me.”
Unbelievable. You had to stop yourself from clenching your fists, solely because of the fact your hand was still loosely clasped with Chan’s.
“Pick fights?” you repeated. “I’m trying to fix things between us!”
“There’s nothing between us to fix.”
The way he said it was strange, pointed. You were positive there was a deeper meaning to it, almost like he was implying that there was something for you to fix, just not with him. It planted an unpleasant thought in your mind—or, rather, watered the seed of an idea that was already rooted deep within it.
You’d managed to keep your voice hushed thus far to avoid causing a scene, but the building tension finally seemed to reach a tipping point, enough to catch Chan’s attention. He put his chatter with Jisung and Changbin on hold to give you a curious glance, and, as irritated as you were with Minho’s provocation, you smiled back at him.
“You alright?” he gave your hand a squeeze.
“Yeah,” you exhaled, eyes darting momentarily in Minho’s direction. He’d turned away from you as soon as the opportunity had presented itself, going right back to talking with Jisung as if your conversation had never even happened. At least one part of what he’d said had been straightforward—he clearly wanted nothing to do with you.
“You’re friends with some pretty weird people, y’know that?”
Chan grinned. “Birds of a feather.”
Your spirits lifted a bit, taking comfort in the fact that he at least seemed oblivious to the altercation that had just taken place. Still, it was a shallow relief. You knew now, with complete certainty, that Minho wasn’t going to make things easy for you.
Of course he wouldn’t. Nothing was ever that easy.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
One month into the fall semester of your senior year, the academic distractions that you’d been longing for all summer were now upon you. Perhaps, even, a bit more intensely than you’d have liked.
Your classes were manageable enough—a significant improvement over the hellscape that was Thermodynamics and Statistical Mechanics—but the amount of time and effort your research lab demanded more than made up for what might’ve been an easy final term. When you weren’t attending your lectures or completing assignments, you were practically living in the astrophysics lab; analyzing spectroscopic measurements, reconstructing images from interferometric data, observing optical maps of the interstellar medium, and, on top of all that, sitting through countless meetings with your team.
It was as fulfilling as it was exhausting, and though you were more than happy to finally get some hands-on experience in your field of study, you couldn’t help but feel a bit wistful about this new routine as well. Your Experimental Physics II section with Changbin only took place once a week as opposed to the biweekly Thermodynamics lectures, and that, coupled with the lack of study sessions and your limited free time meant you were seeing him much less often than before. It was even worse in the cases of Chan and Iseul, both of which you rarely saw on campus to begin with. Even with Iseul more or less still treating your apartment as her second home, and Chan being his usual, relentlessly considerate self—never going too long without checking in on you—they were both busy with their respective capstone projects as well, leaving your interactions fewer and further between in comparison to the spring.
You knew it wasn’t rational, but it almost frightened you how such minor shifts in your daily life could feel so jarring, especially when graduation, the greatest shift of all, was looming on the horizon. The sands of time were trickling along without a care in the world, changing things little by little until they were unrecognizable. Some for the better, some for worse.
You’d thought you were handling the gaps in your time spent with Chan fairly well; that was, until it dawned on you halfway through September just how often your mind would drift to him while working on your research. Every new set of spectral line data or roAp star photometric variations had you visualizing what his reactions might be—his gleaming eyes that captivated you more than any of the stars you were observing, his voice growing shaky with excitement as he tried to discuss your observations without pausing every few seconds just to gush about how cool it all was.
You weren’t pleased with the number of instances your lab partners had caught you grinning to yourself in the middle of running tests and collecting data, giddy over the mere thought of his presence. As it turned out, Changbin hadn’t been too far off when he’d labeled you as lovesick.
Summoned by your thoughts, your phone vibrated against your desk to signal a text from none other than Changbin. You placed down your pencil in defeat, accepting the fact that you weren’t going to be getting any work done at this rate—daydreaming about how often you were daydreaming about Chan should’ve been indication enough.
bin 😑 (2:03 p.m.)
number 5???
You blinked at your screen, dumbfounded.
bin 😑 (2:04 p.m.)
number 5 pls
pretty pls
you (2:04 p.m.)
i sent you number 5 yesterday?
bin 😑 (2:06 p.m.)
oh ;;;
number 6 pls~~~
you (2:06 p.m.)
i think i deserve an honorable mention on ur diploma
bin 😑 (2:07 p.m.)
get me thru this hmwk and i’ll make it happen
one for you and one for chan ><
The thought of it nearly made you laugh out loud: Changbin, trying to charm his way through the dean’s office to make a proposal as ridiculous as that. You didn’t doubt that he might try it, or that he might actually succeed in doing so.
Shuffling through your papers, you snapped a picture of your assignment, barely managing to fit the entirety of the required work in one shot.
bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.)
thank uuu
oh speaking of chan lol
u know he’s sick?
you (2:10 p.m.)
what???
bin 😑 (2:10 p.m.)
i knew it
he didn’t tell you -_-
You felt a pang of worry, countless questions filling your head at once. It’d been a day or two since you’d contacted Chan, even longer since you’d seen him in person—definitely over a week by now. The last time you’d talked hadn’t been over a phone call like usual; you’d texted him just to see how he was doing, and after a short chat he’d promised to meet up with you sometime the next week. It had been unusual, but not unusual enough for you to overthink it, especially considering how swamped the both of you were.
you (2:12 p.m.)
how long has he been sick for?
bin 😑 (2:13 p.m.)
couple days?
actually more like a week now
Worry twisted into a sense of dread. Why hadn’t he told you?
You didn’t have to question it for long. You knew why—anyone who knew Chan well enough could piece it together with ease.
bin 😑 (2:14 p.m.)
he hasn’t gone to class for a few days ㅜ
you should visit him if you can
you (2:14 p.m.)
yeah, i definitely will
thanks for letting me know binnie
If your homework had been an afterthought before, it was long forgotten now. You didn’t bother to clean up your workspace before rising from your chair, leaving the scattered notes and eraser shavings for you to deal with later.
You weren’t sure what you were experiencing as you made your way over to your kitchen, digging around for ginger and garlic and praying that you’d have enough. It was an overreaction, probably, but you berated yourself regardless; for not noticing that something was wrong, for not pressing harder when asking how he’d been, for not questioning the longer periods of time you’d gone without talking. You’d wanted to give him his space, but for it to go as far as him thinking he shouldn’t tell you that he was sick—sick to the point where he couldn’t attend class, stirred something awful in you.
The pot nearly slipped from your hands in all your haste to prepare your materials, and you took a breath, forcing yourself to relax before you set fire to your apartment. Still, the concern, the guilt, didn’t die down. You were so accustomed to being in-tune with every aspect of your relationships, be it friends, family, or romantic partners, making note of every little detail, every subtle shift; sometimes before they themselves could even realize it. But for what was neither the first nor the last time, you had to remind yourself that this was Chan you were dealing with. Of course he wouldn’t tell you—he wouldn’t tell you anything that he believed might cause you even the slightest inconvenience. He would do whatever it took, go to any lengths imaginable, just to avoid committing the unforgivable sin of letting you care about him. It was the complete opposite of everything you'd come to understand about the world, the people around you, and it put you in a position that you weren’t sure you wanted to be in.
You weren’t going to stand idly by, watching him board his openings shut before anyone could catch a glimpse of what was inside, watching him burden himself with the fear of burdening others. Whatever had happened in the past for him to reach that point, you wanted to suck it out like poison until there wasn’t a single drop left in his system. You were going to be there for him, whether he liked it or not.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
His face was the last thing you’d expected to see when the door to unit 8-325 swung open.
Realistically, it shouldn’t have been. He did live there, after all. Like the annoying troll under the bridge that wouldn’t let you pass unless you answered his riddles three. It took everything in you not to make a face as you were met with Minho standing in the doorframe. He, of course, didn’t extend that same courtesy to you, eyes narrowing into an unmistakable grimace when he laid them on you.
“What do you want?”
“Hi to you, too,” you muttered.
His expression didn’t change, and, much to your disdain, you once again found yourself mesmerized by that gaze of his. You hated how effective it was; unreadable, yet communicating a thousand things all at once. Even if he really was as harmless as Changbin claimed, even if his cold glares and cutting comments were the extent of what he could do to you, your skin crawled all the same.
When you saw that he wasn’t planning on dignifying you with a response, you inched forward, expecting to be let inside. That would simply be too easy, though. Minho shifted so that his body blocked your path, pulling the door closer to him for good measure.
“Chan’s sick,” he deadpanned.
You paused, blown away for a moment by his audacity. “I know he’s sick,” you gritted your teeth. “I’m here to check on him.”
You might’ve sworn you saw the corner of his lips start to twitch, but you tore your eyes away too quickly to be certain. The last thing this man needed was whatever kind of ego boost he’d get from you paying a little too much attention to his features.
“Not much you can do,” he dismissed, voice light and airy as ever. “Unless you think gracing him with your presence is gonna make him all better.”
It was your turn to shoot Minho a glare, foot darting out just in time to prevent him from shutting the door in your face. Wordlessly, you lifted the container of galbitang into his view.
He raised an eyebrow, the closest thing to a genuine reaction you could get from him. “Changed your major to the medical route?”
“I don’t see you doing anything to help him,” you snapped.
Your patience was already minimal when it came to this guy, but ever since you’d confronted him at the event in August, it seemed like he’d made it his personal mission to run it as thin as possible every time you interacted with him. It was kind of impressive, really, the way he knew exactly how to push every last one of your buttons with ease.
Fresh out of half-assed excuses, Minho shrugged, as if he’d never even cared in the first place. He let go of the door handle, and you took that as a sign to push past him and slip inside.
You removed your shoes as quickly as you could, not wanting to spend another second around him if you could help it. Knowing that Changbin wasn’t home, you stalked past the kitchen and through the living room, the soothing scent of freshly-brewed yuja tea flooding your nostrils as you did. It almost made you feel bad about what you’d said to Minho, but you knew better than to apologize for it now—if you’d come to learn anything, it was that your peace offerings would be met with even more hostility than your provocation. Instead, you padded down the hallway, heading straight for Chan’s room.
Careful not to lose your grip on the container in your hands, you managed to give his door a light knock. A few seconds passed before you heard a faint “come in”, muffled by the sound of what was sure to be a pile of blankets. You braced yourself, recovering from your Minho-induced rise in blood pressure, then slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind you.
Chan blinked his eyes open just in time to see you approaching his bed. They were foggy, even more exhausted than usual, and they widened slightly when he registered who was standing before him.
“Hi, Channie,” you whispered. “Were you sleeping?”
“N-no, I—” his voice came strained and hoarse, so different from his pleasant, melodic lilt that you had trouble believing it was really him speaking for a second. “I was already awake.”
You rolled his desk chair over to the side of the bed, placing your container of galbitang on his nightstand next to the half-finished cup of tea and army of empty water bottles. He watched, stunned, as you sat down next to him, still trying to process what was going on.
“Um…how did you—?”
“Seo Changbin,” you hummed.
A weak smile formed on his face. “Bin…”
“How are you feeling?”
“Alright,” he croaked, not sounding alright at all. “Guess when you told me to look sick I took it a little too seriously, yeah?”
You let out a light giggle, and he tried to join you, only to spiral right into a violent coughing fit instead. It made your heart twist with sympathy, and you reached out to brush back his messy curls, resting your palm on his forehead. His skin was burning, and not in its normal way—if you could even call the amount of body heat he carried with him normal. It was heavy and sticky and pulsing, like you could physically feel the ache plaguing his head.
“Ah, wait,” he warned. “You shouldn’t touch me, you’ll catch it.”
I don’t care. You almost wanted to say it without restraint, but you settled for something more tactful, something less pointlessly dramatic. “You wouldn’t get me sick, would you?”
He flashed you another feeble smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sorry you have to see me like this,” he rasped, shrinking into the covers so that his face was only half visible.
“Please don’t apologize, Channie,” you ran your fingers gently through his hair. “I just wish you’d told me. How long have you been sick?”
The feeling seemed to relax him, weary eyes drooping just a bit as your nails grazed his scalp. “It’s only been like this for a few days,” he hesitated. “But I first started feeling it last week. Minho thinks it’s the flu.”
You stopped combing through his hair, letting your hand simply rest atop his head. He seemed to sense your disapproval, eyes peeking up at you from beneath the comforter to meet your frowning face.
“It’s not that bad, though,” he tried to assure you. “Just a cough and some headaches.”
“Bin said you haven’t been able to go to class.”
Chan sucked in through his teeth; caught. You sent out a silent apology to Changbin, realizing a split second too late that you’d probably set him up for a scolding as soon as Chan could speak without sounding like he had gravel in his throat.
“I just didn’t want you to worry,” he explained sheepishly. “Especially when you’ve been so busy.”
“I’m always thinking of you, anyway,” you countered, only half-joking. “So, please don’t hide stuff like this from me, okay? That’ll only make me worry more.”
For a moment, he stayed silent, and you got the feeling that your words hadn’t quite gotten through to him. Regardless, he eventually gave you a tiny nod.
“Promise?” you pressed.
“Promise.”
He didn’t hold out his pinky this time to seal the deal, but you chose not to dwell on it considering the fact that his hands were buried under layers upon layers of blankets. Instead, you gave his head one last pat and reached for the thermos on the nightstand.
“Can you eat?”
His face lit up at the sight of the galbitang. “Yeah,” he breathed. “I haven’t eaten yet today, actually.”
You frowned, biting back an exasperated comment. Even if his horribly skewed priorities frustrated you more than anything else—touching a part of you buried so deep within that you yourself couldn’t fully grasp it—you’d visited Chan with the intent of helping him, not lecturing him. There was no changing the outcome now, anyway. All you could do was try and make things a little easier for him, to balance out his determination to create new obstacles for himself as quickly as you could break them down.
“It should still be warm, but I can go heat it up if you’d like?” you were reluctant to ask, not keen on the possibility of seeing Minho again.
“No, no, s’alright,” he shuffled around in the sheets, trying to sit himself upright against the pillows. “I’ll eat it like this.”
As soon as his protective pile of covers slipped down his torso, he was shuddering. Even with the hoodie he was wearing, chills passed through his entire body, so strong that you could visibly see how his shoulders shook.
“Oh my God, Channie,” your voice softened to a tone that he’d only ever heard you use with him, one that soothed his pounding head. “You’re really sick, aren’t you?”
He attempted to say something in response—to deny it despite every cell in his body screaming otherwise—but between his sniffles and chattering teeth, it was hard to make out. You reached out with your free hand and pulled the covers back up his chest, draping them over his shoulders so that just his head and neck were exposed. Chan blinked at you, the confusion on his face morphing into subtle panic when he understood what you were planning.
“Ah…you don’t,” he coughed. “You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind.” You unscrewed the lid and unlatched the spoon from its side. “I want to, actually. If it’s okay with you.”
It shouldn’t have surprised you—the flush that crept up on his cheeks, even more visible than usual with how little color there was to his sickly complexion.
“Okay,” he averted his eyes. “Yeah, thank you.”
You scooped up a portion of the soup, making sure to gather a good mix of ingredients for him, then brought it up to his lips. He blew out puffs of air a few times before taking the spoon into his mouth, still refusing to meet your gaze.
Despite his awkwardness, a cute hum followed. “This is really good.”
“That’s how I know you’re sick.”
He giggled gently, careful not to set off another coughing fit. “No, I mean it,” he licked his lips. “I can taste the flavor, even though my nose is all stuffy.”
“I’m glad you like it,” you smiled, dipping the spoon back into the container. “I kinda made it in a rush, so I hoped it’d at least be edible.”
Chan finally looked up, fixing you with a guilt-ridden gaze. “I’m really sorry,” he mumbled, just as you brought another portion up to his lips.
“The only person you should be apologizing to is yourself,” you said firmly.
A comfortable silence filled the room, with nothing but the sound of Chan’s slurping and wheezy breaths breaking it. Though the bashfulness was still there—it always was—he gradually came to relax the more you fed him, slumping his shoulders and letting out those content, satisfied noises that you’d come to love so much after each hot spoonful. The sight of him, disheveled as he was, made your heart feel strangely full, the ripples of worry fading out until it was calm and clear. He was being cared for, looked after; even if for just a moment. You decided right then and there that it was the only thing you’d ever ask of him—to dare to let you treat him with an ounce of the kindness he showed everyone but himself.
The steam, garlic, and ginger seemed to do their job in clearing up his sinuses a bit, as his sniffling grew more and more frequent until it was obvious he was having a hard time containing it. He had to refrain from ducking his head, a fresh wave of embarrassment washing over him as you plucked a tissue from the nightstand and wiped his nose clean. Still, he thanked you quietly, sinking further into the pillows.
“Is there anything else I can do?” you sealed the now-empty container shut. “I can pick up any missing work for you tomorrow, if that helps.”
Chan’s eyes were half-lidded now, his weariness finally starting to catch up to him. “Nah, don’t trouble yourself. Most of my stuff is on my laptop, anyway.”
For the first time, you noticed the device amidst the blankets and sheets, teetering on the edge of his mattress in a way that made your adrenaline spike considering it was the precious amalgamation of all his blood, sweat, and tears since he’d entered university.
“Have you been working, even now?”
“I wanted to,” he admitted. “But I think staring at a screen just made my head feel worse. Gonna try again later.”
Before you could say anything else, he changed the subject, like he knew you’d advise against it the instant the words left his mouth.
“But how’s your work? Is the lab going okay?”
Despite yourself, a smile tugged at your lips. You might not have let him get away with it if he hadn’t asked about the exact thing you’d been dying to share with him since the last time you’d met up. Maybe that was what he needed, anyway—something to cheer him up and take his mind off the perpetual ache consuming his body.
“I’m observing a pair of binary stars right now.”
He perked up against the pillows, lifting his head so quickly that it actually earned a light hiss of pain. Still, his face broke out into a smile, exactly the way you’d dreamed of when you’d first analyzed the spectral lines.
“What kind?”
“Spectroscopic.”
His dimples appeared for the first time that day. “The closest pair!” he chirped. “That’s amazing, I wish I could see it.”
“I can show you their Doppler shifts as the next best thing,” you offered. “They’re so close even the telescopes can’t separate them. Isn’t that romantic?”
“Super romantic,” he beamed, eyes twinkling through the glaze of illness. That familiar warmth spread through your skin—just by looking at him, you could tell he was thinking the same thing as you. “Orbiting so close and so fast…you think they’ll change each other’s evolution?”
“Yeah,” you murmured. “I do.”
Like in the case of most binary pairs, one star burned brighter than the other—just the slightest bit. Even if the difference in them was miniscule, you had no doubt in your mind which of the two was Chan.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
Space talk could only mitigate the effects of the flu for so long. Chan’s half-lidded eyes eventually drooped all the way shut, his raspy but enthusiastic chatter dying down into barely-responsive mumbles, then, finally, soft, steady snores. It took everything in you not to lean down and press a kiss to his forehead, already accumulating beads of sweat as his fever began to break. Even after all your recklessness in getting so close to him while he was sick, you figured that would be pushing your luck a bit too far. Instead, you ensured he had enough water for when he’d inevitably wake up parched, adjusted his pillows so that his head was properly elevated, and tidied up the mess on his nightstand as best you could.
Carefully, you tiptoed out of his room, taking one last look at his sleeping face before shutting the door.
As you entered the living room from the hall, you found Minho seated on the couch; presumably hard at work, judging by the way he was hunched over his laptop, typing up a storm with computer glasses perched on the tip of his nose. He didn’t even spare you a glance when you passed him to toss the empty bottles in the recycling bin. You’d long learned to keep quiet around him to avoid setting off yet another tirade of petty insults and icy scowls, and you would’ve gladly gone without a word if the memory of your earlier accusation wasn’t nagging away at you. That, and, maybe the affection that had bubbled up inside you upon seeing Chan had let down your guard a bit.
Against your better judgment, you mustered up the will to say it. “Thanks for looking after him.”
Minho’s eyes stayed glued to his screen. “I didn’t do it for you.”
“Obviously,” you replied evenly. “I just mean I’m glad he has you.”
You were prepared to leave it at that, both to let him resume his work, and avoid the claws that were sure to come out if you kept pressing the matter. To your surprise, however, he piped up again just as you began making your way over to the door.
“If you’re expecting me to say the same about you, don’t hold your breath.”
You told yourself to ignore it, but with just a few words, he’d effectively frosted over all the warmth that Chan had kindled in your chest. Something snapped in you, making you spin on your heels before you could stop yourself.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Minho’s eyes flickered up at last, widening for only a split second before they narrowed again.
“That’s no way to talk to someone in their home,” he clicked his tongue. “If I wasn’t such a gentleman, I’d kick you out.”
You held your ground, refusing to feel embarrassed about your outburst no matter how much he provoked you.
“Answer me.”
Minho rose from the couch with a sigh, making it no secret what an inconvenience he found you to be, what an utter waste of his time it was to even address you.
“What makes you think I have a problem?”
You let out a bitter laugh. The absolute gall of this man.
“Don’t play dumb with me, okay? Changbin told me this is just what you’re like, but I haven't seen you treat anyone else the way you treat me.”
Minho was closer now, still a few feet away, but near enough to put you on high alert. He looked so unrecognizable these days, you’d forgotten what it’d ever felt like to be comfortable around him, to be in the same room without that unease spreading through your skin.
“You think you’re special?” he sneered. “Do your ego a favor and listen to Changbin.”
You opened your mouth to retort, but he carried on, still managing to sound so carefree despite the venom in his words.
“Unless, of course, you’re the only one allowed to give orders here.”
You froze.
“What?”
“Hit a nerve?”
“What are you talking about?” You had to contain yourself, solely for the meager hope that maybe, just maybe, you might get a clear answer from him for once.
“I’ve seen your type before, too many times,” he spat. “Chan just can’t seem to break that ugly habit—falling for people who only know how to take advantage of him.”
You bristled, so enraged that you couldn’t even think to answer. All that filled your head was red, hot anger, defiance, and, buried beneath all that, fear.
Anger that he had the audacity to speak to you that way. That he’d passed such a cruel and absurd judgment without so much as bothering to get to know you first. Defiance that he thought he had you all figured out when he didn’t even know the half of it—of what Chan meant to you, of what you’d been through, of the people who had chewed you up and spit you out just like he was implying you liked to do.
Fear that he was right. Fear that someone else was capable of having those thoughts about you, that they weren’t just your own baseless inhibitions. The lingering effects of what he had planted in your mind, never quite uprooted.
“My type,” you tried to keep your voice steady. “Is just as capable of being taken advantage of.”
Minho crossed his arms, stare unbreaking as if inviting you to continue—to prove yourself to him. The thought alone made your stomach churn.
“You’re not as smart as you think,” you hissed. “You don’t know the first thing about me, and whatever happens between Chan and I is none of your business.”
He sniffed, unimpressed. “When you hurt him, it will be.”
He said it with so much certainty, so much confidence, you nearly believed it yourself. You clenched your fists, mustering all your strength to control the irrational amounts of rage bubbling up inside you. You thought of Chan, asleep in the other room amidst his nest of sweaty blankets and tissues, fighting off the flu on top of everything else he had resting on his shoulders. You thought of his exhausted face, paler than usual, and his cracked voice, still trying to reassure you even when he was in such a miserable state.
You took a deep breath, and you softened.
“I’m not going to hurt him.”
Minho said nothing. Maybe he thought it was too easy to counter, maybe he thought it wasn’t even worth acknowledging. Either way, you were done trying to make sense of him—done trying to defend yourself in front of someone who had long decided you were guilty.
So, he hated you. You could probably live with that. You didn’t exactly have a glowing opinion of him either.
You turned around, making a beeline for the door and slipping your shoes back on as calmly as you could. But, of course, it wasn’t over quite yet. Ending things on your terms, where you got the last say, wasn’t an option when it came to Minho.
“Running away from the fight you started again?” he called lazily. “This is getting boring.”
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
Iseul’s sigh rang out through your apartment, so loud and so exaggerated this time that you couldn’t in good conscience brush it off. Half-amused by her transparency, you paused the show on your television, turning to give her a questioning look.
“Something wrong?”
“Look at that!” She gestured aggressively at the screen, where the male lead, soaked and forlorn with a bouquet of flowers in hand, was waiting in the pouring rain outside of his love interest’s home. “Where do I find someone like that, huh?”
You giggled, only to realize with a start that she was being dead serious. She pouted at you, and you cleared your throat, rushing to correct yourself.
“Are you still having problems wi—?”
“Yes,” she interjected, as if exasperated that it’d taken you this long to notice. “We had an argument earlier today. He called me needy, can you fucking believe that?”
You let out a hum of disapproval; you’d never really gotten a good vibe from this guy from the start, especially as Iseul’s boyfriend. He was far too emotionally unavailable for someone as expressive and sensitive as her.
“Why would he say that?”
“He’s just a dick. All I did was ask him to help me practice my marketing presentation—y’know, since you didn’t have the time to,” she added. You guessed it was probably just her frustration speaking, but something about the way she said it seemed off, like you were partially at fault for not being there to help her in the first place. “Then, after like two tries, he gets all annoyed with me saying I’m being way too nitpicky and wasting his time.”
You knew better than anyone how high-strung Iseul could be when it came to academics; it was the trait in her that had initially sparked your friendship, after all. She could be demanding, sure, but it was only because she cared so much about performing well. Being there for her any chance you got wasn’t even a matter of debate for you—it was the bare minimum, whether for a friend, or a significant other.
“Anyway, I’m still waiting on him to apologize,” she huffed. “I’m not the crazy one here, right? Like, do you think he has a point?”
“You’re not crazy.” You pressed your lips together, trying to approach the matter with caution. “I think you just have high expectations for people.”
“But that’s not a bad thing!”
“Of course not,” you agreed. “As long as you treat them with the same consideration.”
“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “I could literally be the best girlfriend ever if he’d just let me. He literally never appreciates the things I do for him.”
“Maybe you just have different ways of showing your care for each other?” you suggested. “You can try bringing it up next time you talk.”
Iseul groaned, dragging her hands down her face, as if the thought of urging him to have a mature, emotionally open conversation with her caused physical pain. “I guess. If he ever even bothers to text me again.”
“How long has it been?”
She looked away, uncharacteristically meek. “A few hours.”
“He usually takes that long anyway, right?” you reasoned. “He’ll definitely come around, try not to stress too much about it.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled. “I’m sick of thinking about it. How are things with Chan?”
It was the only detail of your life she ever really asked you about lately. You didn’t mind most of the time—you were more than happy to talk about him over other, significantly less pleasant things, but in this case, you felt a twinge of discomfort. You hated that the first thing that came to mind wasn’t Chan’s crinkled eye smile, but rather, Minho’s relentless death glare. The thought was unnerving enough for you to consider bringing it up with Iseul, just as a way to get an outside opinion from someone who wasn’t Changbin or Chan. Unlike them, Iseul didn’t know Minho at all, and you liked to think she was blunt enough to tell you objectively if you were in the wrong.
“Pretty good,” you hesitated. “Well, there is something—”
“I’m sure they’re more than just good,” she interrupted again. “All you ever do is hang out with him these days.”
You flashed her a grin. “Isn’t that what you wanted? Someone to entertain myself with once you’ve settled down?”
You were met with another huff. She crossed her arms, eyebrows furrowing in a way that immediately told you she wasn’t in the mood to joke.
“Doesn’t mean you have to ditch me now that you’ve got yourself a boytoy.”
“C’mon, Iseul,” you tried to keep your tone light. “You practically live here.”
She picked at her fingernails in silence, and you felt yourself start to panic a bit, suddenly taking the implication that you’d been neglecting your friendship much more seriously. You hadn’t noticed a difference, save for how much busier your schedules were this semester—but that was inevitable given how hectic senior year was for everyone. As much as Chan consumed your thoughts (something Iseul was better off not knowing) you barely saw him more often than her; in fact, given everything he was constantly juggling at once, you probably saw him less.
“What are you always so busy with, then?” she questioned at last, the slightest bit accusatory.
“The same as you. Classes and my senior research.”
You couldn’t decipher why she looked so unconvinced by the explanation, like the idea of you being preoccupied with your own personal matters was somehow incomprehensible to her. She shifted around in her spot, clearly set on the idea that there had to be more to it than that.
“Fine,” she turned her head back to the television, still frozen on that same, pitiful frame from the drama. “I still need someone to help me practice though, and I’m definitely not asking him again. So, it’s gotta be you.”
“Sure,” you replied. “I can definitely find time.”
You wanted to believe that she was just in a foul mood because of the fight with her boyfriend—and maybe that really was the whole of it. Surely, she wouldn’t dismiss the past two years you’d spent helping and supporting her the very instant you had to focus on yourself for a bit.
Even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t help but wonder for the first time if the scale between you and her was more out of balance than you thought.
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
October had arrived at last, bringing with it a pleasant chill in the air, early tints of orange on the trees, and a fresh wave of midterm exams. Most importantly, it brought Chan’s birthday. He’d recovered from the flu a mere few days before the third of the month, and you’d never been more grateful for the sight of his radiant smile and rosy cheeks, full of so much life that he energized not just himself, but everyone around him as well.
His birthday fell on a Tuesday, not exactly the most ideal time for a celebration between Experimental Physics II and The Life and Death of Stars, but you’d been determined to make it work. You would’ve made anything work if it meant getting to spend even an hour with him on the day where he was, for once, the center of the universe. A small get-together had been planned later in the evening at his apartment—actually a small get-together this time, as promised so seriously by Changbin—but you’d come up with an excuse to skip out on it. No matter how hard you wished it didn’t bother you, the idea of being under the same roof as Minho again had been all the reason you needed to keep away. You had no doubt in your mind that he’d do everything in his power to make you feel unwelcome, and you didn’t trust yourself to remain collected around the guy after he’d proven time and time again how talented he was when it came to riling you up.
The last thing you’d wanted was to cause a scene on Chan’s birthday; it wasn’t even worth risking. If you put a damper on his happiness simply because you couldn’t stop yourself from fighting with his best friend like two feral street cats each time you crossed paths, you’d never forgive yourself. Instead, you’d met up with him for lunch and pastries earlier in the day, with the perfect excuse to cover all the expenses for it—much to your delight, and much to his dismay. Even if you were a bit wistful about missing out on the real celebration later, Chan’s beaming face when he’d opened your gift, the best external hard drive you could afford, had more than made up for it.
It’d been a week since then, another week where you and Chan barely found the chance to lift your heads from the sea of work to check in on each other. You knew that he was especially overwhelmed. His sickness couldn’t have come at a worse time, leaving him playing catch up with all his missed assignments and lectures on top of the stress of midterms.
Your thumbs hovered over your phone screen, tapping against each other as you debated whether or not to send him a message. As if on cue, it lit up with a notification that made your breath catch.
channie 🐺 (1:03 a.m.)
you awake?
you (1:03 a.m.)
yeah
hi channie
There was a delay before he texted again, three little dots appearing and disappearing below your chat bubble more than once, like he was repeatedly typing and deleting what he wanted to say.
channie 🐺 (1:07 a.m.)
can i call you?
The question felt strange, unlike him. You’d grown accustomed to expecting his calls the very instant he’d find out you were available—more often than not, without any warning at all.
you (1:07 a.m.)
do you even have to ask?
channie 🐺 (1:09 a.m.)
i should probably start haha
sorry
You frowned. Something was definitely off.
you (1:09 a.m.)
nooo that’s not what i meant
ur calls are the best surprise
Another minute passed without a response, and you began to worry that you’d actually upset him. Then, your screen lit up again, this time to signal his incoming call.
He didn’t greet you immediately after you picked up like he typically did. You registered the subtle sound of whirring on the other end of the line, like a breeze was billowing through his phone speaker.
“Chan?”
“Hi,” he sounded out of breath. “What’s up?”
“I was about to check on you, actually,” you confessed. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just wanted to hear your voice.”
Your heart fluttered, but it didn’t fully ebb the worry piling up inside you. “I missed you,” you murmured. “Starting to think dropping out isn’t such a bad idea.”
He chuckled—light, barely there. It was gone as soon as it came, as if not to overstay its welcome. The distant sound of a car engine met your ears, distracting you from what you’d planned to say next.
“Are you on your balcony?”
“Taking a walk,” he replied.
You blinked. “At this hour?”
“Yeah, couldn’t really sleep.”
For some reason, you felt a pang in your chest. You’d never heard him sound like this before. Blunt, sullen, defeated. A part of you, the hypervigilant part, wondered if he simply wasn’t in the mood to talk—but then, why would he have even asked to call you?
“Oh no,” you made a soft noise of sympathy. There was a pause as you mulled over how to approach it; whether to nag him not to get his adrenaline rushing so late, to offer words of comfort for whatever seemed to be bothering him, or to pretend like everything was okay, just to take his mind off of it. You didn’t want to keep pressing after you’d already asked once, but something was very clearly wrong; so wrong that Chan himself was making little effort to hide it.
“Do you want to look at the moon?”
A deep inhale. “Yeah.”
Wedging your phone between your ear and shoulder, you pulled up the blinds of your bedroom window and pushed it open, allowing the cool, October air to waft through your senses and drift over your skin. The moon was in its Waning Crescent phase, a thin, delicate slice of light illuminating the clear sky. You tried to picture Chan on the other end, the wonder in his tired eyes, the slope of his nose tilted upwards as he admired it like it was the first time it’d ever graced the night.
“Are you looking?”
“Mhm,” you hummed. “It’ll be a new moon soon.”
“Yeah,” he said again.
A silence stretched across the call, not quite uncomfortable, but not quite serene, either. Even from afar, you could feel the thoughts buzzing in his head like they were your own, disturbing any peace the view might usually wash over him. His breathing, at least, steadied, and you guessed he’d stopped walking to get a proper look at the sky.
The two of you stayed that way for some time, long enough for you to start filling the gaps with his absentminded humming and sweet vocalizations. There was none of that today; just silence.
Then, you heard it. Faint, muffled, like he’d turned away from his phone to avoid letting you catch it: a sniffle.
“Channie,” you whispered. “Are you really okay?”
“Just my leftover cold, don’t worry.”
You kept quiet. You both knew he’d fully recovered well over a week ago.
“Sorry,” he said weakly. “Can I come over?”
“Right now?” You glanced at the time. It was already nearing 2:00 a.m., you didn’t want him to make such a long walk this late, especially not in his current condition. “Why don’t I come meet you?”
“No, no, ‘s alright.”
“Well, of course you can come. I’ll be here.”
“Thank you.”
The call ended. It left you feeling heavy with unease, an emotion you’d never once associated with Chan. As foreign as it was, it made you all the more determined to be there for him, to take on some of the weight he carried everywhere he went before his knees completely buckled underneath him. In your eyes, he was just like the moon he loved so much—always shining down on you with the brightest side of him, and never allowing you to see the other. You wanted to break the tidal lock and see the dark side of the moon. To uncover all the hidden craters and basins and accept them as a part of him.
Not even ten minutes had passed before you heard a knock at your door, far too soon for him to have arrived by foot. It made you realize, with another tug at your heart, that he must’ve already been on his way to your apartment when he’d first called.
When you swung open the door, there was a short lapse before his smile came, strained, but relieved. His hair was tousled from the wind, eyes outlined with dark circles, and black jacket unzipped. It hung loosely off his shoulder, and when you pulled him into a hug, you could feel the chill from the outside air lingering on his skin. Even so, his persistent warmth still seeped through; it always did.
Neither of you said anything as you took his hand in yours, guiding him to the other room. You settled down next to him on the edge of your bed, facing the window where the moon was still watching over you. Chan kept his eyes firmly locked on it, but his fingers brushed tentatively against yours, tracing the lines of your fingerprints and palms as if to commit them to memory.
“Sorry for bothering you so late.”
“You could never bother me,” you said simply.
It was so immediate, so natural, it had him taken aback for a moment. He sucked in through his teeth, well aware of your gaze studying his side profile with growing concern.
“At the showcase,” he mumbled. “Did you really mean what you said?”
The question could’ve been in reference to anything, but somehow, that was all he needed to ask for you to know exactly what he was talking about.
“Of course.”
Memories of him up on that stage flooded your mind. His charisma, his passion, his belief in Changbin and Jisung and, for a fleeting moment, himself. Just thinking about it was enough to make goosebumps rise on your skin.
“When I saw you performing, all I could think about was how much you belonged up there.”
Chan’s breath hitched. At last, he turned his head to face you, that same look from the night of the party—the one that troubled you for reasons you couldn’t explain—crossing his features again. Hopeful eyes searched for any hint of insincerity, any shadow of a doubt, only to find nothing but raw affection.
He leaned in suddenly, brushing his nose against yours in a wordless plea, and you closed the space between you. His lips were the slightest bit chapped from the crisp autumn air, but their plushness was never lost, consuming your senses with that soft, irresistible quality you could never get enough of. He melded seamlessly into you, filling every gap and crevice, pulling you further in like waves lapping at a shore.
Chan turned slightly on the bed, angling his body to bring himself closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours. For such a simple touch, it made him sigh sweetly into you, lips parting to add a new degree of heat to it all. His fingers flexed in your hand, and you used the other to cup his face, holding him steady as he moved his mouth with increasing urgency. Cute, tiny sounds built up in his throat each time your tongue slid against his, growing louder and louder until he was all but whimpering into your mouth.
His desire, normally thinly-veiled by a layer of timidity, was on full display tonight—not quite pushy, rather, begging with every pucker of his lips and graze of his teeth for you to take things a step further, to let him fall completely into you. It was a lack of restraint you often had to build into, to guide him there yourself. You kept telling yourself to get a grip, to break the kiss and check on the boy who, just minutes ago, appeared to be on the verge of falling apart; but it was fruitless to even think about ridding yourself of a sensation so addictive. His free hand reached for your waist, hesitant as ever to grab on as tight as he needed to. Instead, he took your shirt between his fingers, playing with the fabric in a way that, strangely enough, was even more exhilarating.
The sounds spilling out of Chan became muddled together, and it took you a few seconds to realize that he was trying to say something to you.
“Please,” he whined. “Please, please.”
You ran your thumb along his cheek, unlocking your lips from his at last. “What is it, baby?”
“Need you,” his breath was shaky, lungs aching from the intensity of the kiss. “Can I make you feel good? Please, let me this time.”
You paused, pulling away to get a proper look at him. “Are you sure?” you frowned. “You don’t look well, Channie. Why don’t we talk?”
“N-no, ‘m okay. Just really need you right now.”
His gaze flickered down to the spot between your thighs, and he swallowed. It affected you more than you wanted to admit—the pure want in his eyes for something so selfless.
“I’ll be good,” he promised. “However you want it, I’ll do it. Please.”
You scanned his face a few moments longer, trying to put aside the arousal spreading through you at an alarming rate, just long enough to get a read on him. Your concerns were still very much there, but the look on his face told you that he wanted—needed this even more than you did.
Gently, you squeezed his hand one last time before unlacing your fingers. “Alright...if that’s what you want.”
Chan watched, mesmerized, as you repositioned yourself on the bed, resting your back against your pillows and slipping your fingers beneath the waistband of your shorts to tug them off.
“Th-thank you,” he breathed. “I’ll do well. Promise.”
It nearly made you coo out loud. All this just to please you, just to satisfy desires that, unbeknownst to him, were already fulfilled just by being with him. Still, you knew Chan well enough to understand that it wouldn’t sit right in his mind until he gave you everything he had to offer. He’d give you his all if only you would let him.
Even as you slipped off your underwear, he stayed put, unmoving until you gestured for him to come over. He licked his lips, eyes shining in the low light when you spread your legs at last. Your heartbeat picked up as he settled between them, suddenly so close that you could feel each shaky breath of his tickling your sensitive skin. Tentatively, he placed his hands on your thighs, glancing up at you to ensure that it was really okay. You gave him an encouraging nod, not quite trusting yourself to speak when the only thing you could focus on was how dangerously close his mouth—his perfect mouth—was to your most intimate spot.
With your permission granted, he began pressing kisses to your inner thigh. They started off with that same shyness you knew, careful and reserved, but quickly became less and less controlled the more his mouth roamed. His lips were smoother now, wet and glossy, and they sent tiny jolts through your senses each time they came in contact with your skin. If you hadn’t known any better, you might’ve thought he was purposely trying to tease you, giving hints of what he could make you feel without diving in fully just yet. But the way he kneaded your flesh with the pads of his fingers, a low, desperate noise bubbling up inside him, said otherwise. He was appreciating every bit of you, basking in the moment, as if he may never get the chance to have his head between your legs again.
His sloppy kisses drew closer and closer to your heat, and when his lips came to hover over it at last, you had to stop yourself from pushing against his face right then and there. Delicately, his tongue slid out to glide from your entrance right up to your clit, ending it with a gentle flick that sent a shiver down your spine. He repeated the action almost immediately, a sweet hum escaping him as your arousal flooded his tastebuds.
Your hand fell down to his head, gripping his curls in a way that made his own pleasure spike, if the sudden whine he let out was any indication. He continued licking away, each intoxicating lap of his tongue growing more confident and making you ask yourself just why on earth you’d ever deprived yourself of such a feeling. It satiated a need that you hadn’t even known was there to begin with, twisted the muscles in your core with both tension and relief. If it’d been a while since he’d used his mouth like this, it certainly didn’t show.
“Am I…” he slurred. “Am I doing okay?”
“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you assured him. “My sweet boy, using that pretty mouth for me. Making me feel so good.”
Your praises earned a moan from him, so loud you’d think he was the one experiencing the hot, delicious rhythm of his tongue. The sound vibrated against your folds, making your toes curl and your nails dig further into his scalp.
“You really like this, don’t you?” you giggled breathlessly.
“Mm. Just wanna—mmph—please you,” he managed between licks. “Wanna be a good boy for you.”
Before you could respond, heart-shaped lips wrapped unexpectedly around your clit, engulfing it with his plush, wet warmth and sending shockwaves all throughout your body. Despite your best efforts, you gasped, barely able to stop yourself from squeezing your thighs around his head. He sucked eagerly, adding just the right amount of pressure that, if kept up, was sure to draw you to a climax faster than you’d ever experienced before.
“Just like that.” You let your eyes flutter shut. “Good boy. You were made for this.”
Chan dragged his upper lip along the sensitive bud, the tip of his nose brushing against it in a way that threatened to snap the tightening coil in your abdomen all at once.
“Made f-for you,” he stuttered out. “Please, tell me I’m good for you. Tell me ‘m okay.”
You weren’t sure if it was his own arousal becoming too much for him to bear, but his voice had become near-frantic, as did the strokes of his tongue. His movements grew sloppier and sloppier, drool mixing with your essence and nose dragging along your folds almost obsessively.
You ran your fingers through his curls, hoping to keep him grounded. “More than okay. You’re perfect for me, baby boy.”
A broken whimper met your ears, driving you closer to the edge. “Yeah? ‘M doing well? Please, tell me I’m good,” he begged. “P-please, wanna be good enough.”
Amidst all his pleading and babbling, the words caught you off guard, pulling you out of your blissful haze all at once. Something wet dripped against your skin, warmer and thinner than any of the other fluids pooling at your core, and it made your eyes snap open in alarm.
“Channie?”
“I’ll do it right.” He didn’t look up, still working his mouth despite the choked noises building up in his throat. His hands pawed at your thighs, gripping and squeezing with so much urgency that you’d think he was terrified you might disappear. Another hot droplet ran down your skin, and as you blinked to refocus your vision, you finally noticed it—the trembling of his shoulders. “Just please, l-let me show you ‘m worth something.”
“Chan.” Panic gripped you, and you used your clutch on his hair to catch his attention. “Chan, stop for me, baby.”
Every one of your nerve-endings screamed out in protest as he obediently unlatched himself from you, releasing the mind-numbing suction of his lips. But your worry quickly overtook any of the remaining lust in your body. Chan sucked in a sharp breath, refusing to lift his head, and you slid your hand down to his dripping chin, tilting it up into view.
He was crying; tears trickling down his cheeks with fresh ones brimming in his clouded eyes. He squeezed them shut, unable to meet your stare, and your heart may as well have snapped in two.
“Oh, Channie,” you whispered. “Why are you crying?”
“I…” his voice failed him, anything he’d been planning to say fading out into a sob. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry.”
A lump rose in your throat, guilt flooding your chest. You’d known he was off from the beginning—you should’ve done something, you shouldn't have let things get to this point. This was Chan, after all. Of course he’d pretend that he was fine for you, of course he’d try to make himself useful to you instead. You should’ve known better.
Still, you kept calm, even if it was surface-level, you steadied your volume and relaxed your expression; something to ground him amidst it all. “Don’t be sorry. Come see.”
He blinked the tears out of his eyes, only for them to immediately glaze over again. The skin around them had turned red and puffy, and coupled with the exhaustion written all over his face, he looked positively broken. “Sorry, ‘m okay, really,” he tried to insist. “I just…”
One look at your outstretched arms was all it took for him to lose his last shred of composure. He surged forward with a hiccup, falling into you and burying his face in your neck. You wrapped your arms securely around him, the tear in your heart growing as you felt him shake against you with each gasp and sob that racked his body. His flow of tears didn’t stop, in fact, it only seemed to come stronger in your hold, warm droplets streaming freely and seeping through the fabric of your shirt. You stayed quiet for a bit, just allowing him to release as you ran your hand up and down his back in an attempt to soothe him.
“Why are you crying, baby?” you murmured again. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I c-can’t fail,” he managed at last, barely coherent through the slur of his speech. “N-not again. I can’t.”
“Fail? Why would you fail?”
He didn’t answer right away—or, rather, he couldn’t, another feeble gasp effectively cutting off any response he’d mustered up. Despite the slew of questions his words unleashed in you, you remained patient, cradling his head with your free hand while the other continued to rub his back. For all its strength and broadness, it was more fragile than ever shuddering under your palm.
“It’s my last chance. C-can’t mess it up.”
“You’re not going to mess anything up,” you said firmly. Even without any idea as to what he was talking about, you knew that much was true. “What makes you think that?”
Another minute or so passed of him trying to gain control over his hiccups, just long enough to get a proper sentence out. “My mentor,” he took a deep breath. “My mentor rejected my project. S-said it needs a complete rework.”
Your stomach flipped. “What? Why?”
You winced at how loud it’d come out, but the utter disbelief in your tone at least seemed to encourage Chan to keep going. He sniffled, still refusing to lift his head from the comfort of your shoulder.
“Just wasn’t good enough.”
“Don’t say that.” The possibility wasn’t even worth considering to you. There had to be more to it; you refused to accept otherwise, not when you’d witnessed firsthand how earnestly Chan poured his heart and soul into every piece of music he’d ever created. “I know that can’t be it.”
A thought flickered to life in your head, one so obvious that you scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. “Did you have enough time to work on it?”
“I…” he began weakly. “I t-tried.”
“You were sick for over two weeks, Channie. Does your mentor know that?”
His breath caught in his throat, telling you all that you needed to know. “Don’t...wanna make excuses.”
“But it’s not an excuse, is it? It’s just the truth,” you reasoned. “You couldn’t even get out of bed. There’s no way you could do your best under those conditions.”
“I...I sh-should’ve—”
“You should’ve been getting enough rest. You should’ve told him what was going on.”
Your words seemed to reach him at last, cutting carefully through the thick fog of self-deprecation and sabotage consuming his mind just enough for him to really mull it over. He inhaled again, slower and deeper this time, but still not free of that painful tremor.
“M-maybe,” he rasped. “Maybe I did need more time.”
“There we go.” You combed through his hair. “Your best is more than good enough, Channie. Your mentor wouldn’t have done this study with you otherwise.”
You wanted, more than anything, to see his face as you spoke, to look directly into his red, watery eyes and let him know exactly how much you meant it. But you knew how vulnerable he must be feeling for you to even see him like this, so you let him be, hoping the message would get through to him nonetheless. “I’m sure if you explain it to him, he’ll understand. He knows what you’re capable of, and so do I. So please, don’t be so hard on yourself, okay?”
Chan’s shoulders relaxed just barely in your arms. He nuzzled further into you, and little by little, the trembling under your palms came to a stop. Given how hard he’d been crying—even now, with new ripples of tears still trickling onto your clothes—you were certain there was something else brewing deep within him. This was only the tip of the iceberg, the breaking point. Even so, you didn’t press the matter just yet, instead choosing to nurture the hint of calm that had begun to creep up on him.
“Do you really think I can do this?”
Your hand slid down to the nape of his neck, playing gently with the wisps of curls that swooped out. “I know you can,” you murmured. “And even if I didn’t, you’d do it anyway. You were made for this.”
A sweet sound, something between a sigh and whine, spilled out of him. Under any other circumstances, you knew he wouldn’t accept it without a protest or two, but in that moment, he absorbed it wholly—clung to it, even. His head finally lifted from the mess of tears and sweat that had formed in the crook of your neck, only to fall right into your chest instead, not quite ready to face you.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
You pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and he scooted impossibly closer to you, his thigh brushing between your legs in a way that you willed yourself to ignore. “Why don’t we go wash up?”
He tightened his grip on you, another soft noise gracing your ears. “Can we stay like this, please? Just a little longer.”
You softened. “Of course. Anything you want.”
He slumped fully against you as you rested your hand on the small of his back, the last of his reservations effectively washing away. You played loosely with the hem of his hoodie, listening to the sound of his breathing and taking comfort in the fact that it was finally beginning to even out.
The two of you stayed peacefully like that for several minutes, that was, until something warm and damp spread through your shirt, immediately catching your attention. Not tears this time, rather, the feeling of Chan’s mouth pressing against your chest.
Your heart skipped a beat. His lips puckered faintly, forming a moist ring over the material, right around your nipple. Just as you were about to pass it off as an accident, it happened again.
“Is there something you need, Channie?”
“You,” it came muffled. He parted his lips, wider this time, nibbling delicately on the fabric. “Can I? Please?”
It didn’t take much thought for you to understand what he was implying. An uncharacteristically self-indulgent request, one that filled you with affection and pooled heat in your stomach all over again.
“You’re so cute.” You couldn’t help yourself, his transparency made you melt like nothing else—you only wished that it would extend to other aspects of his life, ones that you were equally as hungry for.
Careful not to disturb him too much, you slipped your hands under your shirt and wiggled out of it. Chan lifted his head, albeit briefly, to make it easier for you to unclasp your bra. The instant your skin was bared to him, he nestled right back into your chest, wrapping his lips around your nipple and sending a spark of electricity through your body. He sucked gently at the bud, taking in your scent through his nose and exhaling contently. His hand, covered by the sleeve of his jacket, reached up for your other breast, pawing at it with timid fingertips before squeezing the soft flesh at last.
“My sweet boy,” you cooed. “My baby boy who works so hard he forgets to care for himself.”
He whimpered, puckering and unpuckering his plump lips in a way that would’ve made you rub your thighs together had he not been settled between them. You cupped the back of his head, and his eyes fluttered shut, a look of pure bliss crossing his face. The red, hot flush from all his crying was replaced with something softer now, a rosy shade dusting his puffed cheeks.
“You’re doing so well, Channie,” you continued. “I hope you’ll see it one day. I’m so proud of you.”
Chan’s eyebrows furrowed, an especially high-pitched whine escaping him. For a moment, you worried that he may begin to cry again, then, you felt it—his bulge brushing against your leg. His hips rocked forward so subtly, you weren’t even sure if he himself was aware of it, but once you’d noticed, it became hard to ignore the spike in your adrenaline.
Driven on by the feeling of his tongue swirling hungrily around your nipple, you let your hand drift down to the waistband of his pants. His mouth fell open as you traced over his bulge, all but jolting against you. “A-ah, yes. Touch me,” he pleaded.
“My baby’s so needy today,” you teased, dipping your fingers into his underwear and wrapping them around his half-hard length. He tightened his hold on your chest, his low, drawn-out moan sending a delicious vibration through your skin. “But good boys like you get whatever they want.”
Chan unlatched his lips from your nipple, only for any attempt at a reply to be cut off as you began pumping your hand along his dick. The cool night air drifting through your window was no match for the heat building between your bodies; that same, inexplicable heat that always drew you back to him. His fingers flexed around the softness of your breast, and you realized with a soft giggle that he was subconsciously mirroring the pace of your strokes.
You stopped to roll your palm over the head of his cock, smearing the droplets of precum around to add a layer of slickness to your movements. The cry it earned was nothing short of heavenly, ringing out shamelessly through your bedroom and making your core clench. Chan’s hip shot up into your grasp, so overtaken by the pleasure that he forgot to keep sucking for a moment, instead letting his mouth hang as drool began to dribble from its corner.
“Does that feel good?” you asked sweetly.
“Mmph, yes,” he slurred. “Please, don’t stop.”
“You deserve it,” you guided his head closer to your chest, allowing him to take your nipple between his swollen lips again. “You deserve to feel so good, angel.”
A wet, sticky sound, mixing with Chan’s pleas, began building as you glided your hand up and down his cock more steadily. Despite everything, it flustered him the moment he registered it, legs squeezing together with a broken whine.
“You hear that? Even the sounds your body makes are cute,” you hummed. His eyes, already shut tight, scrunched up even further to form an adorable look of embarrassment. “My pretty boy. You don’t even know how perfect you are for me.”
“Please,” he mewled, almost unintelligible through the skin and drool occupying his mouth. “Please, ‘m getting close.”
“Yeah? Gonna cum for me, baby?”
He could only whimper in response, cock twitching in your hand as you added a delicious pressure to your strokes. He kneaded your chest with more vigor, leaning in to suck on your other nipple and sending a fresh wave of heat through your body. His mouth was like wet, warm velvet encasing the sensitive bud; you found it hard to believe that those same lips had been between your legs earlier, drawing you to a climax with a purpose that you could only describe as raw devotion.
“Gonna—!” Chan’s hips bucked up, his whole body tensing. “A-ah, please, can I?”
You swiped your thumb playfully over his slit, and he practically keened. It was cruel, probably, but his unrelenting need to please you, even amidst all the desperation clouding his judgment, only made you want to toy with him more. Still, you knew that given the state he was in, teasing was out of the question. He needed comfort, pleasure, relief—and all of it rested in the palm of your hands.
“Let me see you cum like a good boy.” You gave one final jerk of your wrist, sending him over the edge at last. His thighs clenched, voice catching in his throat for a moment before breaking out into a gasp. Even so, he kept sucking to the best of his ability, babbles of your name dying down into soft mewls as the last few spurts of his seed coated your palm. You held still to avoid overstimulating him, curling his hair absentmindedly around your index finger until his cock finished throbbing in your grasp. Chan blinked his eyes open, still hazy and puffy, just in time to see you remove your hand from his pants and spread your fingers, connected by thick strings of his release.
“Look at all that,” you marveled. “You really needed this, huh?”
A low whine built in his throat. He pressed his cheek into your chest, shying away from the messy view.
“Are you embarrassed?”
“Mhm,” he managed a chuckle—quiet, still missing the jovial, melodic quality of his laughter, but even a trace of it was all it took to lift your spirits. Other than that, he said nothing, and you guessed he wasn’t entirely grounded just yet. You reached for a tissue from your nightstand, making a light grunt of effort with Chan’s full weight resting against you, and wiped down your hand to the best of your ability. As you leaned back against the pillows, your stare flickered down to the boy in your arms. He was an absolute wreck now; a sweaty, flushed, beautiful wreck of dried tears and drool gazing back up at you like he would do anything you so much as suggested in that moment.
“You did so well for me, Channie,” you praised. “Such a good boy.”
Pressing a quick kiss to his ruffled curls, you shifted beneath him, wordlessly urging him to let you wiggle off the bed. His reaction was immediate, sweater paws gripping your waist with an unexpected intensity.
“W-wait,” it was tinged with panic. “Don’t go, please.”
“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” you assured him, tapping the tip of his nose. “But we need to get you cleaned up, don’t we?”
He blinked a few times before the words seemed to get through to him. Then, with a slow nod, he hoisted himself off of you. It came as a surprise—though it shouldn’t have—how your body instantly longed for his warmth again. You took both of his hands into yours, almost tempted to push his sleeves back to properly lace your fingers together. But he seemed content with his palms covered like that, safe and secure in a way you didn’t dare to disrupt. With care, you tugged him up by his arms, letting him lean against you as you guided him to the bathroom. He didn’t let go of either of your hands the entire time, and, as awkward as the intimate gesture made it to walk, your heart fluttered.
You set the water to a warm temperature, watching Chan sway back and forth on his feet as you filled up the tub. His eyes were a bit more alert now, breaking the glaze that had encased them all throughout the night, like the reality of what had taken place was beginning to set in his mind.
“Wanna get undressed for me, Channie?”
There was a delay before he responded, long enough for you to give his hand a squeeze.
“Oh…yeah.”
Reluctantly, he released his hold on you, clumsy fingers fiddling with his hoodie in an attempt to shrug it off. With a fond smile, you reached out to help slide it down his shoulder. His arms fell limply to his sides, and you took it as a sign to keep going, slipping your fingers under the hem of his shirt and tugging it off, his pants and underwear following soon after. Even now, he ducked his head, unable to look you in the eye as you shut off the stream of water and ushered him into the tub.
As he sank into the warm pool, a sigh escaped him, so soft and relieved that you could practically feel the bliss rippling through his body. You sat yourself down on the edge of the tub, taking a moment to soak your washcloth before drizzling it with body wash—vanilla and cherry blossom, a blend of scents you’d quickly come to learn was Chan’s favorite. He loosened up the instant you came in contact with his skin, leaning into your touch. Gently, you began to scrub, lathering his broad back and shoulders with the sweet, flowery smell and admiring every curve and muscle in the process.
The rhythmic drag of the loofah and the gentle lap of the water had him reduced to putty in your hands in no time. He didn’t bother to resist the way his eyes drooped shut, each tranquil rock earning a small hum from him.
“Does that feel nice?”
“Yeah,” he breathed. “Thank you.”
“Of course, Channie. Your muscles are so tense,” you added. “I hope this helps a bit.”
He hummed again, tilting his head to the side as you moved up to the junction of his shoulder and neck, the comforting scent of your soap fully flooding his nostrils. Knowing how sensitive his neck was, you were careful not to press too hard around the area. It was horribly timed, but your skin tingled as you passed over the spot where you’d previously marked him—long faded by now, but you remembered the visual clear as day.
“I’m sorry,” he began. “About all of this.”
“Don’t apologize,” you ran the cloth along the slope of his shoulder. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t want you to hide stuff like this from me—isn’t that what we promised?”
He hesitated. “I…yeah.”
“Even big, strong shoulders like yours can’t carry everything by themselves,” you scolded lightly. It earned a puff of laughter, and even with his eyes still closed tight, he lowered his head sheepishly.
The question that had been lingering in the back of your mind all night—the question that had been eating away at you since you’d first met him, really, made its presence known once again. The missing piece of the puzzle, the hidden crater yet to be illuminated. You knew by now that Chan wouldn’t reveal it without a strong enough nudge, no matter how badly he wanted to. Even if it was threatening to burst out of his chest, just aching for a pin to come along, he’d use all his strength to keep in until you punctured it yourself.
“Chan,” you pressed your lips together. “When you said ‘not again’…can I ask what you meant by that?”
He stiffened under your palms, features darkening to form that same expression as all those months ago, when you’d first asked why he’d changed majors. You repressed the urge to take it back this time—you needed to hear it as much as he needed to say it.
“Spring semester of my senior year,” he mumbled. “I failed most of my classes.”
Something awful gripped you, so intensely that you stopped scrubbing for a moment. Failed. It felt so wrong coming out of his mouth, a word you couldn’t comprehend ever applying to him.
“I…I decided to change from astrophysics and try music. It was something I always kinda wanted to do, anyway.” He sounded so nervous—terrified, even—shrinking into himself as he spoke as if each sentence made him more and more vulnerable to some hidden assailant waiting to attack. You continued your ministrations with the hopes of easing his fears a bit, wringing out the washcloth before adding more soap and running it along his chest. Even through the rough material, you could feel how fast his heart was beating.
“My parents, they…I've never really disappointed them like that before,” his voice cracked on the word “disappointed”, like it physically pained him to say. “I still don’t think they’ve really accepted it. They still look at me like…like I'm…”
He trailed off. He didn’t have to say it for your gut to wrench.
“Maybe once I graduate, they’ll think I'm worth something again.”
“Please, don’t talk like that,” you couldn’t hide your own distress. “You’re worth something as you are. It’s your future, Chan, not theirs.”
“But what if I can’t do it?” he whispered. “What if I just fail again? I’m so…so scared that I’m making the wrong decision.”
“It must be scary,” you agreed, gliding the washcloth along the tense curves of his arms. “Really hard, too. But that’s because you’re carving out your own path. No one else has walked it before you to clear out the way.”
He went quiet, and you took it as a sign to continue, a chance to keep swinging at the seemingly indestructible wall of self-doubt he’d so carefully crafted for years.
“You’re not alone, either,” you encouraged. “Think of Bin and Jisung and all that faith you have in them. Think of how much faith they must have in you to follow you down that path without question.”
If only he knew—if only he saw the admiration for him written all over their faces, oozing from every word they spoke. If only he knew the admiration you’d felt for him as early as when Changbin had first told you about him choosing music composition. Daring to take a route that, in many ways, was more challenging than even the most horrific of astrophysics courses. Not only that, but daring to flourish, leaving room for flowers to grow along the way wherever he roamed.
When Chan replied, you could've sworn you heard the faintest glimmer of hope in it. “I guess I never really thought of it that way.”
“Well, start thinking of it that way,” you chided softly. “I know you can do it. Just because others want you to do something, doesn’t mean it’s right. What’s right is what makes you happy.”
He loosened up further, welcoming your cleansing touch and your words of compassion more and more openly. You washed him in silence for another few minutes, debating in your head whether or not to keep pursuing the matter, to peel back another layer of him and get to his core.
“Were you…unhappy doing astrophysics?”
“Not exactly.” You got the feeling he could tell what you were really attempting to ask him. “I meant it when I said I liked it. That’s…not why I failed.”
You made a noise of understanding that masked the countless other things you wanted to say. He jolted just barely as you ventured down to clean his stomach, approaching his most sensitive area with a touch as gentle as it was deliberate. Care with a purpose.
“The…the person I was with, at the time,” he paused—whether to gather his thoughts, or to gauge your reaction, you weren’t entirely sure. Your eyes widened just a bit, but you kept your hand stubbornly occupied, scrubbing over his sore thighs. Like clockwork, they nearly closed in on each other. “She had a lot going on. Her mother was really sick; in and out of the hospital a lot.”
Even as dread stirred within you, like you knew exactly where this story was going, you left him space to continue.
“She just needed some help with everything she was dealing with in her life, y’know? I wanted to help.”
“I know you did,” you murmured. It was a given, one of the few certainties in life. Chan would always help, for no reason other than the fact that he could.
“I t-tried to be there for her. Took her wherever she needed to go, helped with her classes, visited her mother, looked after her little sister when she couldn’t,” he swallowed. “Then, around May, things got really bad. Her mom needed treatment for a few weeks, so I spent most of my time at the hospital or taking care of her sister.”
Something about the way he phrased it made you feel compelled to ask, “Where was she during that time?”
“Dunno,” he chuckled, humorless. “But I can probably guess.”
You stole a glance at his face. His eyes were open now, locked on the bubbly water and refusing to meet yours, like he might break all over again if he did. “In the end, I guess I didn't prepare well enough for my finals. Didn’t pass most of them. So I figured, if I was gonna be taking more semesters, anyway…i-if it wasn’t going to be perfect, I might as well start from scratch, y’know? Do it right this time.”
“Oh, Channie,” you rested your hand on his head. “That’s too much. That’s way too much.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t h—”
“No, no,” you didn’t even want to give him the chance to second-guess himself. “Please, don’t hold back. I’m listening.”
He was sugarcoating it, you knew he was. Even now, two years into the aftermath and still suffering the effects of it, he was trying to dismiss it all as something casual.
“What about her? What happened?”
Chan shrugged, reaching up for his ear. You didn’t push him as he fiddled with the silver hoop, instead taking the opportunity to grab your bottle of shampoo and squeeze some of the substance into your palm while he found the will to answer.
“When she found out I wasn’t graduating, she ended it,” he said at last. “Think it was already over, anyway. She was with someone else a few weeks later.”
“Oh my God.”
Through the haze that had been filling his head the entire night, your emotions still reached him with ease. “I brought it on myself, though,” he added quickly, as if the excuse—had it been even remotely correct—would’ve made it any better. “It was all just my own stupid choices. I can’t really say it’s her fault.”
Yes, you can. It took every ounce of self-control to stop yourself from pressing your nails into his head, just to avoid hurting him. You weren’t sure what drove the urge most: sympathy, protectiveness, fury. You couldn’t even begin to fathom it—you didn’t want to fathom it. To be presented with a heart as pure and honest as Chan’s, a love so selfless and sincere, only to trample all over it like it was worthless.
Despite the whirlwind that had spiraled to life inside you, you settled for something softer, a tenderness that, clearly, had been missing from his life thus far. You rubbed the shampoo delicately into his hair, swirling the dark curls around in a way that sent pleasurable ripples down his spine.
“It’s not your fault,” your tone left no room for debate. “Someone took advantage of your kindness. But showing that kindness? How could that possibly be your fault, Channie?”
He sucked in a sharp breath. You wondered if it was the first time he’d been told anything like that—whether by himself, or anyone else.
“I never do things for people to gain anything from it,” Chan began, and you knew, more than anything, that he meant it. “But…”
He hesitated, giving a quick shake of his head, as if to compose himself.
“But it hurts to be used.”
“Yeah. I understand.” You understood more than he could know, more than you could say in that moment. Tears had begun to well up in his eyes again, and for his own sake, you scooped up a portion of water in your hands and began to cleanse his head of the shampoo, letting the streams mask any fresh droplets that may trickle out.
“She never really did anything like this,” he said softly. “Most of the time, she’d just leave.”
Everything clicked into place. All the missing pieces of the puzzle, all at once, with each realization serving as another pang in your chest.
“Chan. I need you to know, right now, that this is what you deserve. All of this, and more.”
Faint sniffles and dripping water echoed throughout the bathroom. In this case, you welcomed it over his usual protests.
“I see everything you do, for me, and everyone else. You never give up on people, even with more than enough reason to,” you ran your hand through his hair, watching the wet ringlets slip through your fingers. “I admire that so much about you, but you still need to think of yourself once in a while. It’s not worth it—it’s never worth it to give your all to someone who will only see the empty husk left behind.”
Vaguely, you saw it, the slow nod of his head. It filled you with hope, the possibility that he might start to see himself the way you saw him, even if just a glimpse. Just a glimpse of him was bright enough to pierce through any darkness.
“One day, all that kindness you put out into the world is gonna find you again. I promise.”
He turned his head to look up at you for the first time, eyes gleaming with something other than tears.
“I think it already has.”
。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。⋆。˚ ʚïɞ ˚。⋆。
Neither of you said much as you continued bathing him, a quiet spell—comfortable, once more—passing between you and allowing everything that had been said to settle in your minds. You took your time conditioning Chan’s hair, giving each lush, beautiful curl the proper attention it deserved until you were fully satisfied. By the time you had finished rinsing him off, your legs were aching from sitting in the same, uncomfortable position for so long, and you were certain his were too. You helped him rise from the tub to the best of your ability, taking a moment to admire the streams of water traveling down his body before you passed him a towel.
As you re-entered your bedroom together, you immediately went to shut your window, not keen on creating even the slightest opportunity for Chan to catch another sickness. He was rocking on his heels again, looking seconds away from collapsing into your bed; he likely already would have if it weren’t for the fact that he was clad with nothing but a damp towel.
You dug around for a bit before locating a fresh pair of sweatpants he’d previously left at your place. When you presented them to him, he grinned for the first time that night.
“Been looking for these,” he commented. “They’re my favorite.”
“Well, they’re mine, now,” you teased. “But I can let you borrow them, I guess.”
To your surprise, he brought the garment up to his nose, and it took you a moment to register that he was breathing in the scent of your laundry detergent. It was almost ridiculous, how such a small action made you feel like your heart was going to erupt out of your chest.
The two of you settled into bed once he’d changed, and the exhaustion that had been gradually seeping down into Chan’s bones throughout the entire course of the night—even before that, probably—took over at last. You pulled the covers over your bodies, and he nestled into you before your head had even hit the pillow, his misgivings from your first night together nowhere to be found.
You prayed that he’d be able to sleep soundly tonight. His warmth washed over you, lulling you into dreams of your own. As you opened your mouth to wish him goodnight before your consciousness escaped you, you heard it. A mumble, just audible enough for you not to pass off as your own imagination.
“Think I love you.”
He was so drowsy that he may not have even noticed if you chose not to respond—you weren’t even sure if he noticed that he’d said it in the first place.
You rested your hand on the back of his head, pulling him closer.
“I love you, too.”
Something twisted deep within you as you returned his words. Not because you didn’t mean them, but because you did.
#bang chan x reader#skz fanfic#bang chan fanfic#bang chan smut#skz smut#sub!skz#sub!bang chan#sub!chan#dom!reader#skz x reader#skz angst#skz imagines#bang chan imagines
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City Spirit
DpxDc prompt
Vlad had grown tired of the young Badgers games, if the boy would not listen! Comply! Fine then, Vlad would take the hint then, but if the boy wouldn’t join him he would just have to remove the boy.
It had taken months of planning and scheming but he had finally figured out how to permanently rid himself of the thorn in his side called Phantom or better yet Danny.
Sure it took some persuasion and quite a bit of money but with the help of an old crooked spell caster Vlad had set up the perfect trap. He would finally be rid of the boy leaving him to rid of the boys father and be the comforting arms Maddie would turn to when Jack was finally gone. It was perfect really.
Now here he was face to face with the young halfa as the first step of his plan was set in motion.
A wicked grin ripped across his face as he held the blue blazing core towards the young halfa causing a snarl to rip from the boy.
“Now, now young Daniel. That’s now way to act, you might cause me to drop this precious little thing.” He grinned as he dropped the core only to catch it a moment later.
The panic in the little badgers eyes was so delightful it sent chills up his spine. There was no way the boy would attack with the risk of damaging the core that he held in his hands.
“Give her back! She has nothing to do with this!”
“Ohh but that’s where your wrong little badger, she has everything to do with this.” With that Vlad fled and of course the boy took the bait. He gave chase hot on Vlads tail as they picked up speed.
The chase was probably faster than Vlad or Phantom had ever gone and it was thrilling. To bad this would be phantoms last, after today Vlad would never have to deal with the boy again.
With the speed they were going it didn’t take but a few hours of chasing before the gloomy city of Gotham came in sight and Vlad belt the feeling of success swell in his chest as they flew over the city straight for an old clock tower.
Vlad easily turned intangible as he entered the tower and came to a stop against the back wall before turning to watch as the boy flew inside and stopped in the center, he’s chest heaving from the long and quick paced flight.
The boy was in the perfect position.
“Are you finally done with this pointless chase.” The boy growled as he moved closer like a cat ready to pounce on its prey.
“I am only just beginning little badger.” Vlad said as he helped the small core up causing the boy to stop in his tracks. “Now why don’t we land and talk this out, I’m certain you wouldn’t want anything to happen to little Dani now would you?”
“Don’t you dare! Do you realize what you’ve done! You’ve broken one of the realms biggest laws!”
“What they don’t know won’t hurt them now would it?” Vlad said as they began to float downward before both of there feet were planted on the ground.
Now that they were both firmly planted on the ground Vlad smiled. The second phase of the plan was active and everything was going swimmingly.
“Vlad please just give her back.”
“Ohh, begging now are we? That’s new even for you little badger.” Vlad said as he held the core close, “I quite like that, do it again!”
The boy visibly stiffened before he balled his fists and glared at Vlad, “pleas, don’t hurt her. I’m begging you give her back!” The boy practically sobbed.
Vlad grinned, ohh this was fantastic! Absolutely brilliant, he had the boy at the palm of his hand literally.
“I don’t think that was sincere, why don’t you beg some more. Show me just how far your willing to go! Beg on your knees, grovel before me and beg for her mercy!” He growled out as he gripped the core tightly causing a whining sound to come from the small orb in his hand.
The boy flinched and stared at him wide eyed before slowly he dropped to his knees. The look of hatred raged in the boys eyes as tears welled in them.
Who knew victory would be so thrilling!
With a cackle Vlad lived off before his grip tightened even more around the small core. Sadly a sacrifice must be made for the plan to work so no matter how much he enjoyed the boys begging he had to do what needed to be done.
He watched as the boys eyes widened in horror as the smallest of cracks appeared before it quickly grew in size and began to fracture across the whole of the core like lightning before finally it shattered.
A wail filled the air but it was to late, the deed had been done and the runes had activated. The whole clocktower lit up in neon green and the wail went unheard as the power from the spell overwhelmed the attack.
Vlad watched as green chains latched into the kneeling boy, his arms and legs restrained as well as his neck.
Vlad watched curiously as the old mage approached the boy who’s eyes now completely glowed green. The old coot placed his hand on the boys head before he began chanting in a language Vlad could not comprehend.
Immediately the boy began to wither in pain as green runes etched across his skin and his form began to change. No longer was there a 18 year old kneeling before the mage but a small boy with white hair.
Phantom was no more but in his place was a young city spirit, bound to the city Gotham and as such his form would represent the city itself.
Vlad didn’t think he would change so much. Phantom or Gotham was a small child of 8 to 10 years old with soft white hair that had flecks of black and deep green eyes, his tan skin etched in runes and his death scars, the linchenburg scars on his left arm traveling up to his heart and neck now glowed an eerie green.
Then there was the change in clothes, His face was covered completely in a mask only leaving the boys eyes and the bridge of his nose visibly. Then there was the rest of him so much line one of the bats little Robins but the armor was black and grey without any insignia in sight. His left arm and neck were the only parts of the boy left bare showing the deep glowing scars and his neck was etched in a dark runes that bound him to the city much like a collar.
Finally the glowing faded ad the boy collapsed as the chains faded into nothingness. The deed was done, the boy would never get in his way again. Sure he had to make the sacrifice but in truth it was worth it as he would have never been able to kill the boy so he had done the next best thing. He had trapped him.
Gotham was far from Amity, far away where he could no longer get in Vlad’s way.
“It’s been done, I’ll take my leave now.” The old mage said as he removed himself from Vlad’s sight.
Vlad landed and kneeled next to the unconscious boy. “How cute, it seems that the bats and birds influence the city far more than what I thought.” He grinned as he held the boys face in his hands.
It really was a shame Vlad couldn’t keep the boy as his own but this would do and maybe he could come back for him once he had Maddie at his side.
He grinned at the thought before he set the boy down. He had plans to make and a wife to take!
————————————————————————
(Late night ideas are always fun so I hope y’all enjoy.)
Should i keep going with this?
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